Systems of Cruelty

Note: This post is comprised of selections from a previous term paper for a comparative religions course at Louisiana State University (Reli 2027: Studies in Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, taught by Instructor Reem Meshal). It is a response to the question of whether or not religion has a place in academia.


In the modern era, there are many issues facing the acceptance of religion. For many believers, the decline in the role that magic and faith play in real world governments and schools of thought is cause for alarm, and, rather than examining the religion itself, its negative elements, or their own beliefs, focus their attention outward to see what is wrong with “the world” that is precipitating the dwindling numbers of church attendance, an incredibly unfortunate circumstance for an organization financially supported by compulsory donation. In theory, this search for the truth requires introspection and educating one’s self in preparation for “defense of the faith.” In practice, this means desultory comments towards those whose beliefs are different, and attacks upon the credibility of any work or scholar who dares have the nerve to suggest that scriptures of the group in question may be less than wholly accurate, or tampered with over the course of millennia, or metaphorical.

Primarily, this is found in academia, in the fission between people of faith and secular academics. It is inherently illogical for a secular body of research and learning to conduct experiments into the nature of cellular interaction and perform studies regarding the nature of the universe using scientific equipment and reason, and for that same institution to try and conjecture the shape of the universe using a piece of mythology which claims the (mostly) spherical earth has four literal corners (Ezekiel 7:2, Isaiah 11: 12, Job 37:3). Throughout history, scientific progress has been impeded by religion; for instance, one of the most notorious incidents involves the harassment experienced by astronomer Galileo Galilei at the hands of the Catholic Church, for daring to suggest that the earth, in fact, orbited the sun, when Joshua 10:12 so obviously made it clear that the sun and the moon were both peripheral to the earth (the continuation of Galileo’s studies bore out that, shockingly, the earth does not, in fact, keep the sun in place, but, rather, the opposite is true), a historical irony, given that all institutions of higher learning of a certain age were founded with the intent of educating the clergy, and that, historically, the church funded the scientific experimentation of learned men; essentially, the church sponsored its way into obsolescence.


The most obvious solution, and one which rears its head fairly often, is to suggest that the scriptures should not be taken literally, but that the stories of women being created from ribs, humanity being descended from one couple (an instance of a recycled script, as this actually happens twice in the Christian tradition), and discarded human bones dancing (Ezekiel 37:1-14) are metaphorical, speaking to a deeper truth, and that attempting to dissect and discuss them as fictional or truthful is an exercise in futility. Using a metaphorical filter, scriptures attain a vaster applicability, no longer being specific examples of miraculous happenstance and proscriptive morality, but merely stories which teach a lesson, and do not necessarily reflect historical truth. For instance, it would justify the characterization of the sun and the moon in the above cited passage, not as a literal interpretation of the events, but instead, perhaps, turning the sun into a symbol of wisdom.


Opponents to this school of thought, of course, are, as is to be expected, extremely vocal, and come from both sides of the argument. Those who are bound by their faith and identify themselves as literalists take aim at metaphorical interpretation as the debasement of their religion, and that literalism is a requirement for “true” faith, often making slippery slope arguments that accepting certain parts of revelation as metaphorical will ultimately lead to the deconstruction of faith altogether, and that “true” believers must accept the literal truth of scripture, or be exposed as interlopers (for instance, the Christian denomination known as Southern Baptists). For non-believers, teaching of revelation as metaphor can take two forms, either in the sense of a “classical study”; ultimately, dissecting the stories of a people to uncover the core of their identity is a necessity, as attempting to bridge cultural gaps becomes an exercise in futility and frustration if one does not have a small understanding of the barriers between one unit and the next, and the fables and metaphors of a group can often provide great insight into the history and mentality of that same group.


Alternatively, those with even a modicum of collegiate science education find the concept of teaching revelation within academia, regardless of its interpretation as literal or metaphorical, a gross miscarriage of scholarly diligence, or a kind of subversive attempt to slip that which has been proven false by science into the curriculum under the guise of well rounded education, as well as widely insulting to those who do not happen to share the same faith (it is telling that respect for other faiths is, at least in the modern era, primarily the arena of educated men and women). In America, this argument falls squarely along the lines of Christianity, proving that those in favor of teaching revelation, even if metaphorically, still favor a single brand of religion over others, as evidenced in this very class by those who believe that while intelligent design deserves a place in the education system, it is only the framework of intelligent design that is part of Judeo-Christianity that should be broadcast to youth. Few argue for equal representation for the creation myths involving Shiva or Ra.


That is not to say that the teaching of religious doctrine in secular academia is wrong or without reason; it is merely those parts of religion which are proscriptive which have no place, and the conception of accepting mythology as literal truth. This is the core difference between those who would oppose religion in the university, and those who would attempt to justify it: the emphasis on the nature of the teaching. Followers of religious dogma would argue that scripture and revelation supersede whatever apparent truth science can offer, and that faith’s place in education is necessary, often using scare tactics to ensure that attention is paid to their position. These people see religion as proscriptive, with no middle ground. Alternatively, there is that group composed of both the faithful and the freethinking, which sees no harm in the presentation of religion as metaphorical, teaching lessons through fantastic imagery, in much the same way that Aesop’s fables illustrated moral lessons through talking animals, or Hans Christian Anderson inspired hope for a better future (sometimes) using tin soldiers and aquatic humanoids; the stories themselves are false only insofar as they are not literally true, but illustrate proper action and morality regardless of this. And, finally, there are those within academia who see even the inclusion of religion in academia must be kept completely separate from morality, and that its only place in a place of learning is its use as a tool to determine the ideology of a people, how it has changed over time, and the way that religion has affected development and idea, i.e., classes such as this one.


This, of course, loops back around to the question of what problems result for religion when faith is relegated to this position in secular universities. Often, this results in accusations from the religious community that those in academia are trying to subvert their faith by juxtaposing it with scientific truth, and attempting to dismiss their opponents as heretics of a different faith (that is to say, those who study science are often called “Darwinists,” an attempt to negate scientific accuracy by presenting it as merely an opposing “faith”) or ad hominem attacks (to continue in the Darwin vein, those who refuse to accept biological evolution often somehow link his findings with the advocation of slavery, when, in fact, Darwin was a staunch abolitionist). These fallacies do not, however, detract from the fact that this placement of religious studies into the curriculum is the most logical fit.


Ideally, religions can “meet the challenge” posed by academic study by closing their doors and admitting that they are organizations which prey upon the feeble minded and rob them of their (hopefully disposable) income to feed the gluttonous tick of the clergy, and encourage parishioners to think for themselves once in a while. Realistically, religion can meet this challenge by realizing that religion, despite its acceptance by believers, has no place within the walls of the university or the schoolroom, except as simply one more tool that helps students understand other cultures and their historical significance, and, if one is feeling generous, teaching the moral lesson of the so-called “golden rule” alongside Grimm and Aesop, with the same respect to the source material. The church must relegate itself to providing “spiritual sustenance” to those who “hunger” for it, not forcing it down the throats of those who wish to learn factual information about their world, and not metaphysical denial and justification at every turn to force centuries-old beliefs into a modern mold.