Mega Dose
 
 

Special Offers see all

Enter to WIN a $100 Credit

Subscribe to PowellsBooks.news
for a chance to win.
Privacy Policy

Tour our stores

PowellsBooks.Blog

Authors, readers, critics, media — and booksellers.

 

Man Seeks God

Writing about God poses a particular challenge for an author. Besides the ever-present risk of offending someone, or everyone, lurks a more fundamental problem: there is nothing to say. The great spiritual masters of centuries past — people way more enlightened than I'll ever be — knew this. "Why dost thou prate of God? Whatever thou sayest of him is untrue," observed the Christian mystic, Meister Eckhart, some 500 years ago. God is ineffable, beyond words.

Yet I am a writer. Words are all I have. So I ignore Meister Eckhart's warning, and I prate.

Immediately, I sensed trouble. Tell people you are writing a book about happiness, the subject of my previous project, and their eyes light up. Tell people you are writing a book about God and their eyes dart about, looking for the nearest exit.

I can't blame them. I was treading on treacherous ground. Good writing is honest writing, but honest writing also carries with it the greatest possibility of causing offense. Which is fine if you are offending someone's favorite sports team or cartoon character, but what if you're offending their heritage? What if — and this gets to the heart of the problem — you are offending their God?

Which is even easier to do than I imagined. The difficulty begins with spelling. Is it "God" or "god," or perhaps "G-d," as some orthodox Jews refer to the Almighty. A cursory search for definitions of God proves no more enlightening. God is, variously, "infinite" (Spinoza), "a direction" (Rainer Maria Rilke), a "poem" (Matthew Arnold), "a matter of taste" (Paul Davies), "a verb" (R. Buckminster Fuller), "an underachiever" (Woody Allen), "an irresistible influence" (Jung), or "dead" (Nietzsche).

The ancient Hindus, I think, got it right. God, they said, is netti, netti. Not this, not that.

God, I decide, is too vague a term. Besides, I was interested not only in Him (or him), but in the religious experience, and some religions are non-theistic. They don't believe in God at all. Religion. Yes, I was sure that word would be easier to pin down.

I was wrong. The word religion, if not the concept, has nothing to do with God. "Religion" comes from the Latin religio, which means to bind, or re-bind. That doesn't strike me as terribly uplifting. Who wants to be bound, aside from a few kinky types? Yet, I know from my research into happiness that it is our binding, our inter-dependence, that fulfills us. Make a commitment (a binding agreement, you might say) to volunteer at a soup kitchen and chances are you'll be happier. Marriage, a binding relationship if ever there were one, also makes you happier.

When it comes to religion we are, at the most basic level, binding ourselves to each other. This is something all faiths have in common. They facilitate social cohesion — people of like mind, united by a common purpose, hanging out together. This social binding –"collective effervescence," Durkheim called it — clearly explains some of religion's appeal.

But what exactly is religion? Marx famously called it the "opium of the people." I always found that overly pessimistic, and narrow. Religion is also the amphetamine of the people. Have you ever seen a Southern Baptist revival? People there are pepped up on something. Religion is also the Prozac of the people, the religious being statistically happier than the secular. A few of the trendy new religions might well be called the Viagra of the people. Marx, whatever you think of his political thought, was woefully behind on his pharmacology.

Paul Tillich, a particularly thoughtful theologian, said faith is "being grasped by an ultimate concern." That sounds good, but what if I am ultimately concerned about lunch, as I often am? Is lunch my religion? Alfred North Whitehead defined religion as "What a man does with his solitariness." I like that a lot. It speaks to the fundamental truth that ultimately we are born and die alone and we must come to terms with that. Any religion worth the name attempts to answer three questions: Where do we come from? What happens when we die? What should we do in the meantime? (The truly ambitious ones also tackle that timeless question, "Where do the missing socks go?" but do so at their peril.)

Definitions settled (sort of), I then encountered the "cleverness problem." We writers admire cleverness — in others, sure, but nowhere more than in our own work. Yet all religions warn that cleverness is simply another avoidance strategy, albeit a particularly clever one. Those who are serious about their "spiritual development" (another problematic phrase, but I'll let that one slide) need to maintain a "beginner's mind," as the Zen Buddhists call it. Or, as Rumi, the great Sufi poet said: "Sell your cleverness. Buy bewilderment!" It's quite possibly the best stock tip ever uttered.

While it's true that words can get in the way of a genuine spiritual experience, and I suspect many writers (myself included) are engaged in a very eloquent type of evasion, there's more to the story than that. God gave us the power of speech for a reason, I figure. Words don't only hold us back. They can also propel us. Lift us. The Bible is words. So are the Koran and the Bhagavad Gita and the Dhammapada. It is words that inspire a young Catholic nun to help the poor of Calcutta, and it is words that comfort a mother during a time of unbearable grief. Words matter. How can we use them wisely, without getting snared in their net?

An old Buddhist parable offers a clue. It tells of a young man who built a raft to cross a river. He found the raft so helpful, so indispensible, that even on dry land he continued to carry it on his back, buckling under its weight.

We need to know when to use words. And we need to know when to drop them.

÷ ÷ ÷

Eric Weiner is author of the New York Times bestseller The Geography of Bliss, which has been translated into 18 languages. A former correspondent for NPR and the New York Times, Weiner has reported from more than three dozen countries. His latest books is Man Seeks God.


Books mentioned in this post

  1. Man Seeks God: My Flirtations with... Used Hardcover $4.95



7 Responses to "Man Seeks God"

  1.  
    Sandy Clabaugh November 25th, 2011 at 10:14 am

    When trying to explain clarity and the dangers of ambiguity to my introductory philosophy students I tell them that if they ask someone if s/he believes in God, or god, or G-d, they must be prepared for the response: "Define God." You express this dilemma very well.

  2.  
    Jessie Wood December 16th, 2011 at 9:35 am

    One can attempt to describe God but will never be satisfied with the description because, after all, it is God we are talking about! One only has to experience his presence to know the reality of the Creator. When God 'lives' within us, he changes us and you can look around the your world and see those people - those volunteering their time, energy and resources to the local or far away people in need. those who were sad but now filled with hope and purpose. The dilemma is how do we get over ourselves, to the END of ourselves so we just ask God to take us as we are so we can find him. we don't need all the answers up front, we just need to seek him first and worry about how he directs us later.

  3.  
    Tom Rogers December 18th, 2011 at 8:23 am

    Common problem, that ambiguity. It's very much wrapped in the failure to first define self adequately, and particularly the processes that give rise to perception.

    If we are at all as we seem to be, all perception is completely EM-centric, that is, given rise by processes mediated by the electro-magnetic force. Even so, it's obvious there are at least several other forces at work in nature.

    The self model that arises from these processes, and the reality it inhabits, must arrive at the moment of now with a profound bias.

    Estimating a correction for that bias leaves the essential nature of the ambiguity much clearer. What we can know of the nature of Nature, if it exists at all, is cleanly cleaved from that which is, by definition of that existence, unknowable.

  4.  
    Terry December 26th, 2011 at 9:25 pm

    I am interested. If you can't figure out who God is (other than the Creator of the Universe, the Father of us all, the maker of every good thing), who do you think Jesus is?

  5.  
    Victoria January 1st, 2012 at 8:59 am

    I think that the writings of those who have had a direct experience of God, are different from those who have not.

  6.  
    Ron Cutaia January 2nd, 2012 at 9:24 pm

    What do you think of when you look at that loaf of bread over there? You can know one thing absolutely and for centain...there was a baker...

  7.  
    Farrar January 14th, 2012 at 3:43 pm

    I agree with Victoria. since I have not had such an experience, I remain an agnostic. since Weiner has not had such an experience, I suspect his book will necessarily be too superficial to spend my time on.

Post a comment:

 
Get Your Gravatar

  1. Please note:
  2. All comments require moderation by Powells.com staff.
  3. Comments submitted on weekends might take until Monday to appear.
PowellsBooks.Blog uses Gravatar to allow you to personalize the icon that appears beside your name when you post. If you don't have one already, get your Gravatar today!
spacer
spacer
  • back to top

FOLLOW US ON...

     
Powell's City of Books is an independent bookstore in Portland, Oregon, that fills a whole city block with more than a million new, used, and out of print books. Shop those shelves — plus literally millions more books, DVDs, and gifts — here at Powells.com.