the religion was only suggesting that its message is possibly logical universally and not that it actually was propagated everywhere, that would really prove nothing except its possible reasonableness wherever it was accessible. Of course, this all depends upon what it is they claim. But if the whole of homo sapiens never had access to it, then any division between those who accept the offer and those who do not must make allowances for the latter who lacked exposure to it.
Further, many religions subconsciously place the onus on humans themselves, that they need to have been in the right place at the right time, and, in most cases, that they must be reasonable and perhaps literate. Can those be fair requirements? Is any religion willing to limit its offer or answer in this way, excluding so much of humanity on the literacy criterion? In chapter 8, in the analysis of John Dominic Crossan’s work, we will note that it is commonly acknowledged that in Jesus’ day, only around 5 percent of the people were literate. If literacy is presupposed for one to be able to make a fair decision on the religion, the human race has been divided quite severely and unfairly. Who would accept responsibility for that?
At the heart of the matter, the question needs to be asked on what basis is there really any justification for dividing humanity in the first place? Religions provide a variety of answers. One claims the division can be justified by people’s morality or relations to other humans, whether this is spoken of as obeying God or something else. Another claims it can be justified only on the basis of one’s faith, that is, one’s acceptance of grace, which seems to be an implicit admission that one would prefer it not to be on the basis or one’s morality. Yet another claims it can be justified only by one’s awakening or enlightenment, which includes an awareness that the pain we experience in life comes from our own failure to realize that we create the pain by our unreasonable or self-centered desires, especially of desiring permanence. Often, as can be seen in Hinduism and Judaism, an ethnic element has been part of the criteria. But religions do not usually limit their messages ethnically. Further, we are told in each case that the justification for a division of humanity is either valid and reasonable or else is beyond human control, simply resting with the Divine or divine law.
That may be one of the first problems the nonreligious spot, asking whether those justifications are acceptable or necessary. Further, any kind of study of any given religion will immediately manifest its particular cultural/temporal worldview, which can quickly be seen as fragmentary when held up beside all competing cultures. In many cases, that position in time and space in which the religion originally formed obviously was very limited, and, therefore fragmentary in its understanding of the world. The older the religion is, the more likely it carries not only antiquated and unscientific views but mythology mixed indiscriminately with historical claims.
If the religion’s propagation of its universality and obvious reasonableness has covered millennia with little change, to that burden must be added the number of people who rejected it or challenged its claims. That group was in most cases significant at its origin, yet has likely grown from the start and exponentially during the last three centuries because of the expansion of information and great developments in natural and human sciences. But the religious group’s histories do not focus on the early rejection by these people. They do not give much detail even on the struggles most of them went through in trying to make their embracing a religion credible to the general public. When they do mention being persecuted by those outside the group, the blame is always placed entirely upon their opponents; never is it even partially the fault of the content of the message or the fault of those presenting the religious message. The world divides because, as the adherent or devotees judge, too many people are either ignorant, insincere, or malicious, or perhaps are even possessed by demons or jinn.
Because most believers or adherents are convinced of the significance of the truth and benefit they found in their religion, they are primarily a conserving institution, more attuned to spreading their message than critically examining their own claims. That is probably only natural—to a degree. However, the conserving often means complete stagnation of ideas, a stasis enforced by presupposing the validity of the claimed sacredness, inerrancy, or divinity the religious leaders placed on certain elements. The processes of canonization created a paradigm out of ancient thought, an iconography that spreads a mantle of pietistic passivity and veneration on things of age related to the religion, and before long, much of it becomes an “enigma” to our times—just as Albert Schweitzer saw in the eschatological orientation of Jesus. This is more of the problem of claiming a universal and eternally valid message or answer, a claim that might have frightened to death some of the writers of scriptures’ contents had they ever confronted it or even dreamt it.
The problem of humanity being divided is perhaps to be expected. After all, people are raised in different cultures—each person with his or her own uniqueness in experiencing, thinking, and anticipating—so one can hardly predict some uniformity. We are used to difference, accustomed to political organizations with conflicting interpretations, principles, and goals. But religions seldom condition their claims even as much as political parties. One is either in or out, either among the “saved” or “lost,” either “enlightened” or “ignorant,” either a “believer” or an “infidel,” and so forth. To belong to the “saved,” “enlightened,” “believers,” or “chosen,” means one has laid hold on more life. Some people are able to straddle that bifurcation and remain among the insiders even though their heart or mind may disagree with what they are doing. All religions have these people of split-commitment, indecision, cognitive dissonance, or a growing critical faculty that objects to some or many of the claims made by the religion.
When this bifurcation of humanity is combined with the ancient desire for vindication or vengeance, the idea of a “Last Judgment,” for those who accept it, there is even more than sufficient incentive to live with the presupposition that humanity is, should, and will be divided, perhaps even permanently. In cases in which the future benefits of one’s religion do not include a “Final Judgment,” that still does not prevent them from positing ultimate beatitude such as the “Pure Land”1 available only to their group.
If the divided humanity envisioned and taught by religions is not sufficient burden in all the foregoing areas just covered, the burden intensifies when one believes that his special status as a believer or devotee has been forgotten, that the Absolute, however it is conceived or with whatever name, has not fulfilled the promises it made. An example of this is found in the Jewish book of Habakkuk. In this scenario, coming to us probably in the closing part of the seventh century BCE (BC) and early sixth century BCE, the prophet accuses God of failing to protect his “chosen” after he promised he would. The author expresses his anxiety and sense of injustice based on the threat Babylon was posing to Judah, gobbling up small kingdoms, and on the verge of attacking Jerusalem. Where was God’s justice and protection of His “chosen people”?
O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? . . .Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails . . .Your eyes are too pure to behold evil, and you cannot look on wrongdoing; why do you look on the treacherous, and are silent when the wicked swallow those more righteous than they? (Hab. 1:2a, 3b–4a, 12b–13)
This individual, a mere human, indicts his god for being unjust, for closing his eyes to wrongdoing, ignoring treachery. That is quite an indictment, especially to deliver to one’s god. Habakkuk feels this way because he was under the impression that since Israel was God’s chosen people by God’s own initiative, God is not faithful. God’s favor turns out to be a curse. God’s special attention of His chosen people, and the good things He promised them now appears as fraudulent or lies since their enemy is threatening their very existence. The disillusioned one claims no perfection, but he knows that he deserves more since he and his people are at least “more righteous” than their wicked enemy. Yet God pays no attention to his cries for help, his supplication for God to be faithful, to do as He promised, to protect and give special blessings to His “chosen.” God simply seems unconcerned about the welfare of His own people and the glorious life He originally promised them
