That appears to intensify the issue of feeling God has reneged, fudged, or altered the covenant; now one is not viewing life in process, which might still produce even a shred of that fulfilled promise, but rather finds hope only in the final resolution, which allows no alteration. Now the final criteria, the actual division of humanity is made if not before. The fates are cast. For example, when a loved one dies who never converted to the religion of his surviving spouse, how can she, the “special” one, the “believer,” who is promised such benefits, now deal with the apparent disparity of their fates, which she has always been taught? Can she accept the obvious division she always took for granted after being taught it by her religious group, and simply “quit thinking” of her husband, the answer that God gave Ezra, and just put the blinders on and resolve to enjoy her life, no matter what he has to endure? Or, will she begin to find ways out of this awful division of humanity, ways to dilute its severity, or speculate possible escape routes out of the excluded group? Or does not the survivor begin to rethink the whole divisive scenario and decide that since she and her husband were neither one perfect or flawless people, God’s grace in judgment would likely be more generous than she had been taught? It is either that, or continue to worship her fickle, unjust, or impotent God, or perhaps even abandon her religion. Does she get God off the hook?
But she might push the questions further. She might perhaps go so far to ask whether these pictures of God’s alleged ultimate “justice” really do God any favor, or rather paint God as an arbitrary tyrant? Or, she might decide that God’s expectations were really too high, and either God would awaken to that before Final Judgment, or at least prepare some form to mitigate the severity of the suffering. Perhaps her religion, after struggling a bit with this problem, provides her with a method of her husband’s actual ability to escape that eternal fate by working his way out of Purgatory or simply doing his time there and then being released to join her in Paradise?
Or, she might go so far as to ask whether all these pictures of justice, of a covenant with God, of a division of humanity with disparate fates, of God’s Final Judgment—all of them are simply human opinions placed onto the lips of “God” by the religious leaders, so was never a divine plan or fact, never was Absolute, but mere human ideas. Where there is a picture of a human questioning God, are both sides simply human ideas and positions?
In any case, this can be quite a “burden” to know how far to push the question, so some people seem never to be bothered enough to raise it. All of it is built around a certain mythical metaphysics that presupposed not only a god, but the God or Absolute, which ironically presupposed God’s ability to intervene in human history as well as God’s right to set the standards humans are to live by, as well as God’s right to divide the world and punish accordingly. Is that what it means for “God to be God”? All these mythical forms originate from a specific, antiquated metaphysics, which threaten modern science as well as a sense of morality. That’s the heart of the problem of an Absolute, which offers human support for the believer, while refusing to allow the believer to be any more inclusive, no matter how irrational or callous it may turn out. This can be a real “burden.”
While it is obvious that the promises made to the believer were quite extravagant and now seem not to be fulfilled consistently, for one who dares to question the arbitrariness or injustice of the different responses in these examples, the religious authorities may remind her that God’s ways are above human ways, as high as the heavens are above earth. Or, as Ezra was told by God, essentially “I’m God, and you’re not!” Or as Søren Kierkegaard, the great Danish philosopher/theologian put it, there is an “infinite qualitative difference between man and God.”
Now one of the attractions of embracing a religion was that many intelligent and moral people have formed a community to which you would belong if you joined, and this valuable community would provide you with the comfort that comes from knowing that you fit in, that you have many people supporting you, that you have gained status, you are accepted, or you belong to a large group that “bows the knee.”5 That implicit or explicit offer has great appeal, although once a person joins the group, it sooner or later begins to show its limitations by its exclusiveness. There is little question that it can become a burden heavy to bear if one feels the least empathic toward those outside the group. Does one dare to have friends outside the group?
If the question is raised as to why the convert was unaware of the exclusiveness of the group, of its divisiveness, prior to converting, there may be many answers. Since most conversions that are not coerced are due simply to family ties or close friendships rather than conversions of total strangers, this promise of an embracing community, a fellowship that confers status to those who belong, has always lurked in the close background of every religious appeal. Reasonably few people really want to be cut off from their friends and family, so it is only quite natural that one might choose to belong to the same religion, even if the parents had not always considered their child a recognized member of the group. The new status promised may be simply that the community finally honors one as an adult through a bar mitvah or bat mitvah, or, it might be one joining a religious order for one’s education, or it could be even as grand a status that one is now a part of the “elect,” chosen by God, one of the few believers in contrast to the “infidels.” The conferred status, in any case, quickly eclipses the need for the community to be inclusive.6 The group has the secrets to life, the direct connection with the Absolute, or has become privy to the only or straight Way or the Dharma. Each convert simply merges with the group; submission and homogeneity are expected by the leaders.
Thus, the strange dogmas or stories one is taught and expected to embrace seem not totally unreasonable no matter how mysterious, other-worldly, or stridently intolerant of “outsiders” they appear, and the peculiar rituals and symbols seem innocuous if only a little weird. This is presupposed, especially if a part of the dogma is that the God or gods controlling the human scenario have themselves divided humanity by their own selection of one certain group of people. Otherwise, why would one’s family or friends or others, who are all reasonable people, belong to such a group? Many times, the group’s long history puts its hand on the scale to convince the new convert that since he does not yet know what they know, he should just trust their authority. When the authority supplements this claim of the religion’s truth by its historical endurance over centuries or its size with more spectacular claims of miracles, mystery or prophecy, it becomes even more palatable and convincing, wholly reasonable, a higher wisdom.
One moves easily beyond any negative idea of unreasonableness, not only by belonging to a reasonable group but also because they all seem to think it necessary to believe in these miracles and prophetic insights as prediction of this precise religion. It becomes an even more obvious choice when the authority appeals to “revelation,” “inspiration,” or “ultimate truth,” the “teaching authority,” the “sacraments,” the sacred scriptures, or the “dharma,” or they accept the claim that the final “authorities” of the religious group themselves know the meaning of all these mysterious things—especially if the authorities make their retrospective appeal of absoluteness by tracing their lineage back many generations or even many centuries. Either dogma or rituals can be tolerated, no matter how unreasonable or unproven, as can the legitimacy of dividing humanity—if one can simply find the community to be supportive enough, or at least not feel an outsider to his or her circle of family and friends. Distinctive garb, gestures, and recitations go a long way in making one feel very special. In some religious cultures, one’s parents even bow down to pay homage to the adolescent novice monk if he chooses to be part of the “order.”
Not that anyone ever articulated it to themselves in those terms prior to becoming part of the group. Nor did any describe it that way after becoming a member of the group, for the association’s conviction is that the persuasive element is the truth, the divine power, the Absolute, the awakened moment of satori,7