Humanist Hanukkah!

Happy Hanukkah everyone! While the stories behind this holiday are surely fraught with peril for secular Jews, I still love the rituals-- the lights, the songs, and the fried foods. This year especially, I am feeling the need for increasing light (especially since the sun is setting in Boston at, like, 4 pm these days).

If you are looking to light some candles for Hanukkah, and don't want to "Bless God" for "commanding us" or for "miracles," feel free to try out these blessings we're using, written by Rabbi Biber of Machar, the DC Congregation for Secular Humanistic Judaism.

Why I'm becoming a Health Educator

Note: I wrote this over a year ago, when I was just starting to look for work in health education. Today I start my first day as a 6^th/10^th grade health teacher!

            As a liberal religious educator, teaching has been all about facilitating the discovery of spiritual (= profound personal and interpersonal) truths for my students. Whether I am teaching Bible, ethics, or theology, my focus is always on creating space and excitement for engaged conversations about what our world/life seems to be, what our cares are within it, and how we can help ourselves and each other thrive.

            As this kind of “spirituality,” is rather universalistic, I am hoping to pursue work teaching it outside of Jewish contexts. The only setting that might actually pay me to do this work appears to be health education.

            According to my peculiar secular sense of spirituality, health education is very spiritual. Spirituality for me is largely about ‘tending’ to various fundamental aspects of human existence. My spouse Mimi Lowe Arbeit assures me that health education consists in the following topics:

• Nutrition/physical activity
• Alcohol, tobacco, drugs
• Reproductive Health
• Relationships
• Social/emotional learning (mental health)
• Violence prevention'
• Environmental/community health

             As a spiritual educator, these topics all fall one way or another into three ‘spiritual’ categories: 

1. Sense of self
2. Embodiment
3. Social living (including both interpersonal and societal levels)

If I could spend my life (or at least my work week) promoting healthy forms of the above categories, I’d feel pretty useful. As an educator, these categories have already been the focus of my classes—I’ve just been promoting them through Jewish content and themes. It’s time for new content to make the same point. I could address my specific spiritual interests far more explicitly in a health class. And with health education (if indeed there is work for me in it), I will be reaching a far more diverse audience—which satisfies me greatly as a Humanist.

Grace for Humanists

            As a formerly religious person, I still have a great romance with religious language and tropes, and am often tempted to try to reclaim religious language for secular purposes. In previous posts, I have explored the secular potential for words like spirit and sacred. In this post, I want to make the case for a secular engagement with grace and gratitude.

            As much as I find him to be a smug so-and-so, I think it was C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity who turned me on to the concept of grace. In my understanding, “grace” signifies the fact that the incarnation and sacrificial death of God-in-Christ was a “free gift” from God—something that humans could never have earned or effected for themselves. One who truly appreciates the freeness of God’s gift cannot but respond with love and reverence.

            Of course, the general concept of gratitude is evident throughout Jewish prayer and ritual life. The practice of saying berachot (blessings) in daily prayer and life (eating food, using the bathroom, seeing beautiful sights) reflects the Jewish awareness that God, not people, is the ultimate Creator.

            Unfortunately, when God is removed from the picture (leaving an empty throne), secular/humanist folk often lose any structured relationship with grace and gratitude. OK, there are still secular holidays like Thanksgiving that could conceivably be used for reflection and literal thanks-giving. We can thank our family, our friends, our government (if you’re into that), our industries (if you’re into that), etc. But in general I’d guess that a secular individual is unlikely to think much about grace or gratitude in a ‘cosmic’ sense.

            So here’s my case: This world, and this life, are gifts, even if there is no giver. Even if there is no God as Creator, that does not make us self-made people. We cannot take credit for the fact of human life, or any of its blessings. We are recipients of something beyond us. And, if we see our lives as good things, then it seems like we should be grateful. We should be thankful.

            But whom to thank? Yes, you can and should still thank the various people that may be more immediately responsible for the goodness in your life. And, on an ecological level, I think we can and should show gratitude towards the Earth (not like it intended to create or dole out blessings or anything), especially since we may need to reciprocate that goodness for our own sakes/survival. Gratitude towards the Earth could be shown through words, although without caring actions/policies those words are empty/pointless.

            On a cosmic level, there is no one to thank; yet, I think cultivating the feeling of grace and gratitude makes us more sensitive—to the joy in life, to our luck, and to a sense of obligation to pass on the blessings. For myself, feeling grateful makes me feel good, and makes me feel magnanimous.

            So, humanists, you don’t need to thank God. But still, be thankful.

I know the title of this post is misleading, since I didn’t actually write a liturgical “Grace for Humanists.” Feel free to write one yourself in the comments section.

What makes a ceremony Humanist? What makes it un-Humanist?

            This post is intended as an initial survey of possible answers to the above questions.

            What makes a ceremony Humanist is relatively simple—if it affirms the values of Humanism I’ve been invoking for the last three posts (or others from the Humanist Manifesto III), then it’s a Humanist ceremony. Here’s what that might look like: 

• Common elements: strictly naturalistic language, family/communal gathering, invocation of cultural-historical heritage, symbolic activity, the intention to “tell the story” of the life-cycle as it plays out in individual lives (“Everything we do creates a story. Let’s tell the story we want to tell.” – Rabbi Jerris)
• Baby-welcoming: meaningful name-giving, symbolic welcoming ritual, and public profession of shared responsibility and hope
• Coming-of-age: ceremony marking transition into maturity, possibly involving a talk on personal philosophy or the culmination of a meaningful project, with words and gifts relating to maturity given by adults
• Wedding: focus on the couple as individuals and as a unit in larger chain of life; affirmations of promises and shared goals made by the couple;  invitation to all witnesses to lend support; acknowledgement that marriage effected by life and commitment rather than by pronouncement
• Funeral/Memorial Service: framed as part of a process of loss and grief; looks at a person’s full life authentically, and “begins the legacy” of the person through a “celebration of life”; embraces the finality, tragedy, and universality of death

             The more controversial question ends up being “What makes a ceremony un-Humanist?” This question raises the difficult issue of determining the boundaries of Humanism—what’s in, what’s out? Over the course of the weekend training, the discussion of each life-cycle ceremony had its own testing of boundaries:

• General challenges: To what extent can a secular Humanist ceremony borrow language, actions, or objects from its religious counterparts? To what extent should a Humanist celebrant welcome, tolerate, or discourage religious, traditionalist, or nostalgic elements that may compromise their own values as a Humanist? To what extent should a Humanist ceremony explicitly define and endorse Humanism as a philosophy and life-stance?
• Baby-welcoming: Is circumcision rationally or morally defensible? Is there such a thing as a Humanist baptism (or, in general, a Humanist baby-welcoming water ceremony)?
• Coming-of-age: Is it good/right to pressure a child to produce a coming-of-age project? Are coming-of-age rituals little more than indoctrination? 
• Wedding: How feminist must a Humanist wedding be? Can a bride be “given away” at a Humanist wedding? What structures (or traces) of patriarchy can be brought into a Humanist wedding in good conscience?
• Funeral/Memorial Service: Is there a ‘more Humanist’ way to dispose of a body, and how much should environmentalism play a role in considerations?

 **STAY TUNED! Writing concise thoughts on these last five bullets points is going to take awhile.**

Why would Humanists hold a life-cycle ceremony?

            Before I get bogged down in philosophy, I need to acknowledge the glaring, more concrete reason I’m drawn to life-cycle rituals—I was raised in a (Jewish) culture of them. They were the signposts of life as I grew up, experiencing some ceremonies for myself, and witnessing countless others. This is the autobiographical basis of my attachment to ritual.

I begin with this point so as to highlight how an individual’s connections to ritual are often largely culture-driven (aka from nurture), and this is cause for great diversity in secular attitudes towards ritual.  If a Humanist has strong roots in a particular religion and its ceremonies, those early experiences can set that individual’s image of what meaning-making is supposed to look and feel like. And if a person was raised without much attachment to rituals, there’s a great chance they won’t develop a taste for them later in life. So, when it comes to Humanist ritual celebration, some people just will never be that into it. Some people are academic or activism humanists, but not song-and-dance humanists.

            So I won’t say Humanist life-cycle ceremonies are for every Humanist, or every human.

            For myself as a Humanist, I am drawn to life-cycle rituals by a need to mark time, to live intentionally, and to gather with others—and to accomplish these things by use of the symbolic in word, object, and act. Rituals develop our sense of meaning and purpose, our capacity for wonder and reverence for the triumphs and challenges in life. Our life-cycle ceremonies honor our relationships and celebrate our intersubjectivity. And we express these meanings and values by drawing on (and often creating afresh) the rich heritage of human cultures.

*(I’m just borrowing a lot of the language from the Humanist Manifesto III in this whole paragraph, but I think you’ll agree it echoes a number of the Existential/Feminist themes I mentioned in my last post.)

            As a Humanist, I would want to hold a baby welcoming ceremony in order to make explicit and public our joy, hope, and solemn sense of responsibility in welcoming new life and growing a family.

As a Humanist, I would want to hold a coming-of-age ceremony in order to give adolescents an opportunity to be recognized in their transition from childhood to adulthood, to be honored for developing and sharing their own thoughts and values, and to feel supported in finding new roles in the community and society.

As a Humanist, I have held a wedding because as a human in love, I wanted to make explicit and public the commitment, joy, and hope that follow from that love, and to be supported in this endeavor by friends and family. I held a progressive, Humanistic wedding in order to honor the egalitarian values over those of patriarchy which plague human relations.

As a Humanist, I will want a funeral or memorial service because the people I leave behind may need that ritual to help process their loss. And because, as an Existentialist, I believe it is healthy and meaningful for humans to engage with mortality—“It is better to go to the house of mourning… for that is the end of all men (sic), and the living will lay it to heart.” (Ecclesiastes 7:2)

Humanism as a philosophy, Humanism as a life-stance

            Humanism is a philosophy and a life-stance. As a philosophy, it is commonly agreed that Humanism eschews the supernatural, understands human goods as derived from human need, and embraces the human development of knowledge, ethics, community, and meaning-making. As a life-stance, Humanism is the individual’s and the collective’s living expression of the philosophy of Humanism.

            I tried to make the above description as diplomatic and broad as possible, but I also think that Humanism (as philosophy and life-stance) more often is crafted on a much smaller scale, by each individual and group according to their understanding of what it means to engage and pursue ‘the good’ in a naturalistic world. Personally, I tend to conflate Humanism with my take on Existentialism (with a focus on concrete existence, meaning, freedom, responsibility, anxiety, death, relationships, authenticity, social criticism, nothingness, the limits of rationalism) and my take on radical Feminism (with a focus on egalitarianism, social criticism, relationships, experience, authenticity, self-critical analysis, and social justice activism). My Humanism is a commitment to human flourishing insofar as it is pursued through all of the Existential/Feminist themes I listed. No doubt other secular thinkers will mold Humanism in the image of their own constellation of non-supernatural priorities and ideals.

            All well and good so far, but I’ve really only discussed Humanism as a philosophy. Humanism as a life-stance is all about what one does with their Humanist philosophy. A person could pursue Humanism in their career, in their politics and activism, or in their communal-cultural practices. I have mixed feelings about whether a self-proclaimed Humanist necessarily must pursue Humanism in all realms of their life—on the one hand, I don’t want to be the one to set or demand a standard; on the other, I personally find it difficult to see career, politics, activism, community, and culture as non-overlapping realms.

Regardless of how it is implemented, I think it is developing Humanism as a life-stance that is the main goal of the Humanist Community Project at Harvard. Developing Humanism as a life-stance is the best expression of the truth that Humanism is more than just atheism, which itself can only serve as the philosophical frame or foundation for a lifestyle. Humanism, as a progressive philosophy, includes the requirement that it be lived in order to be affirmed. Developing Humanism as a life-stance requires the creation of opportunities for people to actualize their Humanist values—in work, in activism, and in life and community with other Humanists.

Why I spent last weekend training to be a Humanist Celebrant

            This weekend I was fortunate to be part of an exciting and fascinating training on Humanist Celebrancy, facilitated by Rabbi Miriam Jerris of the Society for Humanistic Judaism and hosted by the Humanist Community Project at Harvard. For about three days, Rabbi Jerris talked us through the principles and pitfalls of facilitating the production of Humanist life-cycle rituals, including baby-naming/welcoming, coming-of-age, weddings, and funerals. We also had brief conversations about crafting ceremonies for name changing, sex/gender changing, coming out, and “coming-of-wisdom” (hat-tip to Rev. Q). I found the entire experience electrifying, and hope to write more about my thoughts and hopes following this training. For now, I will just explain why I attended:

            My primary motivation in attending this training was professional. I am hoping that my experience and aptitude as a teacher, workshop-facilitator, and Fabrengen leader means that I could have success officiating at meaningful life-cycle ceremonies, and I was looking to add this training to my credentials. After spending three days with a veteran celebrant like Rabbi Jerris, I do feel this training provided me with a fuller sense of each ceremony's structure and substance, in addition to raising my sensitivity to the philosophical and logistical minefields built into such events.

            I was also driven to attend by my passion for philosophizing about Humanism, rituals, the life-cycle, and general meaning-making. There were plenty of opportunities for that! Foundational philosophical questions dogged every discussion. While these questions were debated on and off all weekend, we never addressed them directly or comprehensively—a necessary frustration for a weekend training. Still, these are the questions that have kept my head spinning from Friday afternoon through this afternoon:

            “What is Humanism?”

“Why would Humanists hold a life-cycle ceremony?” and

“What makes a Humanist ceremony Humanist; what makes it un-Humanist?”

So many issues sprout from these questions, I don’t yet know where to start, and it will certainly require much more writing beyond the space of this blog-post to flesh out my own theory or approach to the subject of Humanist celebrations.

            While my thoughts on these questions remain uncertain and unorganized, my ultimate motivation to attend this training was my love and commitment to the generation and popularization of modern, secular, meaningful life-cycle rituals. Lack or loss of God does not, and in my opinion should not, signal lack or loss of meaning. Perhaps it’s my conflation of Humanism with Existentialism and radical Feminism, but I think all humans deserve (and can benefit from) opportunities for personal and collective meaning-making throughout life.  

And, hopefully, more Humanist celebrants will lead to more secular individuals having those opportunities.

Humanism belongs to everyone!

(This is part 4 in my series exploring “humanism.” Please read my intentions and precautions if you have not already.)

So far in this series I have focused on humanism as secularism, and done some work to highlight the secularist ethics that come hand-in-hand with many liberals’ religious faith. In this post, I will present a much more vague, open-ended argument, in order to begin building some aspects of my own philosophy of humanism.

In philosophical jargon, I will say: Humanism must be universally particular.

And in awesome quotable language, I will say: Humanism belongs to everyone.

Let’s back all the way up to the word “Humanism.” On the face of it, it is some kind of “ism” of the “human.” It could be a philosophy about humans, a philosophy for humans, a philosophy that places humans at the center of some domain. Who really knows, it’s just a word.

But how about this: Whatever “humanism” is, every human has a say in its meaning. I believe that the meaning of “being human” emerges from an individual’s sense and experience of being human, and so (at this early point in my inchoate philosophy) there might be as many humanisms as there are people. As a human, I think I have a unique, individual, and authentic perspective on what it means to be a human. But if your experience differs, am I ‘more human’ so that I could tell you you’re wrong? Of course not. I am just one person, as are you. We each bring overlapping and divergent notions of what it means to be a human, and “humanism” must be big enough for both of us.

What I am attempting here is a move for radical inclusivity (although at some point I will have to deal with those humans who understand humanity through a supernaturalist lens) and critical analysis of any concept of humanism that fails to take into account the ridiculous large range of human experiences.

“Whatever humanism is, it needs to be true to my experience, or else it is not as human as I am.” This is a challenge we are bound to give and to answer.

Are you a religious humanist? Take my brief/awesome quiz!

(This is part 3 in my series exploring “humanism.” Please read my intentions and precautions if you have not already.)

There is such a thing as religious humanism (is there?), aka humanism with a theology. In my last post I discussed institutional religious humanism, and in this one I will present an account of individual religious humanism.

My account of individual religious humanism is more problematic, but I will attempt it anyhow, if only to get the attention of those individual religious humanists. It’s important to target these people, as there are many Jews that do believe in God (however loosely or vaguely) but do not identify strongly with a Jewish denomination, and I think it could be valuable to the growth of humanism as a movement to point out to them ways in which they are ‘closet humanists’ (or to steal a phrase from Karl Rahner ‘anonymous humanists’). So, to my targets: my goal is to convince you to identify as a “religious humanist.”

First of all, go read the third Humanist Manifesto. Does it speak to you? Does it reflect a lot of your core principles? What is missing? Even if it’s not the most inspiring document to you, do you find yourself assenting to most or all of its statements?

Second of all, take this short quiz (I apologize that it is geared towards Jews, or at least those involved with western religion):

1)      Do you and your God share the same ethical values and priorities?

2)     A core Jewish value is that each person has inherent dignity because they are b’tzelem Elohim, made in the image of God. Without b’tzelem Elohim, would you still believe in the basic dignity of each person?

3)     Do religious rituals (esp. prayer) primarily bring you closer to God or closer to other people?

How’d you do? Here is some of my reasoning behind these questions:

1)      I’ve always found it a bit suspect when a person’s God is in total agreement with that person’s moral judgments. Frankly, it smacks of idolatry—posing a God as a complete affirmation of one’s own moral compass. Many people on both sides of the political spectrum will hand-pick the religious laws they prefer and ignore others. I’m not calling this hypocritical; I’m just calling it the natural human response to receiving a tradition that is not entirely humane. Thus my particular Jewish community reads the Bible and find a God who always commands social justice, and never commands genocide. I respect this kind of reading, but I want the inherent secularism in it to be acknowledged.

2)     A non-secularist would answer ‘no’ to this question. They truly see God as the foundation of value and worth in the world, without which there is no foundation of value and worth.

3)     Only in liberal religion will you find people who pray regularly, but not as a way to feel close to God. These people are focused on the human world. If you don’t like the term “religious humanist” then at least use “culturally religious,” as it appears that you are drawn towards religious ritual as a matter of cultural gathering, and not as a means of communication with God. (My apologies to God2-niks who think this question sets up a false dichotomy, but face it, if you find God “in-between” people, then expect me to peg you as a kind of religious humanist.)

So? Have I convinced you to call yourself a religious humanist (or at least, ‘culturally religious’)?

The only question remaining is, so what? So what if I (hopefully) cornered you into taking on this label?

I don’t know. This is as far as I’ve gotten in this line of thinking. You tell me what it means to persuade liberals to call themselves ‘religious humanists.’

Is there such a thing as religious humanism?

(This is part 2 in my series exploring “humanism.” Please read my intentions and precautions if you have not already.)

There is such a thing as religious humanism, aka humanism with a theology. Obviously a god that presides over a humanism is one with no authority or power. But, hey, if you believe that “It’s up to us” and you believe in a god, then I am willing to call you a humanist. Religious humanism can be found on the far-liberal spectrum of religion. Unitarian Universalism is an obvious example, but since I am Jewish I will focus on Jewish examples so as not to make a total fool of myself.

Religious humanism can manifest both institutionally and individually. Institutionally, I think that Reconstructionist and Reform Judaism are forms of religious humanism. Mordecai Kaplan’s dictum that Jewish tradition has “a vote, not a veto,” expresses my “up to us” principle. While our tradition (in all its religiosity) certainly can positively influence our beliefs and lifestyles, we refuse to let it hinder the development and expression of progressive values. Of course, the fact that Kaplan’s theology is one of God2 makes this an easy argument— God2 theologies lack a commanding God, and pretty much always affirm the human values of their adherents. Reform Judaism, while upholding a (modified) God1 theology, also ‘smacks’ of humanism to me. Reform Judaism is unapologetic about its rejection of divine law and commandment—and, for me, that goes a long way towards it overlapping with humanism (although, yes, there is much more to humanism than that).

As my account of individual religious humanism is more problematic, in the interest of space I will save it for my next post.

Just to acknowledge my biggest gap here—yes, so far, I am entirely conflating humanism with secularism. I hope you don’t mind—I do not have a robust concept of humanism yet. Also, I think the point that there are religious institutions that form their ethics by secular means (that is, regardless of God’s commands) is important. The presence of a secular meta-ethics within liberal religion is currently my main argument for the existence of religious humanism.

"What is Humanism?" Secular Ethics as Minimal Requirement

(This is part 1 in my series exploring “humanism.” Please read my intentions and precautions if you have not already.)

Humanism is already defined quite well by the third Humanist Manifesto. The manifesto affirms reason, compassion, experience, science, arts, nature, dignity, society, service, relationships, peace, justice, opportunity, individuality, happiness, diversity, equality, rights, liberty, and responsibility, all in the context of a naturalistic world. At first glance, all of these values are fundamental values of the human.

One line that particularly appeals to me is “Ethical values are derived from human need and interest as tested by experience.” I like to paraphrase this meta-ethical statement as “Human good is determined by humans based on the human experience.” To me, this is the heart of humanism, from which all of its other values flow. I believe humanism is the result of individual and collective self-reckoning, without the intrusion of absolutist claims based on the supernatural.

A general sentiment in the manifesto that appeals to me is “It’s up to us.” I’m drawing most specifically on the “ours and ours alone” phrasing which ends the document, but “It’s up to us” looms over the entire manifesto. The advance of knowledge, the development of humane values, the improvement of society and human welfare—humanism is the affirmation of our sole responsibility to these things. Nothing else in the world will take care of them for us. “Taking care” is solely the work of humanity.

If you do not share this “It’s up to us,” sentiment with me, then I don’t think I can count you among the humanists. Yes, human knowledge, values, and action are all fallible things, but they are all we have.

**I will end my post here, but I should anticipate negative reactions to the ‘in or out’ mentality in my last paragraph. In writing this series on humanism, I am indeed hoping to create some definitions that qualify or disqualify individuals and institutions as humanist. While I will also seek to lay out some broad principles that allow for diversity within humanism, I think the integrity of the term ‘humanism’ is strengthened by locating and affirming its limits.

"What is Humanism?" Intentions and Precautions

Intentions

As “secular spirituality” is not a recognized or respected phrase, I would like to do some writing staking my claims in “humanism.” I will use two main sources for my thoughts on humanism: the third Humanist Manifesto and the word “humanism.”

As someone with a previously strong religious identity, I will be examining humanism insofar as it might “do the work” that my religion once did for me, including:

o   Inform an ethical/political/activist philosophy

§  My specific agenda will be to establish humanism as a firm and unambiguous foundation for some or all of the following: anti-oppression work (radical feminism, anti-racism, anti-capitalism, etc.), environmentalism, peaceful dialogue, and great-love compassion.

o   Gather people for sharing life, wisdom, and mutual support

Precautions (responding to my intentions in opposite order)

I get that “Humanism” is not a single thing, nor is its current popular iteration one that is intended for or will easily lend itself to replacing religion. “Humanism” is very likely too broad a term upon which to found a culture or specific political agendas.

(My intention in this regard is to explore its cultural possibilities and to claim it for specific political agendas.)

I know that there is much more writing on Humanism than the manifesto, and I know that many people do not base their concept of Humanism on the manifesto. Oh well—I like it. I am writing all of this as an amateur, and hope to convince you through my thoughts, not my scholarship.

As these posts are all initial investigations, I may or may not ever arrive at a robust concept of “humanism.” Expect anything that I write here to touch upon one or two aspects of humanism, but to be missing many other pieces of the picture—at least at first. For example, my first few posts focus solely on humanism as secularism, and of course there is more to humanism than just secularism.