Pages from A doubters guide to world religions (SAMPLE)

1 SO YOU’RE GOING TO WRITE A BOOK ON RELIGION

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ow can someone possibly write a book on the world religions when he is already a devoted follower of just one of them? This is a question I have grappled with from the very beginning of this project. The book itself, I guess, will prove whether or not I have managed to resolve it.

The dilemma is made more complicated because of my particular education. At first glance, being a student of both theology and history might seem like a good background for someone trying to discuss the spiritual traditions of the centuries. Yes and no.

THE PROBLEM WITH THEOLOGY AND HISTORY Theology can at times be overly theoretical in its discussion of religious issues. As the ‘study of the divine’, theology tends to focus on doctrines and philosophy, and can sometimes leave aside the equally important issues of a religion’s place in history, or (perhaps more importantly) its significance in the lives of those who practise it.

There is a danger in being a Christian theologian in particular.

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A DOUBTER’S GUIDE TO WORLD RELIGIONS We are tempted to ask the wrong questions about other religions.

Asking, for example, ‘What does Buddhism teach about sin?’ might be interesting to the average churchgoer, but it doesn’t help the many spectators out there to appreciate what Buddhism is really about. Buddha didn’t have much to say about ‘sin’. Asking Christian questions of Buddhism is a bit like asking football questions of cricket. How do you score a touchdown? When is someone offside?

How do you tackle? None of these questions applies to cricket, just as cricket questions don’t really apply to football: How do you get caught out? How many points for a boundary? Where is silly mid on? (US readers may like to google these important cricket issues!)

Being a student of history has its own peculiarities, and if these are not kept in check, they can easily make the historian irrelevant in the quest to understand religion. Historians pride themselves on being critical in the study of history. But when it comes to spiritual matters, this is not always a good thing. Lengthy discussions about whether the Christian Gospels were written after the Roman invasion of Jerusalem (AD 70) or before, or whether Israel’s exodus from Egypt occurred in the thirteenth century BC or the fifteenth century BC, or at all, do not enhance our understanding of what it is like to be a Christian or Jew. And yet historians love talking about these things. The historical emphasis can obscure the very obvious personal dimensions of religious faith.

A note on dating conventions My preference in both academic and popular writing is to use the traditional Western dating convention of BC (‘before Christ’) and AD (anno Domini, ‘the year of our Lord’). This convention is still widely accepted in secular ancient history and classics journals.

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So You’re Going to Write a Book on Religion However, throughout the rest of the book, I will only use BC and AD when talking about Christian history and doctrine. When talking about other religions, I will use the recent alternative convention of BCE (‘before the Common Era’) and CE (‘Common Era’). It somehow feels more polite not to force my Jewish readers, for example, to read that their second holy book, the Mishnah, was compiled ‘in the year of our Lord’ 200. I hope in doing this I will not annoy Christian readers.

THE IMPORTANCE OF THEOLOGY AND HISTORY Let me explain why theology and history might not be completely useless perspectives from which to write a book on the world religions.

First, most religions do have a bit to say about God, creation, salvation, and philosophical questions. A theological perspective is crucial for getting inside the head of a religious faith. By contrast, I have read books about Islam that gave lots of names and dates but very little about the things that make Muslims tick—­t hings like God and God’s will for our lives. One of the most famous books on the world religions—­a textbook used in schools and universities around the world—­reduces religions to sociological phenomena without offering any insight into the way religion helps the adherent cope with suffering or make sense of science or live morally. Theology counts, and this book will hopefully show why.

The historical perspective also proves helpful, so long as we don’t get carried away with it. Religions are historical things. Each of them developed at a certain point in time and as a result of particular 5

A DOUBTER’S GUIDE TO WORLD RELIGIONS cultural forces. Understanding these historical influences can help us appreciate more fully what was distinctive about a particular religion and what early believers found attractive about it. For example, I only appreciated Buddha’s emphasis on what he called the ‘middle path’ when I understood the poles of extravagance and asceticism in the sixth-­and fifth-­century BCE Hinduism he was trying to ‘correct’. More about that later. My simple point for now is that I intend to point out interesting connections between the religions and their historical backgrounds.

THE PROBLEM OF BIAS But what about the Christian tag I wear? Is it possible for a believer in Christ to write about, say, Judaism without letting his bias get in the way? Don’t Christians believe the Jews killed Jesus? Won’t that colour the way a Christian presents the Jewish faith?

It may seem at first that the more confident you are in a particular religion, the more likely you are to ‘fudge’ your description of another religion. I think the reverse is true. Bias in the description of other faiths is a sure sign of a lack of confidence in one’s own faith. I can’t speak for other Christian writers, but it seems to me perfectly obvious that if someone feels the need to misrepresent, say, Islam, in order to make Christianity look good, that person’s Christian belief is anything but confident.

If Christianity is uniquely true, its beauty will be best seen only when viewed amid a full and fair account of the alternatives. Let me give you an analogy that comes to mind. Imagine yourself as an art curator who is convinced that one piece in his collection has an unequalled truth and beauty. What will you do? Will you dim 6

So You’re Going to Write a Book on Religion the lights on the ‘competitors’ in the gallery and put the spotlights on your favourite piece? I think not. That would be a sure sign you were not actually convinced about the special quality of your treasured masterpiece. If you have to obscure the other pieces in order to make your favourite one appear better, something is clearly wrong. A truly assured curator, one with a deep confidence in the excellence of his prized item, will place all the gallery lights on full, confident that as careful art lovers inspect the whole collection, viewing all the works in their best light, one painting in particular will draw people’s attention.

This is how I felt as I wrote this book. I am more than ever convinced that each of the world’s religions is a ‘work of art’, worthy of a public showing in the best light. At the same time, I am also more than ever confident of the unique quality of the Christian faith. I can think of no better way to embody confidence and help readers see that quality for themselves than to turn all the gallery lights on full and let you view the whole collection for yourself.

In the next chapter, I want to offer a few tips on how to get the most out of a book on world religions.

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