Naturalistic Paganism

Managing human nature: A job description for HP

Tree Planter, from Arbor Day Foundation

Like managing a forest, we manage human nature.

– by B. T. Newberg

Job descriptions help us know that we’re doing what we’re supposed to be doing.  So what’s the JD for HP?

This post is the first in a series examining HP through the lens of the work of Loyal Rue.  For an overview of Rue’s basic concepts, go here.

Help wanted: Manager of human nature

“The measure of a religious orientation,” says Loyal Rue in his book Religion Is Not About God, “is not whether it gives an accurate account of divine reality, but whether it effectively manages human nature.”

That effectively sums up what HP is all about: managing our human nature.  That may not sound very lofty, but it’s true.  When it comes down to it, we are managers of our own natures.

We manage our responses to our environment, to each other, and to ourselves.  In so doing, we cultivate an amazing multiplicity of experiences, from the serenity of meditation to the joy of human bonding and the wonder of beholding the stars in the night sky.

Why manage human nature?

Why do we need to manage our natures at all?  Hmm… well, let’s just say being human can be messy.  We don’t find ourselves perfectly humming machines where all is accomplished flawlessly and without effort.

No, we find ourselves a bundle of impulses, full of conflicting desires and uncertainties.  I want this cookie and that sexy piece of meat over there; I want to be loved, to become a respected member of society, and to feel at home in this universe.  These goals may pull me in different directions, and the most efficient way to achieve them is by no means clear.

So, managing human nature is necessary as a basic matter of fact.  It’s natural, in fact.  We all do it to some degree; we simply couldn’t carry on without doing so.  Managing human nature is itself part of human nature.

Like many abilities that come naturally to us, such as maintaining our health or courting a mate, managing human nature is a job that can be done better or worse.  Instinct and socialization (which may include religion for some people) give us basic management skills.  At the same time, we can always strive to improve beyond these basics.  Adopting a personal path of growth is one way to continue learning to manage one’s nature better and better throughout life.

HP is a path of human nature management that gives special priority to naturalistic understandings of how the universe works, as well as mythological means of enriching subjective experience.  In this way, we cultivate fulfilling experiences of a certain mythic quality, while at the same time maintaining an accurate and up-to-date picture of the universe.

To what end(s) do we manage?

At the most general level, Rue finds that humans have two basic ends or teloi that explain why we need to manage our natures.  First, we want fulfilling lives full of meaningful experiences.  This he calls the telos of personal wholeness. Second, we need a functioning society enabling us to pursue those experiences.  This is the telos of social coherence.

These individual and collective interests often pull in different directions.  Thus, in order to achieve these “twin teloi”, we must learn to manage our human natures.  And the better we manage them, the better we achieve these ends.  It’s as simple as that.

There is a third possible telos to consider: living sustainably within our environment.  We can’t have either personal wholeness or social coherence if the land cannot support us.  This third end is implied in Rue’s work, and Michael Dowd makes it explicit by adding ecological integrity to the other two.

Religions, when they function correctly, help us achieve these ends.  They structure our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors in such a way that we gravitate in the right direction.  In Rue’s words, “It is about manipulating our brains so that we might think, feel, and act in ways that are good for us, both individually and collectively.”

Managers, not bosses

At this point, let’s clear up some potential misconceptions: we are not bosses of human nature.  We can’t be, because we are not in full control of ourselves, if “we” means our conscious, rational, ego-directed selves.  If we could just will ourselves to behave as we’d like, we’d have no need of spirituality.

Nor are we the rational charioteer reigning in unruly beasts, as Plato would have it.  Often our most brilliant ideas seem to “come to us” as if from beyond.  The conscious, deliberative self is neither the chief executive nor the brains of the operation.  At best we are middle management (one view demotes us all the way to press secretary).

Rivers and forests are managed.  Resources are managed.  So too do we manage our own natures.

These are crucial caveats because a fundamental aspect of spirituality may well be that it connects us to something greater – the environment, society, and the vast unconscious.

So let’s be clear: HP is not about being the boss or the brains; it’s about managing how we relate to what ultimately transcends us.

Adaptive and maladaptive management

Not all religions manage human nature well.  Some become maladaptive.  Their pictures of how the universe works may be out-of-date, leading to a crisis of intellectual plausibility (in Rue’s terms).  Or their ethics may no longer fit current social or ecological conditions, leading to a crisis of moral relevance.  Many of today’s world religions suffer from both of these maladaptive traits.

HP attempts to right the course of our religious evolution.  By embracing the naturalism of modern science, and foreswearing supernatural explanations, it addresses the issue of plausibility.  By fostering deep affective bonds with each other, our environment, and ourselves through enriching experience with mythic texture, it addresses the issue of relevance.

Such affective bonds rearrange priorities, and ultimately motivate changes in behavior conducive to personal wholeness, social coherence, and ecological integrity.  In this way, HP steers a course between supernaturalistic inaccuracy and nihilistic irresponsibility.

Performance reviews

So now that we have this cushy managerial position, it’s time to relax and kick our feet up on the desk, right?  Not quite.

As managers, we must produce results.  On a very simple level, we can give ourselves a “performance review” now and then by simply observing what we do on our paths and how it makes us feel in response – both in the short term and in the long term.  What’s working well, and what leaves room for improvement?

On a more complex level, as a community we can constantly work toward ever-more rigorous tests.  As a path that values scientific investigation, it only makes sense that we should test our methods for efficiency.  If we claim cultivating a relationship with mythology can enrich our lives, for example, we ought to develop ways to verify that hypothesis.  That takes time and loads of effort, but it will be worth it if we can pull it off.

Now that we’ve got a job description, we can rate how well we’re doing.  What we’re supposed to be doing as Humanistic Pagans is managing our human natures toward personal wholeness, social coherence, and ecological integrity.  So, as a final note, let’s ask:

Are we making progress toward that goal?  How well our we doing?  How can we do better?

Get our ebooks

B. T. Newberg ebooks

Upcoming work

This Sunday

B. T. Newberg

What are we supposed to be doing as Humanistic Pagans?  What’s the JD for HP?

Managing human nature: A job description for HP, by B. T. Newberg

Appearing Sunday, May 20, 2012.

Next Sunday

Thomas Schenk

Sitting quietly in nature is not just relaxing; it can be a powerful meditative technique.

Seton Sitting: Something special may happen, by Thomas Schenk

Appearing Sunday, May 27, 2012

Recent Work

The impossibility of atheism, by Bart Everson

Paganism and the gods, by Glen Gordon

Unexplaining the unknown: Science’s forgotten power, by B. T. Newberg

Get our ebooks

B. T. Newberg ebooks

The impossibility of Atheism, by Bart Everson

Contemplation b/w, by Thomas Lieser

“To reject all theisms one would have to know them all, and who has done that?”

I’ve identified myself as an atheist for many years, but now I’m reconsidering this label. It’s not that my worldview has changed. It’s a matter of intellectual honesty.

I started rethinking this after reading an essay on Religion Dispatches in 2010. A key point:

The atheisms of most committed, principled atheists are often not more than mirror images — inversions — of the theisms they negate.

That rang true.

Teenage hubris

I was raised in a doctrinally conservative Protestant Christian denomination. It’s that particular conception of the divine with which I am most familiar. It’s that particular set of beliefs and values that I rejected some quarter-century ago, when I realized my Christianity was an accident of birth. I recall a very specific moment of epiphany in the autumn of my senior year in high school, as I sat in the church balcony during an evening service. I thought to myself: If I’d been born in India, perhaps I would have followed some form of Hinduism. That led me to question, and ultimately reject, the received wisdom of the church.

I visited other churches in my hometown, but they were all Christian churches, mostly Protestant. Not a great deal of variation. There’s some irony there. I knew there was a bigger world, but I had no access to it. The idea of Hinduism was central to my apostasy, yet I knew nothing of it. But that didn’t stop me. If there was no Jehovah, there was also no Shiva, no Kali, no Sitala.

Having no real knowledge of those gods, knowing nothing of Hindu conceptions of divinity, my dismissal was an act of teenage hubris. At most, it might be said that I rejected mainstream Christian ideas about God. Anything more was overreaching.

It wasn’t until a few years later, at college, that I learned a bit more about other conceptions of divinity. I was drawn to study the philosophy of religion. Process theology, in particular, struck me as viable and intellectually coherent. Though some of these ideas seemed internally consistent, even plausible, they did not seem necessary. I could not see any compelling reason to actually accept them as true descriptions of reality.

So I considered myself an atheist, in the strong or positive sense. I’d considered theism and rejected it. I went through a long process of self-editing, as it were, eliminating the theistic basis for my morality and worldview, building a new, humanistic self.

And yet…

My thoughts on the subject now seem woefully contradictory. Consider a reflection I composed just a few years ago.

America also has many people of other religions, and if you consider the entire world and the whole history of humanity, these other religions loom even larger: Islam, Hinduism, Zoroastrianism, Judaism — to name only a few. These many diverse religions have at least one thing in common: They are all theistic. They all believe in God, or in some cases, in multiple gods.

I don’t. In my heart of hearts I do not believe that there is a God. Certainly I do not believe in a personal creator god of the sort envisioned by these religions. So I am not a theist, by definition.

I speak of “many diverse religions” and then assert that they are all centered on a “personal creator god.”

Well, are they?

I now realize that my collegiate exposure to these ideas was fairly limited and very academic. Even though I nurtured a burgeoning interest in folklore, I never looked much at folk religion. Consider this definition from Spiritual Direction in Paganism by Saraswati Rain.

Just as Christianity is the path following the teachings of Jesus, Judaism is the path following the teachings of the Torah or Talmud, and Buddhism is the path following the teachings of Buddha; Paganism is the path following the teachings of the people, the common folk, and the ways of the Earth. The word Pagan is often interpreted as “not religious” or “not believing in a Judeo-Christian God.” But the word “Pagan” harks back to the Latin “paganus,” which is literally, “peasant” referring to a rural country-dweller (Random House Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary). Neo-Paganism, specifically, is the modern version of Pagan ways, the practices of the common folk, the traditional beliefs of the ancestors, adapted and re-constructed by contemporary people, pieced together from ancient lore, from traditional practices, and from the practitioners’ creative imaginings, speculations and inclinations.

It wasn’t until I encountered the broad diversity of ideas in contemporary paganism that I found myself and my assumptions truly challenged. Here, at last, were conceptions of divinity which I could not so easily dismiss.

Beauty and truth

I attended a discussion of “Existential Paganism,” sponsored by a group called Lamplight Circle here in New Orleans. We talked about the notion of gods as metaphors or archetypes.

I can hear committed atheists objecting: Metaphors? But that’s not really belief at all is it?

No, certainly not according to the Christian paradigm in which I was raised. But there are other ways of looking at the world.

The equation of beauty and truth is an ancient and familiar one. Consider it seriously for a moment, as a thought experiment. If beauty is truth, then how do we react to the beautiful mythologies of the ancient world? If we say they are beautiful but false, then we are making very narrow definitions indeed, and our aesthetics are crippled. If we can understand them as metaphor, then we’re not longer concerned with a binary distinction between truth and falsity. One doesn’t ask if a metaphor is true. The relevant questions shift. How does it resonate? What does it mean?

Accuracy in reporting

When it comes to accurately reporting my atheism, the only coherent statement I feel qualified to make is that I reject most mainstream monotheistic Abrahamic theologies, insofar as I understand them. As far as many of my fellow Americans are concerned, then, the atheist label is an accurate description.

(When questioned on the subject of atheism, Joseph Campbell supposedly said, “If you are, I’m not; if you’re not, I am.” I’m beginning to understand how he felt.)

However, this definition neglects substantial minority religious perspectives. It neglects the true diversity of ideas in this sphere. It privileges the center and neglects the periphery — a position I find politically obnoxious. In short, strong atheism in the broadest sense has come to seem like an impossibility. (Weak atheism is another matter.) To reject what one does not know is merely ignorant. To reject all theisms one would have to know them all, and who has done that?

In and through paganism I’ve discovered that my ideas about divinity were really too narrow. My worldview remains humanistic and naturalistic, but I have now encountered naturalistic conceptions of the divine. It’s a most unexpected development, and it’s left me scratching my head.

I’m not ready to call myself a theist, but I’m no longer quite comfortable calling myself an atheist. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say I’m simply not theocentric. I’d describe my values as more ecocentric. Better yet, perhaps I should say I’m a work in progress. Conceptions previously held in separate mental compartments are running together and mixing.

Rather than rushing to an answer, I’m following Rilke’s advice and learning to “love the questions.”

About the author

Bart Everson

Bart Everson is a writer, a photographer, a baker of bread, a husband and a father. An award-winning videographer, he is co-creator of ROX, the first TV show on the internet. As a media artist and an advocate for faculty development in higher education, he is interested in current and emerging trends in social media, blogging, podcasting, et cetera, as well as non-technological subjects such as contemplative pedagogy and integrative learning. He is a founding member of the Green Party of Louisiana, past president of Friends of Lafitte Corridor, sometime contributor to Rising Tide, and a participant in New Orleans Lamplight Circle.

Upcoming work

This Sunday

Bart Everson

One man’s struggle with atheism and Paganism.

The impossibility of atheism, by Bart Everson

Appearing Sunday, May 13, 2012.

Next Sunday

B. T. Newberg

What are we supposed to be doing as Humanistic Pagans?  What’s the JD for HP?

Managing human nature: A job description for HP, by B. T. Newberg

Appearing Sunday, May 20, 2012.

Recent Work

Paganism and the gods, by Glen Gordon

Unexplaining the unknown: Science’s forgotten power, by B. T. Newberg

Magic in the 22nd century, by Drew Jacob

Get our ebooks

B. T. Newberg ebooks

Naturalism and the gods, by Glen Gordon

Sunset on Water, by Virtually-Supine

“Deities are processes which superimpose and overlap each other in complex patterns of creativity.”

Having a naturalist sensibility, I find supernatural concepts of deities within paganism difficult to accept. Having been unsure if concepts of deities are applicable or valuable, I drifted towards an agnostic humanism. Exposure to the blending of process theism and religious naturalism in Karl E. Peters’ book Dancing with the Sacred reawakened my interest in polytheism.

By applying naturalistic process theism to polytheism, I find deities are processes which superimpose and overlap each other in complex patterns of creativity, and ceremony is a powerful method of actively participating in any given process.

Process theology emphasizes God as the act of becoming, and moves away from God as an omnipotent being. In this regard, god is found in the events which shape our experiences and initiates change in our lives.

Religious Naturalism finds value in religious expression and experience and holds the natural living-world sacred without supernatural intervention.

Peters combines the two perspectives by seeing god as continuous evolutionary creativity. Thus, god is found both by the scientist seeking to understand the building blocks of life and in the religious experience longing to understand humanity’s place within the cosmos.

Upon reading Peters, my thoughts wandered to the groupings of atoms that create matter, the weather cycle, evolution of lifeforms, and human expressions like art, literature, and music, as being processes in their own right.

Into action

As a member of a group of pagan and naturalist Unitarian Universalists, I began implementing these concepts into group ceremonies. One ceremony revolved around the planting of native seeds at our UU church. We spent a week preparing the ground with meditative intent. In song and dance, we sowed the seeds under the night sky of the autumnal equinox.

These experiences helped me understand myself as an active co-creator within the processes of the natural living-world. Having combined my efforts and will with creative evolutionary processes, deities were no longer individual personal beings but processes toward which I contributed in active participation.

Beyond anthropomorphism

These realizations had me question the usefulness of anthropomorphism as a means of deification. Giving deities human-like forms made sense at one point of human understanding. The primary experience represented in a deity is easiest to access through human action. Perhaps to understand how deities worked, they gave them human form.

The downside is these images became the focus of worship. In a post-modern context, with our expanded understanding of the world around us, a focus on anthropomorphism feels outdated. It can help us understand processes related to the human experience, but limits us to a human-centric understanding.

Seeking the transpersonal

The idea of transpersonal psychology is to explore the impact of experiences which transcend the phenomenon of ego and otherness. A transpersonal relationship with a deity expands our experience through action. The deity is no longer a vague idea of the sacred, but a continuous experience of co-creation that is malleable and present within each passing moment.

This contrasts with the need of many Neopagans to seek interpersonal relationships with deities. In my experience, images may become useful in identifying and understanding the process of deities, but is not static representation, nor should they be the focus of worship. I prefer seeking a trans-personal relationship that allows me participation in the sacred process that is the deity.

Naturalistic polytheism

Seeing deities as active creative evolutionary processes broadens my views on ceremony and the religious experience. Because of this, worship is not passive, but an active expression of co-creation with the universe and natural living world.

I refer to this approach as naturalistic polytheism. It has allowed me to acknowledge that the scientific and the sacred are not contradictory, but part of each other.

Perhaps, in taking a naturalistic perspective of deities and mythology, the traditions of the past can come to life, and help us develop new ones specific to who we are as humans today.

The author

Glen "Fishbowl"

Glen Gordon writes about animism, religious naturalism, and Unitarain Universalism on his personal blog Postpagan.com™. Under the name Fishbowl, he has participated in the broader bioregional animist community at gatherings and in internet forums. As an active UU, He has given sermons on bioregional animism at his local UU church in Northern Idaho. The video Biorigional Animism in Five Minutes features the words of one of his sermons. He also co-facilitates a The Palouse Nature Covenant, a group of pagan and naturalist UU’s exploring themes of nature and ecology through worship.