Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
The Ecology of Religions
Today I want to think on the subject of religious ecology, or in other words, the interrelatedness of human ontological structures. Religion, after all, is fundamentally a prescription for how we ought to understand and approach our experienced realities. In its many forms, religion offers a valuable reflection of the human condition and how it strives to construct itself in this world. Yet for all its diversity, I like to believe that there are more important commonalities that underlie the entire spectrum in varying degrees. While exhaustive investigation would exceed a lifetime's ceaseless work, I want to focus most specifically on the religious treatment and characterization of the natural world. Within every faith we find reason for awe and respect, if not careful stewardship of this enigmatic earth. The respective reasons surely differ, but I reckon the critical aspect is that they each find their own way to appreciate the world we have. Nature offers such a central mysterious to us that it cannot be ignored, and a central function of religion thus becomes establishing this relationship.
To begin, it's probably best to start with the most familiar story, Christianity. As the most prevalent faith in the Western world, Christianity carries a great deal of philosophical heft in its doctrines. In the Biblical conception, the earth is the product of God's loving labour. The land and all its creatures stem directly from divine design. Man, forged in God's own image, nonetheless occupies an elevated position within the realm. Animals and natural resources are considered a use of privilege for His beloved children. While holding dominion, this hierarchy was still based upon gratitude and respect rather than the gross exploitation it has devolved into today. This was a mandate for responsible stewardship and management, because it was God's own work that man was dealing with. Not only did domestic species deserve consideration, but wild species were equally worthy. Man could eat from the land and its beasts, yet the Creation retained its sacred character. The Jewish and Islamic faiths being similarly Abrahamic, follow along the same lines.
Furthermore, there is a sense of awe, even fear at the untamed wilderness of the earth; particularly represented by the arid expanses of desert. This establishes a spiritual polarity between the comfort of community and the dangers of isolation, which means to further inspire a love of God as the Protector. The meaning of many parables and the promise of salvation would largely be lost without this duality. Man learns to respect the elements while cherishing the security of the Lord. It is of course inspired by the revernce we inherently feel for that which we do not understand. This places man and nature on two sides of the same coin, but still inextricably linked. Unfortunately in today's world, we find a heavier emphasis of this separation than the aforementioned relationship of man as caretaker to the world's creatures.
Within indigenous cultures (and I used the term as a very loose designation), we tend to find a more integrated approach. I by no means have a comprehensive understanding of any traditional belief system, but I'll chance to stumble my way through some Native American cosmological thought. These pre-European tribes demonstrate mankind's direct subsistence upon and interaction with the land. A connection that is not mitigated by commercialized pathways as we experience it today. Their religions thus represent these terrestrial dependencies more strongly. Oftentimes the tribesman identifies himself within a dynamic bioregion that rises and falls regardless of his presence. He resides in this great house of the world, with the sky as its roof, the rivers as his blood and the wind his spirit. Coyote is the mythical creator, an animal predecessor that began the life of this world. An area that may be empty of humanity is by no means empty of vitality and sacred importance. It still carries the weight of a multitude of souls, worthy of respect. This conceptualization dismantles that Christian dichotomy in favor of an embeddedness within nature. Interaction therein provides the critical characterization of indigenous religions, in whatever regional manifestation. Traditional animism recognizes the essential roles of all beings while allowing them equal ecological standing. Close reliance breeds close respect.
But then we have the material renouncers of the East. Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism each advise detachment from the physical, sensory and illusory world. This avoidance is predicated upon an understanding of nature's constant changing. There is nothing eternal to cling to, and all is subject to revision. Even so, there is an undeniable reverence inherent in these religions. Ascetics retreat to the mountains, Zen poets wander homeless, sacred groves are maintained for droves of monks, and Buddhas achieve enlightenment under Banyan trees. A close relationship with the non-human world is instrumental to arriving at transcendental knowledge. Witnessing the inner workings of nature allows one to escape the woefully limited perspective of the suffering human being. There is no disdain or fear of the wild, nor is there any clinging to its cycles. They see through it as a composition of interrelated connections, absent of any selfhood. Even so, the natural world remains the preferred place to pursue religious devotion because its distance from human trivialities. In more traditional strains of Buddhism, there are even levels of paradise that abound in natural beauty and fertility, indicating their positive status, but these too are only temporary realms that any Buddha may pass through on his journey to full release. Thus for all their detachment, Eastern religions nonetheless contain an admiring affectation towards the unadulterated environment and utilize it to further their spiritual trainings.
I think ultimately what we find here (in this altogether too brief investigation) is that religions fundamentally contain a preoccupation with the natural world in deciding how we should engage it. Despite taking very different approaches, most religions arrive at some permutation of spiritual reverence for the worlds both beyond and within them. Care and stewardship are widely advised, suggesting a human attitude that defies categorization into any particular sect. There is an inherent fascination, and really a necessity in establishing our relationship with the non-human aspects of earth. It helps us to understand and define ourselves, representing an indispensible spiritual resource. I think we all need wilderness and connection to natural processes for one reason or another. With this commonality established, I see reasonf for cooperative conservation agendas that transcend faiths to unite human beings on that most basic level. Whether for preserving the Creation, protecting our means of subsistence, or minimizing the suffering of other beings, there is undoubtedly a common interest there. How our world as come to be so damaged today is beyond my understanding. What we need now is to establish a programme for the pan-religious healing of our injured earth. Its obvious that we each cherish it in our own ways once we strip away those shallow differences. Underneath, there is a fundamental human obligation to maintain the ecological connections that we have been blessed with.
To begin, it's probably best to start with the most familiar story, Christianity. As the most prevalent faith in the Western world, Christianity carries a great deal of philosophical heft in its doctrines. In the Biblical conception, the earth is the product of God's loving labour. The land and all its creatures stem directly from divine design. Man, forged in God's own image, nonetheless occupies an elevated position within the realm. Animals and natural resources are considered a use of privilege for His beloved children. While holding dominion, this hierarchy was still based upon gratitude and respect rather than the gross exploitation it has devolved into today. This was a mandate for responsible stewardship and management, because it was God's own work that man was dealing with. Not only did domestic species deserve consideration, but wild species were equally worthy. Man could eat from the land and its beasts, yet the Creation retained its sacred character. The Jewish and Islamic faiths being similarly Abrahamic, follow along the same lines.
Furthermore, there is a sense of awe, even fear at the untamed wilderness of the earth; particularly represented by the arid expanses of desert. This establishes a spiritual polarity between the comfort of community and the dangers of isolation, which means to further inspire a love of God as the Protector. The meaning of many parables and the promise of salvation would largely be lost without this duality. Man learns to respect the elements while cherishing the security of the Lord. It is of course inspired by the revernce we inherently feel for that which we do not understand. This places man and nature on two sides of the same coin, but still inextricably linked. Unfortunately in today's world, we find a heavier emphasis of this separation than the aforementioned relationship of man as caretaker to the world's creatures.
Within indigenous cultures (and I used the term as a very loose designation), we tend to find a more integrated approach. I by no means have a comprehensive understanding of any traditional belief system, but I'll chance to stumble my way through some Native American cosmological thought. These pre-European tribes demonstrate mankind's direct subsistence upon and interaction with the land. A connection that is not mitigated by commercialized pathways as we experience it today. Their religions thus represent these terrestrial dependencies more strongly. Oftentimes the tribesman identifies himself within a dynamic bioregion that rises and falls regardless of his presence. He resides in this great house of the world, with the sky as its roof, the rivers as his blood and the wind his spirit. Coyote is the mythical creator, an animal predecessor that began the life of this world. An area that may be empty of humanity is by no means empty of vitality and sacred importance. It still carries the weight of a multitude of souls, worthy of respect. This conceptualization dismantles that Christian dichotomy in favor of an embeddedness within nature. Interaction therein provides the critical characterization of indigenous religions, in whatever regional manifestation. Traditional animism recognizes the essential roles of all beings while allowing them equal ecological standing. Close reliance breeds close respect.
But then we have the material renouncers of the East. Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism each advise detachment from the physical, sensory and illusory world. This avoidance is predicated upon an understanding of nature's constant changing. There is nothing eternal to cling to, and all is subject to revision. Even so, there is an undeniable reverence inherent in these religions. Ascetics retreat to the mountains, Zen poets wander homeless, sacred groves are maintained for droves of monks, and Buddhas achieve enlightenment under Banyan trees. A close relationship with the non-human world is instrumental to arriving at transcendental knowledge. Witnessing the inner workings of nature allows one to escape the woefully limited perspective of the suffering human being. There is no disdain or fear of the wild, nor is there any clinging to its cycles. They see through it as a composition of interrelated connections, absent of any selfhood. Even so, the natural world remains the preferred place to pursue religious devotion because its distance from human trivialities. In more traditional strains of Buddhism, there are even levels of paradise that abound in natural beauty and fertility, indicating their positive status, but these too are only temporary realms that any Buddha may pass through on his journey to full release. Thus for all their detachment, Eastern religions nonetheless contain an admiring affectation towards the unadulterated environment and utilize it to further their spiritual trainings.
I think ultimately what we find here (in this altogether too brief investigation) is that religions fundamentally contain a preoccupation with the natural world in deciding how we should engage it. Despite taking very different approaches, most religions arrive at some permutation of spiritual reverence for the worlds both beyond and within them. Care and stewardship are widely advised, suggesting a human attitude that defies categorization into any particular sect. There is an inherent fascination, and really a necessity in establishing our relationship with the non-human aspects of earth. It helps us to understand and define ourselves, representing an indispensible spiritual resource. I think we all need wilderness and connection to natural processes for one reason or another. With this commonality established, I see reasonf for cooperative conservation agendas that transcend faiths to unite human beings on that most basic level. Whether for preserving the Creation, protecting our means of subsistence, or minimizing the suffering of other beings, there is undoubtedly a common interest there. How our world as come to be so damaged today is beyond my understanding. What we need now is to establish a programme for the pan-religious healing of our injured earth. Its obvious that we each cherish it in our own ways once we strip away those shallow differences. Underneath, there is a fundamental human obligation to maintain the ecological connections that we have been blessed with.
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