Music and Group Unity

A while ago, Catrina wrote this post about how music plays a big role in religion and in connecting people. I agree, but in symphonic band rehearsal this morning I noticed it especially much. After our discussion yesterday about Quaker meetings and how they build group unity, I realized how much group unity is produced in music ensembles as well. This morning, I felt like I connected to the band music in a way I'd never quite achieved before. Our director, Mr. Mast, is always talking about how important it is to use your emotions to make music and I've done that to a certain extent before, but what I felt today was even more than that. Instead of only feeling "emotional" during the climactic sections of the music, I felt it the whole time. Inside my head I was singing along with the other instruments during my rests, and I felt very connected to the ensemble as a whole. I was really glad to have so many other people each doing their part to produce such wonderful music. We were all helping with our individual parts while also building off each others' parts and working together dynamically, following each other as we got louder and softer. It reminded me of our discussion of the Quakers, who tend to connect their statements to ideas in what people said earlier in the meeting, forming a narrative. In band, we form a song instead of a narrative, but it's the same priniciple. While the notes are already written out, it's our job to add the music with dynamics, articulation, etc. And we do imitate the people who play before us.

I think the teamwork involved in making music is one of the most powerful aspects of it, because--at least in my experience--there's something really special about being in a big group of people with one common goal. I've felt similarly in various ensembles, both secular and religious. Maybe the coolest thing about it is the fact that so many people can be united about their goal. I've played in bands with 500 people all playing the same music and working with one another. I've also sung worship songs with 24,000 people in one stadium, all focused on the same goal (God). In both of these cases, there's a very real group unity even when I don't know the vast majority of the people I'm making music with.

So what does this mean? I'm not really sure, but here are a few possibilities. Humans are naturally group-oriented and therefore feel good when they're in groups. This would explain why so many religions include community as a core element. Or, it might just be that music unites people (like Catrina said). However, this could be because it allows people to find something that they all share so that they have a common goal and can therefore feel united. We all have emotions, and if music produces emotions, then it's something that can be that common ground. So it could be both that humans like groups and that humans like music. That's true for me, at least. :-)

Historical Biblical Criticism

Oliver wrote what I consider an excellent response to J.B.'s post on our Margaret Fell reading. J.B. brought up a few different points, but they all basically boil down to whether or not the Bible is divinely inspired, and what that means for people who try to follow it. I agree with what Oliver said, but I have a few things to add. I think historical Biblical criticism, as a movement, is the key in interpreting the Bible as it was meant to be read and that after this interpretation, there won't be those apparent criticisms J.B. mentions.

First of all, there are disagreements within the Christian church as to what it really means that the Bible is divinely inspired. Some say that every single word has been chosen by God (similar to dictation), while others maintain that God's Holy Spirit inspired the Bible writers with the ideas but let them express those ideas through their own words (and, accordingly, through their own perspective derived from personal experience). In the second view (which is what I believe), the Bible is all true because it came from God, who is perfect. But that truth is expressed in different ways depending on the mindset of the writer and must be interpreted accordingly.

Therefore, most modern Biblical scholars use historical biblical criticism when examining the Bible. To do this, they study the historical context around each passage--who the writer was, who the intended readers were, what was happening historically at the time, and what the current systems of belief and thought were. They then use this information as a lens through which they examine the passages. Looked at in this way, some statements make more sense in light of other passages in the Bible. When Oliver said that Biblical commands are based on reason, this type of criticism brings out the reason. What is unreasonable about looking at the context of a text? It's what historians do all the time. It may be a lens, and lenses can be very subjective (like Augustine's love-lust theory), but this particular lens is the lens of objectivity (at least as much objectivity as it's possible to have). People who don't use historical criticism are making the mistake of applying their own modern lens to ancient texts.

Margaret Fell's commentary illustrates historical criticism very well. She notes that when Paul wrote that women should not speak in church, he was trying to keep order in the church and prevent confusion (1 Cor 14:34-35). Fell claims that the women Paul was addressing were "tatling and unlearned" and "busie-bodies," and while this isn't expressely stated in 1 Corinthians 14, it is a very logical assumption based on Paul's discussion of only preaching intelligibly and in an orderly fashion. Writing to the Corinthians with their presumably uneducated and gossipy women, it was most effective just to say "women" should be silent in church since Paul didn't intend for the letter to be read by people all over the globe for the next 2,000 years.

On a slight tangent, I'd like to express my view on J.B.'s point that Christianity is so rooted in the Bible. What Oliver said is true--it's no more unreasonable for someone to believe in a divinely inspired sacred text than it is to believe in an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent being. And if someone does happen to believe that, what incentive is there to deny the authority of the sacred text? (Especially when it makes so much sense... interpreted with context in mind, that is.) But at the same time, different branches of Christianity have different ideas of what form the basis of their religions. For Catholics it is scripture + tradition, for many Protestants it is (or started out as) scripture alone. I'm United Methodist, and our doctrine has a so-called quadrilateral of sources: scripture, tradition, reason, and experience. So while we believe in the authority of the Bible, we don't always take it at face value or literally; we use our reason and personal experience (as well as traditions formed by others' reason and experience) to discover what [we think] scriptures really mean.

The Importance of Theology

In class today, we discussed the difference between theology and religious studies. Theology is what people believe and how they view the world "from the inside [of religion] out" while religious studies looks at why and how people believe, studying patterns of belief from the outside in. I would argue that by that definition, religious studies is missing out on an essential element of the study of religion. It's only looking at half the picture. I admit that I am biased in this opinion because my own faith and theology are very important to me, but I believe that it's important for anyone studying religion to look at both the theological and academic sides of it.

Prof. Smith mentioned how it's so hard to get people to think about religion in terms of religious studies (patterns, "big picture religion," etc.) instead of theology, and I think that is a clue that theology is a very important aspect of religion. I'm not saying one should ignore the academic, objective study of religion, but I don't think we should ignore the theological either. I don't think it makes sense to exclude most people's idea of religion from the study. In my opinion, what tends to happen when we do that is we dismiss religion as completely fabricated without first examining it from the perspective of a believer. Like I said in my first post, I see religion as inherently out of the realm of empirical knowledge and study, so an academic study of religion that only uses an empirical lens is incomplete. I think we should take time to look through both the lens of science/logic and the lens (or theology) of the religion itself. Even though theology is not based on empirical evidence, it does make sense when approached with the mindset that it could be true, whereas I feel like religious studies is very skeptical of that and doesn't address it at all. (Again, this is my personal opinion and I could be wrong.)

We established in class that even in religious studies, it becomes necessary to study theology when looking at how religion affects (and is affected by) social change. I believe this is because theology profoundly influences how people behave--it is, after all, their entire worldview. The things we've discussed in class that are part of religion such as social identity and creating meaning are rooted in theology. A believer's identity is based on his or her belief as to the relationship of human beings to the universe and/or higher power. Theology tells believers if they are to be part of close-knit groups or seclude themselves for private meditation. And obviously, it's theology that defines the meaning that believers find in life. So much of religion is, like this, rooted in the inside that studying it purely academically--from the outside--comes up short.

Rastas and Ethiopians

Reading the Wikipedia article on the Rastafari movement, I noticed a similarity between it and Ethiopian Christianity in that both movements were intimately connected with their cultural environment. The Ethiopians used the Kebra Negast's story of descent from Solomon and Sheba to justify their nation, making it the greatest nation in the world in their eyes (the Promised Land). The black (possibly former slave) Rastas, likewise, brought themselves out of oblivion into special status when they saw Haile Selassie I of Ethiopia, the only black king of the time, as Christ in his second coming. Their original doctrine of black superiority makes it clear that their racial oppression was a huge factor in the emergence of this religion, even though they changed it later to promote racial tolerance by all. They still view any non-Rastas as corrupted by the world, which they call Babylon. Africa is seen as Zion, or the Promised Land, to which they all desire to return so they can escape white oppression (or downpression, as they would say). In her latest post, Heidi says that the black peasants in Jamaica--the birthplace of the Rastafari movement--lived in plain view of the much richer upper classes. Their oppression was probably always on their minds, so Rastafari brought them an escape from that depressing fact. With the belief that they were immortal and destined to return to their fatherland, Africa, the Rastas were better able to deal with their hard lives. The Ethiopians, though they weren't oppressed like blacks in the Americas, still had to deal with the Jews' talk of their superiority (in the Bible if not also in person from travelers or immigrants). As a result, both groups reinterpreted scripture and added to it with their own stories. And each story established the particular high status of the group who wrote it.

We've discussed how religion changes with time due to different interpretations of old ideas, traditions, and texts, but through these two examples we begin to see why. At least in these cases, the changes are very beneficial to the group in question, raising their morale and self-importance. Robin Marantz Henig quotes William James in the article we read at the beginning of term called "Why We Believe" as saying that religion fills people with "a new zest which adds itself like a gift to life... an assurance of safety and a temper of peace..." (62). Both of these situations fit that description, making the followers of the new religions happier in their current lives. However, when their culture changes again, their religious beliefs may also change to fit that new situation, again giving them a way to feel content.

Religious Hybridization

According to Almeida, the author of our reading, the Christians in Ethiopia practice many Jewish traditions even though they believe in Jesus Christ as the Messiah. They still practice circumcision despite New Testament proclamations (by Paul in particular) that Christ came to save everyone regardless of whether or not they're circumcised. Interestingly, in this case not only the Jews and Christians are circumcised, but so are the Moors and "heathens" (62). Apparently, the Ethiopian Christians were oppressive toward non-Christians and indirectly pressured them into this behavior. Also, the Ethiopian emperors are polygamous, marrying many women of many different religions. Almeida compares this to King Solomon, who had a thousand wives and concubines and fell into sin by building pagan shrines for them to worship at (69). If the Ethiopian Christians really are descended from Jewish migrants (with or without the alleged son of Solomon and Sheba), this would make sense. Another aspect of Ethiopian culture that reminded me of the Israelite Jews of the Old Testament was their warfare. Apparently, "the life of all [in Ethiopia] who are not farmers is war" (76). In the Old Testament, the Israelites go to war many times against Gentile tribes, fighting against those who are not the Chosen People. Now that Ethiopia sees itself as the Promised Land, it is no surprise that they would be aggressive in warfare like Israel was. Aside what could be seen as Jewish customs, the Ethiopian Christians also have practices that the Catholic missionaries see as erroneous and sinful: they baptize their babies too late (so many of them can't get to heaven because they die before their baptism) and they are heavy wine drinkers (63, 65).

The Ethiopians' relative isolation and correspondingly unique religion shows that culture has a considerable impact on the direction of a religion--so much so that different cultures are able to have completely different customs and behaviors and profess the same belief. The Catholic missionaries from Portugal see many problems with the Ethiopian cultural practices of the Christians as well as the other religious groups. Yet both the Portugese missionaries and the Ethiopians call themselves Christians and read from the same Bible. Culture, therefore, has a very large influence on the form of interpretation used with religious texts.

Ethiopia and Zion

If, like we postulated in class on Wednesday, the Kebra Negast was written in order to build community pride and unity, the writers did a very good job. Especially in Part II of the reading, many passages proclaimed Ethiopia's privileged status in God's eyes. First, the merchant Tamrin counters an Israelite's claim that the promised land is much better than Ethiopia, saying that the only thing Ethiopia lacks that the Israelites have is wisdom (44-45). This passage surprised me quite a bit, actually, because the Bible does describe Canaan as the land of milk and honey (although I don't remember the exact reference right now), and it seems arrogant of the Ethiopians to say that their country is even better than that. However, such a belief works very well in giving the Ethiopians something to be proud of. In the course of this story, though, they get something much more impressive even than that--Zion (the ark of the covenant). Not only do they bring Zion (and therefore God's dwelling place and presence) into Ethiopia, but they also are escorted by an angel. Their whole caravan is lifted off the ground as they travel, and they make such good time that wise Solomon doesn't believe it at first (78-79, 87). How much more blessed could they be than that? This whole incident follows an extended description of the great and numerous blessings that God bestows on those kings who please him by following his word (56-58). Later in the reading, Solomon confesses to God that he has not been following the word and this is the cause of his misfortune, but the Ethiopians apparently have been diligent and therefore are reaping the benefits (93).

In a dream on the night of his son's conception, Solomon saw a bright sun rise up, leave Israel forever, and settle in Ethiopia (35). Although he didn't realize it at the time, this sun is Zion, and Israel loses its privilege forever when Zion leaves the country. Ethiopia then can make a valid claim as the most blessed nation. Ethiopia had already been granted all the land East to India (and even further than that), so with this considerable territory coupled with God's very presence with them through Zion, it's no surprise that they developed a belief of their nation's superiority (53). I'd personally be interested in learning more about Ethiopian Christianity, so isolated as to allow--presumably--for exaggerated claims of its own uniqueness. The idea that Ethiopia is so special and privileged doesn't seem to gel very easily with the rest of the Bible and its continued discussion of Israel's chosen status as far as I can tell. But I don't know a lot about the issue, so I'm in no position to judge it.

The "Essence" of Religion

Catrina and Alex both recently posted about the definition of religion, and I'd actually just been thinking about the same issue because of a reading I had to do for my Christianity in the Modern World class. In On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers, written in 1799, Friedrich Schleiermacher tackles the very same question, and his basic conclusion is that religion's true form is personal experience--feeling and intuition. What I find so interesting about Schleiermacher’s definition is that instead of seeing religion as a box or chain or whatever other metaphors we’ve used in class, he sees it as only the very essence, or core, of those aspects which we seem to categorize within the religion definition. In his words, “religion is the sensibility and taste for the infinite,” meaning that when one has a religious experience, one feels immediately a connection to the infinite, a.k.a. God, and this feeling is so strong that one knows without a doubt that there really is that connection to the infinite (285). He divides human experience into three categories: thinking, acting, and religion. Thinking includes science, rationalism, and metaphysics, and this is not religious because it is derived from imperfect [finite] human views of the world. Acting, or doing, includes morality and is not religious because it isolates humans instead of seeing them as part of the infinite universe. According to Schleiermacher, thinking and acting are “empty” except when approached from the perspective of previous or current religious experience (286). Catrina mentioned in her post that “morality is not purely the realm of the religious,” and Schleiermacher would definitely agree. To him, a religion cannot be defined strictly by morality; it needs to have the underlying religious experience (like the “spirituality” that Catrina talked about) to back it up.

Schleiermacher talks a lot about how morality and metaphysics are so often seen as religion but are really just an outgrowth of one's awareness of the world gained through the aforementioned religious intuition. Religion itself is simply that feeling, and everything else connected to it--theology, identity, community, morality, etc.--instead of being based on the intuition of knowing God are based on such things as consciousness or contemplation of finite things. Therefore they are not really religion, and critiques of them should not be counted as critiques of actual religion. This would be one answer to Alex's aversion to religious sects that sanction violence toward outsiders (although I do think Catrina's point in class on Wednesday was very important as well--she said that even without religion, people will still naturally create in- and out-groups which will lead to conflict). Schleiermacher would most likely agree with Alex that such violence is wrong, but he would not see it as a fault with the religion but with the human interpreter of the religious experience.

When Schleiermacher defined religion, he differentiated between Religion the entity (almost like Plato would say… the “form” of religion) and various religions, which he saw as outward manifestations of real Religion. Interestingly, he accepted religious pluralism, saying that no religion is able to be a perfect version of Religion. This idea seems to go along with what we’ve been talking about—that it’s so hard to define religion because all religions are so different that they don’t necessarily all have the same common elements. While Shleiermacher sees it as different perspectives of approaching the same “taste for the infinite,” we’ve been talking about it as different manifestations of humans’ evolutionary desire for supernatural explanations and/or community. As different as our class’s complicated definition of religion and Schleiermacher’s very basic definition seem, we come out with almost the same conclusion. It’s just that Schleiermacher didn’t try as hard to figure out what all the different manifestations of religion could be like we’re doing.