Religion and Superstition

May 4, 2003

"It is not the purpose of religion to lift us up out of the ordinary world into some supernatural world of special revelation. Its task is to show us the divine in the midst of the human; the eternally significant as it appears within the framework of the commonplace, day-to-day events."

--Harry C. Meserve

For example, the formidable Oxford English Dictionary [OED] defines superstition as an "unreasoning awe or fear of something unknown, mysterious, or imaginary, especially in connexion with religion . . . an irrational religious belief or practice; a tenet, scruple, habit, etc. founded on fear or ignorance" [my emphasis].

Religion, on the other hand, is defined in the OED as "action or conduct indicating a belief in, reverence for, and desire to please, a divine ruling power; the exercise or practice of rites or observances implying this . . . recognition on the part of man of some higher unseen power as having control of his destiny and as being entitled to obedience, reverence, and worship."

Some would say that such a belief in an unseen power is irrational, but the OED seems to imply in these definitions that this is not really the case. In other words, the OED seems to assume that belief in God is rational, or can be rationally proven; something which, even as a theist, I find questionable, despite the many Herculean attempts to do so that have been made by theologians down through the ages.

Let's look at some more contemporary definitions, from the American Heritage College Dictionary [AHCD]: there we find superstition defined as "an irrational belief that something unrelated to an event influences its outcome . . . a belief, practice, or rite maintained by ignorance of the laws of nature or by faith in magic or chance." This seems more helpful: "Step on a crack, you break your mother's back"; break a mirror and it's seven years bad luck; and so on.

But like the OED, the AHCD defines religion as "belief in and reverence for a supernatural power or powers regarded as creator and governor of the universe . . . a system grounded in such belief and worship." Not so helpful.

Obviously, a lot is riding on how we choose to define religion. The word itself, as I have pointed out on many occasions, actually has nothing to do with belief. It's literal definition is "to tie fast" or "to rebind (together)." And not all dictionary definitions of religion have to do with belief. Even the OED includes a definition of religion as "devotion to some principle; strict fidelity or faithfulness; conscientiousness, pious affection or attachment." Helpful.

Among modern theologians and religious writers, religion has acquired many other definitions than the traditional, belief centered ones. The contemporary German ethicist Dorothy Soelle writes that "The religious need is the need to experience and to confer meaning. . . . It is through a religious act that people get meaning over against meaninglessness, wholeness over against being fragmented, courage over against fear." The 20th century process theologian Alfred North Whitehead once wrote, simply, that "religion is what a person does with his or her solitude."

The great 19th century theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher defined religion as "essentially contemplative . . . the immediate consciousness of the universal existence of all finite things, in and through the infinite, and of all temporal things in and through the Eternal." Similar to Emerson, who was indebted to him, Schleiermacher said that religion "is to have life and to know life in immediate feeling [that is, in Emerson's words, "at first hand"] . . . it is a life in the infinite nature of the whole, in the One in the All. . . ." In other words, according to Schleiermacher, religion does not seem to be about belief at all, but about feeling.

William James, in The Varieties of Religious Experience, also defined religion as "the feelings, acts, and experiences of individual[s] . . . in their solitude, so far as they apprehend themselves to stand in relation to whatever they may consider the divine."

Albert Einstein, not a theologian but a profound thinker, once wrote that

To know that what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty, which our dull faculties can comprehend only in the most primitive forms--this knowledge, this feeling, is at the center of true religiousness. In this sense, and in this sense only, I belong to the ranks of the devoutly religious. . . .

I would offer to you the idea that true religion has much to do with humility, and with the suggestion and acceptance of our ignorance in the face of mystery. Superstition, or "magic," has to do more with pride: the probably false view that we are really in control of our destinies, and that by performing certain acts or holding certain beliefs we can actually determine the outcome of a situation.

It is clear that religion as commonly understood contains many elements of what we understand to be "superstition." Thus, to speak directly to Pat and Michael's question, a baseball player crossing himself before going up to bat may be engaging in an act of superstition, if the player believes that by doing so he can somehow influence the location of Pedro's fastball, or conjure a hit, or avoid a beaning.

On the other hand, if in crossing himself the batter is paying homage to Jesus' famous prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane--"thy will, not mine, be done"--then, I would argue, his action is religious.

If an object is considered "holy" or "sacred" because it is believed to hold magical power, that is superstition. If it is venerated in the Hindu sense of darsan, as possibly offering a glimpse into the meaning and reality of the divine, that is religion.

If we pray with the idea that we can influence or change the course of events, that is superstition. If we pray with the idea that we might change ourselves or be strengthened to meet adversity, that is religion.

If, as I once read in a prayer diary in a college chapel, someone writes, "Dear God, please help me to pass my math exam," one wants to offer up, "studying works better." The idea that God will actually intervene in my math exam is superstition (and also, by the way, it is both arrogant and trivial). What the student should have prayed for was to acquire better study skills and the diligence to practice them, and perhaps for forgiveness for failing to do so sooner. That would be religion, or closer to it: the humble desire to be better students, or people, than we have hitherto been, and the recognition that it is ultimately up to us.

Reading "signs" or meanings into coincidences or other occurrences may be human nature, but it is closer to superstition than to religion. Contrary to Daniel Webster's claim that the coincidental deaths of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson on the same Fourth of July was "proof from on high that our country and its benefactors are object of his care," he might just as well have considered it to have the opposite implication. Better yet, he might have considered it for what it was, a happy coincidence, and not a sign of anything special at all. However, to find meaning in the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune sounds to me a lot like religion, and one of the best arguments for understanding human beings as homo religiousus, man the meaning-maker. Consider Abraham Lincoln's more realistic and mature view (in the Second Inaugural Address) that the Civil War, rather than being a punishment of God inflicted on the South alone, was better understood as a consequence to the nation as a whole for its implication in the great sin of human chattel slavery.

It is also clear that most religions contain elements of what we can only define as superstition, or irrational belief, but which are considered to be true by their adherents. Thus, when Jesus is transfigured and carried into heaven during the Pentecost, that is religion, according to Christians. When the prophet Muhammad is claimed to have had the same kind of experience, that is superstition --according to Christians. Belief in the Greek pantheon of Gods is superstition; belief in a triune God surrounded by seraphim and cherubim is religion.

We can see by our previous definitions, however, that these are false dichotomies. In fact, I am convinced that belief has little to do with true religion, anyway. While it may be very comforting to "take it to the Lord in prayer"--I do it myself, sometimes, and even have long conversations with my deceased grandparents--we must be very careful and realistic about our expectations around outcomes.

The idea that God spares some and not others as part of a divine plan influenced by my prayers or devotion seems to me the worst kind of superstition. Humility before the mystery of why one is spared another is not, and my powerlessness to influence that outcome, would seem to me to represent the highest form of religion. "Thy will, not mine," means just what it says. Even Jesus, according to the story, could not avoid "the bitter cup" of his own crucifixion and death. Did that mean that God didn't love him enough or consider him special enough to spare?

It is pretty hard to accept that we don't have the kind of control that we wish we had. Because we are only "a little less than Gods" (Psalm 8), we have the illusion of control. But we are not as powerful as we think. Contrary to appearances, I do not really believe that my premature celebration of Red Sox victory in the sixth game of the 1986 World Series was the cause of Bill Buckner's infamous error. And, besides, Bob Stanley's lousy relief pitching had already set the stage for defeat. Hadn't it?

As a Unitarian Universalist, coming from a tradition which values the use of human reason even in matters religious, religion for me comes closer to a definition also found in the American Heritage Collegiate Dictionary: "A cause, principle, or activity pursued with zeal or conscientious devotion." It is the conviction that religious truths, like any others, must be questioned and tested; that we must align ourselves with universal and humane values; that my knowledge is limited; that we are surrounded by impenetrable mystery; that I can change and that I must be open to the possibility of change; that the religious quest is the search for at-one-ment with the whole of creation; and that the search for wholeness and health, both spiritual and physical, is the true meaning of salvation.

All in all, I trust that you can see how difficult the question about religion and superstition really is. I do not claim to be free from all traces of superstition. The illusion of control is a powerful one, and difficult to give up. And I am not at all sure that intuition does not play a role in all of this, and that we may possess powers on which we have not yet fully laid hold.

As Mary Jean Irion wrote in the morning's reading, religion at its best must be about saying "Yes to life and its highest values." That is the true purpose of our gathering here today: not to tear down cherished beliefs, nor to accept them unquestioningly, but to "adventure boldly and explore" and "to go forward in the power of love" and "proclaim the truth that makes us free." Truly, it is good to be together in this great quest. Amen.

The Rev. Harold E. Babcock