Good
Company Indeed
The concept of spirituality embraced by such
luminaries as Benedict Spinoza, Albert Einstein, and Carl Sagan is well worth
considering. All three believed that the discoveries of natural philosophy and
science could be sources of deep spiritual nourishment. In addition to the
fields of expertise for which they are respectively well known, each of these
men was a poetic dreamer and a philosopher. Philosophy was actually Spinoza’s
field; Einstein was of course the 20th century’s greatest physicist,
while Sagan was best known for his work in cosmology.
These pioneers of human endeavor (and others like
them) recommended awe in the face of the Universe as revealed by empirical
inquiry. The sense of the numinous we get from reading great poetry.
Transcendence experienced through the voice of a symphony or the view of a
landscape. These are some of the treasures of true humanism.
It is certainly awe-inspiring to look into the night
sky and realize that we are the result of exploded stars. (As Sagan was fond of
saying, “We’re star stuff.”) Considering the staggering scope of evolution on
this planet, our kinship with other species can give us a sense of belonging
more profound than any supernatural doctrine. This is what Carl Sagan had to
say about this dichotomy:
“In some respects,
science has far surpassed religion in delivering awe. A religion, old or new,
that stressed the magnificence of the Universe as revealed by modern science
might be able to draw forth reserves of reverence and awe barely tapped by the
conventional faiths. Sooner or later, such a religion will emerge.”
When Einstein was asked about his religious beliefs,
he replied that he believed in “Spinoza’s God.” Highly simplified, he was
talking about nature deified or divinity naturalized. This is what he had to
say in his essay, The World as I See It:
“The most beautiful
experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that
stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and
can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are
dimmed. It is the experience of mystery—even if mixed with fear—that engendered
religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our
perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only
in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge
and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. In this sense, and only in
this sense, I am a deeply religious man.”
Indeed, it is precisely when we are
caught up in the truly numinous and transcendent that the relative poverty of
supernatural religion (and other forms of certitude) is most clearly revealed.
Having thrilled to the insights of Spinoza, Einstein and Sagan, we are instructed
to return to primitive tribal myths and told that these are the “word of God.”
After vicariously wrestling with real moral dilemmas through the characters of
great fiction, we are presented with crude atonement doctrines masquerading as
absolute truth. This is the point (for some of us, at least) at which all sense
of the sacred temporarily dissolves. Confronted with stultifying certainty, we
sense a moral imperative to defend doubt, both for the discoveries in provides
and for its own sake.
True philosophy begins where
traditional religion ends, as we know from reading Spinoza. How impoverished
humanity would be if he had remained Baruch
Spinoza, merely parroting the Torah in the safety of the synagogue. The
fact that he had the moral courage to become Benedict Spinoza (facing excommunication for his heretical beliefs)
is the reason we have treasures like The
Ethics and the Treatise on the
Emendation of the Intellect.
Taking our cue from giants like Spinoza, Einstein and
Sagan, we should be open to taking our chances with free inquiry and thought.
The fruits of both are much sweeter than anything absolute certainty has to
offer.
Copyright © 2012 by William K. Ferro
All rights reserved
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