2. IT WASN’T THE JEWS Of course, faith is notoriously hard to define, but “belief in God” presents a common-sense starting point. It’s true that we sometimes use the word “faith” to describe non-monotheistic religious traditions such as Buddhism or Hinduism. But even if we acknowledge the marginal presence of something we’d call faith in such traditions, it seems clear that monotheistic religions emphasize faith in ways that other religions do not. Any religious practice implies a basic belief in one’s own objects of worship. That sort of belief, common to all humanity, is the part of our larger religious instinct that we might call the mental faculty of faith. It permits worshippers to accept the existence and divinity of gods whom they themselves do not worship, as people did, for example, in ancient Greece and Rome. Monotheism, by contrast, at least the kind we’re familiar with, requires disbelief in the existence or divinity of other objects of worship. In saying “My God is the only God,” monotheists also say, “Your god isn’t god—unless it’s the same as my God.” Faith, in this sense, encompasses more than mere religious belief. It also entails a negative belief about other kinds of belief, a peculiar kind of exclusivity found only in true monotheism. We might call that exclusive sort of belief the tradition of faith. Admittedly, all kinds of religion rely on tradition. But let’s try a thought experiment. Imagine for a moment that we could wave a magic wand and make everyone on the planet forget everything they know about religion. At the same time, we can erase every word of religious scripture, along with all religious representations in art and literature. The idea is to imagine a state of total religious amnesia, so that we’d all be starting from scratch. If we wiped all religion away, anthropology suggests, it would rapidly reappear in new yet familiar forms—but probably without monotheism, assuming that history is any guide. Religion in the broad sense clearly represents a human instinct, since we find it in all human societies. But we can safely say that there’s no instinct for monotheism as such, since no society ever came up with the idea independently after it first appeared. There were no monotheists until the idea of one God was invented, and all monotheists ever since have worshipped their one God only because they got the idea from those who came before them—which may have something to do with why monotheists speak of being converted, or “turned together” toward the worship of a single, unitary God. If you worship that sort of God, you share in that single, though by now hardly unitary, tradition. Some will object that their faith is entirely a matter of their own internal attitude, but my point is that this internal attitude wouldn’t exist, and never has existed, without a tradition to guide the shaping of it. The monotheistic tradition of faith seems to focus and amplify the mental faculty of faith, concentrating the idea of the divine into a single, exclusive deity. That the world’s monotheisms descended from a single ancestor probably also helps perpetuate the common perception that it all started with Abraham. Who else but the Jews, those famous monotheists from way back? Yet religious scholars agree that this isn’t quite the sort of belief that Abraham would have recognized. Modern research suggests that the religion of Abraham and his fellow Hebrews was not, strictly speaking, monotheistic at all, but “monolatrous.” In other words, during Abraham’s time and for many centuries afterward, the ancient Hebrews worshipped not a God whom they held to be the sole deity in existence, but simply one god among many, a god whom they conceived of as being more powerful than the jostling plethora of lesser gods worshipped by other peoples, but who nonetheless shared the stage with them. This essentially polytheistic outlook accords with the frequent mention of other gods in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament), for example. It also accords with the way that Abraham’s faith has the feel of a contractual arrangement. When religious scholars use the word “faith” at all to describe Abraham’s attitude to his God, it’s generally coupled with a word like “juridical.” The God that Abraham worshipped went under various names—El Elion (“God Most High”); El Olam (“God Eternal”); El Shaddai (“God the Mountain”); El Ro’i (“God All-Seeing”)—and appears to have been a version of the indigenous god El whom the Canaanites worshipped before and after Abraham’s arrival. El was the Canaanite high god, but under him served other gods such as the fertility god Baal and the water god Yam. Perhaps Abraham and his kin adopted El as their own, accepting him as the same god who had urged Abraham to leave Ur and seek out the land of milk and honey in the first place. Only some seven centuries later, it’s thought, did this God reveal to Moses that his real name was Yahweh, and that he wished to be known and worshipped under that name henceforth. Worshipped, still, it seems, as one among many: “Thou shalt have no other gods before me,” says the First Commandment, implying that other gods were indeed a possibility, if an odious one. Some of them may have been behind the staffs-into-serpents trick by which Pharaoh’s wise men tried to out-conjure Moses’s brother Aaron, before their serpents were eaten up by Yahweh’s. Nor, like El before him, does Yahweh appear at first to have been thought of by the Hebrews as a divine creator, at least not according to the picture we get from the last century or so of biblical scholarship. Scholars believe that not until the eighth century bc was the first biblical account of creation composed (starting at Genesis 2:4), and that only a couple of centuries later did an anonymous priestly author write down the full-blown version we get starting at Genesis 1. By that time, the Jews were rejoicing in their return to Palestine after the Babylonian Captivity (c. 586–538 bc). The ruler responsible for freeing them, the Persian conqueror Cyrus the Great, had absorbed Babylonia into his growing empire and incurred the Jews’ eternal gratitude by sending them home. Enjoying a sense of revival and optimism, the Jews built the Second Temple in Jerusalem; Jewish priests acted as ambassadors to their Persian rulers. Jewish life comes down to earth at this point. The days of the prophets are fading. From here on in, the Jews will be concerned less with further prophecies than with the proper interpretation of past ones. In the coming centuries, the Jews did indeed take the final steps down the long road to true monotheism. But they didn’t travel that road alone. Neither they nor their new conception of faith evolved in a vacuum. As it turned out, the Jews weren’t the only or even the first people in this era to think about God as a single, unitary divine entity.
Posted on: Sun, 15 Dec 2013 21:13:12 +0000
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