Subtitled as a "no bullshit exploration of spirituality," this unsurprisingly addresses those who have felt disappointed by mainstream denominations and New Age inventions. Chris Grosso, an indie rock musician and a former addict, speaks to those who may share his restless quest. It has led him down a loosely Hindu path, one that mixes Eastern and Buddhist concepts with an eclectic embrace of similar seekers and peacemakers. Noah Levine, a kindred spirit who ministers to the marginalized and those often turning to sobriety, introduces Mr. Grosso's depiction of the Buddha as an "indie spiritualist," one who "walked away from the spiritual and religious circles of his time and found his own path."
Coming of age in 1980s Connecticut, Mr. Grosso's "deeply ingrained question everything punk-rock mind-set" spurs him to question lifestyles and doctrines. He sustains respect for those teachers and methods which fail to resonate with him, while he encourages dissatisfied searchers to consider his difficult past and his fulfilling present as he has weathered drugs and drink to find a family and a calling. He gathers on his website interviews with musicians and clergy, and this book may have adapted his personal essays, organized chronologically as a memoir as well as a journal of his quest.
He defines an indie spiritualist as "someone who honors the spiritual truth within themselves" no matter what others may think. Although spiritual, Mr. Grosso eschews the "exceedingly positive love-and-light movement or the dogmatic tenets of spiritual and religious traditions." Instead, he finds in a rougher, edgier, and often much louder milieu his intellectual and musical satisfaction. "So much of this so-called spirituality is presented as pretty and cosmetic, and basically is to spirituality what Jersey Shore is to reality." He credits a Van Halen concert, with a twenty-minute guitar solo, as one amplified gateway into elation. This engagement with the mosh pit and the mass energy of rock, as well as the gentler flow of the Hindu kirtan musical ceremony he favors now, offers a refreshing contrast and a necessary outreach to similarly minded people who love music, loud or soft, as one avenue into the mystic, and into the thunder, where Mr. Grosso reminds us the spirit can also roam.
As one may expect from the subtitle and the audience for this book, Mr. Grosso makes no apologies for his vocabulary. He tries to discard the cant and smug piety of spiritual rhetoric. Despite in this collection a tendency (which he may well agree with) to ramble and belabor the point of an often familiar story of hard times followed by a passage through pain and fear into devotion and renewal, his genial, heartfelt, but blunt tone may shake up those long wearied by gentler inspirational tales.
Recounting his years of being trapped in a failing body and a trapped mind clouded by poisons, Mr. Grosso tries to throw off what he clings to. Yet he still insists on staring down the ugly. He promotes both "beautiful and the disgusting" qualities of a life accepted without boundaries or denials. He confesses: "I say 'us' because I'm tired of writing as if I actually believe in the illusion of you and I."
He challenges his readers to "embrace all the beauty, terror, and weirdness exactly as it is." Mr. Grosso appends, as a reader who finishes this account will expect, a wide-ranging (if for this rock fan a bit too recent in its tilt, but that may be his indie rock vs. this reviewer's) set of musical and literary recommendations. These for curious readers and listeners may lead inquirers further down Mr. Grosso's direction, where the esoteric empowerment of the New Age sidles into rowdier and more confrontational skate-punk and hip-hop scenes. (Notwithstanding Mr. Grosso's aspersions earlier in the text, the publisher's imprint and the bent of much of these "alternative" contents intersect the tattooed and the pierced with name-brand gurus and counter-cultural texts familiar to earlier seekers.)
Like many in recovery, Chris Grosso struggles to learn love, and to bond with others who suffer. He tries to enter a state of acceptance of the frailties all creatures share, while he attempts to leave behind self-recrimination and endlessly condemning himself for past failures. He champions a "capacity for emotional sobriety." This pattern, repeated for centuries in the stories of those who have turned their lives around to find a spiritual path leading them to a hard-won inner peace, places Indie Spiritualist (apart from its cutting-edge inclusion of QR links to YouTube videos and Mr. Grosso's music) within a venerable rhetorical pattern St. Augustine might have recognized from his hallowed Confessions. (2-27-14 to New York Journal of Books)
Showing posts with label Hindu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hindu. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Saturday, March 29, 2014
"Many Many Many Gods of Hinduism": Book Review
There's some clever shifts here. The title evokes the legendary 330 million deities but the text denies other than one ultimate manifestation of Brahman. Swami Achuthananda seems to be credited here and there as if another source, although he's on the title page himself. Kerala gets some patriotic boosts in one footnote, for its coconut oil pomade boosting the brain cells of residents, where even beggars look healthy. A sense of humor certainly enlivens this take on the oldest surviving religion.
The author (an Indian with evident ex-pat ties to Australia) emphasizes that what since the 18th century we in the West define as Hinduism encourages the diversity of belief and the harmony of all faiths. Beginning with an informal roaming around India and the quirks of his homeland, the first part gradually if idiosyncratically in little topical reflections widens the reader's exploration of the culture, not only Hindu but Parsi, notably.
He nods often to Buddhism (in one section like many in this brief book of quick chapters, in an unresolved exchange with another debater about the merits of that related but "nastik" system denying the Vedas) and he likes to remain open-ended about certain doctrines. Maya, the Atman-Brahman distinction, and reincarnation, part of the central portion dealing with concepts, sparked my interest but all concluded without leaving me with tidy answers. This approach may betray the limits of the scope of a short study for newcomers, or it may hint at many possibilities beyond articulation.
However, regarding the study of RISA [Religious Studies in South Asia] by academics in the West, via Wendy Doniger and her legion of acolytes, he brooks no argument. The swami insists on the maladies rampant after exposure to "Wendy's Child Syndrome," as a fellow Indian critic labels this ailment. It peddles poor scholarship as the final word on subjects where its own professors confess or are seen to lack proper linguistic training and cultural exposure to the nuances below the texts they too eagerly try to psychoanalyze. [P.S. Update: Penguin India's capitulation in Feb. 2014 to stop printing Doniger's The Hindus, after nationalist protests and censorship, disheartens for all of us who admire academic and legal free speech, whatever the relative merits of pro-/ anti-Doniger factions.]
As a careful reader, while I welcome this as a text to recommend to students looking for a resource (and I wish a list of further reading or sites might have been appended; there is an index), I must admit some small shortcomings in the pdf I was kindly provided with to review. There are a few slips in typography, usage (although accounting for Indian English may be germane for a couple of these), or spelling. One paragraph, for instance, on p. 71, shifts from "Sanatana" to "Santana" Dharma and each is given twice, leading one to wonder which is true, or at least used more often nowadays.
I liked the easygoing nature of the mini-essays. Some are joined well and foreshadow others. Some jump from one theme to another. Most follow in more or less logical order, but as with the chaos seemingly on the surface of India itself, it may take sly or careful notice to reflect on the subtle ties.
Amazon US 9/24/13.
The author (an Indian with evident ex-pat ties to Australia) emphasizes that what since the 18th century we in the West define as Hinduism encourages the diversity of belief and the harmony of all faiths. Beginning with an informal roaming around India and the quirks of his homeland, the first part gradually if idiosyncratically in little topical reflections widens the reader's exploration of the culture, not only Hindu but Parsi, notably.
He nods often to Buddhism (in one section like many in this brief book of quick chapters, in an unresolved exchange with another debater about the merits of that related but "nastik" system denying the Vedas) and he likes to remain open-ended about certain doctrines. Maya, the Atman-Brahman distinction, and reincarnation, part of the central portion dealing with concepts, sparked my interest but all concluded without leaving me with tidy answers. This approach may betray the limits of the scope of a short study for newcomers, or it may hint at many possibilities beyond articulation.
However, regarding the study of RISA [Religious Studies in South Asia] by academics in the West, via Wendy Doniger and her legion of acolytes, he brooks no argument. The swami insists on the maladies rampant after exposure to "Wendy's Child Syndrome," as a fellow Indian critic labels this ailment. It peddles poor scholarship as the final word on subjects where its own professors confess or are seen to lack proper linguistic training and cultural exposure to the nuances below the texts they too eagerly try to psychoanalyze. [P.S. Update: Penguin India's capitulation in Feb. 2014 to stop printing Doniger's The Hindus, after nationalist protests and censorship, disheartens for all of us who admire academic and legal free speech, whatever the relative merits of pro-/ anti-Doniger factions.]
As a careful reader, while I welcome this as a text to recommend to students looking for a resource (and I wish a list of further reading or sites might have been appended; there is an index), I must admit some small shortcomings in the pdf I was kindly provided with to review. There are a few slips in typography, usage (although accounting for Indian English may be germane for a couple of these), or spelling. One paragraph, for instance, on p. 71, shifts from "Sanatana" to "Santana" Dharma and each is given twice, leading one to wonder which is true, or at least used more often nowadays.
I liked the easygoing nature of the mini-essays. Some are joined well and foreshadow others. Some jump from one theme to another. Most follow in more or less logical order, but as with the chaos seemingly on the surface of India itself, it may take sly or careful notice to reflect on the subtle ties.
Amazon US 9/24/13.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Rudyard Kipling's "Kim": Book/Audiobook Review
As Amazon lumps together all editions and formats of public domain texts often, this review will highlight the two ways I followed this story. I listened to Ralph Cosham's Blackstone Audio rendering. He handled the accents well of so many Indian and British characters, and the doughty if now impolitically correct Hinglish of clever Babu, the woman of Kulu, and the woman of Shamlegh stand out along with the titular Kimball O'Hara and his lama companion. Among the native speakers, Father Victor, Lurgan Sahib, and Colonel Creighton represent the lively spirit of those who try to remain Kim's betters, no small feat given his enthusiasm for the Great Game. Hearing the unabridged reading in my car each day, I'd follow it, for the terms to look up and another go at what in listening could evade me as to details, foreign terms however translated, and the intricately shifting plot, with re-reading the chapters I'd heard.
I used the Penguin Classic edition by Edward Said. His notes were often too terse to please me, but he handled in his extensive, probing introduction the imperialist themes as deftly as would be expected. Contrary to my expectations, Said shares much admiration for the novel's delightful renditions of life on the Great Trunk Road, and he tempers his criticism of Kipling's unquestioning support for the British Empire's control of the Crown Jewel with a warm understanding of what Kipling conveyed so well as one from India.
However, Kipling and his characters never ask what alternative to the Victorian hold over India might have offered its millions. Nobody challenges the British except to assert a Russian rival. The Indians serve the Crown, the British--and Irish, a point that Said notably does not single out for analysis--enforce it, and the religious quest that intersects movingly and powerfully as the book reaches its close in slightly awkward but thematically mature manner shifts it off at a parallel to the material ambitions which Kim apparently inherits as his legacy, and as approved by the natives themselves.
All this understood, the story entertains and you don't know what will happen next. The machinations of Babu gain particular momentum late in the novel, and they prove worthy of the adventure set in motion by such as Mahbub Ali, Creighton, and the coded secret agents who stretch back before Kim arrives and finds himself soon implicated to advance the interests--never questioned--of the Queen and, post-Mutiny, her willing minions. Kipling's inability to anticipate a few decades on the revolts and the resistance cannot be blamed on him but as Professor Said explains, they complicate more than the author might have comprehended how his own advocacy of imperial strategems implicated him in its telling and its cheerleading.
But I wonder if Kipling despite his control of the plot let on to the ultimate insignificance of at least the symbols of such political obsessions to overpower all rivals and all counter-plotters. This scene stands out as representative: "The wheeling basket vomited its contents as it dropped. The theodolite hit a jutting cliff-ledge and exploded like a shell; the books, inkstands, paint-boxes, compasses, and rulers showed for a few seconds like a swarm of bees. Then they vanished; and, though Kim, hanging half out of the window, strained his young ears, never a sound came up from the gulf." Kim wonders to himself more than once who he is, Irish, English, Indian, and the lingering mood that wraps you up as you follow him hints that Kipling raised in India appears, like his creation, not to be sure either. (Amazon US 6-16-12)
I used the Penguin Classic edition by Edward Said. His notes were often too terse to please me, but he handled in his extensive, probing introduction the imperialist themes as deftly as would be expected. Contrary to my expectations, Said shares much admiration for the novel's delightful renditions of life on the Great Trunk Road, and he tempers his criticism of Kipling's unquestioning support for the British Empire's control of the Crown Jewel with a warm understanding of what Kipling conveyed so well as one from India.
However, Kipling and his characters never ask what alternative to the Victorian hold over India might have offered its millions. Nobody challenges the British except to assert a Russian rival. The Indians serve the Crown, the British--and Irish, a point that Said notably does not single out for analysis--enforce it, and the religious quest that intersects movingly and powerfully as the book reaches its close in slightly awkward but thematically mature manner shifts it off at a parallel to the material ambitions which Kim apparently inherits as his legacy, and as approved by the natives themselves.
All this understood, the story entertains and you don't know what will happen next. The machinations of Babu gain particular momentum late in the novel, and they prove worthy of the adventure set in motion by such as Mahbub Ali, Creighton, and the coded secret agents who stretch back before Kim arrives and finds himself soon implicated to advance the interests--never questioned--of the Queen and, post-Mutiny, her willing minions. Kipling's inability to anticipate a few decades on the revolts and the resistance cannot be blamed on him but as Professor Said explains, they complicate more than the author might have comprehended how his own advocacy of imperial strategems implicated him in its telling and its cheerleading.
But I wonder if Kipling despite his control of the plot let on to the ultimate insignificance of at least the symbols of such political obsessions to overpower all rivals and all counter-plotters. This scene stands out as representative: "The wheeling basket vomited its contents as it dropped. The theodolite hit a jutting cliff-ledge and exploded like a shell; the books, inkstands, paint-boxes, compasses, and rulers showed for a few seconds like a swarm of bees. Then they vanished; and, though Kim, hanging half out of the window, strained his young ears, never a sound came up from the gulf." Kim wonders to himself more than once who he is, Irish, English, Indian, and the lingering mood that wraps you up as you follow him hints that Kipling raised in India appears, like his creation, not to be sure either. (Amazon US 6-16-12)
Saturday, July 28, 2012
"The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton": Book Review
The seven weeks of late 1968's passages are often dense with citations and musings from his studies, but in their midst, such entries as this from New Delhi leap out: "And yet I have a sense that this mandala business is, for me, at least useless. It has considerable interest, but there is no point seeking anything for my own enlightenment. Why complicate what is simple? I am reading on the balcony outside my room. Five green parrots, then eight more fly by shrieking over my head." (59)
He quotes the scholar on those mandalas, Giuseppe Tucci, a renowned Tibetologist, who sums up the Shaivite schools who divide men into three classes: the herd who need precision in what to do and not to do; the "heroes" wearied by their own laws and own contrariness against the herd; the holy souls who get beyond such struggles. One senses Merton's own tensions with his monastic community vs. his intense desire to stay a hermit, perhaps in Alaska or Asia, far from the Kentucky abbey full of factories, tractors, and a few tourists.
Can society change? His circular letter announcing his Asian visits notes his weariness with signing petitions, and he assures readers he is not going near Vietnam. He watches on the Hawaiian flight over a soldier and he prays for him from a distance. Soon, Merton's own body would come back on an Army plane for burial among his community, in the monastery he loved yet longed to get away from. This search, untimely terminated in its own mysterious way, underlies the journals he kept.
Meanwhile, this can be a dense read. Endnotes and the labors of a faithfully observant editorial team diligently record the authors, thinkers, contexts, and places he refers to, for this volume will be more academic than readers of his earlier works may expect; whether it would have been published if he had lived remains speculative. For those with some grounding in Eastern thought, which Merton sought to open up, it can reward. (See "Merton and Buddhism" also reviewed by me, for scholarly essays on the intersections.) It does appear, as he marveled at the massive stone figures of the Buddha and Ananda at Polonnaruwa in Ceylon that he found a breakthrough into a mystic state, "everything is emptiness and everything is compassion. I don't know when in my life I have ever had such a sense of beauty and spiritual validity running together in one aesthetic illumination." (235)
On the middle way of Madhyamika in Buddhist philosophy, he notes how the teacher plays off his opponent's "principles and arguments accepted by him" to show their contradictions. "However, when his supposed values are returned to him in irony, in static, he will not accept the implications. That is his problem." I wonder if Madhyamika's own rhetorical stance could undermine the teacher himself?
Merton examines his romantic tendencies. "Reassessment of this whole Indian experience in more critical terms. Too much movement. Too much 'looking for' something: an answer, a vision, 'something other.' And this breeds illusion. The illusion that there is something else." (148) Returning to the idea over and over that he could find a retreat here, permanently, he reflects on the landscape of the Mim Tea Estate: "A permanent post card for meditation, daydreams. The landscapes are ironic and silent comments on the apparent permanence, the 'eternal snows' of solid Kanchenjunga" which fascinate, even as over them, the Chinese armies occupy Tibet. (150)
One of the best passages is brief, when at Darjeeling he battles a cold. "Anatomy of nice thought rot. No use isolating consciousness and then feeding it, exacerbating it. The ruse of nourishing the self with ideas of self-dissolution. The 'perfectly safe' consciousness, put on a diet of select thoughts, poisons itself. The exposed consciousness is in less trouble. It relaxes. Is free in fresh air. Is perhaps a little dirtied--but normal or more normal. Less garbage. Select garbage, luxury garbage is the worst poison." (159-60)
He wonders in Colombo as he waits at the airport: "The 'selfless' world of the machine. A good angle. Are we really headed for a kind of technological corruption of Buddhism? A secular nirvana?" (212)
Merton reflects on the delusion along the journey inward. "The hazard of the spiritual quest is of course that its genuineness cannot be left to our own isolated subjective judgment alone. The fact that I am turned on doesn't prove anything whatever. Nor does the fact that I am turned off.) We do not simply create our lives on our own terms." This last appendix about the renunciation of violence in the Bhagavad-Gita concludes: "In following mere appetite for power we are slaves of appetite. In obedience to that truth we are at last free." (352-3)
The most haunting phrases were two. Out of an "International Herald-Tribune" he copies headlines. One: "Smiling boy dies of poison." Two, from the last sentence of his talk on Marxism and monasticism (where he astutely notes how the only possible place to realize "from each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs" is in a monastery, not a Communist regime): "So I will disappear." A few hours later, he suddenly died from electrocution in his Bangkok hotel bathroom. (Amazon US 6-16-12)
He quotes the scholar on those mandalas, Giuseppe Tucci, a renowned Tibetologist, who sums up the Shaivite schools who divide men into three classes: the herd who need precision in what to do and not to do; the "heroes" wearied by their own laws and own contrariness against the herd; the holy souls who get beyond such struggles. One senses Merton's own tensions with his monastic community vs. his intense desire to stay a hermit, perhaps in Alaska or Asia, far from the Kentucky abbey full of factories, tractors, and a few tourists.
Can society change? His circular letter announcing his Asian visits notes his weariness with signing petitions, and he assures readers he is not going near Vietnam. He watches on the Hawaiian flight over a soldier and he prays for him from a distance. Soon, Merton's own body would come back on an Army plane for burial among his community, in the monastery he loved yet longed to get away from. This search, untimely terminated in its own mysterious way, underlies the journals he kept.
Meanwhile, this can be a dense read. Endnotes and the labors of a faithfully observant editorial team diligently record the authors, thinkers, contexts, and places he refers to, for this volume will be more academic than readers of his earlier works may expect; whether it would have been published if he had lived remains speculative. For those with some grounding in Eastern thought, which Merton sought to open up, it can reward. (See "Merton and Buddhism" also reviewed by me, for scholarly essays on the intersections.) It does appear, as he marveled at the massive stone figures of the Buddha and Ananda at Polonnaruwa in Ceylon that he found a breakthrough into a mystic state, "everything is emptiness and everything is compassion. I don't know when in my life I have ever had such a sense of beauty and spiritual validity running together in one aesthetic illumination." (235)
On the middle way of Madhyamika in Buddhist philosophy, he notes how the teacher plays off his opponent's "principles and arguments accepted by him" to show their contradictions. "However, when his supposed values are returned to him in irony, in static, he will not accept the implications. That is his problem." I wonder if Madhyamika's own rhetorical stance could undermine the teacher himself?
Merton examines his romantic tendencies. "Reassessment of this whole Indian experience in more critical terms. Too much movement. Too much 'looking for' something: an answer, a vision, 'something other.' And this breeds illusion. The illusion that there is something else." (148) Returning to the idea over and over that he could find a retreat here, permanently, he reflects on the landscape of the Mim Tea Estate: "A permanent post card for meditation, daydreams. The landscapes are ironic and silent comments on the apparent permanence, the 'eternal snows' of solid Kanchenjunga" which fascinate, even as over them, the Chinese armies occupy Tibet. (150)
One of the best passages is brief, when at Darjeeling he battles a cold. "Anatomy of nice thought rot. No use isolating consciousness and then feeding it, exacerbating it. The ruse of nourishing the self with ideas of self-dissolution. The 'perfectly safe' consciousness, put on a diet of select thoughts, poisons itself. The exposed consciousness is in less trouble. It relaxes. Is free in fresh air. Is perhaps a little dirtied--but normal or more normal. Less garbage. Select garbage, luxury garbage is the worst poison." (159-60)
He wonders in Colombo as he waits at the airport: "The 'selfless' world of the machine. A good angle. Are we really headed for a kind of technological corruption of Buddhism? A secular nirvana?" (212)
Merton reflects on the delusion along the journey inward. "The hazard of the spiritual quest is of course that its genuineness cannot be left to our own isolated subjective judgment alone. The fact that I am turned on doesn't prove anything whatever. Nor does the fact that I am turned off.) We do not simply create our lives on our own terms." This last appendix about the renunciation of violence in the Bhagavad-Gita concludes: "In following mere appetite for power we are slaves of appetite. In obedience to that truth we are at last free." (352-3)
The most haunting phrases were two. Out of an "International Herald-Tribune" he copies headlines. One: "Smiling boy dies of poison." Two, from the last sentence of his talk on Marxism and monasticism (where he astutely notes how the only possible place to realize "from each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs" is in a monastery, not a Communist regime): "So I will disappear." A few hours later, he suddenly died from electrocution in his Bangkok hotel bathroom. (Amazon US 6-16-12)
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Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Karen Armstrong's "The Great Transformation": Book Review
I heard here the same sympathetic tones as her "Buddha" in the Penguin Lives series, which I reviewed 3/08 on Amazon US, or her short studies of Muhammad and Islam. I wanted to compare this to Robert Wright's "The Evolution of God," Rodney Stark's "Discovering God" and Nicholas Wade's "The Faith Instinct" (all reviewed by me in 2011): they explain the hard-wired or embedded models for religious evolution from varying perspectives of economics, markets, and the sciences.
Well, Armstrong does not base her study on any model other than a history of ideas one. Not by diffusion, not by memes, not by franchises, her ambitious survey links China, India, the Middle East, and Greece by a shared shift away from ritual and top-down imposition of belief into a gentler, kinder compassion emanating from self-criticism, introspection, responsibility, and carried into action stressing social justice and practical cooperation. Certainly, this echoes our own times with their progressive bent, and such scholars as Armstrong favor this slant, aimed at a broad audience.
As in her "History of God" and her works on the Buddha and Islam, she packs a lot of learning gleaned from solid research; she tends towards popularizing and summing up scholarship for a wider readership rather than pushing her own original insights. She also leans towards generous sympathy, as in her closing section on Islam. Wright, Stark, Wade advance their own theories more than she does. We need such hefty works as these to inform us of how ancient many ideas we search out in religious traditions today have been, and how often they are suppressed or compromised given the counter-trends (Wright tends to emphasize these) towards doctrinal conformity and social control by these world-shaking religious powers, allied with political clout. Bigotry, as she closes her book elegantly reminding us, can emanate from secular as well as religious fundamentalism. Instead, we all need to look inside ourselves, do right, and share responsibility. Armstrong stresses the turning away from violence and prejudice, and she seeks Karl Jasper's "a pause for liberty," non-violence, and the Golden Rule in her study of the Axial Age, extending here to encompass ca. 900-220 BCE.
She carefully narrates an immense amount of data and stories. Her strength lies in the vignettes that enable her to loosen up on the recital of names and dates, and to allow some room to look into mentalities. For instance, the Greek new wine festival in spring turns eerie in her depiction of Anthestera; Amos finds himself overtaken, not pleasantly, by the prophecy he channels of Yahweh; Psalm 82 shows the "kenosis" or emptying that prophets embodied to advance justice and which would be revived by Paul to promote Jesus' mission; Yajnavalkya's formulation of "karma" and "atman" enhance his simple lesson to his son of salty water; Plutarch's fragment #168 of the moments before death is compared with the loss of consciousness by the ecstatics (~"stepping out"): those caught up in the Eleusinian mysteries into "entheos"--"within is a God." (187)
I found myself less taken by the Chinese entries, but Mozi's logical, moral challenge to Confucian "family ties" as insufficiently transforming for a wider society and Zhuangzi's "Way of Heaven" earn notice. Eventually, that empire learned the virtues of syncretism and inclusion. Still, after so many warlords, enforced order, massacres, and contention, the Chinese chapters did not catch fire as often; they seemed grimmer than even the Homeric interludes full of fury, half-celebrating the warrior, half-hinting at the folly of such mortal combat compared to the wonders of a treasured earthly life. India's yogins and Samkhya gain wonderful exposition, and we glimpse how the Vedic tradition blurred into a breath meditation that appears to go back to very remote Aryan times.
So much is only glimpsed; as with the often shadowy Greek rituals, Armstrong tells what we can puzzle out, but the dots cannot always be connected given the lack of evidence, despite the diligence of her and her scholarly colleagues. But, as with the reformation by the Deuteronomists and biblical chroniclers during the Judean kingdom's success and the Assyrian and Babylonian incursions, what we have learned lately about the truth of how the Hebrew Scriptures came to be arranged to make Moses and the Exodus "backdated" for issues six hundred-odd years later in an embattled homeland, makes for useful reading. So does the moral of Ashoka's good intentions to build a peaceable empire, the "bhakti" yoga renewal, or rabbinic Judaism's "profound reticence" in theology and mysticism.
Armstrong does not strive for a stirring turn of phrase; she prefers a steady exposition. Still, elegant moments linger. Of the renewal in the Holiness Code by the P-writer of scripture in exile: "Babylonia could be a new Eden, where God had walked with Adam in the cool of the evening." (181) "Aristotle had no ambition to leave Plato's cave." (327). Of the Buddha's shock at "four disturbing sights" before his awakening: "Once the suffering that is an inescapable part of the human condition has broken through the customary barricades that we have erected against it, we can never see the world in the same way again. Gotama had allowed the knowledge of 'dukkha' to invade his life, and his quest could begin." (275-6) Like Socrates or Confucius, the Buddha represents for Armstrong the paradigm of the Axial Age by "enhanced humanity"--he stood for an archetype of "a place apart" separate from but at one with our world. "Suffering shatters neat, rationalistic theology." (398)
A few spot-checked references puzzled me; I often consulted end citations. For instance, I cannot tell if Armstrong translated to use in her narration excerpts of the Pali texts for Buddhist sayings or if her "version" is taken from other renderings. She refers to the "nothing" definition of God by "later monotheists" via her "History of God" book but the note offers no pagination. She sums up Platonic absolute beauty as an eternal form well, yet (at least at first mention) she gives no textual context.
However, I gained knowledge from Armstrong's careful arrangement of vast material. Four-hundred pages, as dense as they can be for a topic meriting close attention, manage to compress information into an accessible overview for the patient inquirer. It's pitched at a reader who must be willing to ponder its elevated contents as well as absorb its perspectives. While it does of course leap between four settings during each of its thematic chapters, with not much discussion of why ideas erupted when they did, as opposed to what they were, mystery remains, perhaps appropriately for this elusive topic. It's not a facile presentation, and this only confirms its appeal for a reader who's open-minded (the original meaning of "skeptic," as she defines it). (Amazon US 4-27-12)
Well, Armstrong does not base her study on any model other than a history of ideas one. Not by diffusion, not by memes, not by franchises, her ambitious survey links China, India, the Middle East, and Greece by a shared shift away from ritual and top-down imposition of belief into a gentler, kinder compassion emanating from self-criticism, introspection, responsibility, and carried into action stressing social justice and practical cooperation. Certainly, this echoes our own times with their progressive bent, and such scholars as Armstrong favor this slant, aimed at a broad audience.
As in her "History of God" and her works on the Buddha and Islam, she packs a lot of learning gleaned from solid research; she tends towards popularizing and summing up scholarship for a wider readership rather than pushing her own original insights. She also leans towards generous sympathy, as in her closing section on Islam. Wright, Stark, Wade advance their own theories more than she does. We need such hefty works as these to inform us of how ancient many ideas we search out in religious traditions today have been, and how often they are suppressed or compromised given the counter-trends (Wright tends to emphasize these) towards doctrinal conformity and social control by these world-shaking religious powers, allied with political clout. Bigotry, as she closes her book elegantly reminding us, can emanate from secular as well as religious fundamentalism. Instead, we all need to look inside ourselves, do right, and share responsibility. Armstrong stresses the turning away from violence and prejudice, and she seeks Karl Jasper's "a pause for liberty," non-violence, and the Golden Rule in her study of the Axial Age, extending here to encompass ca. 900-220 BCE.
She carefully narrates an immense amount of data and stories. Her strength lies in the vignettes that enable her to loosen up on the recital of names and dates, and to allow some room to look into mentalities. For instance, the Greek new wine festival in spring turns eerie in her depiction of Anthestera; Amos finds himself overtaken, not pleasantly, by the prophecy he channels of Yahweh; Psalm 82 shows the "kenosis" or emptying that prophets embodied to advance justice and which would be revived by Paul to promote Jesus' mission; Yajnavalkya's formulation of "karma" and "atman" enhance his simple lesson to his son of salty water; Plutarch's fragment #168 of the moments before death is compared with the loss of consciousness by the ecstatics (~"stepping out"): those caught up in the Eleusinian mysteries into "entheos"--"within is a God." (187)
I found myself less taken by the Chinese entries, but Mozi's logical, moral challenge to Confucian "family ties" as insufficiently transforming for a wider society and Zhuangzi's "Way of Heaven" earn notice. Eventually, that empire learned the virtues of syncretism and inclusion. Still, after so many warlords, enforced order, massacres, and contention, the Chinese chapters did not catch fire as often; they seemed grimmer than even the Homeric interludes full of fury, half-celebrating the warrior, half-hinting at the folly of such mortal combat compared to the wonders of a treasured earthly life. India's yogins and Samkhya gain wonderful exposition, and we glimpse how the Vedic tradition blurred into a breath meditation that appears to go back to very remote Aryan times.
So much is only glimpsed; as with the often shadowy Greek rituals, Armstrong tells what we can puzzle out, but the dots cannot always be connected given the lack of evidence, despite the diligence of her and her scholarly colleagues. But, as with the reformation by the Deuteronomists and biblical chroniclers during the Judean kingdom's success and the Assyrian and Babylonian incursions, what we have learned lately about the truth of how the Hebrew Scriptures came to be arranged to make Moses and the Exodus "backdated" for issues six hundred-odd years later in an embattled homeland, makes for useful reading. So does the moral of Ashoka's good intentions to build a peaceable empire, the "bhakti" yoga renewal, or rabbinic Judaism's "profound reticence" in theology and mysticism.
Armstrong does not strive for a stirring turn of phrase; she prefers a steady exposition. Still, elegant moments linger. Of the renewal in the Holiness Code by the P-writer of scripture in exile: "Babylonia could be a new Eden, where God had walked with Adam in the cool of the evening." (181) "Aristotle had no ambition to leave Plato's cave." (327). Of the Buddha's shock at "four disturbing sights" before his awakening: "Once the suffering that is an inescapable part of the human condition has broken through the customary barricades that we have erected against it, we can never see the world in the same way again. Gotama had allowed the knowledge of 'dukkha' to invade his life, and his quest could begin." (275-6) Like Socrates or Confucius, the Buddha represents for Armstrong the paradigm of the Axial Age by "enhanced humanity"--he stood for an archetype of "a place apart" separate from but at one with our world. "Suffering shatters neat, rationalistic theology." (398)
A few spot-checked references puzzled me; I often consulted end citations. For instance, I cannot tell if Armstrong translated to use in her narration excerpts of the Pali texts for Buddhist sayings or if her "version" is taken from other renderings. She refers to the "nothing" definition of God by "later monotheists" via her "History of God" book but the note offers no pagination. She sums up Platonic absolute beauty as an eternal form well, yet (at least at first mention) she gives no textual context.
However, I gained knowledge from Armstrong's careful arrangement of vast material. Four-hundred pages, as dense as they can be for a topic meriting close attention, manage to compress information into an accessible overview for the patient inquirer. It's pitched at a reader who must be willing to ponder its elevated contents as well as absorb its perspectives. While it does of course leap between four settings during each of its thematic chapters, with not much discussion of why ideas erupted when they did, as opposed to what they were, mystery remains, perhaps appropriately for this elusive topic. It's not a facile presentation, and this only confirms its appeal for a reader who's open-minded (the original meaning of "skeptic," as she defines it). (Amazon US 4-27-12)
Monday, June 4, 2012
Robert Bellah's "Religion in Human Evolution": Book Review
"Even though, as it is widely believed, morality and religion are evolutionary emergents, evolution cannot tell us which one of them to follow." (48) This "discouraging but indisputable truth," for Bellah, demonstrates the challenge of finding meaning "only in evolution" for today's scholars and thinkers. This review, in-depth as far as small space allows, looks at how Bellah's work compares to recent surveys by other scholars of the Axial Age. A life's work, for a sociologist born in 1927, remains a formidable contribution in six-hundred narrated pages and, as he acknowledges, stopping 2,000 years before our era, it's long enough. It gives prolonged attention to what Max Weber and Emile Durkheim pioneered: the study of religious aspects as they culturally evolved.
Of course, it's bolstered by what science knows now vs. when his predecessors labored to make sense out of religion's roots and branches. His opening starts slowly, as "Religion and Reality" shuffles various capabilities of how we know concepts which in turn will contribute to varieties of religious experience. It's not as compelling as I wished, but chapter two, about evolution's "metanarrative," picked up the pace.
Still, Bellah admits he's as baffled by cosmology as we are, while he tries to cover the enormous span of physical evolution in an alternately meticulous and halting manner that doesn't do as much justice to his primary concerns as they merit. He proposes that we regard ancient accounts as "true myths," and he urges respect for religion on its own terms the same as science, revamping Stephen Jay Gould's "non-overlapping magisteria" as overlapping, each sphere usefully based in not reductionist but emergent explanations, to borrow from biologists, that take on the field at its own level. Science and religion both, Bellah notes, appeal to a sense of awe when their most eloquent advocates attempt to articulate the persistent mystery at the heart of how each field of inquiry unfolds over eons.
These eons, as empathy in its "motor mimicry and emotional contagion" shows over a hundred million years of primate evolution, stretch into pre-linguistic ritual and what Bellah regards as "sacred play" in such activities. While Bellah correctly critiques in passing both Nicholas Wade's "The Faith Instinct" and Robert Wright's "The Evolution of God" (both reviewed by me in 2011), I think Bellah's analysis wanders into territory that the main narrative did not need, and that Wade offers a more cogent popularization of the pre-linguistic stages, despite the monotheistic limits of both Wade and Wright which Bellah attempts to counter with his massive analysis and compendium. I still did not find as clear an explanation of ritual play as I expected, even after a lot of research here. But I did learn how only our species can march in step or dance as one troupe...
He applies, loosely, Merlin Donald's mimetic, mythic, and theoretical stages of human culture (these augment the hybrid system we have that diverges from the episodic consciousness we share with higher mammals) to parallel his own enactive, symbolic, and conceptual religious representational types. This chapter uses three traditional societies today which offer glimpses into mythic cultures once upon a time. The Kalapalo of Brazil, the Australian Aborigine Walbiri, and the Navajo demonstrate how ritual and narrative produce meaning. Bellah seemed more confident in this chapter, as after all he draws on the Navajo, the subject of his earliest research decades ago.
Tribal egalitarianism, he posits, does impose the will of the collective on the will of each, and its intermediate position between the despotism of primates and that of archaic states gains coverage with two Polynesian entities, Tikopia and Hawai'i, where a comparatively better documented record survives of what a kingdom bent on imposing its will on a people subjected to a relentless social system under brutal control under dominant males meant, in terms of taboo, ritual, and--as with many such societies--human sacrifice. There's no romanticizing "pre-contact" Polynesia in these pages.
With the Hawaiians, we benefit from a written history of what was still oral memory via David Malo's testimony; for Mesopotamia, the records of course exist, but much about belief must be extrapolated from tablets and archeological sites. Next, Bellah contrasts the Mesopotamian "heterarchy" with the Polynesian archaic states; as for the Egyptians, we are "creatures of myth" as inescapably as they were, for after all, "we are what we remember." (228)
Archaic states, with "vertical" enforcement where the king acts in league with the gods to order the cosmos and the polity, replace the imposed solidarity of tribes. In turn, the axial age enables the "moral upstart who relies on speech, not force," appears to stay alive long enough to appeal to ethical standards and to call for reflection. Karen Armstrong's "The Great Transformation" (reviewed immediately prior to Bellah's book) reminds us of this shift towards compassion and self-analysis. Bellah favors a more academic tone than Armstrong, and the details she highlights tend to be overshadowed by the scholarly colleagues Bellah introduces and answers in his dense discussion. However, Bellah cites Karl Jaspers: "The Axial Age too ended in failure. History went on." (qtd. 282)
While Armstrong, as Rodney Stark's "Discovering God" (reviewed also in late 2011), prefers a more optimistic, if guarded, spin on the meaning of the Axial Age if we regard it as beneficial. Bellah opts for nuance. A clan of frontier Canaanites worshipped a generic, or a high, god "El" from the pantheon, but El did not seem to matter much "at the level of family piety." (qtd. 288) He and Asherah have children, including Baal and Yahweh; gradually as a jealous "god among gods" Yahweh shoves aside and then denies the other gods until only he is regarded as legitimate.
So, how did these marginal hill-dwelling Israelites grab so much attention? By using the tension between particularism and universality. Hostile prophets provoke Israel and Judah to repent; the kings lose clout as exclusive mediators with the divine powers. Monarchs weaken; a covenant model based on fidelity to "Yahweh alone" rallies Judah's bastion against the Assyrian empire. Yet, the twist comes as the prophets assert Assyria's also subordinate to Yahweh, who punishes Israel via that empire for infidelity. The Deuteronomists promote Moses as half-Lenin, half social-democrat, to borrow Michael Walzer's critique. Still, Moses refused to be a king; the people make the covenant.
Bellah takes Stephen Geller's argument that the norms of the Torah supplanted priestly sacrifice as the central way the "chosen people" communicated with a just God. Yahweh internationalizes (as Stark and Wright agree), and this relationship, as a covenant, enables Jewish success even in exile. Narrative is employed to force the archaic trio of God, king, and nation into ethical freedom. We inherit a "metanarrative" that justifies moral, social, and political programs, ever since the Bible. The Muslim Umma and the Christian Church emerge from this "entering wedge" of a people defined without a monarchy, who submit to rule by divine law instead of the machinations of a secular state.
Ancient Greece features a warrior cult and in the polis a steady evolution from pre-state. I wish we knew more of Anaximander with his "boundless" apeiron preceding creation, or Xenophanes' skepticism: if horses and cattle could draw, their gods would resemble them. Bellah's presentation lacks Armstrong's knack for the telling anecdote or excerpt from a primary source--he likes citing scholars--but it's similar in scope; with Heraclitus we approach "mythospeculation," the verge of philosophy. Plato reforms the synthetic hybrid system with theory but does not replace it--Bellah cautions that this had to wait until the "emergence of Western modernity" in the 17c. (395)
Back to China, while Plato followed the Seven Sages, Confucius preceded all major Chinese thinkers. Ritual was analyzed, meritocracy grew, and nobility turned into a status that birth alone might not attain, but adherence to an elitist, elaborately implemented, top-down mandate from heaven (mixed in Mencius with populism). But, Bellah mentions (more as an aside) how universal values embed themselves in the Analects. Warfare also depended on merit in a fluctuating time, and Mozi's contributions towards "right views" of rulers and a utilitarian concern towards all are less remembered today, thanks to Confucian rivals. The Dao, in #6, 15, 28, gains welcome if brief explication for its evocations of how weak overcomes strong; oddly #53 may in its primitivism find common ground with Legalism, if a small patch.
Xunzi as a final "Warring States" moral reformer merits mention: "I once spent a whole day in si 'reflection,' but I found it of less value than a moment of xue 'learning.' I once tried standing on tiptoe and gazing into the distance, but I found I could see much farther by climbing to a high place."(qtd. 474) Bellah integrates more primary passages in discussing the Dao and Xunzi, sharpening his study.
As Bellah tells us at the end of this Chinese chapter, the problem with Greece and Israel is that we are so familiar with the latter cultures compared to Asia, that it is tempting in those two "to find what at the moment our culture wants to find." (475) This can be charged to Armstrong, Stark, Wade, and Wright, naturally, and all of us as reader-critics. He notes how all he can do is give an interpretation. At least with China, its distance from our cultural legacy forces Westerners to approach cautiously. The question persists: who rules? Is a "junzi/ gentleman" from a hereditary caste, or a moral elite?
Bellah opens the Indian chapter confessing freshman-level instead of grad-student competence. He covers the standard Vedic formulations, and he considers India in Upanishadic times as religiously axial, but archaic in ethics, social structure, and rational discourse (as in Japan). The Buddha's breakthrough as a teacher of ethics accessible to all remains that tradition's axial contribution. Bellah quotes Steven Collins on the path demanding action, leading to nirvana, the "city without fear." Ethical universalism, in turn, sparked a similar promotion by theistic Hinduism and King Ashoka.
He comes around to serious play in the conclusion, realizing accurately it demanded more depth. He looks at renouncers as "moral upstarts" in archaic states who paved a stealthy way for social protest in the axial centuries by prophets, reformers, and teachers. Their utopias--Plato's Republic, Aristotle's Lyceum, Buddhist parables or Second Isaiah--combined political criticism and religious reform. Bellah transfers this to animal play, "flow," and "theoria" as a heightened consciousness. This last chapter, for those pressed for time, serves well as a coda and an exegesis of the major narrative's themes, especially the "relaxed fields" of play and culture which were sometimes buried in the text.
Summing up, Bellah explains how he gave the West less attention than China and India. While parts of this feel like other, shorter texts in their necessarily wide-ranging "metanarratives" from primordial soup to Brazil nuts, and while parts could have been edited (as in frequent give-and-take with his colleagues), it remains a valuable reference, for it brings into one big book the gist of such research.
He ends by warning us that we face the sixth extinction moment unfolding now, as we destroy our planet, in our deep history. He finds some hope that today's serious sociologists of religion do not elevate Christianity above all other faiths, and that in such acceptance a mature pluralism might allow us to advance in understanding on each others' own tolerant, peaceful terms. No universal category, by its very nature, after all, can free itself from its own particular emphases. He rushes past this admission, but he closes by acknowledging that theory needs to remain anchored in a cultural context, lest it "can assume a superiority that can lead to crushing mistakes." (606) (Amazon US 4-30-12)
Of course, it's bolstered by what science knows now vs. when his predecessors labored to make sense out of religion's roots and branches. His opening starts slowly, as "Religion and Reality" shuffles various capabilities of how we know concepts which in turn will contribute to varieties of religious experience. It's not as compelling as I wished, but chapter two, about evolution's "metanarrative," picked up the pace.
Still, Bellah admits he's as baffled by cosmology as we are, while he tries to cover the enormous span of physical evolution in an alternately meticulous and halting manner that doesn't do as much justice to his primary concerns as they merit. He proposes that we regard ancient accounts as "true myths," and he urges respect for religion on its own terms the same as science, revamping Stephen Jay Gould's "non-overlapping magisteria" as overlapping, each sphere usefully based in not reductionist but emergent explanations, to borrow from biologists, that take on the field at its own level. Science and religion both, Bellah notes, appeal to a sense of awe when their most eloquent advocates attempt to articulate the persistent mystery at the heart of how each field of inquiry unfolds over eons.
These eons, as empathy in its "motor mimicry and emotional contagion" shows over a hundred million years of primate evolution, stretch into pre-linguistic ritual and what Bellah regards as "sacred play" in such activities. While Bellah correctly critiques in passing both Nicholas Wade's "The Faith Instinct" and Robert Wright's "The Evolution of God" (both reviewed by me in 2011), I think Bellah's analysis wanders into territory that the main narrative did not need, and that Wade offers a more cogent popularization of the pre-linguistic stages, despite the monotheistic limits of both Wade and Wright which Bellah attempts to counter with his massive analysis and compendium. I still did not find as clear an explanation of ritual play as I expected, even after a lot of research here. But I did learn how only our species can march in step or dance as one troupe...
He applies, loosely, Merlin Donald's mimetic, mythic, and theoretical stages of human culture (these augment the hybrid system we have that diverges from the episodic consciousness we share with higher mammals) to parallel his own enactive, symbolic, and conceptual religious representational types. This chapter uses three traditional societies today which offer glimpses into mythic cultures once upon a time. The Kalapalo of Brazil, the Australian Aborigine Walbiri, and the Navajo demonstrate how ritual and narrative produce meaning. Bellah seemed more confident in this chapter, as after all he draws on the Navajo, the subject of his earliest research decades ago.
Tribal egalitarianism, he posits, does impose the will of the collective on the will of each, and its intermediate position between the despotism of primates and that of archaic states gains coverage with two Polynesian entities, Tikopia and Hawai'i, where a comparatively better documented record survives of what a kingdom bent on imposing its will on a people subjected to a relentless social system under brutal control under dominant males meant, in terms of taboo, ritual, and--as with many such societies--human sacrifice. There's no romanticizing "pre-contact" Polynesia in these pages.
With the Hawaiians, we benefit from a written history of what was still oral memory via David Malo's testimony; for Mesopotamia, the records of course exist, but much about belief must be extrapolated from tablets and archeological sites. Next, Bellah contrasts the Mesopotamian "heterarchy" with the Polynesian archaic states; as for the Egyptians, we are "creatures of myth" as inescapably as they were, for after all, "we are what we remember." (228)
Archaic states, with "vertical" enforcement where the king acts in league with the gods to order the cosmos and the polity, replace the imposed solidarity of tribes. In turn, the axial age enables the "moral upstart who relies on speech, not force," appears to stay alive long enough to appeal to ethical standards and to call for reflection. Karen Armstrong's "The Great Transformation" (reviewed immediately prior to Bellah's book) reminds us of this shift towards compassion and self-analysis. Bellah favors a more academic tone than Armstrong, and the details she highlights tend to be overshadowed by the scholarly colleagues Bellah introduces and answers in his dense discussion. However, Bellah cites Karl Jaspers: "The Axial Age too ended in failure. History went on." (qtd. 282)
While Armstrong, as Rodney Stark's "Discovering God" (reviewed also in late 2011), prefers a more optimistic, if guarded, spin on the meaning of the Axial Age if we regard it as beneficial. Bellah opts for nuance. A clan of frontier Canaanites worshipped a generic, or a high, god "El" from the pantheon, but El did not seem to matter much "at the level of family piety." (qtd. 288) He and Asherah have children, including Baal and Yahweh; gradually as a jealous "god among gods" Yahweh shoves aside and then denies the other gods until only he is regarded as legitimate.
So, how did these marginal hill-dwelling Israelites grab so much attention? By using the tension between particularism and universality. Hostile prophets provoke Israel and Judah to repent; the kings lose clout as exclusive mediators with the divine powers. Monarchs weaken; a covenant model based on fidelity to "Yahweh alone" rallies Judah's bastion against the Assyrian empire. Yet, the twist comes as the prophets assert Assyria's also subordinate to Yahweh, who punishes Israel via that empire for infidelity. The Deuteronomists promote Moses as half-Lenin, half social-democrat, to borrow Michael Walzer's critique. Still, Moses refused to be a king; the people make the covenant.
Bellah takes Stephen Geller's argument that the norms of the Torah supplanted priestly sacrifice as the central way the "chosen people" communicated with a just God. Yahweh internationalizes (as Stark and Wright agree), and this relationship, as a covenant, enables Jewish success even in exile. Narrative is employed to force the archaic trio of God, king, and nation into ethical freedom. We inherit a "metanarrative" that justifies moral, social, and political programs, ever since the Bible. The Muslim Umma and the Christian Church emerge from this "entering wedge" of a people defined without a monarchy, who submit to rule by divine law instead of the machinations of a secular state.
Ancient Greece features a warrior cult and in the polis a steady evolution from pre-state. I wish we knew more of Anaximander with his "boundless" apeiron preceding creation, or Xenophanes' skepticism: if horses and cattle could draw, their gods would resemble them. Bellah's presentation lacks Armstrong's knack for the telling anecdote or excerpt from a primary source--he likes citing scholars--but it's similar in scope; with Heraclitus we approach "mythospeculation," the verge of philosophy. Plato reforms the synthetic hybrid system with theory but does not replace it--Bellah cautions that this had to wait until the "emergence of Western modernity" in the 17c. (395)
Back to China, while Plato followed the Seven Sages, Confucius preceded all major Chinese thinkers. Ritual was analyzed, meritocracy grew, and nobility turned into a status that birth alone might not attain, but adherence to an elitist, elaborately implemented, top-down mandate from heaven (mixed in Mencius with populism). But, Bellah mentions (more as an aside) how universal values embed themselves in the Analects. Warfare also depended on merit in a fluctuating time, and Mozi's contributions towards "right views" of rulers and a utilitarian concern towards all are less remembered today, thanks to Confucian rivals. The Dao, in #6, 15, 28, gains welcome if brief explication for its evocations of how weak overcomes strong; oddly #53 may in its primitivism find common ground with Legalism, if a small patch.
Xunzi as a final "Warring States" moral reformer merits mention: "I once spent a whole day in si 'reflection,' but I found it of less value than a moment of xue 'learning.' I once tried standing on tiptoe and gazing into the distance, but I found I could see much farther by climbing to a high place."(qtd. 474) Bellah integrates more primary passages in discussing the Dao and Xunzi, sharpening his study.
As Bellah tells us at the end of this Chinese chapter, the problem with Greece and Israel is that we are so familiar with the latter cultures compared to Asia, that it is tempting in those two "to find what at the moment our culture wants to find." (475) This can be charged to Armstrong, Stark, Wade, and Wright, naturally, and all of us as reader-critics. He notes how all he can do is give an interpretation. At least with China, its distance from our cultural legacy forces Westerners to approach cautiously. The question persists: who rules? Is a "junzi/ gentleman" from a hereditary caste, or a moral elite?
Bellah opens the Indian chapter confessing freshman-level instead of grad-student competence. He covers the standard Vedic formulations, and he considers India in Upanishadic times as religiously axial, but archaic in ethics, social structure, and rational discourse (as in Japan). The Buddha's breakthrough as a teacher of ethics accessible to all remains that tradition's axial contribution. Bellah quotes Steven Collins on the path demanding action, leading to nirvana, the "city without fear." Ethical universalism, in turn, sparked a similar promotion by theistic Hinduism and King Ashoka.
He comes around to serious play in the conclusion, realizing accurately it demanded more depth. He looks at renouncers as "moral upstarts" in archaic states who paved a stealthy way for social protest in the axial centuries by prophets, reformers, and teachers. Their utopias--Plato's Republic, Aristotle's Lyceum, Buddhist parables or Second Isaiah--combined political criticism and religious reform. Bellah transfers this to animal play, "flow," and "theoria" as a heightened consciousness. This last chapter, for those pressed for time, serves well as a coda and an exegesis of the major narrative's themes, especially the "relaxed fields" of play and culture which were sometimes buried in the text.
Summing up, Bellah explains how he gave the West less attention than China and India. While parts of this feel like other, shorter texts in their necessarily wide-ranging "metanarratives" from primordial soup to Brazil nuts, and while parts could have been edited (as in frequent give-and-take with his colleagues), it remains a valuable reference, for it brings into one big book the gist of such research.
He ends by warning us that we face the sixth extinction moment unfolding now, as we destroy our planet, in our deep history. He finds some hope that today's serious sociologists of religion do not elevate Christianity above all other faiths, and that in such acceptance a mature pluralism might allow us to advance in understanding on each others' own tolerant, peaceful terms. No universal category, by its very nature, after all, can free itself from its own particular emphases. He rushes past this admission, but he closes by acknowledging that theory needs to remain anchored in a cultural context, lest it "can assume a superiority that can lead to crushing mistakes." (606) (Amazon US 4-30-12)
Friday, March 9, 2012
Rodney Stark's "Discovering God": Book Review
This sociologist of religion favors "divine accommodation" as his model: "God's revelations are always limited to the current capacity of humans to comprehend"--sometimes "baby talk" is needed, as Moses found out when encountering God, or when Jesus spoke down to his disciples in parables. (6) He dismisses those (see my review of Robert Wright's 2009 "The Evolution of God") who endorse a reductive materialistic--cultural, biological, or psychological--explanation for religious invention and elaboration. He minimizes naturism, animism, ghost theory, and totemism proposed by early anthropologists as rationalizations. He downplays class antagonisms and replaces them with doctrinal disputes. He favors a "universal revelation" by the divine power, given from humanity's dawn.
This book differs from his colleagues' works, which tend to marshal neo-atheist and skeptical arguments against divine inspiration as a traceable presence in the history of religions. While many scholars may disagree with his dismissal of their studies, he advances just as many scholarly works in defense of his proposition. The text tends to move quickly, and while accessible for a general audience, it deserves attention for his nuances and his qualifiers.
Stark surveys the progression from Stone Age to early states in the Middle East and the Americas to Rome efficiently. He marshals evidence that rituals and sacrifices to High Gods pleased prehistoric peoples, ushering in polytheists geared for a temple-oriented, sometimes despotically commanded, polity. This imposition of belief with power diversified into a market-niche strategy geared to a very diverse Roman imperial clientele.
Godless religions, Stark cautions, don't last long outside intellectual or monastic elites. Buddhism, Taoism, and Jainism soon incorporated older folk gods and elements aimed to please lay followers unable to be comforted by abstractions. While India's definitive faiths downgraded earthly existence and worldly attachments, the ancient Chinese blended folk religion with new beliefs. These appealed to everyday people, as Stark reminds readers, and explain why religions tend to multiply gods and rituals rather than remain stark and committed to perhaps a founder's more detached vision of austerity.
In turn, sects rise when the "high tension" of a bold new faith eases, and a purer or more radical version's needed to spark renewal among the laity, and against a complacent priesthood bent on traditional orthodoxy. The "Yahweh-only" faction in Israel demonstrates the force imposed by a minority, who in exile cast off less fervent colleagues to return to their homeland intent on eliminating polytheism, paganism, and tolerance. While Stark accepts that the Exodus happened at least among a small band of Hebrews, he aligns with mainstream theologians (if not congregants in many pews) who accept how many indigenous peoples allied with the Hebrew hardcore to forge a Jewish identity connecting Yahweh to the rise of Judea and Israel, until a tribal god became a national icon, and then not an international deity but a universal Lord demanding fealty.
Common people need assurances brought by easily placated temple deities, whom families can supplicate and feel blessed by. The ancient city-states and emerging nations knew this, while congregations, in Stark's revisionist view, often threatened a nervous Roman power. Before Christians emerged, followers of Isis, Bacchus, and the Jews already in Rome found themselves persecuted and executed by Romans, who suspected upstart religious groups which signaled subversion. Intensity in belief generates "fear and retaliation from less demanding religious organizations and from governments that favor them." (155)
Stark's best points remind us how families comprise the initial circle of those who trust the new founder of a religion, whether based on revelation or inspiration. It expands by tested social bonds, and then market niches which over time not only retain early adopters but attract converts. "Religious capital" invested by a believer may weaken over time, and a new version of the faith may win him or her to convert, but usually this is more likely when "cultural continuity" smooths the transition between, say, Judaism and Christianity, at least long enough to establish it widely so Gentiles can then join as it expands its franchise.
Similarly, pagans warmed better to a variety of the Good News emphasizing classical concepts or symbols. However, Stark argues that from the start, an historically plausible Jesus was "explicitly acknowledged as divine." He rejects any notions of a New Testament not grounded in reality traceable to eyewitnesses, and he denies any gradual shift from Jewish preacher followed by messianic Jews to Pauline redeemer of Gentiles.
This appeal, all the same, built on Jewish diasporic networks, which already had weaker allegiances to orthodox practices, while incorporating not sudden or mass conversions but social alliances which brought in committed members gradually, thus ensuring a devoted band of Christians. This weakened as soon as it became the state religion, and Stark argues how the seeds of the demise of European Christianity were planted as far back as the later Roman empire, when hereditary benefices encouraged family control. This fits into his model of how state religions stagnate, when cults become organizations. He contrasts this with recent growth of Christianity when state sponsorship's lacking; he wonders if a Muslim Europe and a Christian China might be the case a century from now, as fervent believers spread their faiths apart from state control or historical tradition in these lands. (335)
Islam's rise for Stark comes not from any material longing but a spiritual wish to transform trade networks into religious ones paralleling political paths to power. Muhammad emerges as a prophet ready to take advantage of this regional orientation, as a founder of the Arab State. Stark revises the ameliorative or apologetic versions of the Prophet's life, and includes his episodes of caravan robbing, score-settling by murder, and the massacre of the Jews who resisted his control of Medina. As often in history, religious zeal matters less than fear of non-conformity by religious enforcers, as determined as are tyrants and god-kings.
Unifying Arabia, Islam was able to command wider territory with small but disciplined armies. Conversions ("market penetration" to 50%) took two to three centuries, as they did across the Roman Empire for Christians. Neither faith was particularly tolerant once it gained control. Sects proliferated once more, too. As for Islam's demands, so for Allah: submission is required. He's less approachable than the Jewish or Christian God--incomprehensible and inaccessible.
Stark concludes that the Axial Age introduced the concept of ethical behavior rewarding one in the afterlife, or next life, as salvation for those freed from sin. Sin provides an effective social control, cheaper than policing! As statelets and empires emerged from clans and cities, people began to adapt a (Stark thinks diffusion is possible) notion that they were always if invisibly watched, and their secret as well as visible actions would be judged.
Stark reasons a discovery of God through consistent and gradually more sophisticated revelations at this formative period. He posits an "inspired core" from High Gods (regressing to polytheism) to the ancient Hebrews and Christians-- if God exists. In his too-compressed closing paragraphs, he accepts the Christian search for an intelligent designer (based on Alfred North Whitehead's surprising thesis) as the logical force that impelled theologians and scientists to progress towards a discovery of God. (Amazon US 12-13-11)
This book differs from his colleagues' works, which tend to marshal neo-atheist and skeptical arguments against divine inspiration as a traceable presence in the history of religions. While many scholars may disagree with his dismissal of their studies, he advances just as many scholarly works in defense of his proposition. The text tends to move quickly, and while accessible for a general audience, it deserves attention for his nuances and his qualifiers.
Stark surveys the progression from Stone Age to early states in the Middle East and the Americas to Rome efficiently. He marshals evidence that rituals and sacrifices to High Gods pleased prehistoric peoples, ushering in polytheists geared for a temple-oriented, sometimes despotically commanded, polity. This imposition of belief with power diversified into a market-niche strategy geared to a very diverse Roman imperial clientele.
Godless religions, Stark cautions, don't last long outside intellectual or monastic elites. Buddhism, Taoism, and Jainism soon incorporated older folk gods and elements aimed to please lay followers unable to be comforted by abstractions. While India's definitive faiths downgraded earthly existence and worldly attachments, the ancient Chinese blended folk religion with new beliefs. These appealed to everyday people, as Stark reminds readers, and explain why religions tend to multiply gods and rituals rather than remain stark and committed to perhaps a founder's more detached vision of austerity.
In turn, sects rise when the "high tension" of a bold new faith eases, and a purer or more radical version's needed to spark renewal among the laity, and against a complacent priesthood bent on traditional orthodoxy. The "Yahweh-only" faction in Israel demonstrates the force imposed by a minority, who in exile cast off less fervent colleagues to return to their homeland intent on eliminating polytheism, paganism, and tolerance. While Stark accepts that the Exodus happened at least among a small band of Hebrews, he aligns with mainstream theologians (if not congregants in many pews) who accept how many indigenous peoples allied with the Hebrew hardcore to forge a Jewish identity connecting Yahweh to the rise of Judea and Israel, until a tribal god became a national icon, and then not an international deity but a universal Lord demanding fealty.
Common people need assurances brought by easily placated temple deities, whom families can supplicate and feel blessed by. The ancient city-states and emerging nations knew this, while congregations, in Stark's revisionist view, often threatened a nervous Roman power. Before Christians emerged, followers of Isis, Bacchus, and the Jews already in Rome found themselves persecuted and executed by Romans, who suspected upstart religious groups which signaled subversion. Intensity in belief generates "fear and retaliation from less demanding religious organizations and from governments that favor them." (155)
Stark's best points remind us how families comprise the initial circle of those who trust the new founder of a religion, whether based on revelation or inspiration. It expands by tested social bonds, and then market niches which over time not only retain early adopters but attract converts. "Religious capital" invested by a believer may weaken over time, and a new version of the faith may win him or her to convert, but usually this is more likely when "cultural continuity" smooths the transition between, say, Judaism and Christianity, at least long enough to establish it widely so Gentiles can then join as it expands its franchise.
Similarly, pagans warmed better to a variety of the Good News emphasizing classical concepts or symbols. However, Stark argues that from the start, an historically plausible Jesus was "explicitly acknowledged as divine." He rejects any notions of a New Testament not grounded in reality traceable to eyewitnesses, and he denies any gradual shift from Jewish preacher followed by messianic Jews to Pauline redeemer of Gentiles.
This appeal, all the same, built on Jewish diasporic networks, which already had weaker allegiances to orthodox practices, while incorporating not sudden or mass conversions but social alliances which brought in committed members gradually, thus ensuring a devoted band of Christians. This weakened as soon as it became the state religion, and Stark argues how the seeds of the demise of European Christianity were planted as far back as the later Roman empire, when hereditary benefices encouraged family control. This fits into his model of how state religions stagnate, when cults become organizations. He contrasts this with recent growth of Christianity when state sponsorship's lacking; he wonders if a Muslim Europe and a Christian China might be the case a century from now, as fervent believers spread their faiths apart from state control or historical tradition in these lands. (335)
Islam's rise for Stark comes not from any material longing but a spiritual wish to transform trade networks into religious ones paralleling political paths to power. Muhammad emerges as a prophet ready to take advantage of this regional orientation, as a founder of the Arab State. Stark revises the ameliorative or apologetic versions of the Prophet's life, and includes his episodes of caravan robbing, score-settling by murder, and the massacre of the Jews who resisted his control of Medina. As often in history, religious zeal matters less than fear of non-conformity by religious enforcers, as determined as are tyrants and god-kings.
Unifying Arabia, Islam was able to command wider territory with small but disciplined armies. Conversions ("market penetration" to 50%) took two to three centuries, as they did across the Roman Empire for Christians. Neither faith was particularly tolerant once it gained control. Sects proliferated once more, too. As for Islam's demands, so for Allah: submission is required. He's less approachable than the Jewish or Christian God--incomprehensible and inaccessible.
Stark concludes that the Axial Age introduced the concept of ethical behavior rewarding one in the afterlife, or next life, as salvation for those freed from sin. Sin provides an effective social control, cheaper than policing! As statelets and empires emerged from clans and cities, people began to adapt a (Stark thinks diffusion is possible) notion that they were always if invisibly watched, and their secret as well as visible actions would be judged.
Stark reasons a discovery of God through consistent and gradually more sophisticated revelations at this formative period. He posits an "inspired core" from High Gods (regressing to polytheism) to the ancient Hebrews and Christians-- if God exists. In his too-compressed closing paragraphs, he accepts the Christian search for an intelligent designer (based on Alfred North Whitehead's surprising thesis) as the logical force that impelled theologians and scientists to progress towards a discovery of God. (Amazon US 12-13-11)
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Michael Molloy's "Experiencing the World's Religions": Review
Most "reviews" (of this textbook on Amazon) remarked briefly on its delivery, condition, or the student's course. A couple criticized doctrinal points, and a few praised its tone and scope. I've been assigned (note the verb--we profs don't always have a choice!) this text to teach a Comparative Religions course, so I've prepared by studying it cover to cover.
"Understanding Religions" opens, then indigenous varieties, Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism & Sikhism, Daoism & Confucianism, and Shintoism. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam follow. Alternative religions and "The Modern Search" wrap it up.
Michael Molloy's updated this all for its fifth ed. He takes his task seriously, but he adds insight and verve. That is, he integrates personal encounters into the beginning of his chapters as well as within them, keeping the pace snappier than a chronological structure (each religious tradition's evolution) and geographical one (first ancients everywhere, then Asian, then Middle Eastern, then Western, New Age, earth-based, alternative, and "new religious movements") might portend. His own Hawaiian orientation allows him to use this logical East-West portal as a place for contemplating the island's indigenous and syncretic faiths and outlooks, and his Californian upbringing enriches this with another fitting place from which to scan the varieties of belief and ritual and outlook.
I kept an eye out for how contemporary scholarship, often not matching the mindset of many believers in the pew or temple, entered his treatment of issues. For instance, the lack of evidence for the Exodus, the writing down of sutras long after the death of the historical Buddha, the composition of the Qur'an, and the lag between the ministry of Jesus and the recording of the Gospels are common topics of discussion in seminars but not always within congregations. Molloy manages to address these within his chapters, while not overemphasizing controversial subjects or diminishing the outlooks adopted by everyday folks. He also adds endnotes where some intricate issues are expanded.
Within his Buddhism chapter I found the pithiest yet most diverse discussion of the possible meanings for the mantra "Om mani padme hum" yet, ones more advanced textbooks had not summed up so well. His Christianity chapter notes well how the Gospels differ in depicting Jesus by a process analogous to four portraits rather than identical photographs as it were. He cites another image given for the Qur'an, its suras stacked like leaves falling, the earliest layers first and then later ones on top of them. Such comparisons show the care with which Molloy's arranged his material.
Boldfaced terms are glossed after each chapter, and a handsome timeline graces the flyleaves. Films, music, websites, questions for study, and suggested reading append each chapter. It's not a fatal flaw, but I found his reading lists often bafflingly eclectic or way too narrow or offbeat. This may attest to his wide-ranging attention to quirkier approaches into what makes a faith or a ritual "tick." You never know what source may spark one's own interest.
Overall, as the "further reading" choices don't detract from the success of this ambitious, 560-page work, I'd give it a favorable rating. Another reviewer remarked on the text's lack of alternative religious coverage. Within the limits of two chapters of a vast survey, I'd counter that Molloy examines enough material to give a sense--if not a full treatment of--newer religions, sects, and emerging eclectic or humanist approaches. He discusses the dark side of religious suppression; the damage done by intolerance; the treatment of dissenters, women, and minorities; and the possibilities of multicultural and inter-religious progress. He encourages a critical position that places one within the perspective of each religious variety, enhanced by arts and culture.
Molloy ends this edition wonderfully with a conversation he had with friends, in which Einstein's perspective about miracles, God, and belief offers a profound reflection on the great matters this text in six-hundred pages addresses. Its photos, sidebars, and diversions may encourage respect and reflection, no matter what belief or lack of belief or combinations thereof its readers hold. (Amazon US 12-16-11, to counter lots of misspelled twenty-word blather posted by students complaining or praising their textbook's delivery, price, condition, professor, or seller, not the contents of the volume itself.)
"Understanding Religions" opens, then indigenous varieties, Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism & Sikhism, Daoism & Confucianism, and Shintoism. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam follow. Alternative religions and "The Modern Search" wrap it up.
Michael Molloy's updated this all for its fifth ed. He takes his task seriously, but he adds insight and verve. That is, he integrates personal encounters into the beginning of his chapters as well as within them, keeping the pace snappier than a chronological structure (each religious tradition's evolution) and geographical one (first ancients everywhere, then Asian, then Middle Eastern, then Western, New Age, earth-based, alternative, and "new religious movements") might portend. His own Hawaiian orientation allows him to use this logical East-West portal as a place for contemplating the island's indigenous and syncretic faiths and outlooks, and his Californian upbringing enriches this with another fitting place from which to scan the varieties of belief and ritual and outlook.
I kept an eye out for how contemporary scholarship, often not matching the mindset of many believers in the pew or temple, entered his treatment of issues. For instance, the lack of evidence for the Exodus, the writing down of sutras long after the death of the historical Buddha, the composition of the Qur'an, and the lag between the ministry of Jesus and the recording of the Gospels are common topics of discussion in seminars but not always within congregations. Molloy manages to address these within his chapters, while not overemphasizing controversial subjects or diminishing the outlooks adopted by everyday folks. He also adds endnotes where some intricate issues are expanded.
Within his Buddhism chapter I found the pithiest yet most diverse discussion of the possible meanings for the mantra "Om mani padme hum" yet, ones more advanced textbooks had not summed up so well. His Christianity chapter notes well how the Gospels differ in depicting Jesus by a process analogous to four portraits rather than identical photographs as it were. He cites another image given for the Qur'an, its suras stacked like leaves falling, the earliest layers first and then later ones on top of them. Such comparisons show the care with which Molloy's arranged his material.
Boldfaced terms are glossed after each chapter, and a handsome timeline graces the flyleaves. Films, music, websites, questions for study, and suggested reading append each chapter. It's not a fatal flaw, but I found his reading lists often bafflingly eclectic or way too narrow or offbeat. This may attest to his wide-ranging attention to quirkier approaches into what makes a faith or a ritual "tick." You never know what source may spark one's own interest.
Overall, as the "further reading" choices don't detract from the success of this ambitious, 560-page work, I'd give it a favorable rating. Another reviewer remarked on the text's lack of alternative religious coverage. Within the limits of two chapters of a vast survey, I'd counter that Molloy examines enough material to give a sense--if not a full treatment of--newer religions, sects, and emerging eclectic or humanist approaches. He discusses the dark side of religious suppression; the damage done by intolerance; the treatment of dissenters, women, and minorities; and the possibilities of multicultural and inter-religious progress. He encourages a critical position that places one within the perspective of each religious variety, enhanced by arts and culture.
Molloy ends this edition wonderfully with a conversation he had with friends, in which Einstein's perspective about miracles, God, and belief offers a profound reflection on the great matters this text in six-hundred pages addresses. Its photos, sidebars, and diversions may encourage respect and reflection, no matter what belief or lack of belief or combinations thereof its readers hold. (Amazon US 12-16-11, to counter lots of misspelled twenty-word blather posted by students complaining or praising their textbook's delivery, price, condition, professor, or seller, not the contents of the volume itself.)
Monday, January 23, 2012
Johnny Fincioen's "India Charming Chaos": Book Review
For five weeks, this Flemish couple, now living in California, visited Northern India. Dozens of temples filled their itinerary, and as with their dutifully memorizing guides, the array of facts and dates slowed the pace of how much they or we the readers could keep up with such unfamiliar data. So, illustrations help us take in images when words may tire. Johnny Fincioen wrote the text and his wife Claudine Van Massenhove took 178 photos, some within the pages and many more linked to the e-book. These capture what words cannot, and the combination of Johnny’s careful, precise descriptions, and his Claudine’s photos make this a virtual slide show, as it were, with extended narration. (I’ll call them by their first names, as they become familiar here as if characters themselves.)
I liked Johnny's observations about Indian culture and modernization within tradition. Social engineering’s impact on the poor in education earns thoughtful consideration; “affirmative action” programs fail rather than ease disparity. Long-term implications of “gendercide” also gain reflection as female fetuses are aborted throughout Asia. The culture so reliant on inequality makes itself known as Johnny and Claudine are treated far more considerately by many of their hosts than how Indians treat each other.
Johnny offers novel insights into Flanders-Indian ties to nationalism, cultural celebrations, religion, and WWI memorials. He keeps a jaundiced view of how religion generates scams, no matter the faith. He wearies rapidly of business as usual full of middlemen, bribes, and “offerings.” The wealthy build Hindu temples to generate donations from the poor while owners rake in tax-free, untraceable income. Still, “charitable contributions” given by the couple for hard work done do get money directly to those who labor to serve tourists and who merit reward for diligence, and this, the author reasons, beats handouts.
An afterword by Dr. “Reddy” balances with a Hindu’s perspective, perhaps to counter the skeptical view of Johnny advanced doggedly in the previous 250-odd pages. Similarly, a forward by Dr. Koenraad Elst from Antwerp sets this narrative within a context of how India’s policies have or have not advanced the nation, and how the impacts of technology will alter what his compatriots have seen in these pages.
Traffic congestion, lack of rules, roadblocks for the Delhi-Mumbai highway to create business along the side of the road, the stenches and sights and smells--all are described with clarity and wit. Luckily for the couple who have a background in exporting Belgian beer, Kingfisher bottles, if no comparison for their native brands, manage to show up in most places they visit. While the details do weigh down the narrative at times, more a journal for privately recalling one’s hosts and costs and purchases rather than one a reader might expect, the level of attentiveness to such a journey’s requirements and expenses does put you in the same position as Johnny and Claudine as they deal with the unexpected detours as well as the planned itinerary. One learns not to plan too tightly, too cheaply, nor too ambitiously!
For a multilingual writer, Johnny does a solid job of expressing his honest, forthright report in conversational English, and the added angle which he and his wife’s Flemish upbringing and European mindsets provide enriches their encounters as set out on the page. The book may err on the side of generosity when it comes to the level of information shared. For once, we get a travel account which does not edit out any meal, driver, payment, meeting, or sight seen.
The e-book is split into two volumes due to the welcome abundance of photos. The first half goes from Delhi to Naguar and Jaipur, then to Agra and the Taj Mahal. Orchha, Khajuraho, Varanasi and the Ganges, Allahabad, Kanpur, Bithoor, and Old Delhi comprise part two.
The amount of data about temples and lunches and accommodations may please those wanting to consult this as a practical guide for planning a similarly ambitious and thorough visit. For me, as for now a traveler only via a book, this reminded me of listening to a sharp-eyed, sharp-witted pair who’d come back from a journey with lots of photos to share and lots to relate. We hear—language barriers permitting-- from everyday Indians, and not only guides or docents. This adds to the grittier texture of the travelogue, but it may make its fidelity to the daily grind too burdensome for some. How much detail is welcome and how much is overwhelming may depend on how much you as an audience wish to hear or see. Overall, passing these data heaps amassed along the couple's long Indian road, it’s an intelligently rendered, if very minute-by-minute, intensive journey worth following.
Johnny sums up wryly one of India’s newest inventions: "Nano, the mini-car sitting twenty Indians on four seats." He and Claudine see, one morning in Orchha, silent old men crossing a river bridge into the jungle. These eccentrics move as if zombies "with their eyes set on infinity and their brainwaves tuned to zero." Such scenes, and Johnny’s humanistic but business-savvy tone, make this a fine companion for an armchair traveler, and one which may inspire some readers to become actual visitors to India themselves. There they can match their own perspectives with those captured by Claudine’s camera.
(I note I was provided a copy online {Kindle E-book] of this by the author who requested my review, posted on Amazon US 12-19-11.)
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Roger Zelazny's "Lord of Light": Book Review
What if people landed on another planet (albeit very much like India), and mastered the technology to transform into gods in the Hindu pantheon? By such skill, what if they tamed demons, nature, and other humans so as to force them into paying homage and making "donations" via slot machines, as prayer wheels made "pray-o-mats," to perpetuate the rule of the gods and to enforce obedience by their subjects to ensure a good rebirth, thanks to "psych-probes" able to check for dogmatic conformity and karmic approval?
Roger Zelazny's Hugo-award winning 1967 novel blends the fantasy of epic battles, with a great confrontation in Hellwell as the centerpiece among many contentions well-told, with a SF veneer. This sums up how machinery might advance what meditation alone might not for a cadre of Firsts, colonists from a doomed earth who build their technocracy as "Deicrats." They repel the Marxist-tinged efforts of humanist inventors and innovators to re-invent printing presses and weapons and know-how to spur progress against the Deicrats, as dissident "accelerationists."
This slow struggle over eons, as Zelazny tells it in a dense, wry, wordy style more akin to Hindu scriptures than your typical fantasy-SF tale (even if cynical gods smoke cigarettes and crafty humans try to invent a flushable toilet), brings Sam into the tale, as a Buddhist model of rebellion against the hierarchical oppression. Yet, he's not exactly the Buddha, and his ambiguous position allows him to manipulate his mission to his own advantage and that of the humans he champions.
It demands concentration, but rewards attention. Zelazny expects you to keep up with the shape-shifting antagonists who thwart Sam, who goes through his own considerable changes. Chapters flow into each other even if separated in time by immense distances; the gods keep their reign strong, as Sam tries to recruit defectors from the Celestial City to aid him in overthrowing divine despotism. I did wish for more reactions or actions from the vantage point of the humbler men and women, not to mention those Christianized zombies in Nirriti's army, an odd touch indeed. The concentration on Sam's club of Firsts does tilt the action always upward or downward to hell, and what's happening to the successor-earthlings (as it were?) gets relegated to what happens to extras in a big-screen epic (the story of its attempted filming makes a great footnote to the CIA in the 1979 Iran hostage crisis).
One slight drawback is that this novel is conveyed in a prose style that may discourage readers, as its elevated, verbose, if slightly mocking tone echoes ancient chronicles more than it does a typical paperback published around the Summer of Love!
Still, insights prove memorable, amidst the deities bickering and plotting and scheming. Science depends on the known, fantasy on the unknowable: "The four points of the compass be logic, knowledge, wisdom and the unknown. Some do bow in that final direction. Others advance upon it. To bow before the one is to lose sight of the three. I may submit to the unknown, but never to the unknowable. The man who bows in that direction is either a saint or a fool. I have no use for either." So says Sam early on.
The Enlightened One tells Kali: "The religion by which you rule is very ancient, goddess, but my protest is also that of a venerable tradition. So call me a protestant, and remember--now I am more than a man." With the great demon Taraka, Zelazny allows himself to enrich this character, perhaps as Milton did Lucifer: we see guilt emerge as Taraka aligns himself against heaven with Sam, and this chapter turns vivid as their perspectives merge. "His hell was a many-colored place, somewhat mitigated only by the cold-blue blaze of a scholar's intellect, the white light of a dying monk, the rose halo of a noble lady who fled his sight, and the dancing, simple colors of children at play."
In one mighty showdown, the land is ravaged by heavenly hosts, demons, zombies, and men all warring. Zelazny edges into a massive scene, and prepares us in fitting words. "It is said that each day recapitulates the history of the world, coming up out of darkness and cold into confused light and beginning warmth, consciousness jumbling its eyes somewhere in midmorning, awakening thoughts a jumble of illogic and unattached emotion, and all speeding together toward the order of noontide, the slow, poignant decline of dusk, the mystical vision of twilight, the end of entropy that is night once more."
This is a memorable narrative, and one of the only ones I can think of that takes on theological questions from a cyclical, Eastern orientation over such an immense scale of story and imaginative application of concepts. It deserves its place among SF classics, and despite its difficulty, proves a rewarding climb up its lofty heights. (Amazon US in slightly amended form 8-27-11)
Roger Zelazny's Hugo-award winning 1967 novel blends the fantasy of epic battles, with a great confrontation in Hellwell as the centerpiece among many contentions well-told, with a SF veneer. This sums up how machinery might advance what meditation alone might not for a cadre of Firsts, colonists from a doomed earth who build their technocracy as "Deicrats." They repel the Marxist-tinged efforts of humanist inventors and innovators to re-invent printing presses and weapons and know-how to spur progress against the Deicrats, as dissident "accelerationists."
This slow struggle over eons, as Zelazny tells it in a dense, wry, wordy style more akin to Hindu scriptures than your typical fantasy-SF tale (even if cynical gods smoke cigarettes and crafty humans try to invent a flushable toilet), brings Sam into the tale, as a Buddhist model of rebellion against the hierarchical oppression. Yet, he's not exactly the Buddha, and his ambiguous position allows him to manipulate his mission to his own advantage and that of the humans he champions.
It demands concentration, but rewards attention. Zelazny expects you to keep up with the shape-shifting antagonists who thwart Sam, who goes through his own considerable changes. Chapters flow into each other even if separated in time by immense distances; the gods keep their reign strong, as Sam tries to recruit defectors from the Celestial City to aid him in overthrowing divine despotism. I did wish for more reactions or actions from the vantage point of the humbler men and women, not to mention those Christianized zombies in Nirriti's army, an odd touch indeed. The concentration on Sam's club of Firsts does tilt the action always upward or downward to hell, and what's happening to the successor-earthlings (as it were?) gets relegated to what happens to extras in a big-screen epic (the story of its attempted filming makes a great footnote to the CIA in the 1979 Iran hostage crisis).
One slight drawback is that this novel is conveyed in a prose style that may discourage readers, as its elevated, verbose, if slightly mocking tone echoes ancient chronicles more than it does a typical paperback published around the Summer of Love!
Still, insights prove memorable, amidst the deities bickering and plotting and scheming. Science depends on the known, fantasy on the unknowable: "The four points of the compass be logic, knowledge, wisdom and the unknown. Some do bow in that final direction. Others advance upon it. To bow before the one is to lose sight of the three. I may submit to the unknown, but never to the unknowable. The man who bows in that direction is either a saint or a fool. I have no use for either." So says Sam early on.
The Enlightened One tells Kali: "The religion by which you rule is very ancient, goddess, but my protest is also that of a venerable tradition. So call me a protestant, and remember--now I am more than a man." With the great demon Taraka, Zelazny allows himself to enrich this character, perhaps as Milton did Lucifer: we see guilt emerge as Taraka aligns himself against heaven with Sam, and this chapter turns vivid as their perspectives merge. "His hell was a many-colored place, somewhat mitigated only by the cold-blue blaze of a scholar's intellect, the white light of a dying monk, the rose halo of a noble lady who fled his sight, and the dancing, simple colors of children at play."
In one mighty showdown, the land is ravaged by heavenly hosts, demons, zombies, and men all warring. Zelazny edges into a massive scene, and prepares us in fitting words. "It is said that each day recapitulates the history of the world, coming up out of darkness and cold into confused light and beginning warmth, consciousness jumbling its eyes somewhere in midmorning, awakening thoughts a jumble of illogic and unattached emotion, and all speeding together toward the order of noontide, the slow, poignant decline of dusk, the mystical vision of twilight, the end of entropy that is night once more."
This is a memorable narrative, and one of the only ones I can think of that takes on theological questions from a cyclical, Eastern orientation over such an immense scale of story and imaginative application of concepts. It deserves its place among SF classics, and despite its difficulty, proves a rewarding climb up its lofty heights. (Amazon US in slightly amended form 8-27-11)
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Saturday, September 17, 2011
Stephen Prothero's "Religious Literacy": Book Review
This combines three sections. First, our present-day American illiteracy about religion, in the most "religious" nation on earth, receives Professor Prothero's survey. Next, he looks at how much the Puritans knew and taught and reinforced, and then how colonial and evangelical and non-denominational movements contended in bringing content into schools, public life, and instructional books for young and old. Finally, he proposes bringing back religious instruction into secondary schools (and on a wider basis in colleges) not on a normative basis or a reductive "all religions are the same" approach, but one that respects objective analysis.
As he teaches at Boston University, a prestigious institution, I was intrigued to learn how little his students knew, and why the standards for religious knowledge among a population that often claims fervently to read the Bible regularly and to attend services, have fallen the past century. He distinguishes well fundamentalism (the word of God is literal and unalterable) from evangelicalism (the word is inspired but modernity is not a bad term); he reminds us of how the 19th century debates over how Christianity had to be taught in public schools as Protestants reasoned a more inclusive approach tangled with Catholic immigrants, who eventually wound up creating parochial schools and separating themselves from the mainstream for basically a century, until Vatican II eroded what made Catholic culture so distinctive.
However, much of his book does not take on literacy now so much as back then, and it reads like a textbook for long stretches; his research into how Jesus became "Americanized" appears to be repeated in this newer volume. Also, for an historian of American religious culture, he appears to not have understood the claims of Stephen Batchelor's "Buddhism without Beliefs" which he castigates for abandoning tradition to pursue happiness. I've reviewed this book, and it presents a sober, existentialist, "agnostic" approach to Buddhism for a practitioner who cannot believe, which is not a touchy-feely take on dharma at all. Prothero cites his "Boomer Buddhism" critique from "Salon" in early 2001; this article shows a similar disdain for James William Coleman's "The New Buddhism" (also reviewed by me), which examines from a sociological perspective the "convert" reaction to Buddhism; this rankles Prothero, who appears to expect that if a religious (and moreover monastically dominated) import to America does not remain pure, as it were, that's it's tainted, tawdry, and terrible.
That apparent display of too-hasty a scholarly claim aside, the strengths of this book are in showing how the affective response to Christianity that permeates so many Americans weakens our political and practical competency to understand the diverse cultures around us, as well as the international tensions resulting from misinformation or ignorance about other faiths, let alone the most common one in America. He does cover Hinduism and Islam and Judaism in American life, too, if much more in passing, as Protestantism overwhelmingly remains the key subject of discussion.
His suggested reading list is very short, and oddly chosen, to find out about some of these other faiths, however; you may learn enough, if a newcomer, from the key information that he compiles into an eighty-page glossary in the spirit of E.D. Hirsch's "Cultural Literacy" if not its scope. Finally, take the Religious Literacy Quiz and see how you do; it's fun to see how Jewish, Catholic, and Protestant tallies of even the Ten Commandments don't break them down the same way--a testament to diversity! (Amazon US 8-31-11)
As he teaches at Boston University, a prestigious institution, I was intrigued to learn how little his students knew, and why the standards for religious knowledge among a population that often claims fervently to read the Bible regularly and to attend services, have fallen the past century. He distinguishes well fundamentalism (the word of God is literal and unalterable) from evangelicalism (the word is inspired but modernity is not a bad term); he reminds us of how the 19th century debates over how Christianity had to be taught in public schools as Protestants reasoned a more inclusive approach tangled with Catholic immigrants, who eventually wound up creating parochial schools and separating themselves from the mainstream for basically a century, until Vatican II eroded what made Catholic culture so distinctive.
However, much of his book does not take on literacy now so much as back then, and it reads like a textbook for long stretches; his research into how Jesus became "Americanized" appears to be repeated in this newer volume. Also, for an historian of American religious culture, he appears to not have understood the claims of Stephen Batchelor's "Buddhism without Beliefs" which he castigates for abandoning tradition to pursue happiness. I've reviewed this book, and it presents a sober, existentialist, "agnostic" approach to Buddhism for a practitioner who cannot believe, which is not a touchy-feely take on dharma at all. Prothero cites his "Boomer Buddhism" critique from "Salon" in early 2001; this article shows a similar disdain for James William Coleman's "The New Buddhism" (also reviewed by me), which examines from a sociological perspective the "convert" reaction to Buddhism; this rankles Prothero, who appears to expect that if a religious (and moreover monastically dominated) import to America does not remain pure, as it were, that's it's tainted, tawdry, and terrible.
That apparent display of too-hasty a scholarly claim aside, the strengths of this book are in showing how the affective response to Christianity that permeates so many Americans weakens our political and practical competency to understand the diverse cultures around us, as well as the international tensions resulting from misinformation or ignorance about other faiths, let alone the most common one in America. He does cover Hinduism and Islam and Judaism in American life, too, if much more in passing, as Protestantism overwhelmingly remains the key subject of discussion.
His suggested reading list is very short, and oddly chosen, to find out about some of these other faiths, however; you may learn enough, if a newcomer, from the key information that he compiles into an eighty-page glossary in the spirit of E.D. Hirsch's "Cultural Literacy" if not its scope. Finally, take the Religious Literacy Quiz and see how you do; it's fun to see how Jewish, Catholic, and Protestant tallies of even the Ten Commandments don't break them down the same way--a testament to diversity! (Amazon US 8-31-11)
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Katherine Russell Rich's "Dreaming in Hindi": Book Review
Four days before 9/11, Rich arrives in Northwest India. She knows a little Hindi, and she figures she needs a break after eight successive jobs as a magazine editor have ended in her being laid off or the publication going under. Neither her Main Line suburban Philadelphia upbringing nor her years in Manhattan prepare her for immersion into the culture of Rajasthan.
Rich’s account follows a narrative pattern that may be familiar to those who have studied and lived abroad. Her romantic expectations fade, her terror at learning the language turns to resentment, resignation, and acceptance. After five months, her fluency grows despite her weariness at the overwhelming assaults of color, emotion, noise, and attitudes that distinguish Udaipur, the city where her school is, from her familiar American mindset.
This book succeeds when Rich describes what she sees. Before leaving New York, she studies the orthography of Hindi. “The beautiful letters, like stick trees that had bumped into a ceiling or a revue of performing snakes, came out shaped like cows’ heads in my hands.” She tells of Second Language Acquisition with interspersed summations and interview snippets from scholars and linguists. These may interfere with the Indian portions, but they attempt to align her own struggles with those that academics analyze as common situations for any adult learner. She feels speechless, yet the exhilaration of her Indian residence forces her to get beyond the persistent predicament that makes her a child in the eyes and ears of her interlocutors. Many Indians want to practice their equally awkward English phrases with her; meanwhile those Indians adept in her mother tongue shift into English with her often. She compares her condition to “the daily schism to contend with, of having the mind of a woman who’s worked to have one and a voice that’s the Indian equivalent of a U.S. sitcom character named Babu.”
After five months, however, right on schedule according to professors, Rich leaves behind “receptive infancy” for a “naming explosion.” Her English can roam, especially in earlier chapters, wildly, into oddly cadenced constructions, strangely placed punctuation, and unidiomatic rhythms. This may leave a native English reader wondering if his or her own articulation also weakens under the pressure of another language, but this prose equivalence may have been subconscious on Rich’s part. Her frequent digressions into scholarship alongside often humdrum interludes from her travels lengthen into an off-kilter, idiosyncratically accented work. Her classmates and friends earn attention, but many fail to stick to the page as memorable characters with worthwhile conversations. This may leave a reader both wanting more detail and wishing less of it; it veers between depth and superficiality for long stretches.
Hindi, in reflection, spreads into her mind long after her return to America as a “stain on my thoughts,” and this permeable nature of reminding her of places and people from nearly a decade before this book does testify to her powers of recall. Her senses seem doubled. “The lights slanting down soft yellow makes the lanes look like misty stage sets.” Speech, in Sanskrit convention, becomes one of ten senses.
She tries to get to know her country’s hosts better. She assists at a deaf school and notes how some of the children draw self-portraits without a mouth. Her sign language nickname there is “Plane Crashing into Tower.” As she lives in India longer, she feels more at home and less at ease. She is assaulted three times as tensions increase and foreigners meet insults. “When I looked up, two couples were hurrying past, the men’s heads pulled down by taut strings, the women’s faces turned back to examine mine—laughing, though it looked like they were grimacing.” America, to India’s increasingly nationalistic Hindus, appears self-absorbed by 9/11; soon after, two thousand deaths (mostly Muslim) nearer to Udaipur, during sectarian riots in neighboring Gujurat, result in no response from the U.S. president.
She visits the rich and, perhaps less successfully given her outsider status and those of her caste-conscious hosts, she tries to talk to the poor. A haughty wealthy man tells her that by taking tea with him, she shows she is still foreign; a fellow Indian would not be offered tea. They contend to manipulate and dominate each other in a Third World economy that allows little space for mutual admiration.
Rich realizes the gap between her and these natives. Her linguistic progress signals her willingness to reinvent herself, but her appearance and her age defy her wishes. At 45, her Indian counterparts may look like paper-skinned grandmothers. She hides her divorced status but this makes her single status all the more dumbfounding to her Indian inquirers. Staying at a former women’s quarters of an old house where the current women of the family challenge her can be both amusing and wearying. She must defend her reputation. As she filters it through what would have been her acquired Hindi: “I have not been bringing men up to my room. I have not been throwing condoms onto people’s roofs.”
Trying out for a “videshi” or “foreigner” singing competition so her sponsors can benefit from the prize she is promised at a resort, she reflects how in a sari, often like a bunched diaper at best on her figure, she looks like “a large, motorized confectioner’s cake gliding pinkly down the street.” Still, her inner immersion via Hindi has made her strut more confidently, and capably. She leaves after most of a year spent in India beginning to dream in both languages, and she keeps doing so today, she concludes. (Posted to Lunch.com & Amazon US 9-8-10; Pop Matters 9-21-10.)
Rich’s account follows a narrative pattern that may be familiar to those who have studied and lived abroad. Her romantic expectations fade, her terror at learning the language turns to resentment, resignation, and acceptance. After five months, her fluency grows despite her weariness at the overwhelming assaults of color, emotion, noise, and attitudes that distinguish Udaipur, the city where her school is, from her familiar American mindset.
This book succeeds when Rich describes what she sees. Before leaving New York, she studies the orthography of Hindi. “The beautiful letters, like stick trees that had bumped into a ceiling or a revue of performing snakes, came out shaped like cows’ heads in my hands.” She tells of Second Language Acquisition with interspersed summations and interview snippets from scholars and linguists. These may interfere with the Indian portions, but they attempt to align her own struggles with those that academics analyze as common situations for any adult learner. She feels speechless, yet the exhilaration of her Indian residence forces her to get beyond the persistent predicament that makes her a child in the eyes and ears of her interlocutors. Many Indians want to practice their equally awkward English phrases with her; meanwhile those Indians adept in her mother tongue shift into English with her often. She compares her condition to “the daily schism to contend with, of having the mind of a woman who’s worked to have one and a voice that’s the Indian equivalent of a U.S. sitcom character named Babu.”
After five months, however, right on schedule according to professors, Rich leaves behind “receptive infancy” for a “naming explosion.” Her English can roam, especially in earlier chapters, wildly, into oddly cadenced constructions, strangely placed punctuation, and unidiomatic rhythms. This may leave a native English reader wondering if his or her own articulation also weakens under the pressure of another language, but this prose equivalence may have been subconscious on Rich’s part. Her frequent digressions into scholarship alongside often humdrum interludes from her travels lengthen into an off-kilter, idiosyncratically accented work. Her classmates and friends earn attention, but many fail to stick to the page as memorable characters with worthwhile conversations. This may leave a reader both wanting more detail and wishing less of it; it veers between depth and superficiality for long stretches.
Hindi, in reflection, spreads into her mind long after her return to America as a “stain on my thoughts,” and this permeable nature of reminding her of places and people from nearly a decade before this book does testify to her powers of recall. Her senses seem doubled. “The lights slanting down soft yellow makes the lanes look like misty stage sets.” Speech, in Sanskrit convention, becomes one of ten senses.
She tries to get to know her country’s hosts better. She assists at a deaf school and notes how some of the children draw self-portraits without a mouth. Her sign language nickname there is “Plane Crashing into Tower.” As she lives in India longer, she feels more at home and less at ease. She is assaulted three times as tensions increase and foreigners meet insults. “When I looked up, two couples were hurrying past, the men’s heads pulled down by taut strings, the women’s faces turned back to examine mine—laughing, though it looked like they were grimacing.” America, to India’s increasingly nationalistic Hindus, appears self-absorbed by 9/11; soon after, two thousand deaths (mostly Muslim) nearer to Udaipur, during sectarian riots in neighboring Gujurat, result in no response from the U.S. president.
She visits the rich and, perhaps less successfully given her outsider status and those of her caste-conscious hosts, she tries to talk to the poor. A haughty wealthy man tells her that by taking tea with him, she shows she is still foreign; a fellow Indian would not be offered tea. They contend to manipulate and dominate each other in a Third World economy that allows little space for mutual admiration.
Rich realizes the gap between her and these natives. Her linguistic progress signals her willingness to reinvent herself, but her appearance and her age defy her wishes. At 45, her Indian counterparts may look like paper-skinned grandmothers. She hides her divorced status but this makes her single status all the more dumbfounding to her Indian inquirers. Staying at a former women’s quarters of an old house where the current women of the family challenge her can be both amusing and wearying. She must defend her reputation. As she filters it through what would have been her acquired Hindi: “I have not been bringing men up to my room. I have not been throwing condoms onto people’s roofs.”
Trying out for a “videshi” or “foreigner” singing competition so her sponsors can benefit from the prize she is promised at a resort, she reflects how in a sari, often like a bunched diaper at best on her figure, she looks like “a large, motorized confectioner’s cake gliding pinkly down the street.” Still, her inner immersion via Hindi has made her strut more confidently, and capably. She leaves after most of a year spent in India beginning to dream in both languages, and she keeps doing so today, she concludes. (Posted to Lunch.com & Amazon US 9-8-10; Pop Matters 9-21-10.)
Friday, May 20, 2011
William McGowan's "Only Man Is Vile": Book Review
This 1992 account on "the Tragedy of Sri Lanka" lives up (or down) to its title. Grim and dispiriting, nevertheless this American journalist seeks the truth about what, in 1988, already had been India's Vietnam, "in which the world's fourth-largest army was neutralized by a group of teenagers in sarongs and rubber slippers." (307)Garbed in tiger-stripes, singer M.I.A.'s defended her father's role in the Tamil insurgency, comprised of such a determined cadre. Yet McGowan fills his book with atrocities done by "freedom fighters," against the Indian troops brought in as "peacekeepers" in the civil war fought between Tamils allied to 55 million mainland Indians and a resurgent Sinhalese nation determined to defend this Buddhist heartland against intrusive India. Buddhists confronted with the regime's role in sectarian chauvinism and ethnic cleansing need to admit that the aggression that the Sinhalese campaign by legal and illegal means to defeat the Tamil guerrillas (which took nearly two decades after this book appeared to occur) shows the debased condition-- when ideology cynically detaches from mercy-- of a cherished, yet here degraded, faith. When Buddhism's made a badge of identity and not a force for goodness, it's ugly.
McGowan explores both sides. The Indians caught in the middle, sympathizing with the Tamils often even as they are charged to punish them. The Sinhalese majority for McGowan's an object lesson in betrayal of their Buddhist legacy. On their island, they believe they are the truest heirs to Buddha; they also act as if the Tamils are a fifth column for Indian imperialism. The Sinhalese take over the independent nation as a "majority with an inferiority complex." (112)
Sinhala leaders punish dissent. Secular critics fear death, while schools bow to government dictates. Rather than nonviolent compassion, under post-colonial affirmative action the perils of multiculturalist favoritism emerge: race-normed college admissions, jingoistic curricula, linguistic promotions, and ethnic entitlements. Such "ideas shaped by a romantic infatuation with the idea of distinct cultural identities based on invidious scholarship and demagoguery" (8) display the downsides of identity-based political power and ethnically unethical social reform.
The results can be tedious, lots of names and factions and interviews that seem perfunctory, or insufficient. The book wanders about and sections appear to float untethered to any other chapter. The single map is ridiculously illegible as if photocopied from an Indian atlas.
Earliest colonists devastated native traditions but this got barely an aside in one sentence. I wanted to know the author of a biography of the late-Victorian reformer Dharmapala, but no name was given. The Jayanthi revival in 1956 that sparked the Buddhist resurgence seems under-analyzed. Photos would have been helpful. There's an index but no sources cited.
Many sections may be of more value to historians than casual readers such as myself. Yet, McGowan strives in his time there-- confronted by stonewalling from cowed intellectuals, feared by terrified peasants, under fire, amidst censorship, within rot and inertia-- to show us what he did manage to find. "There was a lot of construction going on almost everywhere, but it was hard to tell which things were being built and which things were falling apart. Everything seemed to slope" (17)
In battle, the fear hits him more than the weary natives. "The sounds of helicopters and shelling in the distance were no more threatening than locusts on a town green in Iowa." (75) As he tries to interview Tigers and the Indians they fight, you feel his terror-- the sense that life comes cheap heightens. Yet, "I found myself going out of peer pressure, an underrated force in the secret history of war correspondence." (83) After an attack in Colombo: "In the middle of a spreading bo tree near the police station was what I thought was an arm or a child's leg." (85)
The Tamils come off no better. The Tigers set off land mines near civilian settlements. The Indian forces or Sri Lankan troops will mount reprisals. As for those caught in the middle? "Better that they were killed, Father," a Jesuit priest is told by a Tiger. "More propaganda for us." (234) Tigers and Sri Lankan soldiers stage a firefight at a Sunday market in Batti. At the morgue, McGowan watches as the civilian casualties get displayed. "One grief-stricken woman was bent over her dead husband, with her fingers delicately placed in his ear, as if in love-making." (248)
The "National Ideology" evolving out of "national feeling" translated into Sinhala as "race consciousness" proves sobering. The JVP terrorizes Sinhalese unwilling to back terrorism and chauvinism as patriotism. I've read a lot about Northern Irish parallels to this insular trap. It shared the emphasis on shibboleths; in names used for people and places and causes; the tangle of political parties and militias; occupation troops from a nearby superpower siding with the paramilitaries they share an ethnic identity with: these contexts add up.
Similarly, it's insightful on the support exacted from those near the crossfire, even if they seek safety. As for grassroots backing of the Tigers: "Like Buddhists in the south who abhorred the slaughter of animals but heartily partook of what the butcher was selling, many Tamils disdained the intimidation and violence of the LTTE but would accept the rewards that violence brought them." na(325)
Finally, in the later chapters, McGowan tries to reconcile his early romanticism about Sri Lanka as a Buddhist paradise or tropical retreat with his harrowing experiences. He befriends "Mr. Crab," a teenaged beggar crippled by polio. Together, they try to climb Sri Pala, Adam's Peak, and through this curious representative of one figure transcending sectarian, conventional divisions, McGowan seeks to explore the loss of Buddhist tolerance and Western complicity. It makes for a thoughtful coda to a story needing the human touch, the moment of recovery, after so much pain. (Posted to Amazon US 5-17-10)
Monday, April 11, 2011
Colin Thubron's "Shadow of the Silk Road": Book Review
Retracing his youthful trek, this veteran travel writer charts conversations and shares sights. It starts off powerfully in Xian, at the start of the 7,000-mile route. Without photos, his narrative carries the force of a documentary film's record.
Rome at one end and China at the other, so distant, traded in legends. Silk grew on trees; "vegetable lambs" sprouted overnight cotton. A thousand years of commerce, ended by shipping, Mongol invasions, and alternate routes, left much of the settings he passes in ruins. Others, as in the PRC, obliterate whatever charm, devotion, or value remained. "To follow a road is to follow diversity: a flow of interlocked voices, in a cloud of dust." (31)
He listens to many voices, fluent as he is in Mandarin & Russian. Thubron's strength is how he recounts the slow madness of a young wife who ran away before consummating her marriage, Persian men obsessed with female chastity and Western pornography, a shanghaied survivor of the Taliban and warlords, and polite resisters to Communist oppression or Islamic fundamentalism. The author's British identity marks him as target of entreaties opportunists, lonely men, drunken drivers, a Tibetan monk, eager students, and cunning informers, perhaps. He roams at a time when SARS threatens, and when the Iraqi invasion casts him as a representative, unwillingly, of a different type of inhumanity but one that links him to a long trail of such across the road taken by forces under Genghis Khan, the Shah, Khomeini's forces, Stalin, and the original Assassins.
He sums up on his second traverse of this trail what survives and what does not. The cliff temples of Matisi with a thousand miniature Buddhas as murals have been "defaced by Red Guards, each one scratched with an obliterating cross, as if it were a mathematical equation that hadn't worked out." (79) Near Khotan he tells, too fleetingly, of the strange Tocharian mummies with Celtic-like tartans and Caucasoid features in that desert climate. Among the rebellious Uighir, he feels apart: "Thousands of miles from anyone who knows you, you have the illusion that your past is lighter, scarcely yours at all. . . . Dangerously, you may come to feel invulnerable. You fear only your failure to understand or to reach where you are going. Sometimes you are moved by a kind of heartless curiousity, which shames you only on your return home. At other times you are touched, even torn; but you move on." (115)
As this traveler's tale continues, the lassitude and oddness of the journey weighs on him and you. He crosses the "shadow-line" as he flies over, given border tensions, the Kyrgyz-Russian-Chinese frontiers, "where the Chinese world elided with the Turkic-- where Uighir dreams simmered, and domes appeared, and people started to talk about God." (156) His stories of the Kyrgyz passes, full of drinking bouts, harrowing brushes with death, and near-pagan vistas of primeval rawness, linger. Tangerine slopes, apricot cliff, turquoise river, coal-black screes: these beckon a certain breed of native and a visitor able to recount their unworldly power. "Some mountains poured to the river in a liquid-seeming waste, the colour of sewage, while others showed crimson and incendiary beyond them, already daubed with snow." (180)
As he continues, paranoia seems to shadow him and his informants. The Chinese fearful of SARS and foreign presences monitor him; the peoples resisting the Communists or the Taliban, the mullahs or the despotic regimes fear his entrance or take him aside as a confidant. Past the ancient divide of the River Oxus, He in Mazar-e-Sharif watches from a hotel window "the still city, which seemed to be glimmering under water. I felt a light expectancy. This, I thought idly, was how people died: by mistake, imagining themselves bodiless." (221)
Such an existential unease grows as he enters Islamist territory. The Mongols left the places they conquered so ruined that even today, on this highway, forgetfulness appears to be the status quo, as it was for different ideologies but similar purposes under Stalin, Taliban, Mao, the Shah, and Khomeini. Nearing Iran:
"For the last time I follow a track into a village and see again how people live. How a seven-year-drought is draining their fields, their crops, their lives. One quarter of their children never reaches the age of five. The average life ends at forty-three. Then all thoughts about brutality and conscience drain away, and the mystery becomes not cruelty, but compassion: why somebody offers a stranger a cigarette, or turns away from killing an enemy's son." (257)In Tehran, he finds a clandestine humanism, but even a young filmmaker's search for genuine roots withers. He and some friends went one winter to a village to collect picturesque stories and scenes. Thubron quotes him: "But we found those villages had no memories. No stories. There were no lullabies they sang their babies. The songs they sang were the same as ours." (285) So, their film became: "About how there were no stories. How history had disappeared."
Thubron composes his book filled with such vignettes. He tells many stories even as he shows us how history crumbles and ideology stifles imagination. His book will not be the romantic travelogue that his predecessors might have labored a century or two ago to concoct. It can depress, and we may be startled as the author is by his own mirrored reflection late on, hostile eyes, windburned face, dissheveled attire. He makes no easy end of his journey, and his honesty may wear him and us down, but he is faithful in this manner to telling us what he heard, saw, and felt all the long way from the eerie, policed fastnesses of inner Asia to the calmer, tired shores of ancient Antioch. (Posted to Amazon US 4-4-10)
P.S. See his livelier, if as measured and reticent and for me very moving narrative which followed: "To a Mountain in Tibet" (brief review at this Amazon link). I reviewed it in detail on my blog and for PopMatters on 2-2-11.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
DK Publishing's "India": Book Review
This visually stunned me. It opens with panoramic vistas and fills pages with imagery. Its text packs lots of learning. While a heavy book in size and contents, it enriches readers and it's surprisingly affordable.DK lavishes graphics in all its publications, and this approach matches well the wonders of landscape art, architecture, daily life, occupations, sights, religious and mythical tales, and travel highlights that cram these large pages. Evocative verse excerpts top double-page spreads of beautiful photography to open the volume, and alongside such as the Taj Mahal and Khajuraho, the colorful wares of a dye seller, a Ladakh Tibetan Buddhist monastery, a bridal dinner, the makeup worn by a dancer, or the inlay of a Mughal archway gain impact from the enlarged illustrations.
Also, the text, credited to Abraham Eraly, Yasmin Khan, George Michell, and Mitali Saran, explores such topics as the early cities of the Indus, a train driver's day, or a "dabbawallah" who somehow delivers tiffin lunchboxes each day in Mumbai, clearly. The Bhagavad-Gita, for instance, earns excerpts from its second chapter that use Krishna's encouragement to Arjuna to fight in battle that sum up the whole Hindu mindset skillfully.
This relates to one small shortcoming. Lacking a reading list, I am not sure where to turn next to find out more. The translation of the B-G is noted in the acknowledgments along with a couple of the poems earlier cited, and there's an index and photo credits, but a supplemental guide to films, books, or other media could have been inserted. The travel guide at the end whets one's appetite to visit, but the illustrated maps can be hard to read, drawn engagingly though they may be with art and color in a style that reminds me of lush coffee-table tomes of my childhood of faraway places. The binding, as earlier reviewers on Amazon mention, is noteworthy, but the book might be scuffed or dented easily-- so I'd keep it away from the coffee under the table. But I'd also take it out and read it from cover to cover, for browsing the art will lure you into the print quickly. (Posted to Amazon US 3-20-10. May be hard to find by the generic title, so see my permalink.)
Monday, March 21, 2011
Olivier Roy's "Holy Ignorance": Book Review
When halal turkeys sell for Thanksgiving, "Happy Holidays" drowns out "Merry Christmas," Easter egg hunts replace Mass celebrating the Resurrection, and sacred Catholic terms in Quebec serve only as swear words, culture has parted ways with religion. French professor Olivier Roy built his career analyzing Islam's political aspects, and in this new study, he broadens his view to also investigate Christian and Jewish reactions (with glances at Hindu and Buddhist contexts) to secularization. While the dense results in awkward prose, translated (from the 2008 French original) by Ros Schwartz, slow down any reader of this brief book, they deserve attention for Roy's explanations of what happens when multiculturalism and diversity produce a "holy ignorance" where an anti-intellectual reaction to modernization opposes a world of many opposed or divergent believers, or of none.
Religious advocates may boast of a comeback, but Roy labels this resurgence as a transformation. Even if religions appear more visible now, they are fading. More people are not returning to a familial religion, for many of their recent ancestors have already abandoned its practices. Rather, believers often come as converts or born-agains, and they may demand sudden acceptance by a religious community from which the individual seeker has been estranged. This "unsaid" culture, that of subtle customs and unspoken norms, may appear alien to the eager newcomer. Those who were raised within a religion they may follow to greater or lesser degree, casually as well as fervently, may disdain the bumptious aggression of the novice who demands too loudly to be accepted as genuine. Here, Roy shows, the cultural aspects have been, for many discontented seculars who wish to reconnect with religion, already attenuated.
This disconnection between religion and culture allows a faith, in this globalized matrix, to either detach itself from its cultural origins, as immigrants and converts demonstrate, or it may force it to take the defensive approach, as with European Catholicism or Eastern Orthodox Christianity, and to wish for integration back into ethnic or national territories that have been secularizing rapidly during the past half-century and more. Roy sums up the challenge: "Either religion is reduced to culture, or it has to separate itself from culture (in any case from Western culture) to assert its universality." (62)
Cultural diversity, therefore, competes against religious claims to lift a message (as in Islam or Christianity) above its origins to save all men and women. Judaism and Hinduism mingle the ethnic and religious identities, so an atheist Jew may not be surprising, but if an atheist Muslim wishes to declare himself such, as at least one author listed here has, the fact of his Tunisian birth may be the reason that he has proclaimed his status as this only after moving to France. In turn, that nation, Roy reminds us, has 70% of its citizens claiming Catholicism, but only 5% practice the faith traditionally associated with its dominant culture for over fifteen-hundred years.
Four reactions define historic and current responses by religion as it seeks to survive within its milieu. First, deculturation occurs when Christians try to wipe out indigenous faiths, or when orthodox Islam dominates the Indian subcontinent. Acculturation happens when the Jews of the Enlightenment adapt mainstream European values, or as India's natives integrate Christian or Islamic influences. Inculturation places liberation theology at the center of Latin American's indigenous ideologies. Finally, exculturation marks the Catholic or evangelical reactions we witness, as these powers fight a rearguard action against a worldly set of values now ascendant.
Religion also manufactures its own culture: Roy explains how written languages set down to spread the Gospel often turn into media that may Westernize some peoples, while strengthening the national allegiances of others. In Northern Ireland or the Balkans, religion can mold into an identity marker for a person or group that may renounce or ignore its actual doctrine, while still retaining a cultural or tribal allegiance to its mores. Historically, such transitions and transfers express how religion relates to its cultural settings.
Roy intersperses case studies from across the world, mostly in the Eurasian realms, to show the situations that illustrate these changes. Christmas as celebrated with a Yule log by the hearth was not the old custom, but a new one invented in the wake of Dickens, and this "traditional" festival replaced the churchgoing that drew worshipers out into the cold air to walk down to their local church. Central Asians may demand to become Christians within an Islamic society; African-Americans may adopt Arab names while Arab immigrants may shed theirs when settling into America. Outcries over priestly celibacy and pedophilia and homosexuality and abortion command so much attention now because the core values that Catholicism proclaimed had, until recently, pushed opposing views on sexuality, individual freedom, and fidelity to the margins. In the heartlands of Islam, as Roy documents, similar protests remain marginalized, and therefore weaker.
As women claim more power, and as gay rights enter the mainstream, sexual freedom becomes the new norm for secular proponents. The private sphere shrinks by communications, the police state grows by surveillance, and law steps in where the clerics once patrolled. So, bolder individuals step out of the shadow and enter the stage. Modern identities favor public display, and demand "transparency, authenticity, and truth."
Religious defenders react in three ways. First, they may regard the competing culture as "profane," and look down upon it. The ultra-orthodox Jewish man may speak to God in Hebrew and to his family in Yiddish; the religious signifier separates from the everyday means of communication. Next, the religious movement may see the state as "secular," and regard it as parallel in function, as in the model of the First Amendment's separation of powers. The third approach treats the secular society as did the early Christians that of Rome: as the "pagan" enemy.
Nowadays, these "pagans" may enact, as in Western Europe, Canada, or the United States, laws that tolerate but supervise religions as to be accommodated without state favoritism. Religious adherents, from their dissenting perspective, get treated by secular, non-discriminatory laws as a sub-culture, perhaps relegated alongside other "minorities," such as the gays or feminists whom they oppose. Or, as in Scandinavia I may add, neo-pagans themselves may emerge to reinvent their rituals, while most of their neighbors may regard God as outmoded as the Greek pantheon became for the descendants of its ancient inventors.
This social downsizing spurs religious proponents into an assault on "materialism, pornography, and selfish pleasure" as the new idols. The reaction to California's Proposition 8 banning gay marriage in 2008, or the trials of gays in Cairo in 2001, marks as deviant those authorities or subversives trying to impose secular, godless, and sinful practices upon the community of believers. While such breaks from tradition tend to be perceived as sudden, Roy locates them in earlier disconnections between the majority in a culture who in fact lose interest in the dominant religion well before the exculturation process erupts into a radical-reactionary counter-movement. Reform Jews, mainstream Protestants, and assimilating Catholics, for instance, had already been lapsing decades before Prop. 8 galvanized conservatives to rally within those denominations.
Puritanical sects resent the dominant culture. Early Protestants sought separation, as this represented first a fall from Eden into the world, and second the taint of an imaginative Catholic sensibility that had piled up non-Biblical accretions that shoved an individual away from an encounter with Scripture. Roy notes how the Puritans did not celebrate Christmas, as it was not sanctioned in Holy Writ. Their spiritual heirs now flocking to evangelical storefront churches in the barrios or to suburban megachurches share a wish to separate from the immoral majority. Salafi Muslims long to revive the community as it was with the Prophet, before even theology arrived to dilute Islam. The Taliban ban television and videos; the Haredim of Jerusalem invent a kosher Internet even as they try to shut down the last movie theater in their neighborhood.
How does the title of this book align with Roy's viewpoint? "Holy ignorance" recalls the Pentecostal "speaking in tongues," as this obliterates the language and favors the unmediated, untranslatable Word. The Word inhabits the believer, and its truth transmits directly from God to penitent, without knowledge, outside of theology, linguistics, or culture. Language conventionally brings culture, but in this rejection of profane culture, even religious knowledge is suspected of interference with the primary need for an individual's salvation.
Two-thirds of this text explores cultural dimensions; the last third expands into globalization. Acculturation and deculturation both accelerate, as these two processes become more systematic, and more generalized. Acculturation expects that the dominant model imposes itself on a defeated group, which reacts by integrating or resisting. The center of Protestant and Catholic power may have shifted to Africa, where a more orthodox reaction to Western morality (as in the Anglican Communion's debate over women priests and gay marriage) has resulted in a base so confident that native African missionaries are now breaking through service to immigrant communities in Europe and reaching out to the secularized, re-Christianizing "whites." The Africans claim that they remain closer to Biblical norms than adherents in the West: culture separates from religion.
In another model, that of the free market, promoted by the Pew Forum on Religious and Public Life in its 2008 survey, demand for meaning replaces imposition of values. Religion as another product's promoted to consumers worldwide, apart from culture. First among all Islamic movements, Al Qaida recruits 10-20% of its members from converts, for example, through its "internationalist wing." Conversely, those in areas hostile to other faiths, as in Algeria, Morocco, or Central Asia, may come to Christianity through radio, television, or the Internet. Secularization, Roy stresses, does not marginalize religion but isolates it from culture: independent of its origins, a globalizing religion can free itself via a "virtual space" that ignores "social and political constraints." Fundamentalism, no less than secularism, becomes then an export, and converts seek it out. In the past, whole nations were forced to convert by top-down mandates from invaders or rulers; today, individuals break away from their parent culture to grow up into a new religious identity chosen on one's own.
More than the migrations or demographic shifts assumed, some religions spread independently of many people: Buddhism, Hinduism, and Sufi brotherhoods need only a master and a few disciples. Self-conversions via the Internet or by those, as with Judaism, who come to a faith out of self-study in a tribe or community, also appear. This deterritorialization hastens as technology supplants a missionary into remote lands far from a religion's cultural origins. However, as with Mormonism, missionaries from a very specific place command their own success, as one of the world's fastest growing religions, especially among the black populations in Jamaica and in Africa. Yet, detached from its Utah Holy Land, half of its members now live outside the U.S.
Zen Buddhism exported by Americans back to Japan, Hare Krishnas re-Hinduizing via Indian immigrants to America, Korean Protestant missionaries in Afghanistan, Rastafarians in Nigeria, and Spanish converts to Islam who in turn converted Indians in Chiapas demonstrate how religions freed of a center reach out in all directions. Meanwhile, the territorial parish erodes into a "community of affinities," as believers may move by social mobility, bypassing ports-of-entry, to migrate to a new locale chosen by religious similarity rather than ethnic ties. They choose where to live because of their religious sensibilities, rather than social bonds with their kin. Proximity as in the immigrant parish declines; megachurches compete among new religious movements.
Standardization, for Roy, resembles "formatting" instead of acculturation. Religion's no longer embedded in a way of life, as cultural and religious markers float apart. Exported Buddhism follows a parish model in many immigrant communities; Western Christians may turn towards Eastern methods of meditation. Formatting means interaction: a consensus forms about shared values as religiosities converge into an eclectic seeker's quest, a defined system with legal rights, or an institutional "churchification" as Wiccans or Muslims expect a prison or military chaplain to match that provided by the bureaucracy for their Christian or Jewish comrades.
These examples stress the decisions of adults who choose to embrace a new faith. With converts, does their adopted religion pass down to the next generation, unless a culture beyond that of the household can establish its belief system within a stable community? "How can one be born from a born-again?", Roy wonders. Transmission breaks down when the new religion lacks visibility or permanence outside the home. Isolation as a counter-culture may occur, but often (as with communes or cults), this results in short-lived communities. Social climbing may tempt, as with evangelical revivalism tied to prosperity preaching. The Jesus People who jump started America's born-again movement in the 1970s often failed to pass on their own transient, dated hippie culture to their own trend-driven children.
Roy dismisses the appeal of these parents from the counterculture, who try to form hip sub-cultures through halal fast-food, eco-kosher initiatives, or Christian rock to draw in today's youth. Fundamentalism, he argues, has weakened, so religious "purity" dissolves. The Sixties by their promotion of the personal quest have changed even the born-agains and the conservatives. I opened today's paper to find an article on evangelical support for twice-divorced, newly Catholic politician Newt Gingrich, who has written with his former mistress, and now his third wife, a biography championing John Paul II.
The professor concludes that "religion has lost its original and perhaps incestuous link with culture." Family life alters as individual choice determines partnerships, as Gingrich's decisions illustrate rather than papal directives. Self-realization, for converts alongside those who have grown up guided by a doctrine's decrees, trumps "natural law." Religions, for Roy, will continue to drift away from a uniform global culture even as their followers find themselves on archipelagos, in real or virtual spaces within but apart from the rest of the world.
(Featured at Pop Matters 3-18-11. Posted to Amazon US in a shorter, edited version, as well as Lunch.com, 3-3-11.)
Religious advocates may boast of a comeback, but Roy labels this resurgence as a transformation. Even if religions appear more visible now, they are fading. More people are not returning to a familial religion, for many of their recent ancestors have already abandoned its practices. Rather, believers often come as converts or born-agains, and they may demand sudden acceptance by a religious community from which the individual seeker has been estranged. This "unsaid" culture, that of subtle customs and unspoken norms, may appear alien to the eager newcomer. Those who were raised within a religion they may follow to greater or lesser degree, casually as well as fervently, may disdain the bumptious aggression of the novice who demands too loudly to be accepted as genuine. Here, Roy shows, the cultural aspects have been, for many discontented seculars who wish to reconnect with religion, already attenuated.
This disconnection between religion and culture allows a faith, in this globalized matrix, to either detach itself from its cultural origins, as immigrants and converts demonstrate, or it may force it to take the defensive approach, as with European Catholicism or Eastern Orthodox Christianity, and to wish for integration back into ethnic or national territories that have been secularizing rapidly during the past half-century and more. Roy sums up the challenge: "Either religion is reduced to culture, or it has to separate itself from culture (in any case from Western culture) to assert its universality." (62)
Cultural diversity, therefore, competes against religious claims to lift a message (as in Islam or Christianity) above its origins to save all men and women. Judaism and Hinduism mingle the ethnic and religious identities, so an atheist Jew may not be surprising, but if an atheist Muslim wishes to declare himself such, as at least one author listed here has, the fact of his Tunisian birth may be the reason that he has proclaimed his status as this only after moving to France. In turn, that nation, Roy reminds us, has 70% of its citizens claiming Catholicism, but only 5% practice the faith traditionally associated with its dominant culture for over fifteen-hundred years.
Four reactions define historic and current responses by religion as it seeks to survive within its milieu. First, deculturation occurs when Christians try to wipe out indigenous faiths, or when orthodox Islam dominates the Indian subcontinent. Acculturation happens when the Jews of the Enlightenment adapt mainstream European values, or as India's natives integrate Christian or Islamic influences. Inculturation places liberation theology at the center of Latin American's indigenous ideologies. Finally, exculturation marks the Catholic or evangelical reactions we witness, as these powers fight a rearguard action against a worldly set of values now ascendant.
Religion also manufactures its own culture: Roy explains how written languages set down to spread the Gospel often turn into media that may Westernize some peoples, while strengthening the national allegiances of others. In Northern Ireland or the Balkans, religion can mold into an identity marker for a person or group that may renounce or ignore its actual doctrine, while still retaining a cultural or tribal allegiance to its mores. Historically, such transitions and transfers express how religion relates to its cultural settings.
Roy intersperses case studies from across the world, mostly in the Eurasian realms, to show the situations that illustrate these changes. Christmas as celebrated with a Yule log by the hearth was not the old custom, but a new one invented in the wake of Dickens, and this "traditional" festival replaced the churchgoing that drew worshipers out into the cold air to walk down to their local church. Central Asians may demand to become Christians within an Islamic society; African-Americans may adopt Arab names while Arab immigrants may shed theirs when settling into America. Outcries over priestly celibacy and pedophilia and homosexuality and abortion command so much attention now because the core values that Catholicism proclaimed had, until recently, pushed opposing views on sexuality, individual freedom, and fidelity to the margins. In the heartlands of Islam, as Roy documents, similar protests remain marginalized, and therefore weaker.
As women claim more power, and as gay rights enter the mainstream, sexual freedom becomes the new norm for secular proponents. The private sphere shrinks by communications, the police state grows by surveillance, and law steps in where the clerics once patrolled. So, bolder individuals step out of the shadow and enter the stage. Modern identities favor public display, and demand "transparency, authenticity, and truth."
Religious defenders react in three ways. First, they may regard the competing culture as "profane," and look down upon it. The ultra-orthodox Jewish man may speak to God in Hebrew and to his family in Yiddish; the religious signifier separates from the everyday means of communication. Next, the religious movement may see the state as "secular," and regard it as parallel in function, as in the model of the First Amendment's separation of powers. The third approach treats the secular society as did the early Christians that of Rome: as the "pagan" enemy.
Nowadays, these "pagans" may enact, as in Western Europe, Canada, or the United States, laws that tolerate but supervise religions as to be accommodated without state favoritism. Religious adherents, from their dissenting perspective, get treated by secular, non-discriminatory laws as a sub-culture, perhaps relegated alongside other "minorities," such as the gays or feminists whom they oppose. Or, as in Scandinavia I may add, neo-pagans themselves may emerge to reinvent their rituals, while most of their neighbors may regard God as outmoded as the Greek pantheon became for the descendants of its ancient inventors.
This social downsizing spurs religious proponents into an assault on "materialism, pornography, and selfish pleasure" as the new idols. The reaction to California's Proposition 8 banning gay marriage in 2008, or the trials of gays in Cairo in 2001, marks as deviant those authorities or subversives trying to impose secular, godless, and sinful practices upon the community of believers. While such breaks from tradition tend to be perceived as sudden, Roy locates them in earlier disconnections between the majority in a culture who in fact lose interest in the dominant religion well before the exculturation process erupts into a radical-reactionary counter-movement. Reform Jews, mainstream Protestants, and assimilating Catholics, for instance, had already been lapsing decades before Prop. 8 galvanized conservatives to rally within those denominations.
Puritanical sects resent the dominant culture. Early Protestants sought separation, as this represented first a fall from Eden into the world, and second the taint of an imaginative Catholic sensibility that had piled up non-Biblical accretions that shoved an individual away from an encounter with Scripture. Roy notes how the Puritans did not celebrate Christmas, as it was not sanctioned in Holy Writ. Their spiritual heirs now flocking to evangelical storefront churches in the barrios or to suburban megachurches share a wish to separate from the immoral majority. Salafi Muslims long to revive the community as it was with the Prophet, before even theology arrived to dilute Islam. The Taliban ban television and videos; the Haredim of Jerusalem invent a kosher Internet even as they try to shut down the last movie theater in their neighborhood.
How does the title of this book align with Roy's viewpoint? "Holy ignorance" recalls the Pentecostal "speaking in tongues," as this obliterates the language and favors the unmediated, untranslatable Word. The Word inhabits the believer, and its truth transmits directly from God to penitent, without knowledge, outside of theology, linguistics, or culture. Language conventionally brings culture, but in this rejection of profane culture, even religious knowledge is suspected of interference with the primary need for an individual's salvation.
Two-thirds of this text explores cultural dimensions; the last third expands into globalization. Acculturation and deculturation both accelerate, as these two processes become more systematic, and more generalized. Acculturation expects that the dominant model imposes itself on a defeated group, which reacts by integrating or resisting. The center of Protestant and Catholic power may have shifted to Africa, where a more orthodox reaction to Western morality (as in the Anglican Communion's debate over women priests and gay marriage) has resulted in a base so confident that native African missionaries are now breaking through service to immigrant communities in Europe and reaching out to the secularized, re-Christianizing "whites." The Africans claim that they remain closer to Biblical norms than adherents in the West: culture separates from religion.
In another model, that of the free market, promoted by the Pew Forum on Religious and Public Life in its 2008 survey, demand for meaning replaces imposition of values. Religion as another product's promoted to consumers worldwide, apart from culture. First among all Islamic movements, Al Qaida recruits 10-20% of its members from converts, for example, through its "internationalist wing." Conversely, those in areas hostile to other faiths, as in Algeria, Morocco, or Central Asia, may come to Christianity through radio, television, or the Internet. Secularization, Roy stresses, does not marginalize religion but isolates it from culture: independent of its origins, a globalizing religion can free itself via a "virtual space" that ignores "social and political constraints." Fundamentalism, no less than secularism, becomes then an export, and converts seek it out. In the past, whole nations were forced to convert by top-down mandates from invaders or rulers; today, individuals break away from their parent culture to grow up into a new religious identity chosen on one's own.
More than the migrations or demographic shifts assumed, some religions spread independently of many people: Buddhism, Hinduism, and Sufi brotherhoods need only a master and a few disciples. Self-conversions via the Internet or by those, as with Judaism, who come to a faith out of self-study in a tribe or community, also appear. This deterritorialization hastens as technology supplants a missionary into remote lands far from a religion's cultural origins. However, as with Mormonism, missionaries from a very specific place command their own success, as one of the world's fastest growing religions, especially among the black populations in Jamaica and in Africa. Yet, detached from its Utah Holy Land, half of its members now live outside the U.S.
Zen Buddhism exported by Americans back to Japan, Hare Krishnas re-Hinduizing via Indian immigrants to America, Korean Protestant missionaries in Afghanistan, Rastafarians in Nigeria, and Spanish converts to Islam who in turn converted Indians in Chiapas demonstrate how religions freed of a center reach out in all directions. Meanwhile, the territorial parish erodes into a "community of affinities," as believers may move by social mobility, bypassing ports-of-entry, to migrate to a new locale chosen by religious similarity rather than ethnic ties. They choose where to live because of their religious sensibilities, rather than social bonds with their kin. Proximity as in the immigrant parish declines; megachurches compete among new religious movements.
Standardization, for Roy, resembles "formatting" instead of acculturation. Religion's no longer embedded in a way of life, as cultural and religious markers float apart. Exported Buddhism follows a parish model in many immigrant communities; Western Christians may turn towards Eastern methods of meditation. Formatting means interaction: a consensus forms about shared values as religiosities converge into an eclectic seeker's quest, a defined system with legal rights, or an institutional "churchification" as Wiccans or Muslims expect a prison or military chaplain to match that provided by the bureaucracy for their Christian or Jewish comrades.
These examples stress the decisions of adults who choose to embrace a new faith. With converts, does their adopted religion pass down to the next generation, unless a culture beyond that of the household can establish its belief system within a stable community? "How can one be born from a born-again?", Roy wonders. Transmission breaks down when the new religion lacks visibility or permanence outside the home. Isolation as a counter-culture may occur, but often (as with communes or cults), this results in short-lived communities. Social climbing may tempt, as with evangelical revivalism tied to prosperity preaching. The Jesus People who jump started America's born-again movement in the 1970s often failed to pass on their own transient, dated hippie culture to their own trend-driven children.
Roy dismisses the appeal of these parents from the counterculture, who try to form hip sub-cultures through halal fast-food, eco-kosher initiatives, or Christian rock to draw in today's youth. Fundamentalism, he argues, has weakened, so religious "purity" dissolves. The Sixties by their promotion of the personal quest have changed even the born-agains and the conservatives. I opened today's paper to find an article on evangelical support for twice-divorced, newly Catholic politician Newt Gingrich, who has written with his former mistress, and now his third wife, a biography championing John Paul II.
The professor concludes that "religion has lost its original and perhaps incestuous link with culture." Family life alters as individual choice determines partnerships, as Gingrich's decisions illustrate rather than papal directives. Self-realization, for converts alongside those who have grown up guided by a doctrine's decrees, trumps "natural law." Religions, for Roy, will continue to drift away from a uniform global culture even as their followers find themselves on archipelagos, in real or virtual spaces within but apart from the rest of the world.
(Featured at Pop Matters 3-18-11. Posted to Amazon US in a shorter, edited version, as well as Lunch.com, 3-3-11.)
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