Secularism cannot cope with being wrong. Part 3

Secularism cannot cope with being wrong

Part 3: The importance of assurance

Religious assurance is equally powerful. As well as making mistakes being a part of the human condition, so is the anxiety to live life well. The truth is, of course, that life is difficult. Most people have to struggle to some degree, and for many life is almost constant struggle. We find ourselves with this wonderful, extravagant gift of life, only to realise that it is rather short, usually filled with some (or a lot of) suffering and injustice. We are very vulnerable, and it is difficult to realise our goals and desires. What we want is to reach a conviction that we have found the ultimate in life; to consider that, whatever our shortcomings, failings, disappointments and limitations, we have reached the heights of what life has to offer, and have acquired a share in what is deepest and most satisfying in life. The religious believer has this readily to hand. In their relationship with God, through his love for them, and by his grace suffusing their lives, religious people gladly confess that they have found life in all its fullness.

The secular person is simply unable to do this. I think this is true on a point of principle, for without God, there is nothing obvious that qualifies as “the fulfilment of life”. It would certainly differ for each person, though, no doubt, common themes would emerge, and we can image secular people -certainly those fortunate enough to live in the UK today – reaching old age and feeling a deep peace and contentment that they have fulfilled all their worldly ambitions – in the way their family and working lives have worked out, and in their enjoyment of the good things of creation. It still doesn’t have the sense of completeness and certainty that a religious person has through their assurance, and the secular person remains a hostage to fortune, should all their worldly achievements crumble to dust in some catastrophic event. Clearly, in practice, a large proportion of people are likely to feel that life has been a disappointment, and their youthful dreams turned out to be mere fantasies.

Secularism cannot cope with being wrong. Part 2

Secularism cannot cope with being wrong

Part 2: The importance of forgiveness

Everybody makes mistakes; it is an inevitable part of the human condition. When we do make mistakes, it’s vital that we acknowledge it, say sorry, and make amends as best we can. However, it is not always possible to do this, and even when we can, it is likely that the wound we inflicted on ourselves through doing what we now recognise (and perhaps knew at the time) to be wrong cannot be fully healed by any secular ideological process. If the person we harmed forgives us, and we make full reconciliation, that will have a very powerful effect, and may be sufficient. However, it may not, because it cannot erase the reality that we were in the wrong, and that is a difficult thing to face up to. As I say, it may also be the case that we are not able to apologise and make amends, or, if we do, perhaps that will not be acceptable to the person we wronged, and they maintain a grudge against us.

In contrast, the religious believer is able to take their sorrow to God (as well as making amends to the person they wronged). In their faith, they are able to believe that God does forgive them, make them whole, and is at work to heal, make whole and bless the person who was wronged. It is their faith that God has sufficient power to overcome any evil, and that he can redeem, restore and put right any situation and any relationship. Thus religion has the ability to offer complete forgiveness for our mistakes, in a way in which secular ideology is simply incapable of matching.

Secularism cannot cope with being wrong. Part 1

(An analysis of the contrast between secular and religious ideology in 6 parts)

Secularism cannot cope with being wrong

Part 1: Why is so much modern ideology intrinsically totalitarian?

My general theory on secularism is that it promotes an ideology much worse than that which religion promotes. I also have a specific view that secularism – having abandoned or rejected religion because it is deemed to be false and destructive to society – has nevertheless set about recreating all the bad features of religion (but sadly without all the good features of religion). Today, I pick up on a particular feature of how secularism goes wrong.

Why is it that so much of modern secular ideology is intrinsically totalitarian? An easy answer to that is because many of these ideologies come from a Marxist school of thought, and Marxism is intrinsically totalitarian. However, going deeper than that, we can locate this totalitarianism in the spirit of our age, which is instant outrage and utter intolerance. Now, the spirit of an age will depend on many factors, but we mustn’t just say, “That’s just the way the cookie crumbled”. Why are so many people – especially in the younger generations – vulnerable to outrage and intolerance?  

An important factor is the loss of vital strengths that religion gives to people, and I particularly focus on two: forgiveness and assurance.

Last night I dreamt

Last night I dreamt

(A devotional poem, where the object of devotion is, of course, God)

Last night I dreamt you spoke to me.

And listening in the dark, I knew your voice and loved you.

Eyes wide-shining, reflecting night, your whisper stirred my heart to life,

As truth spoke to truth, and speaking as one we declared, “I am yours”.

And as the dawn lights up my face, and I question, “Was that a dream?”,

A long-echoing murmur deep within affirms, “Last night I spoke to you”.

Last night I dreamt you touched me.

Lighter than feather-light, softer than snow about to settle,

As surely I was all alone, yet still I knew it was you, and that I am never alone.

Mere strokes of fingertips, or lovers’ lips, cannot unfold the depth of your embrace,

So that, as the dawn lights up my face, I cannot deny that I am forever changed,

For your touch is still upon me now, your kiss upon my brow affirms, “Last night I touched you”.

Last night I dreamt you came to me.

Prison-shattering, exile-ending, defences breached,

Reaching beyond where I cannot be reached, you face me, and I look, and see.

Surrendering treasured isolation and self-sufficiency, I admit I am not complete, till joined with you.

So that, as the dawn lights up my face, now I am not free to go on unless saying, “Shall we go?”,

And I treasure beyond all treasure, the love we share, for, as you say each day, “Last night I came to you”.

Whiskey. Pebble. Fire.

(This poem came to me the other day. It’s not my usual style of writing, but perhaps it can just about fit under the devotions section)

Whiskey. Pebble. Fire.

I want to live in a log cabin by the seashore,

In Scotland, where it snows every winter, and is generally cold,

So I must forever be popping in and out to chop more wood, or fetch some in to have a ready supply by the hearth.

And in the evenings I will drink whiskey and watch my log fire.

I will say my prayers, and let the words of the bible sink deep into my bones.

On clear nights, I will go out onto my porch, to see the starry sky, and listen to the waves crashing on the age-old rocks, where saints, as boys, skimmed pebbles.

And perhaps, from time to time, thinking me wise, someone will come to visit me.

And if they come, I will be glad; and if I can help them, I will be glad; and when they have gone, I will be glad to be alone again, with my whiskey and my fire.

When the wind blows fair, I will lift up my head on my morning walk along the surf line, no longer bowed down against the biting cold.

On such a day, I think perhaps my heart will also skip with joy, like a pebble skimming over the waters.

Till, one day, perhaps, sitting quietly in the evening, my heart will skip strangely, and before I know it, I am gone.

Maybe, as I go, my soul, impossibly suspended in thin air, will hover to smile farewell, or perhaps just sink into the words of the bible to become the breath of my neighbour’s prayer,

Or maybe my pebble, as all must, will simply surrender its flight and, with a plop, be lost in the sea.

When they find me, a couple of days later, they will lift me up to carry me away, I hope, to where someone, walking slowly enough to pause and read my stone, can then look up and catch the scent of salt on the air.

If that should be, how things come to pass, my final hope is that, when they find me, my fire long burnt down to ash, my glass will be empty.

Come into the light

Come into the light

(A devotional reflection as we approach the summer solstice. As this reflection is a little abstruse even for me, I’m splurging it out all in one go. I am struggling to put something into words – and may simply have failed – but if you care to read to the end, here it is.)

As the earth tilts its face to the sun, so I lift my face to you.

As the immense weight of the world hangs by gravity weightless in its orbit through space, so I teeter on the curve of possibility, chasms of darkness on either side, but on this one line of momentum, heading into light.

As the world, as though swinging on a string, rises higher and higher to the furthest extent of its potential, so I inch towards realising all that is possible.

Just as the earth edges each day a little more into the light, but must then immediately start to move a little more into darkness, but for one glorious day shines in the maximum capacity of light, so I seek to move, step by tiny step, a little more into the light of God, not fearing any move away into darkness, for the darkness is not dark to the Lord, but simply rejoicing to at last, if only for a moment, to bask in the fullness of light that he is.

It’s very strange, to stand feet planted firm on the good earth to appreciate that we are hurtling through space, both turning at a thousand miles per hour, and moving ever outwards at speeds beyond my ability to understand those who tell me.

Yet at this time of year, I have this strong sense of the world reaching out towards the light, swinging each day at giddy speeds – and only such speed can enable it to reach so far – yet always under complete control. We are not unhinged, heading into outer darkness, but in perfectly controlled computable arcs doing what we must, as nature has set our bounds for us.

I do not move at giddy speeds. My dull plodding is so pathetic that, graceful as ever, the Lord has given me the ability to laugh at such dim incomprehension, such cautious hanging back, such lethargic backwardness. But, in grace, I revel to be where I am; I chuckle with mirth that someone so far off the pace has received such joyful insights into where our journey is taking us. The Lord has hung back to keep me company, and in the deep gladness of his presence I feel no loss, but only gain to know him, and to have even the slightest intimation of the horrendous, burdensome weight of the world held weightless in the hollow of his hand. More than gravity, it is the puff of his breath that holds us up.

I too have an arc, a trajectory to follow. I have my bounds, set by nature – but these are not limitations so much as capabilities to reach out for. I hate to think that I might fail to reach far enough, might turn away from the light, and never know the fullness of it. Not simply all that can be seen in the light – though that is precious enough. Somehow, the key is not for us to see all – as though we are on a race to maximise our consumption, but our task is to face into the light so much, that we reflect it back like a perfect mirror.

As we know, we cannot face the sun without closing our eyes, so we can never fully see it. Likewise, with eyes shut, we will never see the reflection of light on our faces. But God sees it, and in a great mystery, this is the purpose of our lives: that God, who is perfect light, should be able to see his light reflected back from our faces. Though we cannot see, and never can, the understanding that this is happening is perfect joy. We trust that God can see, and that is enough – we do not need to see ourselves.

As the earth reaches out on its arc, as though reaching out for something just out of reach – or is it reaching for something that it can reach? – but is not really reaching out for anything, but is always held securely at the centre, so we do not fall back to earth prematurely, but we come to rest wherever the speed and direction of our travel can take us. Like the fingertips of God and Adam on the Sistine ceiling, on such a vast expanse of heaven come so very close that surely they must brush – but we cannot be sure, so we are left wondering. The image of God and Adam is a snapshot in time; we must impose our understanding of their motion. Are they heading towards each other and so, as they are already so very close, they are bound to touch? Or is that achingly small chasm as close as they got before human nature drew inexorably away again? It is notable in that image that it is God who is straining every sinew to reach us, while Adam lounges back in idle lack of interest, deigning to lift up a hand, but leaning back, not forwards, as though, if God should reach him, well enough, but Adam is not willing to exert himself to ensure that he does.

Is this us? Still fingertips apart? Still uncertain, even now, whether our momentum will, like spaceships inching forwards to docking, clinch the deal? Or will we fall back into darkness, a whisker from holding hands, but, ultimately, not quite there. By a whisker. How can our fate depend on a whisker’s gap? Breath of God, give us a final puff to land us safely in your hands. Perhaps even a kiss, in the vacuum of space, has enough power to draw us to yourself.

As for me, I reach out with all my heart and soul and mind and strength. Not that my reaching you depends on my reaching out, but still I want to show you that I understand the importance of reaching out to the light. Drawing closer, drawn by you, with you exerting all your heart and soul and mind and strength, I shut my eyes against the light, in order not to be blinded, that I may rejoice in the light, and know you, more than close, at last as one.

A religious and a secular basis for society. (Part 7)

A religious and a secular basis for society

Part 7: Ultimately, our faith leads us to the truth that our sense of self relies on our relationship with God

In contrast, because I ignore external categories, and base my life upon my relationship with God, it means that I focus on the values and principles that I gain through my faith in God. The essence of who I am does not lie in my external categories, but in my spiritual and moral values. It is faith that frees me from the control of the impulses that evolutionary biology has imbued me with. I fully accept that I have these impulses, and I can never switch them off. However, I can use my values and principles to shift my centre of judgement to rest on what God has taught me. Reliance on identity categories leaves people prey to the instincts of evolutionary biology, rather than the freedom of spiritual gifts. For example, evolution has taught us to be intensely self-interested (read: “selfish!”), to be greedy, manipulative, suspicious of outsiders, quick to turn to hatred and violence. Place these tragic human impulses onto the template of identity politics and it turbo-charges our inclination to conflict by, not simply giving us permission, but urging us, to see others as inevitable oppressors, inescapably in conflict, in an endless round of domination and victimhood – both given and received from other groups, for whom there is no basis of unity.

Again, I fully accept that I have taken only tiny, almost token, steps towards basing my life on my faith, but my commitment to my principles and values is very genuine. I may not do very well, but my heart is set on trying to live according to my faith in God. And this is in complete contrast to secular ideologies which – regardless of whether they succeed or fail – are, on a point of principle, promoting ideas that can only produce conflict, fragmentation and emptiness. They have nothing whole or fulfilling to offer society. Although my failures in the life of faith are so very great – miserable sinner that I am – that, by rights, I should not dare to open my mouth, but, by grace, as someone who is loved by God, my sense of self does not rely on my qualities, but on my relationship with God. I do not feel good about myself because I am good; I give myself no credit for being gentle or compassionate; I don’t even take credit for believing in or wanting to be gentle and compassionate. All these things that I may have – even though they be slight – or which I may still lack, are not mine, in the sense of being signs of my worthiness, they are all simply a response to the love that God has given me – a response which is the essence of his grace. This is ultimately where faith leads us: our sense of self relies on our relationship with God. I feel good because God loves me.

A religious and a secular basis for society. (Part 6)

A religious and a secular basis for society

Part 6: Focus on identity categories takes us backwards; ignoring them takes us forwards

What is it about identity that is so important for modern secular ideologies? We have already considered the crucial point that – when you’ve abandoned the assurance that comes from your relationship with God – you desperately have to find some alternative for a sense of identity that will give you a sense of well-being. Further to this, the ideology of identity is an analysis that considers that a person’s path through life is, if not strictly determined, at least very strongly influenced by the “identity categories” that a person belongs to.

No doubt there are genuine factors to acknowledge, that can be measured statistically, to see if different groups of people are faring differently. We can then take action in order to work for a fair and compassionate society wherever we can detect that, in general, particular groups are disadvantaged, or simply not doing so well. However, in the UK, we have made tremendous progress in recent decades, and show every promise of continuing to do so. Crucially, the identity politics movements go beyond valid observations about injustices in society to claim that identity categories are the overwhelming controlling factor in people’s progress in life and in determining their self-understanding. I consider that these claims are simply false.

I do not judge people by the identity categories that they have. Other people might, but our aim in society is to move to a situation where no-one does. A particular fault of secular ideologies is that they overtly seek to reverse the progress we have made in NOT judging people externally, by claiming that we should focus on these external categories as all-important. Our aim should be to look beyond these external characteristics to the inner truth about a person’s qualities. Instead, the identity politics movements claim that it is essential that we focus on these externals, and so, on a point of principle, enshrine identity categories as the essential means of understanding and governing society, and as the essential measure of self-understanding. The key factor making this way of thinking false and destructive is the idea that it is your categories that give you your qualities and which determine the way you relate to others. This is false – and thank God that it is false.

We can sum up the difference of ideas in this way: On a point of principle, identity ideology claims that people gain their identity from belonging to categories where people are different to each other, and in conflict with each other. This means that such an ideology is not, and cannot be, a means of achieving unity and harmony. It intrinsically promotes division and conflict. In contrast, the key religious idea is that we are all one because we are all children of God. This intrinsically promotes unity and harmony because, as God loves us all, we should love each other as brothers and sisters.

It’s possible that identity ideology has some value as a means of diagnosing what is wrong with society. That is, it tells us what we are doing wrong – we are treating one another as members of categories that are different and in conflict – and so this is what we need to change. Instead, identity ideology claims that these ideas are not the problem, but the solution to the problem. Thus we see that identity ideology is the exact opposite of what society needs.

A religious and a secular basis for society. (Part 5)

A religious and a secular basis for society

Part 5: Unwittingly, secular ideology is a failed attempt to compensate for the loss of religion

I consider that this is an almost completely unobserved factor in the malaise of modern society – certainly I have not heard anyone else comment on it. Because modern ideologies are so shallow and simplistic, and, of course, ultimately, simply false, and also because the quality of analysis in modern society is so appallingly inadequate, those who are meant to be leading society by the quality of their thinking are completely oblivious to what is actually happening. The link with the decline of religion has not been spotted. Because these self-styled “progressive” thinkers regard themselves as so superior to all who have gone before them, and because they regard religion as “a bad thing” which society should rejoice to be free from, they have been unable to see that their own distortions in their thinking are a direct product of the void left by the rejection of religion. Tragically (it would be comical if it wasn’t so destructive) secular ideologies have recreated all the bad aspects of religion, while losing all the good aspects – most notably the assurance, confidence and sense of well-being that I have highlighted here – along with the basis for community harmony and respect for all that religion provides a foundation for.

Examples of the bad aspects of religion recreated in secular form include: totalitarian claims to truth; inquisitorial condemnation of the unorthodox; adoption of intense purity codes; utter self-righteousness; demonisation of anyone who disagrees with you; a witch-hunt mentality to terrify dissenters; apocalyptic prophecies of doom; utter intolerance of diverse opinions; completely closed-minded thinking; and irrational extremism, to the point of denying simply truths or rejecting scientific fact.

In contrast, religion becomes a world of wise sanity; clear, deep thought; gentle, compassionate desire to understand and embrace those who see things differently; the fundamental honesty to accept the truth – to accept reality – to allow facts and evidence to inform your world view, rather than twisting or rejecting facts and evidence until they conform to your predetermined world view. When secularists – with great justification – started tearing down the illusions and false claims of religion, who would have thought that they would stray so far into error that it is now religious faith that is the repository of reality and becomes the reservoir of truth from which humanity so desperately needs to drink. (Vital note: I fully accept there is still a lot of bad religion out there. So far as I can see, for just about anything you can name, there are good versions and bad versions of it. Clearly, I promote good religion)

A religious and a secular basis for society. (Part 4)

A religious and a secular basis for society

Part 4: The freedom of faith compared with the shackles of identity

Compare the joyous, love-filled confidence that I have just described through faith in God with the modern ideologies’ reliance on gaining your identity from certain external categories to which you belong. These ideologies assert that your quality and worth and experience in life stem from these categories, categories which are often in conflict with each other, and which gain their supposed power from being in conflict with other categories. In contrast, the Christian, who gains their personal, individual security from the love that God has for them, has no need to rely on belonging to any external category, and is automatically in harmony with every other person who also acknowledges their relationship with God to be central to their life. In the love of God, all are one, and all externals are, well, external; they are only of accidental, contingent importance. For modern secular thinkers, a person is always trapped within their external categories, constrained by them and their supposed qualities and social dynamics. They are also constrained by the idea that the dynamics of their personal situation only works in conflict with those who belong to other categories. In contrast, the believer is free of all shackles to engage with and embrace all people as their equal and as utterly precious, because everyone is loved by God.