Here’s a smorgaasbord of family stories ash collected then interwove them as anecdotes to a theme.
If organized religion is a subset of psychology, it is also a branch of government. To some, the real constitution is the Judeo-Christian bible.
Haven’t considered religion in those terms? As a secular humanist, I find them self-evident. For one thing, what do most of us know before we know the laws of the land? We know what the Bible teaches. Broadly speaking, there is consensus between one and the other. Thou shalt not kill proclaims one. Murder is illegal clearly states the other. Few would object. But scan down the list not very far before reaching a murky area where one may be in conflict with the other, and where religions themselves may diverge.
Most of us inherit our religion. Our parents before us, their parents before them. Many do not contemplate the wisdom or compatibility or compassion of what they “believe,” or would believe, if, raised with no exposure to a holy book, no attendance in a house of worship, they were left to figure it out for themselves. Would they ultimately join the established faith most in alignment with what they have decided they believe? Ignore the matter, mix and match a piece of this with a philosophy of that? In this instance, they would actually “believe” what they “believe,” as opposed to being dictated what to “believe,” an oxymoron if ever there were one.
I mentioned a “murky area.” Here’s a current example: gay marriage. Judges in Massachusetts, and previously in Vermont, have cited the principle of equal rights and protections. In other words, they have framed the debate in liberal terms, that the constitution is a flexible document revisited as new issues arise. Conservatives dissent. Marriage has, and always will, adhere to a certain criteria, and furthermore those judges have not “interpreted,” but rather “created,” new law from whole cloth. And what does religion say? It depends. Some denominations, denouncing homosexuality as sinful, would be loath to reward such behavior with the most sacred of contracts – marriage- in our society. Others remind: be kind and tolerant. My secular humanism instructs me to use this test: what’s it to me? Is the notion of two people of the same sex publicly formalizing their love and commitment (the main motivation for marriage, as opposed to procreation) threatening to me, a heterosexual? No. Is it wrong? Surely not. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just fair.
Take abortion, the most enduring and divisive of issues. Some believe a fertilized egg and an unborn baby are one in the same, the medical community notwithstanding. Other say hold on. For at least the first trimester the fetus is not yet human insofar is it feels nothing, is aware of nothing, is microscopic, resembles a fish, and certainly can’t sustain itself outside the womb. Using the fact that it will eventually become a baby, that it will eventually attain viability, that it will eventually be born, is arguing backward to make the case.
In the religious context, some say God says don’t do it. Some say God says not only don’t you do it, no one else may. Some say God, an advocate of free will, says do what you feel you must. I say what’s it to you? Not in the religious sense, as religions differ and no religion may trump another, but legally? What’s it to you if a woman you don’t know disagrees with your interpretation of the onset of human life and the Supreme Court has declared one’s own body the most private domain?
The Bible is not the law. Some wish it were because they believe in the Bible absolutely because they also believe that God absolutely wrote the Bible. My father tells the story of his neighbors, devout Orthodox Jews, whose young children are not allowed to play with the Christian child across the street. One day he witnessed this little girl suspended at the curb, eyes wide with eagerness, body straining forward, waiting to be invited to join them. What’s it to them? Their parents say no, the Bible forbids socializing with those of another ilk. As for my father, he says simply, “I have no use for that.”
My sister reads a newspaper account of two young punks in California who saw a man dressed as a woman on the street, tracked him down to his home, and beat him to death. Horrified, she responds: “If I saw him, I would say ‘hmm, there’s a guy in a dress’ and walk by. They killed him. What’s it to them?” I speculate it’s the Pappy Finn syndrome, a colloquial reference to needing to feel superior to somebody. But what if these criminals insisted their religion demanded the punishment of his sin? Would that justify breaking the secular law in the commission of religious freedom?
It’s a cliché that one can’t legislate morality. It’s also untrue. In fact, I can’t think of a single law that isn’t the culmination of collective assessment of right versus wrong. That’s nothing to me. But there is considerable controversy when attempting to define exactly what is right, what is wrong, and to what extent religious beliefs shall coincide with legal reality.
The devil’s in the details is another cliché. The angel on my shoulder advises, just ask yourself: what’s it to you?