The Answer Is
42

Introduction

These pages poke into issues and perspectives related to questions of who we are, how we got here, and what it’s all about, Alfie.

Plenty of people, and most of them much smarter than I, have kicked these things around for centuries, even millennia. This section of the website just helps me keep track, in probably way too much mind-numbing detail, of how I got where I am.

(For an admittedly oversimplified presentation of some key positions argued here, see an article published online in Campus Crosswalk.)

The fundamental change in my spiritual and practical world view came about not from my traditional Christianity’s perceived "enemies" such as humanism, secularism, evolution, etc., but from my own diligently studying the Biblical scriptures themselves over many years, reflecting on the traditions and assumptions of my own personal heritage, and applying to them the same tools of scrutiny that I was taught to apply to formal dogmas and other supposedly "false" beliefs. In my upbringing that meant not only any religions outside Christianity. It meant most other Christian denominations as well.

This site describes my frustrating struggle within that framework to find the best in both

empiricism and supernaturalism,
science and faith,
nature and spirit.

I tried like crazy to hold on to my intellectual and moral integrity. That wasn't easy, especially as I kept confronting mounting evidence of one central, exasperating realization: all the world’s religions, with all their external tools of sacred books, customs, traditions, creeds, superstitions, and dogmas, emerged and evolved as a result of blending

greed, ignorance, male chauvinism,
superstition, dogmatism, manipulation,
fear, hatred,
torture, terrorism,
and murderous, warmongering invasions

with

enlightenment, aspiration,
compassion, grace,
dignity, justice, benevolence,
idealism, hope, peace,
forgiveness, and love.

That still goes on today, in varying degrees, in varying places and political climates. These essays detail my efforts to put this all together. It all led to one basic conclusion:

I could no longer, with any intellectual integrity, affirm any literalist theism.

For that matter, theism itself became pretty suspect.

For a while upon reaching that point, I couldn't stomach dealing with "church." I had to drop formal religion altogether. But gradually I began realizing that (gasp!) systematic, institutional religions—in even their most militantly, bureaucratically externalized forms—can still do much good in the world, even with their most egregious flaws. Many of the ancient stories and moral teachings can still provide some valid and meaningful reference points. Persons of like mind and spirit can use these tools to focus their energies and actions toward making this world a better place. I admire, appreciate, and endorse all sincere and earnest efforts in that direction even while I roll my eyes at most mainstream beliefs and assumptions.

I began recognizing consciously a range of views that I learned often converge in religious naturalism.

For me, religious naturalism means that devout reverence doesn't need to wait for any heaven after I die. We have plenty of it in this world, this cosmos, to delight and challenge us. We find it in a hike in the forest, playing with a baby, sitting by the window to watch a sunset, offering food to a homeless man. Heaven unfolds as we listen quietly to a friend who needs to vent over his divorce, or as we catch a clear view of that rare bird. We feel it pedaling a bike across the finish line of a hundred-miler, gazing out across the light-years on a clear night, embracing a lover in erotic passion, cleaning up litter from a beach. Heaven becomes real when we weep during the adagio of a favorite symphony, or bring water to a family who lost their house in whatever natural disaster. The majesty of nature makes us stare transfixed as we watch a predator running down its prey, as we sing gently to comfort the woman in the hospital bed, as we pull over to the side of the road to watch, smell, feel, hear, and taste the approach of an exquisitely horrendous thunderstorm. Nature makes us laugh as we pet a humongous, hilarious, gregarious St. Bernard who keeps trying to lick our face with that huge, slobbery tongue.

Likewise we don't need to fear any afterlife of hell. It surrounds us today as well. Multi-million- and -billionaire executives tell all kinds of lies to add another zero to the left of the decimal in their checking accounts. All brand names of religionists butcher each other in an apparently never-ending cycle of theological insanity, each one damning the other. A major religious corporation shuffles sex-criminal priests around, desperately trying to pretend it gives a damn about anything other than its shallow pretense of holiness. Politicians insinuate their religious mythology into public education. A president invades a sovereign nation to satisfy his petty, personal vendetta. Tribes attack each other, raping and murdering, forcing children into war. Theological pundits promote cultural ignorance that should have died out centuries ago, if not millennia.

We don't need any gods or goddesses to hear our prayers. We don't need to listen for any divine guidance. It lives inside us as we try to make whatever sense we can of right and wrong in each moment, each decision, each action.

To whatever extent a "religion" promotes the hope of heaven or the fear of hell, it's an empty superstition, a delusion. The natural world is so astounding that we need nothing supernatural. Life is all right here, right now.

all images and text © chuck bryant
unless otherwise noted