And so, in order to become more full and joyous individuals, we must look back to the primordial, to nature, to the common reality that binds us all together with each other and with all living things.
To counter Heidegger, only the lack of a God can save us now.
But consider this: pantheism is not different from polytheism; it is not different from monotheism; it is not different from atheism. It includes each of these as components in a larger truth. The division falls down. Monotheism is true because nature is one—everything is interconnected and forms an interrelated whole. Polytheism is true because nature has many incarnations—many individual and distinct forces that operate within it. Atheism is true because nature is everything, and so it is also nothing—that is to say, it is not a thing, it is the ground of being, the set of all sets.
Tillich says this of theism in the traditional sense:
“[Theological theism] must be transcended because it is wrong. It is bad theology. This can be shown by a more penetrating analysis. The God of theological theism is a being beside others and as such a part of the whole of reality. He certainly is considered its most important part, but as a part and therefore as subjected to the structure of the whole. He is supposed to be beyond the ontological elements and categories which constitute reality. But every statement subjects him to them. He is seen as a self which has a world, as an ego which is related to a thou, as a cause which is separated from its effect, as having a definite space and an endless time. He is a being, not being-itself. As such he is bound to the subject-object structure of reality, he is an object for us as subjects. At the same time we are objects for him as a subject” (The Courage to Be, 184-185).
It is inappropriate to refer to God as “He,” because God is neither a man, nor a person. It is inappropriate to refer to God as “It,” because God is not a particular thing. In general, calling nature God at all is deceptive. God is not a man or a woman—except when God is a man or a woman. For example, you may be a man or a woman, and you are also God. Or God may be both, or God may be neither. God is not a thing—except when God is a thing. For example, the table I am writing this on is a thing, and it is also God.
All religions are like the spokes of a wheel. At the center is mysticism—direct spiritual encounters—and at the rim is fundamentalism—adherence to texts. The mystic traditions of every religion come together at the center of the wheel and radiate outwards as they separate into different fundamentalist sects. From the center of the wheel, we all agree: God is nature; we are God; there is only being. What you think of as God is everywhere present. More than that: it is everything. You, and everything else, are one with the essence of life—you are manifestations of this essence. Mystics experience this directly, but then traditions rise up around these experiences to preserve what is perceived as the link to the essence of life. But mysticism is not so much a matter of becoming one with the essence of life as becoming aware that this state is already, and always was, the case. It cannot be otherwise. From the rim of the wheel, one can see that one’s own spoke leads to the center, but looking at every other spoke one thinks that they divert from the center—that to travel to them is to travel away from the center. This is not to say that all religions describe reality with equal accuracy. They do not. Nor that religion, in the traditional sense, allows for the most accurate interpretation of reality. It does not.
To speak of God is pointless. People will create an endless variety of gods and an endless variety of interpretations of God. Whether or not there even is a God is a matter of contention. And all these arguments end in the only way theological arguments ever can—division and uneasy tolerance or an attempt at unity through violence and force. Why? Because what are you debating? Nothing for which anyone has any evidence. Our gods and Gods are all products of phantasy, not sensation, and so they are not bound by any principle through which they can be made to conform through reason alone. But when we speak of nature we have common ground. Everyone agrees that nature exists, and rival interpretations of nature admit of empirical confirmation, disproof, or adjustment. Problem solved.
1 And what aspect of the human psyche is the Abrahamic God cut from? But he has already told us himself: “the Lord, whose name is Jealous.” Just as Aphrodite is the anthropomorphization of love, Yahweh is the anthropomorphization of jealousy—in Nietzsche’s language, ressentiment. Whatever else it may be, whatever other honors it may be decked out with (and would we not expect Jealousy to claim the whole Universe as its own, exclusive property?), it is at bottom simply this. And all who worship Yahweh worship jealousy—though how cognizant they are of this is another question.
2 I am indebted to the book Balance Point by Joseph Jenkins for this articulation of the shamanic position.
3 Nature does not teach, or guide, or judge in an active way—it has no faculties to do this. It is not a person. Rather, nature does these things in a passive way—through its merely being what it is.
If you identify with the message of this article, please email it to people, tell your friends, even print out copies to pass around. Together we can raise awareness. Thank you.
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