Can Religion and Reason Meet

Can Religion & Reason Meet?

The Rev. Dr. Mark A. Ehman

October 21, 2001

What has Athens to do with Jerusalem? This question was posed by the third century churchman, Tertullian, presbyter of Carthage. We know very little about Tertullian. We know that he was trained as a lawyer and skilled in rhetoric. He had mastered the art of the “clever phrase,” the “terse aphorism” and the “persuasive utterance.” (Had he lived in the 21^st century he would have most likely been an ad-man, writing jingles for car commercials on TV.) We know that he was converted to Christianity in the early 190s CE. And we know that he became the first systematic theologian of the western (or Latin) church. In this latter role he became the defender of the Hebraic-Christian strand of thought, rather than the Greek-humanist strand. He stressed monotheism, as opposed to Greek polytheism. He was a champion of the paradoxical, rather than the rational. He embraced the concrete world of space and time (with real, historical personages), rather than the lofty world of abstract ideas and mathematical equations. And he believed that human hope and salvation lay in the actions of a powerful God, rather than in the knowledge that creatures might acquire. All of the things he stood for were symbolized and centered in Jerusalem—Jerusalem, the holy city; Jerusalem, the seat of the Davidic monarchy; Jerusalem, the site of Jesus’ final week; Jerusalem, the epitome of “authentic” religion. And, as for Athens—it was the symbol of corruption, misdirection and pride. So when Tertullian raises the question “What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?” his answer is a resounding “Nothing.” The two cities symbolize two radically different ways of envisioning the world. They are mutually exclusive and, like oil and water, they do not, and cannot, mix.

Several years ago the Unitarian Universalist Church of Ft. Myers determined that its motto would be “where religion and reason meet.” About three years ago the communications committee of the church voted to incorporate this motto in the advertising published by the church. So if you read the “church section” of the Saturday News-Press, or view our website on the Internet, or pick up one of our Academy brochures, or get an official letter from the church, you will encounter the aphorism “where religion and reason meet.” Now I know that mottos and slogans are often the written version of soundbites, endeavoring to convey a weighty message in shorthand form. As such, they are easily susceptible to confusion, misunderstanding or overstatement—for example, the army’s invitation to “Be all that you can be.” (I’m not sure that I understand what is intended). Or the billboard’s proclamation that X is the “car of the future.” Or the bumper sticker that announces: “He who dies with the most toys wins.” (I’ve often wondered: “Wins what?”) Or the plumbing service whose truck drives around town with the assertion “We peak at your leaks (“peak” being spelled P-E-A-K). Or the religious group in Ft. Myers that states its name and then adds the tag line: “A place for hurting people.”

Mottos may send the wrong message. Nevertheless, they serve an important purpose. They intend to communicate the identity of an organization or a product. So when we announce that UUCFM is the place “where religion and reason meet,” we are affirming, in summary form, the beliefs, intentions, emotions and activities of our religious community. We are proclaiming to the world (or, at least to the Ft. Myers area), that in this church, in this sanctuary, in this fellowship, reason and spirit are joined, that our heads and our hearts are in sync with one another.

However, there is a prior question. Can religion and reason meet? Remember Tertullian’s observation. Jerusalem has nothing to do with Athens. For Tertullian, Jerusalem symbolized “religion” and Athens symbolized “reason.” Anything that emanated from Jerusalem was definitive and good; and anything that emerged from Athens was corrupt and evil. This attitude, which prioritzes religion over reason, persists in the 21^st century. The televangelists and the religious right bombard us on every hand with their religious tripe and make the claim that “Athens has nothing to do with Jerusalem,” that religion and reason can never meet. They ask us to believe that the earth, yea the universe, was made in six days, that there are unexplainable disruptions to the operation of the world (miracles), that the essence of morality is contained in an antiquated tribal code (the ten commandments—without acknowledging that most of them break one of these commandments every week—Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy), and that one religious expression, above all others, is the correct religious expression. All others are of the devil. Well, the televangelists are wrong. The religious right is wrong. And Tertullian was wrong. Athens does have something to do with Jerusalem; religion and reason must meet. For if they do not, we are left with a spirituality that is both silly and irrelevant. And if our spirituality is silly and irrelevant, then why bother? Why exert so much energy and spend so much money on buildings and programs and dinners and memorial gardens if they do not make any difference?

Two hundred and fifty years ago Europe was in the throes of the Enlightenment. It must have been a great time to be alive—particularly if you were an aristocrat, had some money and were well-educated. The Enlightenment, however, made the opposite mistake from Tertullian. It proclaimed that “reason” could live without “religion.” When Napoleon asked the scientist, Pierre Laplace, why he had omitted God from his universal system, Laplace replied: “I had no need of that hypothesis.” And the British poet, Alexander Pope, penned:

Nature and Nature’s laws lay hid in night:

God said, Let Newton be! And all was Light.

Reason had triumphed. Religion was dead—or, at least, dying. Of course, there were a few valiant Anglican divines who endeavored to salvage the moribund corpse; but, alas, all efforts were futile. Science reigned supreme, and religion went the way of the dodo bird. But people began to realize that, for all of their commitment to the path of rationality, reason had limits. Even though new discoveries made human life more bearable, yet suffering persisted—and in new and unimaginable ways. Even though increased knowledge should have led to a more tranquil existence, yet wars and destructiveness continued—and with greater precision and wider consequences. Even though rational thought provided a foundation for ethics, yet immorality grew beyond man’s wildest dreams. Reason may have triumphed; but it may also have been guilty of hubris—a case of overextended claims. It, like religion, in the first full flush of its glory, may have declared more than it could deliver. And now, in the 21^st century, we find ourselves at the brink of a new breakdown—a breakdown not unlike that occurring at the end of the Enlightenment period in which the failure of reason was followed by a re-emergence of the “religions of the heart.”

So what shall it be? Athens or Jerusalem? Or both? We have our own version of this dilemma in the Unitarian Universalist Church of Ft. Myers. There is a significant body of humanists among us. Inspired by the great vision set forth in the Humanist Manifesto of 1933 and the Humanist Manifesto II of 1973, they remind us all that our world is beset with a series of problems, that traditional religions have done little to aid in the resolution of these problems (indeed, traditional religions have often impeded the addressing of problems because of the superstitions they have dogmatically advanced), that human reason provides us with the key to understanding and coping with the problems, and that a strong dose of optimism provides human beings with the hope and the courage that “man will prevail.” (Please understand that I have not endeavored to incorporate everything that humanists believe.) I am told that anywhere from 30% to over 50% of the members of this congregation consider themselves “humanist.” I myself consider myself to be “some kind” of humanist, (though I don’t know whether I would be regarded with anything but a suspicious eye by the cognicenti in the humanist temple).

But . . . but there is at least one other group within our congregation—the spiritualists, the religious, the followers of various traditions of the past. These are the Pagans, the Christians, the Buddhists, the Jews, and the Muslims. These people recognize that there have been “superstitions,” misunderstandings and oppressions connected with their respective traditions in the past. However, they also recognize that there is much that is good and holy in these faiths. There is the profound respect for Mother Earth proclaimed by the Pagans. There is the notion of self-giving love which forms the core of Christianity. There are the teachings of perfect wisdom and infinite compassion set forth by the Buddhists. There is the resounding theme of justice emanating from the mouths of the Hebrew prophets. And there is the all-embracing idea of brotherhood bequeathed to humanity by the Muslims. These are all sacred ideas—ideas which cause our hearts to leap and our imaginations to be inspired. They are religious principles which serve to motivate us to become mature women and men in a world whose forces are repressive and destructive. They are transcendent concepts—concepts which “stand above” us and provide a criterion for our activities. They are holy.

So we have humanist Athens and spiritualist Jerusalem. Can they ever meet? Tertullian thought not. The Enlightenment thought not. But I think so. However, there are some warning signs; and unless we heed them, religion and reason may never come together. First of all, there is the warning sign of dogmatism—yes, dogmatism. Humanists and spiritualists can be just as dogmatic as the next person. There is the sometimes expressed, sometimes unexpressed notion that there is an “official” way to think and act. If one finds oneself within the boundaries of this “officially sanctioned” parameter, then everything is fine. However, if one exceeds the boundaries, then his/her religious expression comes to be viewed with skepticism. The tyranny of the majority serves to exclude, rather than include, such persons from the community. This is a danger that is present in all religious traditions. However, in Unitarian Universalism, and especially in this church, it can be particularly damaging. We pride ourselves on being open and accepting; however, our pride in acceptance may cloud our need to be self-critical and to recognize that there are more varied expressions of faith than what we have heretofore admitted. We cannot balk at the language and music which invoke “God,” “Christ,” “prayer” and “saints” anymore than we can balk at the language and music which celebrates “atheism,” “heroes,” “rational discussion” and “science.” We cannot dismiss “acts of worship,” just as we cannot disregard “exercises in logic.” There is no “official” position. This is a place where we continue the search—on our own and in community—and to engage in any form of dogmatism is to contradict what we say we are about.

A second warning sign relates to the first. There is often a lack of appreciation for the religious/secular tradition of the other. Sometimes we are so steeped in our own way of perceiving the world that we cannot fathom what the other person is saying and why he/she is saying it. The meeting of religion and reason requires some effort on our part to understand the many varieties of authentic human expression and the multiple paths that lead to the fulfillment of us all.

Religion and reason will not meet simply by being in proximity with one another. We cannot say as we enter the sanctuary: “Now let’s see! Where’s a humanist that I can sit next to. Or I talked to a Pagan last week at coffee. I really should seek out a Christian this week.” Religion and reason can only meet 1) when we express a genuine interest in learning about the tradition of the other, 2) when we muster the courage to articulate our own tradition, and 3) when we realize that we all live in hope—hope that the mind and the spirit will serve as the tools for addressing our common problems, hope that religion and reason will promote life’s possibilities, and hope that our congregation, our community and our world will be united by means of the rational and the holy.

About seven or eight months ago Bill and Dee West began writing a play that would dramatize the history of our congregation in Ft. Myers. The original version of the play was set on Mt. Olympus and featured a dialogue between two demi-gods, named Religion and Reason. I thought that such a setting and such characters required some singing celestials and some dancing muses to give expressive form to what our 40 years has been about. And so I wrote these lyrics:

Where religion and reason meet

There’s always a special treat.

Your spirits will soar;

You’ll be joyful once more

Where religion and reason meet!

Where religion and reason meet

Friends gather to study and eat.

You may stand as you’re able

When you “come to the table”

Where religion and reason meet.

And in order to offer contrast, which is always necessary in music and drama, I penned some interludes:

We’re humanist and spir’tu’list;

We often don’t agree.

But we respect the other’s right

To have a faith that’s free.

We dislike creeds and rit’choo’als;

We’re skeptical at heart.

We bless the beasts and serve the feasts

In a Hall that’s called Ho-bart.

We cherish seven prin’ci’ples;

We never deviate.

And if our service runs too long

We’ll sure ab-brev-i-ate.

And a final verse, written at 9:00 am this morning:

Where religion and reason meet

Theories and faiths are replete.

We embrace one another

As sister and brother

Where religion and reason meet.

MAY IT BE SO!!