Believers and non-believers, things would be better for us all once you realize that this is a useless question. Believers look inside and know their answer. Non-believers look outside and are equally convinced of theirs. If we understood that human consciousness is a kind of Moebius strip, that inside and outside, though very distinct in the realm of intellectual analysis, are not separate in the real world--whatever the real world is. (True, the inner and outer worlds are very different, but ultimately one.)
Most of the arguments of the so-called new atheism of the likes of Dawson and Hitchens are, as is often pointed out, mere rejections of religious fundamentalism. I have no argument with Milton for taking things literally. An example: the "fact" that Christ is co-eternal with the Father enabled him to cast Jesus as a general in the war against Satan, which, according to mythology or legend or however you want to categorize it, occurred many years before Christ's birth. After all, Milton lived centuries ago. I do have a problem with modern literalists, however. How can a literal interpretation of the Bible be reconciled with science? It can't, of course; anyone who thinks knows that.
Anyone who feels, however, knows that religion is not exhausted by exhausted dogma. Religion is, of course, closer to poetry than to prose. Since the art of poetry is in such a dismal state today--I must confess that I am a poet--most people would conclude that religion, close to the woolgatherings of poetasters, need not, like poetry, be taken seriously by those in the know. They are wrong on both counts. Reject the music of words and the music of life and what are you left with? Muzak, not Mozart.
Let me give an analogy for the illegitimate rejection of religion. Burns wrote, "My love is like a red red rose/ that's newly sprung in June." This is poetry, just as religion is poetry (often silent poetry.) Along come the dogmatists who claim that since Burns's love is a rose, she must have had aphids and thorns. They write a catechism about the connection of aphids with love and ram it down their children's throats. Along comes a Dawkins who quite properly asserts that such catechisms are false. But this Dawkins, while providing a service, misses the point. The author is ecstatic about his love and compares her to one of the most beautiful things he knows, a rose. He obviously knew the difference between his sweetheart and a plant.
I am convinced that religion begins with an ecstasy that cannot be put into words. We human beings cannot leave it at that; we must express our inner feelings with concrete language. Thus, religious myths arise, which always point to inner truths. Those inner truths are quite real; we live by them more than we do by our belief that one of the string theories will prove to be an accurate and useful metaphor for reality of the abstract kind. Where would our life be without acts of love, feelings of love, or a lack of love that keeps us searching and practicing? That is what is behind Burns's poem, and all poetry; not aphids.
Many modern philosophers who are also at least nominally believers, resurrect an Aristotelian God, one that has nothing to do with love. In many cases this is merely a retreat, an attempt to salvage the little bit of a god of the gaps that science might be able to live with--for a while.
Well, remember, I am a poet. I believe the inner reality has an importance at the very least equal to the outer one. I don't believe that God can be found at the end of a telescope. He can be found inside, however. As a poet, when I speak of God, I am talking metaphorically. To me this means that God is more real--not less-- than any words or dogmas one can invent.
Let me close--I will continue writing on this subject in future blogs--with one of the most powerful contemporary arguments against God: Auschwitz. How can God have allowed such horrors? Atheists are right here: myths do not intervene. All words that we use about God are myths. This does not negate the inner reality, which is of crucial importance here. Those who have had any experience of this inner God know that the more we are in contact with Him the more we know that lovingkindness to others is the most important way to connect with Him more deeply. It is those who lack or deny this inner experience that make cruelty to others possible. Auschwitz doesn't negate the possibility of God's existence; it makes our search for Him in our innermost depths, not in our outermost stars, more crucial than ever.
