DEC/JAN 2002
Thoughts
in the Presence of Fear
Wendell Berry
The
Prospect of Peace
Daisaku Ikeda
Reducing
Dependence On Oil Will Ensure America's National Security
US
Civil Rights in Serious Jeopardy
Michael Ratner
Engineering
Consent on the Domestic Front
Danny Schecter
The
Emperor is Naked
Don Kyhote
Green
View of Fundamentalism vs. Modernism
Kelpie Wilson
The
One Eternal Truth
John Darling
World
Trade Organization Continues to Fail
Danila Oder
McKenzie
River Gathering: Funding Change for 25 Years
Richard Seidman
Dreams
and Visions: The Fountain of Wisdom
Royal D. Alsup, Ph.D.
From
Survival to Serenity
Ianna Bredal, MBA
Environmental
Film Festival Coming to Ashland
Barry Snitkin
Herbal
Help for Winter Weather
Chanchal Cabrera, MNIMH, AHG
How
to Make the Most Out of Your Therapy
Julie Weber, MSW
Taking
Aim at Blame
Peter Moore, MFCC, CGP
Understanding
Problem Behaviors of Animals
Jocelyn Y. Whidden
The
Christmas Presence
Peter Melton
Cosmic
Calendar
Salina Rain
The One Eternal Truth
By John Darling
Remember when the American Psychological Association classified things like homosexuality as mental illnesses? They stopped that. Being gay is sane and, bottom line, it doesn’t hurt anyone. They’ve gone on to classify lots of other things as disorders that are aggravating to the people who have them, but no one else—like Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which I think we all have to some degree when days are dark and short. The APA also made a disorder out of feeling bored in the public education system—Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD)—and they dish out ritalin which shifts you from feeling bored to feeling nutty. From my POV (POV isn’t a disorder), it’s an indicator of mental health to feel blue in drizzly, gray winter and bored and devilish in public school (which, after all, is 10 percent about learning and 90 percent about crowd control).
Before the APA, we had to learn what was a disorder from the church, which told us what was mentally-behaviorally healthy and what wasn’t and enforced it with one-pill-fits-all remedy of heaven for good folk and hell for bad folk. If we go back a couple centuries earlier, we have the church acting as state, so they could not only define disorders, but also carry out punishments and executions for them. This was known as the Dark Ages. This is full-on, wall-to-wall, universal fundamentalism.
Now it’s the 21st century and ever since 9/11, I’ve been watching CNN/Fox in awe, not just about the damage the terrorists did, but the whole bizarre religious context in which they did it. Yes, yes, the three main religions dominating the world roughly west of the Indus River are religions of peace and almost all their adherents are fine citizens—so we are reminded frequently by the president and many others. But we’ve got a problem, Houston, and it’s that these three main religions, which flow from the late Bronze Age and early Iron Age tribes of the eastern Mediterranean desert, all happen to lend themselves easily to extremes of religious persecution, witch burnings, book burnings, Crusades, clinic bombings, terrorism and war. They also don’t like dancing. Usually, this is called fund-amentalism and it’s time we started classifying it as a psychological disorder. How about RFD—Religious Funda-mentalist Disorder or, if applicable, Religious Fanatic Disorder?
I will take it upon myself now to make the first diagnosis under this new disorder: Osama bin Laden, who stands at the fanatic fringe of Islam, bereft of the slightest traces of doubt that he’s doing the divine will of the one true god. The second would be the Christian televangelist Jerry Falwell, who feels pretty much the same way and proclaimed that the Trade Center attack happened because God was disappointed with Americans for tolerating stuff like homosexuality, abortion, drugs, divorce and anything else Falwell can raise money to battle.
The indicators of RFD are that there is only one God and he happens to be the one worshipped by the sufferer of this disorder. All other gods aren’t real. Worse, they make the real god angry. The RFD patient will feel God and he are on the same page, that is, since he vigorously follows God’s rules, then he is an agent of God, carrying out God’s will. God is aggrieved of the world’s incessant sinning and wants the world cleansed, so if the patient helps out by attacking sin, then the patient is doing good. Suddenly, violence becomes ok. The RFD patient believes heaven is much better than this life and can’t wait to get there. So he becomes unafraid of death and tends to look on the pleasures of life—tv, alcohol, sex—as evil distractions that are offensive to God. Since death is the gateway to hell for sinners, it’s ok if he helps them get there.
What’s the difference between RFD and cult behavior? Extremist fundamentalists operate under the legitimate umbrella of major religions. Cults stand alone and are a lot smaller. As for mental health, there’s little difference.
One may wonder why RFD thrives at the fringes of the three great Western/Near Eastern religions. A look at Eastern religions reveals big differences. In the world roughly east of the Indus River, you find the stuff that has attracted bohemians and intellectuals of the West, from Yeats to Kesey: Buddhism, Taoism, Zen and many aspects of Hinduism, such as yoga, the Upanishads and the Bhagavad-Gita. Folk of these regions have plenty of war, but it’s not much about religion. We don’t see, can’t even imagine, the Tao guys attacking the Zen guys.
The reason, I think, is that the spirit world of the Eastern folk has a weak executive system. God is there, but he’s not dyspeptic and doesn’t whup ass on bad folk. In the West, God models the strong executive system, where there can be only one person at the top, he’s a guy, his rules are clear and the punishment for breaking them ain’t pretty. It’s about behavior. Right behavior brings big reward. It appeals to your self-interest and your fear of pain and death. God can be your friend and ally or, come judgment day, your worst nightmare. You don’t toe the line and, buster, you’re toast. It’s just plain vanilla patriarchy and like all patriarchy, its essence is domination.
An ancient passage from one of the three great monotheistic religions is typical of Western/Near Eastern thought: “For the unbelievers we have prepared fetters and chains and a blazing fire, but the righteous will refresh themselves; they who keep their vows and dread the far-spread terrors of Judgment Day.”
In the East, God is more of an energy, an inherent genius and source of understanding which brings bliss. He’s not your personal buddy, handing out favors to his most devoted followers. But there is an inherent wisdom and justice functioning in the universe. You get the prize if you learn and grow, not just if you follow the rules. If you behave badly, that behavior (not God) delivers its own nasty consequences. You feel bad, people don’t like you, you become poor and unhealthy, you’re depressed. Finally, eventually, naturally, you seek a way to think and live that’s in harmony with the universe. With truth. Ah—the old question—what is truth? The tree is known by the fruit, isn’t it? Seeking harmony with the truths of nature, love and eternity should bring about an enduring sense of well-being, inner peace and an empathy and affection for others. If it doesn’t, it ain’t “truth.” If it leaves you judging and angry with those of differing religions or behaviors, it’s not truth.
An ancient passage from the Dham-mapada is typical of Eastern thought: “We are what we think, having become what we thought. Like the wheel that follows the cart-pulling ox, sorrow follows an evil thought … There is only one eternal law: hate never destroys hate; only love does.”
The Taoists named their religion after this experience of coming to harmony with divine nature. Tao means, simply, nature or the way—the way that is, naturally, and which becomes apparent after suffering and with the wisdom of years. I haven’t reached this place. It’s a big goal in life for me. I’m doing my best not to be mad at Osama and Jerry. I’m not doing that well, not in the fall of 2001. Someday I may.
John Darling is an Ashland writer and counselor. A frequent contributor to the Medford Mail Tribune and Ashland Daily Tidings, John also writes historic documentaries for Southern Oregon Public Television, and his essays have appeared in the Jefferson Monthly, Lithiagraph and Gnosis Magazine.
