THE GOSPEL OF WEAK BELIEF

Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe (Jn. 20:29)

Some commentators are saying that the Republican Party has been severely compromised by the forces of Christian fundamentalism, and its future as a viable political party with broad support depends on how its leaders are able to disassociate themselves from the Religious Right. One area where this disengagement should come is in the area of foreign policy towards Israel and her neighbors. It has been charged that American fundamentalists have contributed to an for our unbalanced policy (i.e., pro-Israel) in the Middle East. For the Religious Right, Israel must, according to biblical prophecy, be defended so that it can play its role in Armageddon. The full cynicism of this view is revealed in the fact that the Jews will be destroyed along with all others who are not "biblical" Christians.

This exclusionary theology is epitomized in Jerry Falwell's outrageous claim that God does not answer the prayers of Jews. (His supporters cannot say he never said it: we have it on videotape.) One can see here the incredible excesses of "strong belief": not only is Falwell claiming to know God's mind, but he is also undermining divine omnipotence (God certainly has the power to defend Israel) and divine freedom (God is free to answer any prayer that he chooses).

Fundamentalists condemn secular humanists because they put human beings in the place of God. But Falwell's preemption of divine prerogatives is an egregious violation of what I call the "Hebraic" principle: the qualitative difference between God and creatures. One is reminded of a political cartoon in which Sen. Helms, after trying so hard to get prayer in the schools, asks the Lord how Christian values can possibly survive. God's answer is simple: "Don't worry, Jesse, I can take care of it."

With his concept of "weak belief" British philosopher Richard Swinburne has offered an attractive way of formulating a response to the "strong belief" of fundamentalism. In Faith and Reason Swinburne states: "For the pursuit of the religious way a [person] needs to seek certain goals with certain weak beliefs." For Swinburne all that a good Christian needs is a "weak" belief that Christianity is probably true and other religions are probably false.

In the context of a "world theology" (à la John Hick or Wilfred Cantwell Smith), I prefer to revise Swinburne's proposal along more universal lines: some sort of divine being probably exists and that all religions at their best are in tune with the divine. Or, if we are serious about being all inclusive, the following might be the most diplomatic: none of us know whether a divine being exists or not, so all religious belief and unbelief must be tolerated. In America this ideal will be fulfilled when a confessing atheist is elected president--sometime in the 23rd Century.

The phrase "weak belief" is most certainly an infelicitous phrase, and I do not recommend that anyone start a church using this. (And weak belief definitely does not mean weak conviction--Gandhi is our brief on that charge.) One might interpret the strong belief of fundamentalism as a new form of gnosticism (from the Greek gnosis=knowledge), although contemporary fundamentalists do not share the esoterism of the ancient Gnostics. The Gospel of Weak Belief could be seen as a form of agnosticism, or more accurately, as a reaffirmation of fideism, putting faith before knowledge claims.

Ancient Gnosticism has a continuing presence in India, where the jnana yoga of the Upanishads is still very much alive. Although the texts and general teachings are open to all, the tradition of being initiated secretly by a guru is still very strong. In his works Aurobindo uses the term gnosticism, and his belief that we can become supermen with perfect knowledge appears to be a rather Titanistic epistemology. In the following passage from Aurobindo's spiritual companion "The Mother," strong belief does not get any stronger:

What is remarkable is that once we have had the experience of a single contact with the Divine, a true, spontaneous and sincere experience, at that moment, in that experience, we shall know everything, and even more.

If this is mystical knowledge of undifferentiated unity, then the claim is not as egregious as it looks on its face.

If there is a Gospel of Weak Belief, who are its prophets and preachers? I submit that the Buddha, Confucius, Lao-tzu, Mahavira, Jesus, and Gandhi are the leading historical figures. The Buddha was frequently asked questions such as the following: (1) Is the world eternal or not eternal? (2) Is the soul the same as the body or different from the body? (3) Is there life after death or no life after death? The secret of the Buddha's famous Middle Way is to ascertain the difference between desires that can be fulfilled (they are not karma accruing) and cravings, i.e., desires that cannot be satisfied and hence karma crediting. One of the most subtle and deep-seated desires is a "craving for views," typically expressed in metaphysical queries such as the ones above.

The Buddha called such problems "questions that do not tend to edification," and he usually answered with what I call "neither/nor dialectic": (1) The world is neither eternal nor not eternal; (2) the soul is neither the same as the body nor different from the body; and (3) there is neither life after death nor no life after death. This dialectical technique was perfected by the great Mahayana philosopher Nagarjuna, but its effect was just as powerful in the Buddha's original words. "Neither/nor dialectic" essentially destroys "craving for views" by negating it to death.

Another tactic the Buddha used against nonedifying questions was simply to sit in silence. When pressed why he was silent, the Buddha answered that these questions are "not calculated to profit, [they are] not concerned with the Dharma, [they do] not redound even to the elements of right conduct, nor to detachment, nor to purification from lusts, nor to quietude, nor to tranquillization of heart, nor to real knowledge, nor to the insight of the higher stages of the Path, nor to Nirvana." In so far as both Zen Buddhists and Jesus move beyond ethical goals, they can be seen as the most radical preachers of weak belief. (The Zen masters understood the Buddha better than he himself.)

When Confucius was asked about the existence of spirits and divine retribution, he, too, answered as the Buddha did: concentrate instead on the affairs of the world and develop your virtues. But Lao-tzu thought that Confucius claimed far too much knowledge, especially in ethics and politics. He was also a master of dialectical thinking, especially what might be called the dialectic of reversal: e.g., power when exercised to an extreme becomes impotence; whereas weakness and softness (like a water slowly eroding the elements) is real strength. As the Tao Te Ching states: "Time will show that the humblest will attain supremacy, the dishonored will be justified, and the empty will be filled, the old will be rejuvenated, those content with little will be rewarded with much, and those grasping much will fall into confusion" (#22).

Mahavira's doctrine of the "many-sidedness" (anekantavada) of things is the greatest Jain contribution to the Gospel of Weak Belief. Jain agnosticism is most vividly expressed in the Parable of the Five Blind Men and the Elephant. Each man had a hold of one part of the elephant, so to one reality was tail-like; to another it was trunk-like, and so on. Each man had a different, but equally valid perspective on the same reality. The Jains use this story as a lesson for universal tolerance of all beliefs. Ironically, anekantavada does not seem to have prevented Jains from holding a rather one-sided dualism of mind and matter, or from imputing absolute knowledge to their own Tirthankaras--those who have passed out of the wheel of existence.

In a response to queries about apparent inconsistencies--e.g., holding to nondual Vedanta and dualism at the same time--Gandhi answered that he believed in the Jain view of the many-sidedness of reality, and that his "anekantavada is the result of the twin doctrine of truth and nonviolence." If one thinks of Gandhi's view of relative truth and how this would preclude one thinking ill of others with differing beliefs, then the alliance with Jain anekantavada is a natural one. In the same passage Gandhi continues: "Formerly I used to resent the ignorance of my opponents. Today I can love them because I am gifted with the eye to see myself as others see me and vice versa."

Although the practical effects of such a view are obvious and salutary, it is, I believe, philosophically unsatisfactory. I suggest that the Buddha's "neither/nor" dialectic would better serve Gandhi's purposes. To be a bit uncharitable to the saint, his terribly loose "I am everything" position could be called "all of the above" dialectic.

Gandhi may have been untidy in his philosophical commitments, but no one could say that his many-sidedness meant holding weak convictions. Gandhi developed the Indian concept of ahimsa (nonviolence) beyond its previous world-denying expressions into a world-affirming Realpolitik, one that drove an imperial power from India. The culmination of his philosophy was the principle of "soul force" (satyagraha), its principal implication being that soul force will always, in the end, win over brute force.

Hindu fundamentalism does not originate in the Indian gnosticism mentioned above; rather, it comes from V. D. Savarkar's book Hindutva, a 1926 treatise praising the indigenous pacifist religions and condemning the aggressive semitic faiths, which Savarkar claims are the principal source of India's problems. Gandhi vigorously opposed Savarkar and his followers, and there a poignant reminder in the fact that his assassin Nathuram Godse was a member of the Hindu Mahasabha. V. D. Savarkar was twice elected president of this militant Hindu organization; and it gave rise to the powerful Bharatiya Janata Party, the primary leader of Hindu sectarianism in India.

Jesus' commitment to weak belief is found in the indirect discourse of his parables. Parabolic language is the perfect medium for anekantavada. Parables offers many-sided and many-leveled meanings, and they preserve the freedom of the respondent. Jesus and the Zen monks were more radical than the Buddha: the point of a parable or a koan is not an ethical one, but a provocation for people to transform their lives spiritually. The early church made the parables into allegories (e.g., Jesus is the sower) and turned rich, polyvalent discourse into the univocal dogma of strong belief. Even today Christian ministers too often interpret the parables in a conventional ethical way that obscures their transforming power.