Response to Dawkins' "Don't Force Your Religious Opinions on Your Children"

Certainly we need to remember that no person should force anything on anybody else. But we should at least recognize Dawkins' own perspective, a perspective which includes a negative view of religion.

And yet, I personally believe that Dawkins isn't really arguing against religion as much as he thinks he is. What he is really arguing against is forms of human totalitarianism--whether on the large scale or the small scale. After all, no person should force anything onto anybody else.

But what his article doesn't take into account is that any religion that is good and that is true actually doesn't force its way onto anybody. I do admit here that there are many modern-day pharisees (for lack of a better term, though they are found in many religions) who have used the language of religion to negatively influence others--to force them, so to speak. I myself have witnessed firsthand many sad accounts. But that isn't an argument against religion. It's an argument against those people who try to force things on others by subtly manipulating language to get people to believe the same things they do. People who do evil in the name of good are the worst kinds of people. They are the ones which we must denounce.

But that doesn't mean we can equivocate "forcing someone to do another's will" with "teaching someone to do that which is good." In other words, we must at least acknowledge that there are merits to teaching one another the basic principles that any good person believes, the same principles that any good religion teaches: principles like kindness towards others, respect and love for those who differ from you, selfless service towards one's neighbor and in one's community. Genuine honesty. Sincere gratitude. Don't take things that aren't yours. Don't hurt others. Don't shed innocent blood. Be kind. Be respectful. Values like these are the values of any good society, and they are values on which I believe all good people--no matter how we were raised or where we come from--can agree.

An Excerpt from Leticia Elizabeth Landon's Poetry

This was written in or around 1830 by a poet named Leticia Elizabeth Landon. I had never heard of her before, but stumbled on this passage which made me think about Wordsworth's "Ode: Intimations of Immortality":

"Methinks we must have known some former state
More glorious than our present, and the heart
Is haunted with dim memories, shadows left
By past magnificence; and hence we pine
With vain aspirings, hopes that fill the eyes
With bitter tears for their own vanity.
Remembrance makes the poet; 'tis the past
Lingering within him, with a keener sense
Than is upon the thoughts of common men
Of what has been, that fills the actual world
With unreal likenesses of lovely shapes,
That were and are not; and the fairer they,
The more their contrast with existing things,
The more his power, the greater is his grief.
--Are we then fallen from some noble star,
Whose consciousness is as an unknown curse,
And we feel capable of happiness
Only to know it is not of our sphere?"

Leticia Elizabeth Landon, The Poetical Works, 118

Two Stories about Forgiveness

I like stories about forgiveness. I like them because I believe that forgiveness is a manifestation of love, and love is something for which each of us have the faculty to feel. Indeed, I believe that we all, deep down, have a desire to love and be loved. But that is because, recognizing my own bias, I believe that all human beings are the literal offspring of Heavenly Parents, who themselves have bodies of flesh and bone, and who endow us with the capacity to love one another. The same love that They have for us, we can have for one another. That love, in more practical terms, has the power and potential to transcend all boundaries of nation, creed, color, and class. Here are two stories that that illustrate forgiveness that I would like to share with you.

This first one comes from October, 2005. 

“How would you feel toward a teenager who decided to toss a 20-pound frozen turkey from a speeding car headlong into the windshield of the car you were driving? How would you feel after enduring six hours of surgery using metal plates and other hardware to piece your face together, and after learning you still face years of therapy before returning to normal—and that you ought to feel lucky you didn’t die or suffer permanent brain damage?

“And how would you feel after learning that your assailant and his buddies had the turkey in the first place because they had stolen a credit card and gone on a senseless shopping spree, just for kicks? . . .

“This is the kind of hideous crime that propels politicians to office on promises of getting tough on crime. It’s the kind of thing that prompts legislators to climb all over each other in a struggle to be the first to introduce a bill that would add enhanced penalties for the use of frozen fowl in the commission of a crime.

“The New York Times quoted the district attorney as saying this is the sort of crime for which victims feel no punishment is harsh enough. ‘Death doesn’t even satisfy them,’ he said.

“Which is what makes what really happened so unusual. The victim, Victoria Ruvolo, a 44-year-old former manager of a collections agency, was more interested in salvaging the life of her 19-year-old assailant, Ryan Cushing, than in exacting any sort of revenge. She pestered prosecutors for information about him, his life, how he was raised, etc. Then she insisted on offering him a plea deal. Cushing could serve six months in the county jail and be on probation for 5 years if he pleaded guilty to second-degree assault.

“Had he been convicted of first-degree assault—the charge most fitting for the crime—he could have served 25 years in prison, finally thrown back into society as a middle-aged man with no skills or prospects.

“But this is only half the story. The rest of it, what happened the day this all played out in court, is the truly remarkable part.

“According to an account in the New York Post, Cushing carefully and tentatively made his way to where Ruvolo sat in the courtroom and tearfully whispered an apology. ‘I’m so sorry for what I did to you.’

“Ruvolo then stood, and the victim and her assailant embraced, weeping. She stroked his head and patted his back as he sobbed, and witnesses, including a Times reporter, heard her say, ‘It’s OK. I just want you to make your life the best it can be.’ According to accounts, hardened prosecutors, and even reporters, were choking back tears” (“Forgiveness Has Power to Change Future,” Deseret Morning News, Aug. 21, 2005, p. AA3.). 

I found that story in a talk by Gordon B. Hinckley. The talk was given at a general conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in October 2005. The talk is called "Forgiveness." Hinckley was president of said church from 1995 to 2008. 

Here is the next story. This one also comes from a general conference, but this time is from James E. Faust, one of Hinckley's counselors:

In the beautiful hills of Pennsylvania, a devout group of Christian people live a simple life without automobiles, electricity, or modern machinery. They work hard and live quiet, peaceful lives separate from the world. Most of their food comes from their own farms. The women sew and knit and weave their clothing, which is modest and plain. They are known as the Amish people. 

A 32-year-old milk truck driver lived with his family in their Nickel Mines community. He was not Amish, but his pickup route took him to many Amish dairy farms, where he became known as the quiet milkman. Last October he suddenly lost all reason and control. In his tormented mind he blamed God for the death of his first child and some unsubstantiated memories. He stormed into the Amish school without any provocation, released the boys and adults, and tied up the 10 girls. He shot the girls, killing five and wounding five. Then he took his own life.

This shocking violence caused great anguish among the Amish but no anger. There was hurt but no hate. Their forgiveness was immediate. Collectively they began to reach out to the milkman’s suffering family. As the milkman’s family gathered in his home the day after the shootings, an Amish neighbor came over, wrapped his arms around the father of the dead gunman, and said, “We will forgive you.” Amish leaders visited the milkman’s wife and children to extend their sympathy, their forgiveness, their help, and their love. About half of the mourners at the milkman’s funeral were Amish. In turn, the Amish invited the milkman’s family to attend the funeral services of the girls who had been killed. A remarkable peace settled on the Amish as their faith sustained them during this crisis.

One local resident very eloquently summed up the aftermath of this tragedy when he said, “We were all speaking the same language, and not just English, but a language of caring, a language of community, [and] a language of service. And, yes, a language of forgiveness.” It was an amazing outpouring of their complete faith in the Lord’s teachings in the Sermon on the Mount: “Do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.”

The family of the milkman who killed the five girls released the following statement to the public:

“To our Amish friends, neighbors, and local community:

“Our family wants each of you to know that we are overwhelmed by the forgiveness, grace, and mercy that you’ve extended to us. Your love for our family has helped to provide the healing we so desperately need. The prayers, flowers, cards, and gifts you’ve given have touched our hearts in a way no words can describe. Your compassion has reached beyond our family, beyond our community, and is changing our world, and for this we sincerely thank you.

“Please know that our hearts have been broken by all that has happened. We are filled with sorrow for all of our Amish neighbors whom we have loved and continue to love. We know that there are many hard days ahead for all the families who lost loved ones, and so we will continue to put our hope and trust in the God of all comfort, as we all seek to rebuild our lives.”

. . .

Hearing of this tragedy, many people sent money to the Amish to pay for the health care of the five surviving girls and for the burial expenses of the five who were killed. As a further demonstration of their discipleship, the Amish decided to share some of the money with the widow of the milkman and her three children because they too were victims of this terrible tragedy. (Faust, April 2007 Conference, “The Healing Power of Forgiveness.”)

There you have it. Two stories about forgiveness. I like them because I think that while maybe it is so easy to get angry and become spiteful or hateful, and maybe it is so easy to resort to violence, but I believe that forgiveness can do much to heal our relationships, both with others and with ourselves.

"This World is Not Conclusion," by Emily Dickinson

"This world is not Conclusion.

From Wikipedia

A Species stands beyond--
Invisible, as Music--
But positive, as Sound--
It beckons, and it baffles--
Philosophy--don't know--
And through a Riddle, at the last--Sagacity, must go--
To guess it, puzzles scholars--
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown--
Faith slips--and laughs, and rallies--
Blushes, if any see--
Plucks at a twig of Evidence--
And asks a Vane, the way--
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit--
Strong Hallelujahs roll--
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the Soul--"

- Emily Dickinson

An Ultra-Brief Comparative Religion

Check this out. I think it is cool to see what so many systems of belief have in common.

Christianity: "All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do you even so to them for this is the Law and the Prophets." (Matthew 7:12)

Judaism: "What is hateful to you, do not to your fellow men. This is the entire law: all the rest is commentary." (Talmud, Shabbat 31a)

Hinduism: "This is the sum of duty: Do naught unto others which would cause you pain if done to you." (Mahabharata 5:1517)

Buddhism: "Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful." (Udana-Varga 5:18)

Islam: "No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself." (Sunnah)

Confucianism: "Surely it is a maxim of loving kindness: Do not unto others that you would not have them do unto you." (Analects 15:23)

Taoism: "Regard your neighbor's gain as your own gain and your neighbor's loss as your own loss." (T'ai Shang Kan Yin P'ien)

Zoroastrianism: "That nature alone is good which refrains from doing unto another whatsoever is not good for itself." (Dadistan-i-dinik 94:5)

I found this information in a book by Robert Kane on page 34. The book is called Through the Moral Maze: Searching for Absolute Values in a Pluralistic World. I didn't expect to find this information in Kane's book, but I thought it was interesting. A discussion about ethics would of course be incomplete without a discussion about religion. Just for fun, we should perhaps add one more statement, one from a more philosophical source--Immanual Kant:

Here's a picture of the book. I found this
picture on Goodreads.com.

Kantianism: "Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law without contradiction." (Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals)

Or: "Act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of any other, never merely as a means to an end, but always at the same time as an end." (Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals)

Basically, we are all human beings, and it is well for us to treat one another as we would like to be treated. Let us not hurt one another or be unkind in any way. Surely no matter how skeptical we are, if we can celebrate at least one thing together, would it not be our short lives together on this little planet?

Personally however, I want to believe that we have much more in common than we perhaps realize. That is not to say that we don't have differences or that our differences are not important. Actually, I think our differences are complementary and not necessarily contradictory. I believe that because I think peace is better than conflict, and peace comes, I think, by learning to live with differences. And part of learning to live with differences entails looking not just at differences but at common ground. Sometimes we have things in common that we don't realize.

Two Boys Perform an Act of Kindness

I personally believe that kindness is something that is good. I like the following story because it illustrates a small act of kindness that had positive consequences. The story is pretty short:

An older boy and his young companion were walking along a road that led through a field. They saw an old coat and a badly worn pair of men's shoes by the roadside, and in the distance they saw the owner working in the field. 

The younger boy suggested that they hide the shoes, conceal themselves, and watch the perplexity on the owner's face when he returned.  

The older boy thought that would not be so good. He said the owner must be a very poor man. So, after talking the matter over, at his suggestion, they decided to try another experiment. Instead of hiding the shoes, they would put a silver dollar [which was then a commonly used coin] in each shoe and see what the owner did when he discovered the money.  

Pretty soon the man returned from the field, put on his coat, slipped one foot into a shoe, felt something hard, took his foot out and found the silver dollar. Wonder and surprise shone upon his face. He looked at the dollar again and again, turned around and could see nobody, then proceeded to put on the other shoe. When to his great surprise he found another dollar, his feelings overcame him. He knelt down and offered aloud a prayer of thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife being sick and helpless and his children without bread. He fervently thanked the Lord for this bounty from unknown hands and evoked the blessing of heaven upon those who gave him this needed help. 

The boys remained hidden until he had gone. They had been touched by his prayer and by his sincere expression of gratitude. As they left to walk down the road, one said to the other, "Don't you have a good feeling?" (As quoted in Gordon B. Hinckley, Way to Be! 16-18)

What Speech Reveals, According to a Chinese Philosopher and a Few Rhetoricians

Kung-sun Ch'ou asked Mencius, the Chinese Philosopher, how he was better than Kao Tzu, another Chinese Philosopher. 

Mencius said, "I understand 'what can be put in words.' I am adept in the cultivation of the ch'i."

But this answer didn't satisfy Kung-sun Ch'ou. So he said, "Might I ask what you mean by 'the ch'i'?" Then Mencius replied,

It is difficult to express in words. The ch'i [often translated as "physical vigour" or "passion-nature"] in this sense is the greatest, the most durable. If it is nurtured by rectitude it remains unharmed and permeates the entire universe. The ch'i in this sense is the fit recipient for Justice and the Way. Without it, man is ill-nourished. It is begotten of the sum total of just deeds. It is not to be seized and held by incidental just deeds. If an act of ours does not meet approval with the heart, then [the life force] is ill-nourished. That is why Kao Tzu has never understood Justice. He thinks it is external to man. One must render service to it; one must not regard it as an objective criterion. The mind must never let it out of its sight, but we must not try to make it grow. Let us not be like the man of Sung who, worried that his young plants were not growing, tugged at them [to help them grow]. He returned home, full of fuss, saying, "What a busy day! I have been helping my plants to grow." His son hurried out to the fields to look, but the young plants had withered already. There are few men in the world today who are not "helping the plants grow." Some neglect their plants, thinking it useless to weed them. Some help their plants by giving them a tug. But this is not merely useless; it is actually harmful.

But this somewhat cryptic answer still wasn't enough for Kung-sun Ch'ou. So he asked what Mencius meant when he said that he "understood what can be put into words." Then Mencius responded,

I understand what hides the other half of a half-truth. I understand the pitfalls that lie beneath extravagant statements. I understand the emptiness that lies behind evasive statements. Engendered in the mind, they cause harm to government. When they result in governmental action they cause harm to public affairs. If a Sage were to rise again he would agree with all I have said. (Mencius 2.1.2.11-17)

Stephen Owen has interpreted Mencius' statement this way,

Mencius' knowledge of language is a knowledge of what the words reveal about the speaker, what they make manifest. . . . Words become only a surface whose shape reveals what lies within. Mencius' list of different kinds of language shows that the trained listener can make fine discriminations. Most important, what the speaker reveals in his words is involuntary--perhaps not at all what he would wish to have revealed. Error and deception are not autonomous categories here, but are subsumed under understanding the person: they are nothing more than manifestations of ignorance or the desire to deceive and as such become important pieces of evidence for us when we listen to someone speak, recognizing the truth or accepting error, being deceived or not being deceived rest with the capacities of the listener. (Readings in Chinese Literary Thought, 1992)

In other words, speech is a subset of action. Ways of speaking are ways of acting, and speech patterns reveal thought patterns. All of this suspiciously sounds like Isocrates, who wrote in his Nicocles that "We regard speaking well to be the clearest sign of a good mind . . . and truthful, lawful, and just speech we consider the image of a good and faithful soul" (171). 

That capacity that Owen reads into Mencius--the capacity to listen well and to listen responsibly--is what we as human beings all strive towards. Wayne Booth, at the end of his book that was subtitled The Quest for Effective Communication, wrote that the quality of our lives--not just individually but also collectively--largely depends on the quality of our capacity to listen and respond, in short, our capacity to actually communicate (The Rhetoric of Rhetoric 171-172).

But there is a difference between actually communicating and merely thinking that we are communicating. Actual communication does not happen between beings who do not try to listen with their hearts as well as their heads. Listening is more than merely hearing words, and understanding another human being is more than simply getting enough information that will make me sound cool when I open my mouth.