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Spirituality and Patriotism: Part 1

Submitted by Ken Watts on Tue, 10/07/2008 - 09:46

THE SECOND POST I MADE on this site, almost two years ago, was about the differences in the way a friend and I understood the world.

I've come to the conclusion, during those two years, that the difference I spoke of there is the primary source of the deep divide in this country—a divide which we show some recent signs of closing.

A little over 200 years ago, our ancestors founded an experiment called the United States of America. There were a great many twists to this experiment: the idea of democratic government, the notion of a country without a king, even the dream of a classless society.

But the most dramatic and far-reaching twist was the idea that the traditional ties between government and religion should be severed—the separation of church and state.

For something like 12,000 years before that, the human race had been operating on a model in which each country had its own religion, its own gods, its own priesthood. This pattern had been disrupted occasionally by empires, but on the whole it had stood the test of time.

These priesthoods functioned as part of the established state, tying the people together with a single worldview which made the kingdom, and the king, part of the fundamental cosmic order.

The purpose of this single worldview was not to deepen people's understanding of the world as it was—it had nothing to do with truth. Its purpose was to legitimized the king's power and prerogatives, and simultaneously delegitimatized the surrounding kingdoms.

If you lived in ancient Israel, for example, you knew that Yahweh was the creator of the universe, that he had anointed your king, and that when you served your king you were serving the creator of the world.

Those strange people in the next kingdom were so perverted in their customs and beliefs that they couldn't understand that the king of Israel held this completely unique status. Everything you did, from the way you dressed, to the foods you ate, to the way you planted your fields, reinforced this worldview, and separated you from those bizarre people in the kingdom next door.

Of course, the customs of each nation included pieces of the wisdom tradition—the common human spiritual and moral tradition that stretched back to our hunter/gatherer days. They included ideas like fairness, and caring for each other, which humans had always endorsed.

By making those ideas into decrees from the gods or the king, the system legitimized itself while distorting the source of these values. We were now commanded to do that which we naturally saw as fitting by the same law that decreed serious distortions of our natural values.

In such a context, there was little distinction between moral and civil law. What the king decreed was decreed by the Son of God (one of the royal titles), and barring any political intrigue between the priestly class and the royal court, no one was in a position to question him.

This melding of the secular and religious had another advantage, if you were the king. It meant that the spiritual life of your subjects was co-opted.

The entire spiritual experience of each and every subject was interpreted, judged, and guided by the priesthood, who were as much a part of your government as the army was.

Within ancient Israel the way we go about being human became synonymous with the way we go about being Israelites. Within ancient Babylon the way to be human equaled the way to be Babylonian.

The idea that someone could emerge with a distinctive spiritual experience to challenge the king, to call out "give me liberty or give me death" was unthinkable.

Almost. There was, of course, the occasional prophet: the Isaiah or Jeremiah, who stood up with a contrary view. But even they were part of the system. If they were going to be heard, they, too, had to speak in the name of Yahweh, and thus affirm the underlying worldview.

Some teachers tried to undermine this top-down worldview from within. Jesus, for example, taught his followers to think of Yahweh as their father, thus making them all Sons of God with the authority of kings, and reinstituting freedom and choice in matters of morality.

Unfortunately, his brief rebellion was co-opted by Rome, which remolded Christianity into a top-down system fit for the subjects of an emperor.

So, two hundred years ago, when our ancestors severed that tie, when they separated church and state, they put humanity on new ground—ground we had not stood on since our days as hunter-gatherers. Even the democracies of Greece had not completely severed the connection between government and religion.

There are some in our current culture who would turn back the clock—who would try to give the presidency the powers of a king, or who insist, in spite of the constitution, that the United States is a Christian nation, thus excluding everyone else.

In the long run, we (by whom I mean patriots, whether Christian or Jewish or Buddhist or atheist) don't need to be worried about those who would turn the clock back. Every time they get a little power, they remind the country why we like the hour we're at.

But all of this does raise a serious issue. Can a nation the size of the United States survive without a single, unitary religious structure?

I'm convinced that it not only can, but must, and will. But a replacement is required.

A democracy doesn't need a priesthood to act as the propaganda arm for the king, but it does need a common spirituality on some level: a basic agreement about how we go about being human in a democracy.

I don't mean we need another top-down spirituality, invented by me or anyone else, and forced, or even taught, to our citizens. Nor do I mean a spirituality which would conflict with anyone's religious belief.

If such a thing is going to come about, it will have to emerge from the people as a whole, and will have to have its roots not in law, but in the souls of individuals.

There are signs this is happening already. Americans, on the whole, are making themselves heard against the voices of hierarchy more each year.

Within that chorus there are some interesting themes, which I will point out in the next installment.

To be continued...