This last post of my tribalism series is going to be
my hardest post yet. I wish religion
didn’t need to be tribalistic. I wish we
could be bonded by love and faith, not separated by beliefs and theories. Psychologically, we thirst after
meaning. We want the world to make
sense. We want life to extend beyond
now. So furiously we cling to the
beliefs that are handed down to us. They
help us to maintain order and a sense of security.
But opposing beliefs can’t co-exist. My favorite part of the book, “The Life of
Pi” is when Pi is surrounded by his Catholic Priest, his Muslim Imam, and his
Hindu Pandit. They each praise him for
being such a good student of their respective religions, until they realize
that he is also a student of the other two.
Outraged, they contend with each other about the falseness of the other
religions. The exchange is humorous and it
sheds light on how silly it is for one religion to claim all the truth for its
followers. I believe that religion is
about gaining spiritual maturity and obtaining pure love. There is no maturity, nor love in the war
between religions.
One tribe will call itself the true church, and
refer to everyone else as heathens, infidels, gentiles, “the world,” or
non-members. Straw men of sinners and
followers of Satan are created to spark fear and to keep those within the tribe
from exploring and understanding the other.
In my experience, other straw men become a threat to the tribe:
intellectuals and liberals. A great
cliff of apostasy is created and fear is used to keep tribal members as far
from that cliff as possible.
I spent the first thirty years of my life beautifully,
peacefully living amongst a religious tribe that I loved. I lived an orthodox life and I was, as they
say in my religion, “A member in good standing.” I learned the doctrine inside and out. I served in leadership positions. I devoted my whole life to my tribe. My life has been what it is because of my
religion. It introduced me to God and to
faith. It taught me that I could achieve
high standards of moral conduct and it taught me how to live providently. Because I was orthodox, I felt a sense of
community and love from my tribe. Like I
mentioned in my first post, tribalism can be a beautiful thing.
But then I was cast out of the Garden of Eden into
the cold harsh world. My curious mind
led me to understand the “other” and to realize that they are not so different
from me. How am I any different from the
Muslim woman who devotes herself to Allah, prays four times a day, lives a good
life, loves a lot, and sacrifices to make her pilgrimage to Mecca? Her rituals are sacred to her and mine are
sacred to me. They are different. Our beliefs about eternity are
different. But our faith is the same. Why would a loving God choose only one of us
because the other’s sacred rituals and beliefs were not the right ones.
This new way of thinking took me to the edge of the
apostasy cliff, and I jumped off. Guess
what? It wasn’t really the scary cliff I
had grown up believing in. In fact, I
found a bridge. It’s a bridge that
unites the world by love and faith.
Unfortunately, this bridge is invisible.
All my tribe can see is me, and apostasy. I have to admit, it’s pretty scary to be on
an invisible bridge over a cliff of apostasy.
So I turned back for love and support, but I found that I was already
“the other,” so easily dismissed and cast out by my tribe.
I wanted to share with my tribe the beautiful world
I had found beyond ours. I wanted the
love and support I had always found from them when I did what was
expected. Instead, they threw straw men
at me. I was one of the elect being led
astray by Satan, I had lost my testimony, lost the spirit…I had been
deceived. Out of fear, I was pushed away
at arm’s length. I understand that the
bullying is not out of malice. Bullying
is a necessary part of tribalism. It
keeps people from leaving by causing a “pain of independence.”
I still love my religion. It is home.
It’s part of me. I crossed my
bridge, but I came back. And I will
always come back. I don’t fit in like I
used to. But I come back because I hope that someday the great gulf of
apostasy won’t divide us and keep us from understanding the true purpose of our religion: to
love and understand each other. This love and understanding is the bridge that I now call home and I hope that someday it will no longer be invisible.