Confronting the Abyss

I attended a symposium where I heard a diverse array of voices, ranging from religious to secular, spiritual to academic. The meeting adhered to the Chatham House Rule, so I am obliged not to identify anyone. This symposium featured perspectives from various religious denominations, a humanitarian secular organization, and academic scholars. The title of the gathering was bold and compelling. Although I am paraphrasing, the key words were "Justice" and "Reconciliation," set against the backdrop of the ongoing horrors in Gaza, Israel, the West Bank, and Lebanon.

While I lack a deep understanding of the cultural, religious, and historical nuances of these regions, I can unequivocally recognize the profound evil occurring there. It is disheartening to see religious organizations clashing so vehemently. Such conflicts seem entirely contrary to what any benevolent deity would desire. If, by chance, this is what their God intends, it raises a troubling question: what kind of God are they worshipping?

Let us confront the abyss of religious ideologies that are at war with each other. However, let us not gaze too long into this abyss, for the madness of it all could drive one to despair, attempting to find a solution, if a solution even exists. When I left the symposium, immersed in quiet reflection, the person who invited me asked, "What did you think of that?" I responded simply, "It is clear that all religion should be banned."

Though this was an instinctive reaction, it was prompted by a particular statement during the symposium. One voice claimed that their religion had a divine right to the land, as stated in their holy books. This assertion struck a chord with me. I recalled an elderly member of my congregation once saying, "The Bible and the Torah are not legal documents." The notion resonated deeply—what lawyers signed off on these claims? God and a host of angels? While this might sound facetious, humour feels necessary to endure the weight of such reflections.

When the person asserted that their religion had a divine claim to the land, the atmosphere in the room became charged. I could sense the tension and unease among the participants. This religious claim carries significant weight and power, particularly due to the support of the USA, a formidable military authority. It is difficult not to draw parallels between the victimized of World War II and the potential perpetrators of a pre-World War III scenario.

I recall reading "Wilderness Spirituality" by Rodney Romney, a Baptist minister from America. Although I can't remember his exact words, he conveyed a powerful message: people are not born monsters; they are made into monsters. Perhaps, in some cases, they make themselves into monsters. The current situation in Gaza is monstrous, as were the events of 7/10. These actions are creating new monsters, and the consequences will only worsen. The atrocities happening now are breeding a new generation of monsters, whose future actions in the next 10 to 20 years should make us all tremble.

Leaving the symposium, I felt profoundly unsettled. I had looked into the face of the abyss, an abyss filled with blind ideology and entrenched beliefs. Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose writings are nearly two centuries old, speaks of shedding old ways and traditions in favour of embracing the present world. Yet, it seems that the grip of outdated ideologies is stifling the development of human potential.

As I reflected on Emerson’s wisdom, a complete sense of helplessness overwhelmed my soul. The persistent ideological stranglehold perpetuates an evil that hinders progress and understanding. Despite the passage of time and the evolution of human thought, we are still bound by the chains of ancient conflicts and dogmas. This realization filled me with despair, as I grappled with the weight of these seemingly intractable problems.