Filtering reality

The morning after I wrote “Why I embrace unorganized religion” I had an Aha! moment that smoothly spoke in a few words what I had struggled to express in several pages. Writing is a mystery. For me, the process seems to stir up the contents of my cranium, loosening up what had been fixed, uncovering what had been hidden. Much of the mental stew sinks back to the bottom of the pot again. Some rises to the surface of consciousness, bubbling over with a fresh insight. Such as… Clinging to a filter that obscures reality is a primary vice of…

Why I embrace unorganized religion

Regular Church of the Churchless readers will have noted my antipathy toward organized religions and my corresponding fondness for spiritual independence. It’s worth asking, “How did you become such an anti-church curmudgeon, Brian?” And since I don’t hear anyone else making this query, I’ll pose and answer it myself as briefly as possible (which won’t be all that brief, given my blogging style). I won’t spend time delving into the psychological nuances of the first five decades of my life, other than to say that I was blessed to be raised by a divorced mother with decidedly intellectual and independent…

On deciding for oneself

I’ve enjoyed reading David’s comments on my “I is a humble word” post. One of the points he makes is that people shouldn’t take a guru’s statements—and, by implication, those of any other spiritual leader—as ex cathedra (infallible). David argues cogently that Charan Singh, like many mystic masters, conveyed contradictory messages to different people. For example, (1) laws should be obeyed and (2) do this illegal thing. So, he says, “Which one is the ex-cathedra, eh?” Good question. There seem to be two ways of approaching an answer. One is to consider that each of the contradictory pieces of advice…

“I” is a humble word

I’ve never been one to shy away from the use of “I.” Obviously. This puts me at odds with the powers-that-be who set forth the guidelines for giving talks (a.k.a. satsangs) at meetings of the spiritual group, Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB), where I still hold forth once a month or so. Until I’m fired for heresy by the powers-that-be, that is—an ever present possibility. Last Sunday I glanced at a memo from the Western RSSB representative, Vince Savarese, which said that it isn’t good for a speaker to say “I” very often. I disagree, so I quickly stopped reading…

In defense of uncertainty

This month TIME essayist Charles Krauthammer wrote a piece called “In Defense of Certainty.” Well, I’m certain that Krauthammer is wrong. He thinks that it’s entirely appropriate to publicly advocate political views founded on religious belief. Actually, it’s entirely inappropriate to do this. Last year I wrote about why religious values have no place in politics, arguing that “you can’t debate with someone who doesn’t have a defensible reason for why they believe what they do. You can’t debate with someone who responds to a reasoned argument with ‘Because the Bible says so’ or ‘Jesus condemns sinners.’” Religious belief is…

Cults, religions, and science

Ever since Rajni asked me about cults—specifically, if I think a certain spiritual group is a cult—I’ve been pondering what “cult” means to me. Here’s my response to Rajni’s question. ------------------------------ Rajni, you asked what my thoughts are of RS (Radha Soami Satsang Beas) being a cult. It’s taken me a few days to reply, partly because it’s taken me this long to get my mind around the concept of “cult.” Like lots of people, I use this word loosely and pejoratively to refer to a group of fervent believers that I don’t agree with. For example, I might say…

Wise beyond her years

Yesterday I got an email from a nineteen year old girl, Rajni, who had found this weblog. Her message made my day. Not just because she was complimentary about the Church of the Churchless—I also felt good that there are young people in this country (and elsewhere) who are wise beyond their years regarding the difference between genuine spirituality and spurious religion. And I liked how she expresses herself. When I read Rajni’s message to my wife, Laurel said “She sounds just like me!” Yes, I agree. Rajni raised questions about some of the same aspects of the spiritual group…

Did I see God in first class?

I may have seen God in first class. The first class section of an Alaska Airlines flight from San Francisco to Palm Springs, to be exact. Or, maybe I didn’t. In the early ‘90s I was traveling from Portland to attend a “bhandara," or spiritual gathering, of Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB) devotees in Palm Springs. After changing planes in San Francisco I found myself in a right side aisle seat in the coach row directly behind first class, idly watching other passengers board. A middle-aged Indian gentleman caught my eye. Bearded, he was wearing a white turban and blue…

Be loyal to yourself, not a group

Most people look upon loyalty as a virtue. We value loyal friends, loyal citizens, loyal workers. But when is loyalty a vice? I’ve been thinking about this question ever since I came across a paper by philosopher Laurie Calhoun, “A Critique of Group Loyalty.” I’m a pretty loyal person. I don’t drop loyalties on a whim. I’ve been getting my hair cut by the same woman, Betsy of Hair Headquarters, for 28 years. My first marriage lasted for 18 years and now I’ve been married to Laurel for 15 years. I’ve had a Casio watch on my wrist for as…

What’s wrong with faith?

I’m often asked, generally by myself, “What’s wrong with faith? Doesn’t faith help us get through tough times and feel positive about the future?” Here’s how I answer, generally to myself: “Faith is fine when it points toward objective reality. But when faith keeps us revolving in the merry-go-round of subjective conceptions, it’s dangerous and should be discarded." Never passing up an opportunity to quote myself, this is how I discussed the issue in my book, “Return to the One”: The scientific method, by and large, is founded on the first assumption [“I’ll believe it when I see it”]: what…

A particular Way isn’t the only Way

I was encouraged when I picked up the newspaper today and saw the headline, “Pope says church will stress unity.” “Gosh,” I thought, “maybe the new Pope has had a sudden change of heart. Perhaps he’s forsaken his absolutist position that Christianity is the only way to God and Catholicism is the only true form of Christianity.”

I was ready to give a “thumbs sideways” to Pope Benedict XVI instead of my previous thumbs down. However, now that I’ve read the entire text of the homily he delivered, the supposedly more inclusive Pope Benedict sounds a lot like the dogmatic Cardinal Ratzinger—which isn’t surprising, since they are the same person. Tigers don’t change their stripes so quickly.

Admittedly, the new Pope reached out to Jews and non-Catholic Christians. He also added, “Finally, like a wave gathering force, my thoughts go out to all men and women of today, to believers and non-believers alike.”

But when you get to the end of the homily, it’s evident that the unity Pope Benedict seeks is for every person on earth to become Christian:

Here I want to add something: both the image of the shepherd and that of the fisherman issue an explicit call to unity. “I have other sheep that are not of this fold; I must lead them too, and they will heed my voice. So there shall be one flock, one shepherd” (Jn 10:16); these are the words of Jesus at the end of his discourse on the Good Shepherd.

And the account of the 153 large fish ends with the joyful statement: “although there were so many, the net was not torn” (Jn 21:11). Alas, beloved Lord, with sorrow we must now acknowledge that it has been torn! But no — we must not be sad! Let us rejoice because of your promise, which does not disappoint, and let us do all we can to pursue the path towards the unity you have promised. Let us remember it in our prayer to the Lord, as we plead with him: yes, Lord, remember your promise. Grant that we may be one flock and one shepherd! Do not allow your net to be torn, help us to be servants of unity!

At this point, my mind goes back to 22 October 1978, when Pope John Paul II began his ministry here in Saint Peter’s Square. His words on that occasion constantly echo in my ears: “Do not be afraid! Open wide the doors for Christ!”

I don’t hear a genuine call for unity in the Pope’s words. His conception of oneness is limited to the bounds of Christianity, not the cosmos. He isn’t seeking a universal truth that encompasses people of every faith, including those who believe in not having a faith. His message, though eloquently phrased, is still divisive. His theology still merits a thumbs down.

The Pope spoke yesterday to 350,000 people in the Vatican’s St. Peter’s Square. I gave a talk also on Sunday, to 4 people in the McKinley Elementary School music room. Call me biased, but I liked my “satsang” (an Indian term for a talk about spiritual truth) a lot more than the Pope’s homily.

I started by speaking about how to speak about spirituality, inspired by some guidelines for authors that I’d received from the Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB) Publications Department. I’ve had my differences with the Department, mostly because I have a strong distaste for claims to a singular knowledge of spiritual truth. In the past RSSB has been as guilty as the Catholic Church in asserting that its Way is the only Way.

I find this attitude distasteful. It’s bothered me so much that at times I’ve considered cutting off my ties with RSSB and becoming a genuine spiritual independent, which also happens to be my political affiliation. But I agree with the central goal of the RSSB metaphysical philosophy: uniting one’s personal consciousness (“soul”) with universal consciousness (“spirit”). And I enjoy socializing on Sundays with the people who come to our local RSSB meeting (“satsang”), few though they may be.

So it was heartening to read this new missive from the Publications Department. I’ve often sounded off on similar themes when speaking at RSSB gatherings and have observed a fair number of quizzical looks from audience members after I launched into my favorite “Why would anyone think we’ve got the sole franchise on spiritual truth?” rant. I would imagine that cries of “Heretic! Rabble-rouser! Burn him at the stake!” were going to erupt from the crowd.

How nice, then, to find that the Publications Department now is saying what I’ve been preaching: it’s insulting to people of other faiths (which includes my wife) to come across as claiming that this is the only Way of knowing ultimate reality, God, whatever you want to call it. Hopefully this humble attitude will permeate down into the minds and hearts of everyone associated with RSSB.

Maybe even more broadly, because open-mindedness is a universal virtue. Who knows? Perhaps Pope Benedict XVI is fond of surfing the Internet and will come across this post. For him, and everyone who writes or speaks about spirituality—which includes most people, since speaking to ourselves inside our head is a form of communication—I’ve edited the RSSB guidelines into a form more suitable for universal consumption. Click on the continuation link below to read them. (The unedited guidelines can be found here.)

Lighter shades of ego

Love supposedly makes us selfless. Yet, does it really? Or is what we call “love” almost always just another form of ego, a lighter shade of self-interest that, nonetheless, has nearly all of the negative qualities of a honestly dark “all I care about is me” attitude? This is the position of Hubert Benoit, whose wonderful book “The Supreme Doctrine: Psychological Studies in Zen Thought” I continue to happily read each morning before meditating while on vacation here on Maui. Benoit, a psychiatrist, says that love projected outward is idolatrous. All of our previous self-love is transferred to another being,…

All masters but one are false

I’ve followed just two masters in my life. Of course, if “master” is taken in the broader biblical sense (“No man can serve two masters…You cannot serve God and wealth”) then I’ve had lots of masters. Everything that has led me in a direction in which I didn’t really want to go has mastered me. If I started to list all those things, this post would go on…and on…and on. So I’m not talking about those masters of me, just the two spiritual “gurus” that I pledged allegiance to sequentially several years apart. I believe that one was much more…

Religious questioning is natural

Like most bloggers, I love getting email. Making connections with like-minded (or unlike-minded) people from anywhere in the world is a wonderful reward for the time and effort that goes into a weblog.

Recently I got a message from another member of the spiritual group, Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB), that I’ve been involved with for thirty-five years. This is how my correspondent ended his email:

I do not know whether you will feel the following questions too personal to answer, but if you do not mind , will you mind answering them?: Are you or were you ever a satsangi? What is your spiritual philosophy these days? Can you comment at all on the Sant Mat Gurus, especially Maharaj Gurinder Singh? How do you recommend one seeks the Ultimate Truth?

By “satsangi” he meant specifically an initiate of the mystical path known variously as Sant Mat, Radha Soami Satsang Beas, Science of the Soul, Surat Shabd Yoga, or Radha Soami. Satsangi is a generic word that literally means “one who associates with truth (sat).” Since many spiritual groups in India and elsewhere consider that they are on the path to knowing truth, you can be a “satsangi” of various denominations—to use a rather ill-fitting Christian term. “Satsang” is a meeting of satsangis, a service if you will.

I was asked good questions, some obviously much easier to answer than others. Though personal, I didn’t mind making a stab at answering them and have shared my response below. I realize my language will seem foreign to many people. But substitute, for example, “Pope” for “Master” and “Catholic Church” for “Radha Soami Satsang Beas” if my message seems too distant from your own experience.

My basic point is universal: after you’ve belonged to a religious or spiritual organization for more than a few years, it’s natural to be more critical of it. The more knowledgeable you become about a church, faith, philosophy, or theology, the more flaws you’ll find.

The ultimate reality we call “God” can’t be confined within any manmade system. Religions try to put bounds around boundlessness, but this is a futile exercise. Truth always finds a way to express itself. So I encourage people to trust their direct experience over abstract concepts.

When something seems wrong about the spiritual path you’re following, likely it is. If it appears that you can drop some inessential ritualistic practice, almost certainly you should. Keep what works for you; discard what doesn’t.

Here’s my mildly edited response to the questions I was asked:

Start worrying about your religion if…

After reading my last post, a friend enquired about whether any lightning strikes have been observed heading for my increasingly faithless soul. He was joking. But the vision of bolts from heaven being thrown at the unfaithful got me thinking: Isn’t it strange that, jokingly or not, we can entertain the idea that a God who supposedly is so much better than us also can be imagined as so much worse? I make no claims about possessing any divine qualities. But if you disagree with me, almost certainly I won’t get mad at you. Peeved maybe, but not mad. So…

Why I’m not a Christian

A few days ago I got an email from a thoughtful and well-spoken Christian, Steve, who had come across the Church of the Churchless. He disagreed with what I said in my “Brother of Jesus ossuary hoax” posting: “Christianity, if it is true, should be independent of Jesus Christ.” I enjoyed reading Steve’s thoughts, and hope he won’t mind my sharing them. Download Message from a Christian.doc (28.0K)

Steve, I admire your commitment to Christianity. I also like the attitude reflected in your comment, “I say this not in an effort to convert you….” Amen to that, and I hope you take this response of mine in the same spirit, for I’m not out to convert you to my unfaith either. I simply enjoy our interplay of ideas. Your email message stimulated some reflections of my own that encompass the theme of this post, “Why I’m not a Christian,” but also go beyond them.

For not only am I not a Christian, increasingly I find myself not anything else either. I don’t know what I am. For thirty-five years I’ve called myself a “satsangi,” a generic Indian term that means a member of a sangat, or congregation if you like. Interestingly, the spiritual organization that I’ve been a part of—Radha Soami Satsang Beas, or RSSB—in some ways is more Christian than any denomination that believes in the divinity of Jesus.

Why do I say this? Because the centerpiece of RSSB, along with related groups that fall under the rubric of “Sant Mat” (path of the saints), is a living master who is considered to be, like Christ, a Son of God. The master, or guru, is regarded as God in living form (or GILF, as some discussion groups abbreviate him). Many Sant Mat disciples come from a Christian background. Frequently they find that their relationship with the master and his teachings offers them everything that Christianity did, and then some.

I used to have no doubts about Radha Soami Satsang Beas or my own master, Charan Singh. Now I do. I consider this to be spiritual progress, not backsliding. I used to accept many things on faith that now I put in a “maybe, but remains to be proven” category. This is a big category in my mind. I’ve got countless concepts about God and spirituality filed away from a lifetime of reading, meditating, and general life-experiencing.

What I am sure of would fit on a few post-it notes; what remains a hypothesis fills shelf upon shelf in the library of my mind.

Once I realized this, I could no longer say with my previous ease, “I’m a ________.” That blank has had numerous entries during my fifty-six years: Catholic, hippie pothead, existentialist humanist, satsangi, and now—nothing. Well, “nothing” in the sense of a tidy moniker that I can assign to the form of my spiritual aspirations.

If I had to give a one-word answer to the question, “What do you believe in?” it would be “reality.” This certainly isn’t nothing, but since it is nothing in particular and everything in all I feel that Churchlessness is the straightest path to ultimate truth.

Steve, you said that “Truth—with a capital ‘T’—is outside its [science’s] realm and science is not qualified to posit nor hypothesize in the spiritual or philosophical realm.” Well, then, what is Truth inside if it is outside of science? In other words, where does Truth with a capital ‘T’ reside?

This is the big question. Really, it is the only question. All other queries can be reduced to this Mother of All Questions. My Christian correspondent said that “Scripture is meant to reveal specifics of God; his nature, desires, guidelines and plans.” So does Truth reside in a book? I can’t believe this. How did it come to be in a book? That place, the source, is what I want to find.

Steve’s message ended with: “I don’t see Christianity being on shaky ground at all. However, if you remove Christ from Christianity, you no longer have Christianity.” Yes, we agree on at least the last sentence. However, I consider that a faith which stands or falls on the nature of a single person, dead or alive, is on shaky ground. Others who number in the billions, disagree. And that’s fine by me.

I just cannot accept that the keys to the mysteries of the cosmos are held by a particular man or woman, and no one can pass through the doorway of Truth without following in that person’s footsteps. Could Truth play favorites in this fashion? Can only a chosen few become citizens of Ultimate Reality, with the rest of us destined to remain aliens in this strange material world?

Science seeks the universal, not the particular, for the rock bottom of reality seemingly must be something (energy? consciousness? spirit?) capable of supporting everything. Thus the way of science in knowing physical existence also is the way of knowing spiritual existence. Such is my hypothesis, at least, and it rests comfortably with me.

Along these lines, the New York Times web site had an interesting article today called “God (or Not), Physics and, of Course, Love: Scientists Take a Leap.” The question “What do you believe is true even though you cannot prove it?” was posed to scientists, futurists, and other creative thinkers. Their answers are fascinating. I’ll include the entire article in a post continuation. Here’s how one person, David Meyers, answered the question in a fashion that I wholeheartedly agree with:

As a Christian monotheist, I start with two unproven axioms: 1. There is a God. 2. It’s not me (and it’s also not you). Together, these axioms imply my surest conviction: that some of my beliefs (and yours) contain error. We are, from dust to dust, finite and fallible. We have dignity but not deity.

And that is why I further believe that we should a) hold all our unproven beliefs with a certain tentativeness (except for this one!), b) assess others’ ideas with open-minded skepticism, and c) freely pursue truth aided by observation and experiment.

This mix of faith-based humility and skepticism helped fuel the beginnings of modern science, and it has informed my own research and science writing. The whole truth cannot be found merely by searching our own minds, for there is not enough there. So we also put our ideas to the test. If they survive, so much the better for them; if not, so much the worse.

Religion should unite, not divide

Laurel, my wife, was moved to write a meaningful short essay yesterday: “Religion Should Unite, Not Divide.” Like me, she’s been disturbed by all the fundamentalist-inspired divisiveness evident of late. Well, also evident of early, for as long as there has been religion, there has been religious intolerance and inhumanity.

We both believe that the only way to be spiritual is to be non-religious. Religion is mostly about belief; spirituality is mostly about experience. A disturbingly large percentage of purportedly religious people don’t practice what they preach. They claim to aspire to unconditional love, then vote to discriminate against homosexuals. They claim to renounce unjustified killing, then proudly support the slaughter of innocent people in Iraq.

Laurel says in her piece that if the unity of God truly is the goal to which religious believers aspire, then churches and other places of worship should be an earthly reflection of this oneness: “If this were the role of religion, the only valid religious teachings would be those which teach love, acceptance, and unity with all people.”

Well said. As much as I like the meetings of the spiritual group I attend most Sunday mornings, I cringe inwardly every time I hear a speaker say, “We are so fortunate to be among the chosen few who have been blessed to return to God.” Laurel, entirely appropriately, frequently teases me about this divisive attitude.

Putting on her best Saturday Night Live “Church Lady” voice, she will say to me: “You’re saved, but Satan has doomed me to hell!” “Yes, you’re right,” I’ll reply with tongue firmly in my cheek, “But I’ll try to put in a good word for you when I see God.”

We joke about how almost every religious or spiritual group, including Radha Soami Satsang Beas (Science of the Soul), which I’ve been a longtime member of, considers that its followers, and they alone, are the “chosen people.” If you add up all the supposedly chosen people in the world—Christians, Jews, Muslims, and members of other exclusive sects—the unchosen such as Laurel are in the minority. (I recently wrote about this “all believers are above average” strangeness in “You’re religious, but are you right?

Here is Laurel’s essay, which she has submitted to our local Salem Monthly alternative publication. As she says at the end of the piece, we’re thinking about forming a Church of the Churchless group here in Salem which would meet in physical reality instead of the blogosphere. If you’re interested in being part of such a group, send us an email.

What’s in a name?

Jesus. Buddha. Mohammed. Moses. Sankara. It’s interesting that each of these great sages of Christianity, Buddhism, Islam, Judaism, and Hinduism is known by one name. Ditto with God, Allah, Brahman. In spirituality, simple names seem to go with profound people and ultimate concepts. This came to mind after I got an email message from a Indian man in England with whom I had previously corresponded. He apparently had read my “God’s here, but I’ve got to go” post where I reminisced about having to pee really bad while sitting in the midst of tens of thousand of devotees attending a…

God’s here, but I’ve got to go

If Jesus returned to earth and you were part of the multitudes listening to him preach in person, what would you do if you had to go to the bathroom? This is the sort of deep theological question that we love to consider here at the Church of the Churchless. It also was a deep experiential quandary for me back in December of 1977 when I made my first visit to India. I went to see the guru, Charan Singh, who had initiated me by proxy six and a half years earlier. I had never seen Charan Singh in person,…