Elysian Eden

There are many stories of how ancient people once lived an idyllic existence in some sylvan setting, where life was peaceful, plentiful, and pleasant. Ahh... there's nothing like nostalgia for the good old days! The Judeo-Christian myth along this line is about our once residing in the pleasures of the Garden of Eden, before we were evicted by the almighty landlord. 

I have written before that there may well have been a historical setting for this garden of plenty: the Fertile Crescent of the Middle East. Once upon a time—several thousand year ago—the area was green and fecund and provided the people with plentiful sustenance, but the garden became over-farmed, the soil became barren and the area was transformed into a desert. We weren't expelled from the garden—we trashed it and then moved on.

There are somewhat similar Elysian stories about what happens after we die—that the glories of heaven await the faithful, who will bask forever in its splendor. It would be sort of like going back to the Garden of Eden in spirit—after having endured this vexatious mortal existence.

The dualistic perspective of the Abrahamic peoples posits an exact opposite of heaven as a place of eternal residence: hell. You've got only two conflicting and exclusive permanent destines: paradise or perdition.

What I find interesting is that human descriptions of hell are far more detailed than heaven. Every religion seems to possess a meticulous account of hell—a dismal, tortuous place where torment is everlasting. For example, Dante's The Divine Comedy is an epic 13^th century poem describing an anguishing journey through the underworld. In contrast, heaven has only superficially been sketched by humans... streets of gold, the faithful reposing on clouds, or enjoying divine music, etc.

Why do humans put so much more attention to hell than heaven? I think it's possible that the story tellers (usually priests) wanted to frighten people into being good. Humans are very prone to wandering off the path of goodness and into the ditches of depravity. Most priests have found that, rather than paint heavenly scenes, the stronger prod is to scare the hell out of them.

If you think for a bit about heaven, however, doesn't it sound quite boring? If I were to laze around forever on cushy clouds, listen perpetually to any kind of music, or smile until my face cracked, I'd soon go berserk. What's more, it's the vicissitudes of life that really make it interesting. When things get too effortless, we become flabby and feeble. I would not want to go to the mythical heaven. Let me face affliction here and now, and be able to grow from it.

At the end of the day I don't fret over going to hell or look forward to heaven. I don't believe they really exist as our stories describe. It's our choice to live in heaven or hell (or a mixture), right here in this precious life. I think it makes more sense to put my attention to the here and now.

Dreading Death

        Humans have been fascinated with and fearful of death for most of our existence. We are likely the only creature to be aware of the fact that the day will come when each of us dies, and so our inquiring mind ponders that fact and creates beliefs and stories of what might follow death. We are caught up in the effort to stay alive (as all animals are) and have a natural instinct to ward off our death. Throughout history people have dreamed of immortality as a way of cheating death. Our dread of dying has compelled humans to conjure up various stories of the afterlife. We don't want to believe that our existence simply ends, so we fashion beliefs of the hereafter.

        Eastern cultures have often dealt with the problem by conceiving of reincarnation, by which our soul inhabits a new body after death; thus, we do not face absolute termination. Western cultures, in contrast, have leaned towards some kind of afterlife, where our soul resides everlastingly. These different beliefs are often tied closely with religious teachings, in which some form of deity is in charge of our destiny.

The ancient Greeks were convinced that their lives—and deaths—were controlled by a pantheon of gods, who were very interested in humans. The gods played a major role in the fortunes and misfortunes of the Greeks—either favoring an individual or group, or choosing to harass them. Much of their lives were consumed by fretting over being punished by a god or rejoicing when being rewarded. Since the gods were capricious, it kept the Greeks off balance—never quite sure whether they'd be curse or blessed. The gods were also competitive with and jealous of each other, so you had to be careful not to piss off one god, as you curried favor with another.

This fear of the gods led the ancient Greeks to view the afterlife as a grim place—a place where one may be condemned to spend eternity in torment and suffering. There was a way to eventually inhabit a heaven-like existence, but most souls never got there, as the underworld gods seemed bent on abusing them. Thus, the lives of the Greeks were tainted by their dread of death.

One school of Greek philosophy, headed by Epicurus, took a very different stance on death. Epicurus maintained that it was foolish to experience so much anxiety and mental pain that arise from the fear of death and of the gods. He asserted that the gods were really not interested in the petty details of humans’ lives. He was, in fact, skeptical about even the existence of the gods. Regardless of whether the gods were real or not, he counseled that our life is largely under the control of each of us, and not the fickle whims of the immortals.

Thus, Epicurus maintained, if the gods do not interfere in our lives, they also would play no role in any kind of afterlife. Again, they have their own interests. Again, regardless of whether they exist or not, our life is our own responsibility... ours to make the most of, or waste. In other words, don’t blame your misfortunes on the gods. You are in control.

Furthermore, the fear of death robs us of the chance to make the most of our lives. The fear (or adulation) of the gods keeps us from fully maturing and taking charge of our lives. We are not puppets, but agents of our own destiny.

Epicurus did not come down firmly on the side of saying either the gods exist or do not, so he was not a card-carrying atheist. Rather, he said that it really didn't matter. If one lived a moral and frugal life, it would be one full of meaning and fulfillment. He also was ambivalent about the afterlife; again saying it doesn't really matter, since if you live the moral life, what happens after death—if anything—will be fine.

I find it fascinating that the human fear of death has led us to formulate stories about the afterlife—but these stories are overwhelmingly about hell, rather than heaven. The ancient Greeks constructed elaborate tales of what condemnation of the soul was like, after death. Dante's The Divine Comedy is a lengthy description of the soul's journey through hell. Why do we not have as thorough a description of what heaven is like? Is it because we are obsessed with death and dread finding our soul being subjected to everlasting torment? Fear seems to guide our lives far more than hopefulness.

The Notion of Nothingness—Part 5: A Personal Viewpoint

So far, I have explored a range of responses to the question: Why is there something rather than nothing? It's been an examination of how the quandary has perturbed scientists and philosophers, along with a tour of various responses they have. It's obvious that no one has yet offered a decisive answer... and maybe never will. I find it fascinating, because the range of responses touches on some of the many interesting aspects of theories of the cosmos.

But there's another dimension to the question—a very personal one, that many of us may have contemplated. Bringing the big question on this fifth and last blog down to the individual level, one might ask: What about me? Why do I exist? Could I just as easily not have existed? What is meant by my nonexistence? Could I have been nothing?

If we think about it, it is quite astonishing that each of us exists at all. Am I not incredibly lucky simply to exist? Certainly it's not inevitable that I was born. There is an unimaginably long line of coincidences that led to my being here. Since Homo sapiens has been a separate species (for some 200,000 years or so), some 7,000 generations of parents have successfully brought forth babies... all the way down the line to me. It's all about me! Had any pair of them failed to procreate, I would not be here. Had any one of another of the millions of my dad's sperms united with Mom's available egg on that romantic night long ago, I'd not be here.

But I am here, and it's quite impossible for me to imagine my not existing. What does that even mean? On the one hand I know that the world could have managed just fine without me... and will, after I'm gone. Yet for each one of us, we naturally feel that we are the center of the world. This is my world, and to imagine what it means for me not to have existed, is rather like trying to imagine that the universe might never have existed. This life is all I know! I'm all I know!

We humans are probably the only critters on the planet who are aware that death is inevitable. Someday each of us will die... be gone... essentially becoming nothing. I was nothing before I was born and might well become nothing after my demise. We humans most likely originated the belief in an afterlife, because we can't bear the thought of becoming nothing.

While alive, I can be quite confident that I exist. Here I am! In fact, Descartes felt he solved the riddle of existence through sheer contemplation: “I think, therefore I am.” Yet why am I me? Could I have been a dog or a mosquito? These questions appear to be meaningless, or at the least utterly unanswerable. How many of these questions about our personal nothingness stem from our being uncomfortable with death? Death can seem to be the ultimate loss of beingness.

Buddhism claims that the universe is neither something nor nothing... it's empty. This is another conundrum that people struggle with. Empty of what? Without a lengthy dive here into Buddhist teachings, it pretty much means empty or void of any fixed, permanent nature. We tend to view the fluid and flowing happenings in our world and try to create something solid and fixed from them. I am the same person I was many years ago, right?

But Buddhism says it's an illusion that something (at least something unchanging and stable) exists. So could nothingness just be the other side of the coin; the negative of that something? Am I back to Descartes' declaration that my existence simply depends on my thinking? So, when I'm not thinking, do I not exist? When I'm asleep, I'm unconscious. Do I exist then? When I am dead, do I become nobody? Endless questions. Nothing for answers.

[Note: A number of ideas in these five blogs stem from a fascinating book by Jim Holt: Why Does the World Exist? (2012)]

The Evolution of Hell—Part 2

When the USA was founded, most Americans leaned towards the Protestant concept of hell. They believed that hell was necessary as a deterrent against serious crime, as a way to keep citizens on the straight and narrow. If there was any doubt about the issue, the US introduced the death penalty as an additional threat to those who might contemplate committing major crimes.

But the trend on the part of some people to defang the threat of hell continued. Newer religions—Mormons and Adventists—brought some shades of gray back in. They advocated for the existence of several layers of hell—allowing one to escape everlasting damnation for the less serious sins.

America's involvement in major wars—the Civil War, two world wars, and Vietnam—convinced some of its citizens that we humans are able to create a kind of hell right here on Earth. In the wake of the two world wars many people around the world were very discouraged at the human propensity to create misery. Some of them even began to maintain that hell was not really a “place” at all that we go to after death, but is more a metaphor for the torment that we create in this life.

Evangelicals, however, have held fast to an eternal, single hell... there are no shades of gray. Yet surveys show that fewer and fewer Americans subscribe to this depiction of hell. In recent polls about three quarters of Americans do believe in God, but only about half of them believe in hell.

So we have a significant divide in America, not only in politics, but also about the nature of hell. Some say it's not real; that we make our own personal hell in this life. Others say that hell does exist and that we need it as a deterrent against human atrocities, or at least to induce people to lead a moral life. Those who believe hell may not be an actual place lean toward an interpretation of God as a loving and forgiving being. Those who take the second position believe that hell is necessary to keep people on the straight and narrow—in fact, some of them do so to literally frighten people into holding to their belief of hell.

I think it is important to remember that no one has died, experienced some kind of afterlife, and returned to tell us about it. Some people believe that they have gotten a glimpse of the afterlife, but we have no real evidence. Thus the very existence of an afterlife—let alone the reality of heaven or hell—remains a belief... pure and simple. And that belief, as I've described, has evolved over time. The truth of the matter is beyond the purview of science, so that discipline cannot help. It is the realm of faith, of religious doctrine. No doubt human views on the existence (or not) of hell will likely continue to evolve and change. Stay tuned.

The Evolution of Hell—Part 1

I was recently pondering the nature of people's beliefs about the afterlife and its influence on their behavior while still alive. The central doctrine of Christianity (the main religion of America) is that, upon death, one is judged for one's summary behavior in life, and the tally determines one's everlasting assignment: either the bliss of heaven or the torment of hell. You get one or the other.

I came upon a recent article in Aeon Magazine that helped me clarify the issue a little better. It was an evaluation of the historical account of the evolving beliefs about what hell is and its influence on people's lives—sort of the evolution of our concept of hell and what it's meant to us.

Ancient peoples (say, longer ago than 2-3 millennia) viewed the afterlife as a kind of permanent existence—sort of an eternal condition of just being... there was nothing tormented or punishing about it. The Egyptians are an example of this belief. The ancients saw punishment and reward as things that are not awaiting us after death, but happen to us while alive.

As another example, the ancient Jews did not believe in heaven or hell following death. They were convinced that punishment or reward must happen in life. I've long believed that this is the source of much of the angst expressed in the psalms: How can one account for that fact that the guy next door is having a great life, when he's really a wicked dude? I, a good person, have toed the line all my life and my life is not nearly as good. It's just not fair!

In the third century CE Origen (a Christian scholar and theologian) taught that, since God was love, hell was not eternal damnation, it was not endless punishment for one's sins. It was only a temporary place to “reside,” where one might experience some provisional punishment for sins, but everyone would eventually go to heaven; would finally return to God, fully restored and healed.

Origen's teaching did not endure, however, as 100 years or so after him Augustine established the Christian church's foundational doctrine: death led to eternal existence in either heaven or hell. It is, he insisted, a binary situation after all. But Augustine took the edge off this permanent, black-or-white, heaven-or-hell situation by introducing the concept of purgatory—as a kind of temporary hell, from which one could still manage to get to heaven. He introduced a bit of a shade of gray into the black and white heaven or hell debate.

The Protestant Reformation, however, brought back the binary afterlife. It resulted in being a kind of dire warning to people. It even made life a little scary for protestants, since one could become doomed forever for his sins, with no chance of atonement. You get once chance and that's it!

Then the Enlightenment ushered in a time when science and human reason took center stage on the human scene. Many Enlightenment thinkers rebelled against the Protestant dogma—contending that God would not be so cruel and harsh as to condemn people to everlasting torment, especially for sins that are not all that evil. Some of these Enlightenment folks even went so far as to abolish hell altogether.

More on hell next time...