"Opinions are like noses." —Anon
I find myself scrutinizing the appointments of our newly minted Pope, thinking well, let’s see where Leo takes this thorny issue, hoping it might veer in a direction I find appealing or at least palatable, but then, when I turn to my more reflective side, I wonder what stirs my interest? What does any of this have to do with my world, or indeed any world? I pretend that I’m seeking a few clear tenants, directions, words of encouragement, but is it anything more than just a confirmation of my beliefs, or, God forbid, cherished opinions? I’m 81 years old, and that means that I’ve seen a few things in my trips around the sun, and for whatever reason, I hold onto thoughts, beliefs, working principles, or just opinions —“my truths” which are far more useful than others. At least I am open-minded enough to realize that there are other views, yet part of me clings to the belief that if somehow humankind could come around to the more tolerant frame of mind I espouse, we’d all be better off.
This is, of course, not reasonable. If I take a step back, it is just hooey. Yet I always click on some YouTube bait about Cardinal Burke’s possible return from the exile that Francis imposed on the Grand Master of the Knights of Malta, reclaiming the fancy digs from which the darling old poofter was unceremoniously evicted, and he returns to dictating Eternal Truth. My highly charged opinions are not solid ground to support the rock of faith’s foundation.
The dictionary definition of “hooey” is silly or worthless talk, writing, ideas, etc, or just nonsense and bunk. But to cool the conversation, other words or phrases might also describe the “speech acts” that I‘m referring to:
Opinion: a view or judgment formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge.
Belief: An acceptance that a statement is true or that something exists.
Thinking: the process of using one's mind to consider or reason about something.
A school of thought: a particular way of thinking, typically one disputed by the speaker.
Point of view: a particular attitude or way of considering a matter.
When god speaks to us, at least publicly, He, She, or It uses some version of our imperfect human language. If we fail to account for that, we do so at our peril.
My position is neither laudable nor enviable. There’s always a Catch-22: Because I am selective, I can’t escape the fact that my decision to support or reject Leo’s appointments is to some degree (which I can’t even accurately assess) based on emotion. I know that theologians or philosophers far wiser than yours truly have carefully restricted the truth confirmation of any proposition regarding faith and morals, but again, trying to be honest: how can I reject Humanae Vitae and accept Laudato Si, given the prejudiced emotional bias which I acknowledge?
Human language is limited, and we misuse it. The hinge of the Nicene Creed is not only the substance of God in Greek terms, but also, in “Nouvelle théologie,” the distinction between “incarnational” theology and an antiquated anthropomorphic concept of God. The Fathers that Constantine gathered needed to affirm that the Church believes that Jesus was divine, and do so in a rapidly changing world, more than 300 years after the ministry of Jesus.
The explicit reason for calling the Council was the influence of Arius, a dissident who wanted to take Jesus from the divine realm. The language of the Council was Greek, although the actual pronouncements were in both Latin and Greek. The usual view is that the deliberations reconciled Trinitarian theology with Neoplatonic philosophy. However, what is often overlooked is that the notion of humans being or becoming gods was integral to the ancient world, and Constantine wanted to put an end to that.
We know from scripture and the stories of martyrdom that participation in the emperor’s divine cult was forbidden to Christians. Those practices in the Roman Empire began before the birth of Jesus when Julius Caesar was officially deified in 42 BCE by the Roman Senate. Augustus was declared a god in 14 BCE and functioned with that title during the life of Jesus until Augustus died in 14 CE. His successor, Tiberius, did not claim nor was he given the title “divinus.” Emperor Theodosius, who officially established Christianity as the state religion of the Roman Empire in 380 CE, played a key role in the decline of pagan practices, including the deification of emperors. The trend began when Emperor Constantine is believed to have converted to Christianity around 312 CE. There were 13 emperors “dvinini” among the 16 between Augustus and Constantine. [Google is also telling me that there were 55 Roman Emperors who declared themselves gods, but there is obviously something off in the figure. Perhaps Google is counting 55 divine emperors total in the Roman world, which would include Alexander the Great and Cleopatra.] We can say with certainty that the cult of the emperors was an important part of life in the Roman world for several hundred years.
The reason for my foray into the divination of the emperors is not just my amusement, although that plays a large part. I wanted to show that people in the Roman Empire, both free and enslaved, were exposed to “divine men.” From when they first got up and walked to the public latrine until the end of the day at the communal baths, they saw “evidence” that these god-emperors demanded and commanded respect for their power and influence. Their cults and priests were active; their temples part of the power structure of civilized life. There was also the formidable influence of the mystery cults, but I do not need to wade into those murky waters to demonstrate the divine beings were part ot the intellectual and linguistic landscape.
It may be entirely my personal problem trying to mesh Zen into an Abrahamic creed that is very clearly tied to particular historical circumstances. Is there a tack for these statements to uncover what I’m going to call objective truth? Does this same conundrum exist outside the world of a Christian worldview based on Abrahamic beliefs? Being able to navigate this conundrum is not easy.
We assume that if “the truth” exists, we can know it. We may not have discovered it or invented a precise, workable tool to get there, but we will, given enough time and luck. But these are assumptions. There may be “truths” which we will never know. The fact that there is widespread agreement that the world exists or “is” a certain way only indicates that there is agreement; it does not necessarily make the statements true or false. It will increase the chances of getting butter instead of salt when you ask for butter, but it does prove that Jesus is God in the same way the Fathers of the Nicene Council would have us believe.
Let’s turn our attention to the myths that lie beneath the cultural accretions aimed at satisfying our human thirst for transcendence. Many of my friends say that if we sift through the evidence found in world religions, we discover a philosophia perennis that points to a non-sectarian god that [who] might work in any given scenario. We assume that intelligence will yield the truth. That is simply not true. It can also yield cunning lies. Very bright people are not immune from delusion.
I talked about the misuse of language. We say that God is compassionate, just as we can be or might be when we are on our best behavior. This is extrapolation. There is a time-honored tradition in the Roman world where myths about the gods take a distinctly anthropomorphic twist. Useful for storytelling but less useful for philosophy. We say we know that the Divine Mind is compassionate, because stories in the narrative of Jesus use similar metaphors. We say we are created in the image and likeness of God. Therefore, Divine compassion must be like the compassion we experience, but to the nth degree beyond which we cannot imagine. This, however, is a belief statement with a decidedly anthropomorphic feeling despite Anselm.
This kind of thinking leads to statements that the nature of God is shared equally by God the Father and the Son, which becomes an argument that lasts a thousand years or longer. This hooey is the lifeblood (and paycheck) for a very rarefied group of clerics and scholars that puts most seminarians into a deeper sleep when it comes up in class.
In Buddhism, belief statements are not exempt from the law of impermanence. They fall into one of the five Skandhas, which include mental reactions, "mental formations" (samskaras), or "emotional reactions," arising from a combination of perception, feeling, and thought processes. These reactions are not inherently good or bad, but rather conditioned responses that can lead to suffering (dukkha). They are not just allowed to change. They must change.
After more than 50 years of meditation experience, I will concoct a new Zen maxim—because why not? Live with as few beliefs as possible, and don’t fall back on them until you've been pushed to your limit. I am limiting my caution to belief or opinion, not faith.
Arvo Pärt was awarded several doctorates in theology. "Tintabulation" refers to ringing bells. The Estonian Orthodox composer coined the word “Tintinnabuli” to describe his compositional style. He was also awarded the Joseph Ratzinger Prize in 2017. I would have made him a Doctor of the Church. This bell-ringing music does not use words, but in the context of meditation, has pointed me towards faith in the divinity of Jesus. If asked to assent to the belief in the Nicene Creed, I might give you a half-hearted “yeah sure, what not?” But when I sit quietly and listen to Pärt, I am more likely to say, “Let Jesus be born in your hearts!”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YqF69HLkj8
