Meditations (Politics) - From Martin LeFevre in California
An Inquiry Into God, Nature, And Religion
One of the most difficult questions for me as a contemplative is this: Can the gap between nature-loving religiosity and
church-going faith be bridged?
It’s a hot Sunday morning. After a fine walk along the paths in the park, and a pleasant talk with two women on
horseback, I stop to sit at picnic site. The conundrum between religions and religiosity is about to reach a fever
pitch.
As I am enjoying the water, shade, and sight of people going by across the creek, a middle-aged man walks up with his
dog. He says nothing as he unleashes the big canine and starts throwing sticks for the animal to chase in the water. One
expects some noise and intrusion, but this is too much.
I calmly tell him that I am taking a meditation, and ask if he would mind finding another place to play with his dog. I
hope that the simple request would suffice, but of course the very inconsiderateness that cause him to ignore a man
sitting there silently also compel him to reject the appeal.
Like so many Americans these days, his desires are all the matters, and he arrogantly informs me that there is plenty of
room here, and his dog wants to swim. He adds the snide comment, “if you want to meditate, go to church.” At that point
I reply, rather angrily I must admit, “Churches my ass, please leave.”
A person’s relationship with nature is the cornerstone of relationship with people and the world. After all, a great
cathedral evokes the same feeling, imitatively and intentionally, that a mountaintop or a magnificent vista induces.
That raises the question: Does the problem with religions begin with putting the symbol before the actuality?
Of course the symbol is an internal construct before it is an external building and behavior. The word ‘God’ is not God;
but for most believers, the word is the thing. From this confusion it’s a short step to believing the Bible or the Koran
is “the word of God.”
A paradox, which usually becomes a trap, is that inspiring religious works are written by inspired people to convey
insights and actualities that lie beyond words. The things that a religious writer worth his or her salt only mean to
point toward thus become symbols and words that divide people. In this way, the idea that God can be captured in a word
or a book blasphemes the actuality, and grows into the encrusted idiocies that people kill and die for.
For some, the enthrallment of millions with the symbols of religion produces a counter-reaction, denying the reality of
anything beyond the symbol. It’s the ultimate case of throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Truly, belief is one
side of the coin, and atheism is the other.
But is there really a sacredness beyond thought? Obviously that question cannot be answered with either a definite yes
or a no, since as soon as one answers it, one’s inquiry into it is finished. To my mind and heart, there is a sacredness
beyond thought, an all-pervasive awareness that is within and beyond the universe. However when I’m not actually in
contact with it, I feel it doesn’t exist for me. My faith is that despite my flaws and confusions, I can feel it anew.
I think that keeps me honest, because what we call God is present only in the present, when thought is essentially
quiet. Each contact with the actuality of wholeness (which has the same basic meaning and root as the word holiness) is
new and completely distinct from past experiences. Indeed, the remembrance of past experiences prevents awareness of the
infinite in the present.
In short, it’s easy to say what God is not (a deity or supreme being, a spirit or creator), but it’s impossible to say
what it is.
It must be possible however for contemplatives to deeply dialogue with church-goers, without seeing them as
self-deceiving idolaters, or church-goers seeing natural contemplatives as nature-worshippers. Since the majority of
people who go to church or mosque are genuinely pious, such a dialogue is essential, and would enhance understanding on
all sides.
Even so, I may never understand how people can believe that God can primarily be found in a building or a book. It’s
hard enough to observe the mind into stillness in the mirror of nature, and hear the nameless in the whisper of the wind
through the leaves.
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- Martin LeFevre is a contemplative, and non-academic religious and political philosopher. He has been publishing in
North America, Latin America, Africa, and Europe (and now New Zealand) for 20 years. Email: martinlefevre@sbcglobal.net. The author welcomes comments.