susceptible to this type of indoctrination. And since it is during childhood that the beliefs
supporting exclusive religious identities are traditionally propagated, they can easily remain
entrenched in the mind.
Another factor impairing the ability to assess religious dogma is the reassurance drawn from
membership in a group. A belief somehow seems credible if thousands of others subscribe to it,
particularly the belief that other groups are not as deserving of God’s grace. Loyal to the gestalt
of the group, individuals borrow from its numbers a myriad of justifications for unethical
behavior.
In addition, human beings have a survival instinct wired into the primitive reptilian complex
(R-complex) of the brain, a feature shared by crocodiles. The R-complex registers sensory
information in terms of survival needs and is responsible for aggressiveness, the attraction to
rituals, and the maintenance of social structures based on strata of authority—all features of
organized religions. If you are within range of a stampede, this portion of the brain signals you to
get out of the way. Similarly, if your R-complex records sensory input indicating that your
survival depends on adherence to a particular religious dogma, it will signal you to cling to it.
Unfortunately the R-complex, attentive only to our immediate physical needs, cannot assist us in
identifying with individuals whose sense of survival is informed by other beliefs.
The most convincing explanation for why religious dogma is embraced by so many people may
simply be apathy. Organized religions, by providing their followers with answers, suppress the
urge for personal investigation—a tendency as natural as a child’s questioning. The idle
acceptance of answers can have us believing wholeheartedly in irrational dogma of all sorts,
such as the doctrine of eternal heaven and hell promoted to reward and punish humanity. Few
Christians ask themselves whether a fair God would compensate finite actions committed in one
brief lifetime with infinite heavenly or hellish consequences. Even fewer admit that if passage to
eternal heaven were secured by a belief, a just God would at least start out everyone with an
equal opportunity to believe rather than blessing a small number with birth into a family of
believers.
One presumed political consequence of this doctrine occurs in the New Testament at the end of
Matthew, where Jesus commands his disciples, “Go therefore and make disciples of all the
nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”
(Matthew 28:19). Spiritual investigators might argue that Jesus could not have made this
statement because the doctrine of the Trinity was not developed until the third century or ratified
until the fourth. This line of verse, they might add, represents not Jesus’s call for his disciples to
prepare themselves and others to be rewarded with a passage to heaven but rather the efforts
of later politicoreligious authorities to promote a missionary agenda of conversion.
A later example used to support the doctrine of heaven and hell appears in John 14:6, where
Jesus states, “No one comes to the Father except through me.” Zealous evangelical leaders
generally interpret this statement to mean that if you don’t believe in Jesus you are going to
suffer eternally. But in lazily accepting this explanation, congregants fail to account for the
history of transpersonal meanings in religious passages. Indeed, when prophets spoke from
ecstatic states their utterances would be absurdly megalomaniacal if understood in any context
other than a transpersonal one. Long before the stories of Jesus took form, Krishna claimed that
though people might believe they were worshipping other gods, they were really worshipping
him, the infinite God beyond all local deified images. Sufi mystics also identified with their
personal Allah in moments of rapture. Likewise, if Jesus actually made the statement cited in
John 14:6 or declared, “Before Abraham was, I am” (John 8:58), transpersonal interpretations
are most apt to render any sensible meaning. Personal interpretations, hinging on an
acceptance of Jesus’s words as literal announcements of a heaven accessible to only a select
few, justify a narrowing of identity, missionary imperialism, and an exclusionary worldview.
People wishing to lead a just and good life embrace religion for other reasons as well, few of
which awaken an understanding that the profession of belief in irrational dogma and the
perpetration of injustices go hand in hand. Often it takes the discrimination of spiritual inquiry to
see that despite their purported attempts to inspire ethical behavior, religious doctrines tend not
to benefit humanity. For example, those encouraging us to do good so that we might be saved
in this lifetime or another instead foster self-serving actions. Self-serving Western believers who
attempt virtuous living do so to secure passage to heaven; and they strive to avoid injurious
action not necessarily because it inflicts suffering on others but out of fear that they themselves
might suffer retaliation. Injustices hidden from view are thus easily ignored. Self-serving Eastern
believers, faithful to the Hindu and Buddhist doctrine of reincarnation, behave virtuously to
ensure a higher rebirth, often dismissing the unhappiness of others with such platitudes as “It’s
their karma,” “It was meant to be,” or “I accept things as they are.” Such sanctified indifference
ensures that injustices even in plain view will be routinely discounted. In identifying with our own
narrow desires to the exclusion of others’ needs, we end up not only mistreating others but
affording ourselves only small pleasures and short-lived happiness.
Spiritual investigators might conclude that for the ethical advancement of humanity we are
obliged to assess religions according to whether their values benefit humanity, as opposed to
whether their beliefs empower us and allay our fears of death, appeal to our social and
economic survival instincts, or claim to be beyond the necessity of proof. Individuals who still
feel compelled to adopt religious beliefs might at least consider choosing those that are
nondivisive and nonexclusive—that is, beliefs that best unite humanity.
A more enriching option would be to embrace secular spirituality, a humanist path to expansion
that actively avoids the profession of belief and therefore freely allows for the embodiment of
virtues. Spirituality, at once progressive and more ancient than religion, more easily invites the
perception that virtue is its own reward for it automatically leads to the betterment of humanity.
People embarking on a spiritually centered life base their actions not on simplistic models of
personal reward and punishment disseminated by centralized authorities, but on broader ethical
considerations that benefit present and future generations.
A simple criterion useful in assessing the ethical value of an idea is its effect on the body,
emotions, and intellect. An idea that improves one person’s physical, emotional, and mental
hygiene is regarded as a thought that, if entertained, would enhance the larger body of
humanity. For example, a person can determine the ethical value of the doctrine of heaven and
hell by the physical, emotional, and mental havoc it wreaks on him or the peace it brings. If
thoughts of this doctrine elicit within him fear or impressions of injustice, he would deem it a
spiritually unhealthy idea for humanity to entertain. Thoughts of an eternal life to come, he might
feel, generate perceptions of a life that is never quite here and hence a devaluing of this life;
and the fear of an eternal hell, provoking sentiments of an unfair God, may stifle creativity or
produce unhealthy explosions of suppressed creativity. No one can absolutely prove or disprove
heaven, hell, or any of the gods that pass eternal judgment, but the body and intellect pay a
price when beliefs clash with the mind’s reason-based operating system. Even emotionally
neutral ideas can generate turmoil in the body and thoughts; examples include the notion that
the earth forms the center of the cosmos and that a monotheistic God created the world nearly
six thousand years ago. Concepts that contradict the preponderance of empirical evidence
presented to the intellect take their toll in years of squandered mental energy spent in
reconciling absurdities with realities.
Ethical considerations, according to this simple but accessible model, are nothing more than
health considerations, encompassing the health of the individual, society, and the world. They
are not inscribed in a book or on a stone; rather, they are experienced within the human
organism and society. A person living a devotionally, intellectually, or service-oriented life would
say ethical thoughts, emotions, and actions are registered inwardly because the human
organism is subject to the laws of nature—the only “will of God” we can know firsthand. From
this perspective, spiritual investigators might say that cleanliness is next to godliness not
because the statement was included in one of John Wesley’s sermons but because a clean
organism mimics nature’s efficiency by living in accordance with its laws. Just as we avoid
energy-wasting disease by bathing regularly, eating healthful foods, and practicing sound
mental hygiene, so do health-supporting ethical systems keep us receptive to the positive and
negative effects of ideas. The same holds true for our emotions and thoughts, which are best
kept clean through the dislodging of those that generate discontent, conflict, or myopic images
of the self. Ultimately, the only sacred book is the opus of nature, which teaches us how to live.
While ethical considerations inform large-hearted actions, ambitions of the narrow sense of self
can sometimes take the upper hand. Because of our conditioning, it is easy to gravitate toward
conduct geared solely for personal gain, including the pursuit of pleasure at someone else’s
expense. The question of how to determine right from wrong conduct has baffled philosophers
for centuries. Aristotle and others conclude that life is too spontaneously organic for a set of
rules to work in every circumstance. Moderation is essential. Still others point out that though
general principles such as nonviolence and love can be universally applied, such ideals on their
own do not free people from the desire for narrow-minded personal gain. To ensure that our
actions encompass wide perspectives, spirituality asks more of us, encouraging us to eliminate
the desire for small personal rewards by disengaging from the results of our actions (see
Technique 5). This pragmatic approach to expressing embodied virtues can assure us that our
actions will indeed benefit the larger self of humanity.
TECHNIQUE 5
Nonattachment to Results
Virtuous conduct, behavior expressed for its own sake rather than for short-lived personal
rewards, flows naturally from people unattached to the results of their actions. This
nonattachment may eventually come intrinsically, as it did for Mohandas Gandhi, or from
practiced forgetfulness of the narrow sense of self. In either instance, the resulting actions are
called selfless because they derive from an identification with the larger self of humanity instead
of the narrow self of the individual. So selfless were Gandhi’s actions, and so extensive his
kinship with human beings, that through nonviolent resistance he succeeded in winning India’s
independence from British control and in bringing about pioneering social reforms.
Whereas the real saints of history manifested social change by working for human beings,
people less allied with humanity manage to do little for our species. Cult enthusiasts claiming
that spiritual masters they know identify with the entire cosmos often discover many do not even
identify with their own students. As a result of ignoring humanity while proclaiming unity with the
universe, these individuals’ ideas engender no more love than does the promise of an eternal
heaven.
To learn nonattachment to the results of your actions, begin by looking within and distinguishing
universal aspects of your being—the sense of self, your spark of awareness, the planet you
inhabit. Looking within gives you an intuitive knowledge of your inherent oneness with humanity;
looking outside yourself may only give you information about your separateness from others,
thereby heightening a narrow investment in outcomes. Second, after taking any action, model
yourself on your chosen ideal of God or spiritual perfection, and proceed to interpret the event
through the lens of your expanded identity. In doing so, you will notice that the outcome,
whatever it may be, is neutral as far as a narrow sense of self is concerned. Soon you will be
able to regard all results—short-term gains and losses, comforts and discomforts, praise and
blame—with the equanimity born of service to others. Even if your house burns down, the
instinct to grieve over personal losses can give way to an evaluation of the event’s effect solely
on your ability to serve others and seek truth. The capacity to look evenmindedly on our
immediate accomplishments and catastrophes, including impending death, inspires a desire to
alleviate the pain and suffering of others rather than obsess over our own discomfort. The result
is that our own pain and suffering are greatly reduced, which is why the expansive self is its own
reward.
Third, cultivate an ability to keep your attention focused on what you are doing at any point in
time. Whether you are eating, showering, or conversing with a child, concentrate on the actions
rather than the personal advantages that may ensue. The more proficient you become at
resisting the mind’s tendency to gravitate toward narrow goals, the easier it will be to imbue your
actions with an expression of your larger self. Instead of eating for your own satisfaction, you
may soon be eating to care for a body that is working for others. You might even begin taking
better care of your body since you will no longer regard it as a vehicle to satisfy the pleasures of
a narrow sense of self.
Fourth, pay close attention to the effects your actions are having on other people by observing
any changed ideas of self they might exhibit. This will deepen your awareness of whether others
are truly benefiting from your behavior. Until the expanded sense of self is well established, old
habits of the narrow sense of self can easily justify its myopic ambitions, such as the exploitation
of millions of people in the interest of making millions of dollars to donate to a religion that fails
to admonish exploitation. In such instances, any illusions of benefiting humanity will reveal
themselves when you look at how your actions influence your sense of identity and that of
people close to you.
Finally, practice nonattachment to results in a broader setting by deciding on a course of action
or volunteer project that allows you to serve others unconditionally—preferably people with
beliefs or cultural traditions unfamiliar to you. For example, Jews who volunteer at the local
Jewish Community Center, while demonstrating selfless actions for the benefit of those with
whom they already identify, would embody increased expansion and the capacity to assist still
more of humanity by serving at a Muslim center instead, or perhaps a place with no religious
affiliation. The farther outward you reach, the more expansive your identity will be and the
greater your potential for effecting change in the world.
If you are tempted to bring religious ideologies to people with different beliefs, steer clear of
proselytizing. No matter how helpful you intend to be, such actions will alienate you or cause
estrangement within the community you are serving. Swami Vivekananda, Professor Bingham
Dai, and other Eastern philosophers rigorously disapproved of the nineteenth and
twentieth-century missionary campaigns to preach Christianity to poverty-stricken people in
India and China. The starving Hindus in India were indeed hungry, but not for religion; the
Chinese converts, given monetary compensation for undergoing Christianization, were dubbed
“rich Christians” by their fellow countrymen. In the Americas, where children of Native cultures
were treated to a bed and meals in exchange for listening to sermons, entire generations were
uprooted from their long-standing customs and traditions.
To ensure that actions taken in your broader setting are in fact selfless, first intuitively expand
your sense of self beyond interpretations informed by your beliefs and desires. Next, detach
from the results of your forthcoming actions, aware that nonattachment works only when you
are no longer invested in the benefits. Remember that the narrower the self informing action, the
harder it will be to practice nonattachment because the desired results are exclusively for the
narrow self. Then whatever you do will be in the interests of everyone whose identity you’ve
encompassed. But even if you uncover either selfishness or a desire to help people with whom
you already identify, half the battle is won, for you will have recognized your limited sense of
self. You can then practice expanding your identity to include more and more of the world’s
population.
As admirable as it sounded to me, striving to act exclusively from the expansive self was not
only impossible but likely to psychologically rebound in the same selfish actions born of religious
pride. Actions with self-serving fruits in mind were inevitable and my efforts to totally eradicate
them only ended in exaggerating them. After a lot of trial and error, I found within me the
practical considerations of both the narrow and the expansive self with neither wanting to
depart. Feeling like I was reinventing the wheel, I finally decided to balance the two approaches
toward desires and actions, working to gradually include more actions born of the larger sense
of self.
The study of phenomenology was very helpful to me in this regard, allowing me appreciate all
sensory data as ultimately neutral to the larger self. Being unconditioned by phenomena, the
expansive self neither gained nor lost from the acquisition or absence of the fruits of action. But
it did expand further with the execution of actions serving a larger self. The innate joy we all
consistently feel with this kind of self-sacrifice is ironclad evidence that expansiveness is
universally accessible to everyone and is a quality of the substance of self-awareness
underlying everything.
Religion, through its profession of belief and its system of rewards and punishments, often
keeps its followers chained to the interests of a narrow self, while spirituality liberates the self to
unconditionally place its powers in the service of humanity. As spirituality gains ground, we will
one day see in the symbols of religion—the Star of David, the cross, the crescent—the
divisiveness they reflect; then the idea of an absolute religious authority that indulges human
pride and arrogance will seem absurd. Instead, people will take responsibility for their own
authority over their minds, worshipping by wondering about the natural laws to which we are all
bound. Nurtured by this progressive spirituality, we will look upon the natural world as a house
of worship, the book of nature as sacred scripture, the laws of nature as God’s commandments,
the resonant effects of thoughts on the human organism as the only revelation of God . . . and
our lives will be our prayers.
Terrorism in the Name of God
There were two “Reigns of Terror” . . .
the one wrought murder in hot passion,
the other in heartless cold blood;
the one lasted a mere months, the other
had lasted a thousand years;
the one inflicted death upon ten thousand persons, the other upon a hundred millions;
but our shudders are all for the “horrors” of
the minor Terror. . . .
—Mark Twain
The human race has experienced a long history of bloodshed because of organized religions’
political and economic interests. The use of God to sanctify conflicts over land and sovereignty
beginning in biblical times continued with Muhammad’s conquest of Arabia, Genghis Khan’s
invasion of Mongolia, the Crusades, the Inquisition, the French Wars of Religion, and the
settling of colonial America. Ever since, monarchs, generals, imams, and popes have condoned
brutality by divine decree if it served their interests. Religious leaders, too, have prayed for
military victory and seldom advocated questioning war’s social destructiveness, while houses of
worship, anticipating financial rewards from armed conflict, have repeatedly failed to promote
goodwill and peace on earth. Piloted by political and economic ambitions, organized religions
continue to subvert ethical principles and advocate violence in the name of God—an obvious
contradiction.
Recent events illustrate the extreme ways religion can be used to vindicate violence. On
September 11, 2001, America was made painfully aware of how Arab terrorists sanctify death
and destruction. In fact, the American media portrayed the World Trade Center attacks as acts
instigated solely by Islamic fundamentalism rather than in large measure by the political
firestorm gaining intensity in the Arab world. In retaliation, the United States launched two wars,
toppling the governments of Afghanistan and Iraq and destabilizing the regions, fanning
sectarian violence and giving rise to the Islamic State, killing uncounted thousands of innocent
civilians and paying the price in thousands of American casualties, as well as fanning the
already hot flames of Arab and Muslim hatred for America while claiming to promote “God’s gift”
of freedom.
Despite the divine dictates cited on both sides of this growing conflagration, its roots are more
political and economic than religious. Arab distrust and contempt for the West goes back
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