The Purpose of Religion
Spend a few weeks with the key texts of modern western philosophy and you will quickly learn that God is Dead. A few hours with any modern physics text book will teach you that if God is not dead, then he is at best irrelevant. A few days in Jerusalem have taught me that God is everywhere.
From the top of the Mount of Olives you cannot fail to see Him. He is in the complimentary domes of the three Abrahamic faiths centered at the old city. He takes residence in the rolling of the hills, in the uniforms of the people, in the long rows of graves that line the face of the mountain. He is in the street names, in the yellow Jerusalem rock, the darkening skyline. His name is etched in the faces of people you are introduced to. He is at the dinner table with you, he provides you bread, he blesses your wine. He is in your friendships and in your conflicts.
I can’t help but ask, in view of this vast omnipresent God throughout the Holy Land —Why? Why have people taken the trouble to invite God into their homes, to allow him to speak with their children and infiltrate their most intimate moments. Why is it that while we “westerners” have abandoned God as mere accessory to life, the people of Jerusalem embrace him, at least in custom if not also in belief.
I think the answer lies back in America. My education so far at Harvard has been incredible. I have been taught to think critically, to think logically, to think laterally, to think on my feet, to think quickly, to think about hard problems, to think, to think, to think. And therein lies the problem.
The education I have experienced has spent so long teaching me how to think, that it has forgotten to teach me how to live. There is no class at Harvard for how to share a meal with family members and show them that you care about them. There is no “Empathy 101", no “How to treat other people with compassion and kindness”. We are not taught how to demonstrate hospitality, or care for a grieving friend. We are not shown how to persevere in times of failure and inadequacy — we are not taught to forgive ourselves or how to accept our own incompetencies. It seems that instead we allow our societies to grow up like two teenagers fondling in the dark, hoping that they will figure it all out on their own.
In religious teachings however, the entire focus is shifted away from how to think, and instead is entirely on ‘how to live’. We are taught not only the principles, but also the rituals methods of showing love for fellow human beings. At the Shabbat dinner at Zaki’s house we were told stories of how to light intertwining candles as a symbol for our ever present connection to those we love, even in times when they feel distant. We were encouraged to confer blessings upon each other — expressing out loud exactly how much we care and to make absolutely certain that everyone feels the love. We were encouraged to be grateful for the food we had been given, and recognize that our good fortune as well as our misfortune is not a burden we must carry alone. We are in it together.
Contrast this to life in America, where the prevailing rhetoric is that of the Individual. Here, we grant ourselves extensive personal freedoms, and the price we pay is that now responsibility lies wholly with the Indvidual. If you are overweight, it is your fault because you could have chosen to eat healthily but didn’t — nevermind the advertising bombardment you have grown up within. If you end up homeless, it’s your fault because you should have worked harder — nevermind that homelessness is a collective social problem.
In America we make sure we look after number one. In Jerusalem we take care of each other. In America there are self-made billionaires, there is only Bill Gates, there is only Steve Jobs, there is only the individual. In Jerusalem we are in this together, we are a community, we are a team, we are a people, and we rise and fall as one wave. In America there is no social safety net —we will build you the tallest ladder to climb, but if you happen to fall off, you’re on your own.
If you look for evidence of the failings of religion, you will no doubt find countless examples. Dawkins, Hitchens and the like will reel off argument after argument about the misgivings of formal religion. But the very least, what religion does aim to do is to provide rituals and blueprints for how we might go about ‘living life’ rather than merely solving problems. Despite what we learn in our classrooms about transistors, and black holes, and evolutionary dynamics, science leaves us still searching for the answer to the ultimate question — “How do I live the best possible life?”. It is a question that we seem to have become daunted by. This question is not answered in objective fact and scientific method, it is answered in moments of connection between fellow members of our own human species.
