A bonus post for you today — there is a fascinating interview with author and theologian James Carse over on Salon.com, regarding his book The Religious Case Against Belief.

Here’s a brief excerpt:

From Salon.com’s interview with James Carse

I think the vast majority of people would say belief is at the very core of religion. How can you say religion does not involve belief?

It’s an odd thing. Scholars of religion are perfectly aware that belief and religion don’t perfectly overlap. It’s not that they’re completely indifferent to each other, but you can be religious without being a believer. And you can be a believer who’s not religious. Let’s say you want to know what it means to be Jewish. So you draw up a list of beliefs that you think Jews hold. You go down that list and say, “I think I believe all of these.” But does that make you a Jew? Obviously not. Being Jewish is far more and far richer than agreeing to a certain list of beliefs. Now, it is the case that Christians in particular are interested in proper belief and what they call orthodoxy. However, there’s a very uneven track of orthodoxy when you look at the history of Christianity. It’s not at all clear what exactly one should believe.

. . .

Are you religious yourself?

I would say yes, but in the sense that I am endlessly fascinated with the unknowability of what it means to be human, to exist at all. Or as Martin Heidegger asked, why is there something rather than nothing? There’s no answer to that. And yet it hovers behind all of our other answers as an enduring question. For me, it puts a kind of miraculous glow on the world and my experience of the world. So in that sense, I am religious.

What about God? If God is defined as some sort of transcendent reality, do you think God exists?

[Laughs] Frankly, no. But there are so many different conceptions of God. Take, for example, the medieval Christian, Jewish and Islamic mystics. It’s a very rich period from the 12th to the 15th centuries. They began to realize that in each of their traditions, it was impossible to say exactly who God was and what he wants and what he’s doing. In fact, human intelligence has a certain limitation that keeps it from being able to embrace the infinite or the whole. Therefore, every one of our statements about God and the universe is tinged with a degree of ignorance. I would say that I am deeply moved by the thought of an unnameable mystery. If you then ask me, exactly which mystery are you then referring to? I can’t answer. That’s as far as I can go. But it’s got its grip on me, for sure.

Source: Salon.com’s interview with James Carse, author of The Religious Case Against Belief.

Here follows part two of “Watch Your Language,” the Rev. Fredric Muir’s response to a call for a deeper religious language in Unitarian Universalism.

Part one can be found here.

Watch Your Language, part 2

by the Rev. Fredric J. Muir

The language of faith is so difficult. The challenge of faith language is one which Bill Sinkford speaks about in an email message dated January 15 [2003]. Here is some of what he said:

“I understand that there has been considerable discussion and distress over what was published in a newspaper article recently. I am writing to share with you what happened, to address your concerns, and to assure you that I share many of the concerns you have expressed. Here is what happened. Sunday, January 12, [2003,] I preached a sermon entitled ‘The Language of Faith’ at First Jefferson UU Church in Ft. Worth, TX. Following the service, I did an interview with a reporter from the local paper, an interview which covered a number of issues including the points about religious language I made in my sermon and magazine column.”

“The reporter published a story that reported things I did not say, and drew conclusions that I did not reach. In particular, the reporter’s first sentence read, ‘A former atheist who is now president of the UUA will push to put the word God into a new statement of principles.’”

(Read on … )

Poet Barbara Crooker writes of the every day miracles and blessings, in “All That Is Glorious Around Us,” from her book Radiance:

All That Is Glorious Around Us
(title of an exhibit on The Hudson River School)

by Barbara Crooker

is not, for me, these grand vistas, sublime peaks, mist-filled
overlooks, towering clouds, but doing errands on a day
of driving rain, staying dry inside the silver skin of the car,
160,000 miles, still running just fine. Or later,
sitting in a café warmed by the steam
from white chicken chili, two cups of dark coffee,
watching the red and gold leaves race down the street,
confetti from autumn’s bright parade. And I think
of how my mother struggles to breathe, how few good days
she has now, how we never think about the glories
of breath, oxygen cascading down our throats to the lungs,
simple as the journey of water over a rock. It is the nature
of stone / to be satisfied / writes Mary Oliver, It is the nature
of water / to want to be somewhere else, rushing down
a rocky tor or high escarpment, the panoramic landscape
boundless behind it. But everything glorious is around
us already: black and blue graffiti shining in the rain’s
bright glaze, the small rainbows of oil on the pavement,
where the last car to park has left its mark on the glistening
street, this radiant world.

Source: “All That Is Glorious Around Us (title of an exhibit on The Hudson River School)” by Barbara Crooker, from Radiance, as published by the Writer’s Alamanac on February 10, 2008.