Why not just get together and hang out and… I don’t know. Play party games? Talk? Watch movies? Why a ritual?
Because humans experience an emotion of “sacredness” (in scare quotes because although the feeling is commonly associated with religion, it doesn’t need to be), which many people think is fantastic. This blogger puts it pretty well:
Haidt, an atheist Jew, is not suggesting a particular path to that which is Divine. He is certainly not concluding, for instance, that religion is the only path to that which is divine. Rather, he is emphasizing that we all have a sense of what is sacred to us, what is “divine,” and we justify it in various ways. He cites Mircea Eliade’s The Sacred and the Profane, agreeing with Eliade that “sacredness is so irrepressible that it intrudes repeatedly into the modern profane world in the form of “crypto-religious” behavior.” He specifically cites Eliade’s conclusion that even a person who is committed to a “profane existence” has
privileged places, qualitatively different from all others–a man’s birthplace, or the scenes of his first love, or certain places in the first foreign city he visited in his youth. Even for the most frankly nonreligious man, all these places still retain an exceptional, a unique quality; they are the “holy places” of his private universe, as if it were in such spots that he had received the revelation of a reality other than that in which he participates through his ordinary daily life.
(Page 193). For Haidt, this passage perfectly characterized his own sense of “feeble spirituality,” one which was limited to “places, books, people and events that have given me moments of uplift and enlightenment. Even atheists have intimations of sacredness, particularly when in love or in nature. We just don’t infer that God caused those feelings.”
Haidt’s writing caused me to consciously realize that I too hold various things to be sacred, even though I hadn’t before consciously labeled them with the word “sacred.” Here are some of the things I would put in this category:
Holding the hand of either of my daughters while we walk.
Having an honest and intense conversation in a quiet place.
Beating back the temptation of the confirmation bias through self-critical thinking, thus recognizing that one was previously wrong about something important.
Being part of a sustained group endeavor to lessen real world human suffering.
Being in the presence of another person who is cheerfully working hard for the benefit of others.
Viewing certain photographs representing transitions in my life.
Reveling in the Milky Way stretching all the way across the sky.
Catching up with a good friend after many years apart.
Noticing the kind eyes of a good friend while we visit.
Rediscovering the intense beauty of something I had been taking for granted.
Creating high-quality art or music, or enjoying high-quality art created by others.
Resisting the temptation to edify one’s self above others.
Being consciously aware of places that were important to me, such as the house where grew up, or the location of my high school (even though it is now a shopping center).
Experiencing the natural healing powers of one’s own body after an illness or injury.
Holding my wife at the end of a day or the beginning of a new day.
I agree with Haidt that these sorts of experiences have a certain character to them that seems to “transcend” ordinary daily activities. It seems equally true that damaging any of these things, ridiculing them or preventing them would trigger a deep mourning, and even a sense of disgust, and that this emotion would go well beyond any sense of pragmatic loss.
Perhaps, then, the existence of the sense of the Sacred is something on which believers and nonbelievers can agree. Really, we should add experience of the sacred to that long list of things that believers and non-believers have in common. Perhaps we can learn to humbly allow each other to celebrate these moments in his or her own way. If only we could allow each other the freedom to experience such things without casting arrogant judgment, without acting like know-it-all experts of the ineffable. Without succumbing to the temptation to use others’ experiences of such elevated emotional experiences as the springboard to start arguments.
Your reaction seems to be “this ritual stuff smacks of religion, and I don’t want to get involved with any of that!”. My response would be, roughly, “Humans have this awesome in-built feeling that makes things feel beautiful and great and fantastic and helps us give moments of respite in the middle of all or other worries, and religion has made this land-grab and laid unfair claim on the whole experience. Well, why the hell should we put up with that? Why should the whole thing be labelled ‘religious’, when it’s a basic emotion of human beings that doesn’t require being religious in the first place? Religion has done a lot of harm already, and if we begin cutting off valuable and important parts of ourselves simply because we feel those parts are associated with an enemy tribe, we’re voluntarily letting religion do more damage. I say we stop that shit right here.”
Your reaction seems to be “this ritual stuff smacks of religion, and I don’t want to get involved with any of that!”.
That’s not my response at all. I’m afraid you seem to be reading things into my response that are simply not there. There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding here that’s causing you to set up (what is from my perspective) a straw man about objections to religion and then extensively knocking it down with arguments that have little bearing on what I’ve said.
I don’t know why that is; perhaps I’ve been unclear; perhaps you are rounding to the nearest common objection? In any case, my objection has nothing directly to do with these rituals “smacking of religion”. I do think, as I’ve mentioned in a previous post, that the desire for such rituals is stronger in people who come from a religious background and are used to such things from their youth. (I also have to wonder — and this is a bit of an aside — why we should use rituals that draw so directly from religion in form: someone (juliawise?) mentioned saying grace at the meal, and that strikes me as incredibly unlikely to be something an entirely non-religious person would come up with if given the task of “think of some cool and effective rituals”.)
I do experience the emotion of sacredness. What I find extremely offputting and downright scary is the collectivization of that emotion. I don’t like spectator sports, protests, and other mass actions for the same reason (substitute pride, righteous anger, or whatever other appropriate emotion for sacredness in those examples). I have absolutely no desire to subordinate my feelings of exaltation and transcendence to a group. While I can’t say that triggering sacredness in a collective “secular” context is as bad as triggering it in a collective religious context, the fundamental problem is the same.
someone (juliawise?) mentioned saying grace at the meal, and that strikes me as incredibly unlikely to be something an entirely non-religious person would come up with if given the task of “think of some cool and effective rituals”
I think grace is underrated. As I said, I’m used to silent grace about three breaths long. It gives you fifteen seconds to relax your body, look around at who is gathered, and think “We are about to sit down and eat together. It’s nice to be here.”
As has been extensively pointed out in Eliezer’s writings and elsewhere on this site, you can come up with a reasonable-sounding justification for just about anything; if you start with your bottom line filled in, the rest of the page is easy to write.
Here’s a question. You’re saying that the value of grace at a meal is that it gives you, personally, some time to whatever (relax, look around, think, etc.). You would therefore be perfectly ok with being the only one at the table participating in this silent grace ritual, or being one of only some participants, while the others merrily dug in and proceeded with conversation — yes?
I sometimes do it alone if no one else is doing it, yes. Or two of us may do it if the others in the family don’t want to. But I enjoy it more if we all do it at once. This seems to set off some kind of alarm bell with you, and I’m not sure there’s a good reason it should or shouldn’t set off alarms other than some kind of aesthetic preference.
This seems to set off some kind of alarm bell with you
Indeed it does. Because it’s a short step from there to social pressure on people who wouldn’t otherwise have any interest or motivation whatsoever in participating.
And here’s the thing: it’s a different sort of social pressure than the sort experienced by e.g. someone who doesn’t feel like playing a board game that everyone else at the party is playing, or someone who isn’t hungry when everyone else is deciding whether to go to a restaurant for dinner. It’s not “everyone else is doing it; join in, it’ll be fun!”; it’s not “your abstention is making the situation less convenient for everyone else”; it’s “you’re offending the group by not participating”.
I’m not saying that you apply such social pressure on people, only explaining the reason for the alarm bells.
I like the feeling of doing things together. We can probably both think of evolutionary and neurological reasons why humans enjoy group activities. Ultimately, like I said, I think it boils down to an aesthetic preference that isn’t right or wrong.
I see your point about not letting this become a social pressure on people who don’t want to participate, and I’ll try to be mindful of this.
Yes, at this point I’d have to agree that it’s an aesthetic preference, neither right nor wrong, though I think it’s a preference with potential dangerous consequences, on which point it seems we’ve also come to some sort of agreement. That said, I appreciate that you’ve given my view consideration; some of my comments may have come off as less tactful than I intended, and you and other commenters have been quite patient.
By the way, thank you for the link; as it happens, reading the post and some of the comments has cemented my views on rituals and group bonding. I think this comment by JenniferRM (and her longer comment just downthread) is very insightful and quite appropriate to the current discussion.
ETA: Another data point for the “some people don’t like this sort of thing” claim.
My family has a similar tradition of silence before meals. It provides a moment to relax and change mindset to meal time. It says that this is a time to spend together, and not just another thing to be rushed through. It’s nice if everyone participates, because that provides a pause in conversation and makes it easier to stop and relax.
I think before meals is not that unlikely a time working from a blank slate. There is something powerful about sharing food. It’s a bonding ritual. Using that same time to reflect and relax makes the moment of silence, grace, etc. more effective.
Agreed. As I mentioned at the last meetup, saying grace is a form of negative visualization, which allows you to gain more satisfaction from your meal than you otherwise would. It works by using framing-effects to change your “default” mindset from having the meal to not having it.
Separately and unrelatedly, I really feel rather unsettled by the fact that you’re using Eliezer’s writings as a kind of… I don’t know, mass? Sermon? It seems to me like that’s taking entirely the wrong message away from all of it… to actually enshrine it as a sacred tradition or ritual of some sort.
as being motivated by a dislike of religious ritual, as it explicitly mentioned “mass” and “sermon” as examples of things to avoid. But upon a re-reading, I can see that you were rather worried about Eliezer’s writings being promoted to a status where they wouldn’t be questioned.
Also, I might have somewhat used your comment as an excuse to make a general point I’d been wanting to make for a while. Sorry about that. But also thank you, for giving me an excuse to make it. ;)
All of that said, I can understand having a dislike of the collectivization of sacredness, I just don’t share it myself.
Heh, no worries. Rereading that quoted bit of mine, I can see the source of the confusion. Your revised interpretation of my intent is correct.
Incidentally, the term “sermon” as applied in this context is from Yvain’s linked review.
Also, I might have somewhat used your comment as an excuse to make a general point I’d been wanting to make for a while. Sorry about that. But also thank you, for giving me an excuse to make it. ;)
In Japan, it is customary to say “itadakimasu” before eating, which is a sort of grace, and which is not seen as religious at all.
My dad has a gracelike ritual which he has carried on despite having been an atheist for decades (people lean over to kiss those sitting next to them) which my mom and many others have been very happy with.
In Japan, it is customary to say “itadakimasu” before eating, which is a sort of grace, and which is not seen as religious at all.
Many languages have equivalents of bon appétit. That’s like “cheers!” but for food instead of drinks. (In English there’s “enjoy your meal” but IME IIRC it’s very uncommon among native speakers in non-formal situations.)
Hmm. Well, first of all, I don’t guarantee that what I’m thinking of is the same (or analogous) emotion as what everyone else here is talking about; after all, if I don’t experience it in the same way, or in the same condition, who’s to say it’s even the same thing at all? But to pursue that line of reasoning is to get into the problem of other minds, and that’s probably an unnecessary tangent. (Although this may be empirically investigated; perhaps check to see whether the same parts of my brain and e.g. Raemon’s brain trigger in situations we would both describe as being consistent with emotional responses to sacredness, etc.)
Anyway, to your question: the most recent thing I can think of was watching Cosmos (as in the Carl Sagan series, and yes, I really hadn’t ever seen it before this year). Some parts of Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality trigger a similar feeling.
As an aside, I think sacredness is not the most apt term for this emotion; I think a better word might be exaltation.
I think of sacredness and exaltation as overlapping circles in a ven diagram. The parts of HP:MoR that I assume you’re talking to are both exalting and sacred to me. They’re specifically about humanity rising up and conquering a powerful challenge.
Wandering out into the night and looking at the stars gives me a sense of sacredness that is not inherently about exaltation—My connotation of exaltation is a sort of power, and the stars make me feel simultaneously big and small, but in such a way that power is almost irrelevant. I’m just experiencing being this small but meaningful part of the universe. I’m not sure if my use of the words here is common though.
Mmm… I sort of see what you mean. What I meant was that “sacredness” does not feel grammatically appropriate to be naming an emotion. Also, “sacredness” in the moral-philosophy sense in which I’ve seen it used refers to an infinite value, something which may not be traded off. I wouldn’t apply the term to stars (don’t get me wrong, contemplating the cosmos does trigger in me that-emotion-to-which-I-think-we’re-both-referring, I just don’t think they have infinite value; to the extent that I think anything could sensibly be construed to have infinite value, stars just don’t qualify).
Because humans experience an emotion of “sacredness” (in scare quotes because although the feeling is commonly associated with religion, it doesn’t need to be), which many people think is fantastic. This blogger puts it pretty well:
Your reaction seems to be “this ritual stuff smacks of religion, and I don’t want to get involved with any of that!”. My response would be, roughly, “Humans have this awesome in-built feeling that makes things feel beautiful and great and fantastic and helps us give moments of respite in the middle of all or other worries, and religion has made this land-grab and laid unfair claim on the whole experience. Well, why the hell should we put up with that? Why should the whole thing be labelled ‘religious’, when it’s a basic emotion of human beings that doesn’t require being religious in the first place? Religion has done a lot of harm already, and if we begin cutting off valuable and important parts of ourselves simply because we feel those parts are associated with an enemy tribe, we’re voluntarily letting religion do more damage. I say we stop that shit right here.”
That’s not my response at all. I’m afraid you seem to be reading things into my response that are simply not there. There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding here that’s causing you to set up (what is from my perspective) a straw man about objections to religion and then extensively knocking it down with arguments that have little bearing on what I’ve said.
I don’t know why that is; perhaps I’ve been unclear; perhaps you are rounding to the nearest common objection? In any case, my objection has nothing directly to do with these rituals “smacking of religion”. I do think, as I’ve mentioned in a previous post, that the desire for such rituals is stronger in people who come from a religious background and are used to such things from their youth. (I also have to wonder — and this is a bit of an aside — why we should use rituals that draw so directly from religion in form: someone (juliawise?) mentioned saying grace at the meal, and that strikes me as incredibly unlikely to be something an entirely non-religious person would come up with if given the task of “think of some cool and effective rituals”.)
I do experience the emotion of sacredness. What I find extremely offputting and downright scary is the collectivization of that emotion. I don’t like spectator sports, protests, and other mass actions for the same reason (substitute pride, righteous anger, or whatever other appropriate emotion for sacredness in those examples). I have absolutely no desire to subordinate my feelings of exaltation and transcendence to a group. While I can’t say that triggering sacredness in a collective “secular” context is as bad as triggering it in a collective religious context, the fundamental problem is the same.
I think grace is underrated. As I said, I’m used to silent grace about three breaths long. It gives you fifteen seconds to relax your body, look around at who is gathered, and think “We are about to sit down and eat together. It’s nice to be here.”
As has been extensively pointed out in Eliezer’s writings and elsewhere on this site, you can come up with a reasonable-sounding justification for just about anything; if you start with your bottom line filled in, the rest of the page is easy to write.
Here’s a question. You’re saying that the value of grace at a meal is that it gives you, personally, some time to whatever (relax, look around, think, etc.). You would therefore be perfectly ok with being the only one at the table participating in this silent grace ritual, or being one of only some participants, while the others merrily dug in and proceeded with conversation — yes?
I sometimes do it alone if no one else is doing it, yes. Or two of us may do it if the others in the family don’t want to. But I enjoy it more if we all do it at once. This seems to set off some kind of alarm bell with you, and I’m not sure there’s a good reason it should or shouldn’t set off alarms other than some kind of aesthetic preference.
Would you be able to explain why that is?
Indeed it does. Because it’s a short step from there to social pressure on people who wouldn’t otherwise have any interest or motivation whatsoever in participating.
And here’s the thing: it’s a different sort of social pressure than the sort experienced by e.g. someone who doesn’t feel like playing a board game that everyone else at the party is playing, or someone who isn’t hungry when everyone else is deciding whether to go to a restaurant for dinner. It’s not “everyone else is doing it; join in, it’ll be fun!”; it’s not “your abstention is making the situation less convenient for everyone else”; it’s “you’re offending the group by not participating”.
I’m not saying that you apply such social pressure on people, only explaining the reason for the alarm bells.
I like the feeling of doing things together. We can probably both think of evolutionary and neurological reasons why humans enjoy group activities. Ultimately, like I said, I think it boils down to an aesthetic preference that isn’t right or wrong.
I see your point about not letting this become a social pressure on people who don’t want to participate, and I’ll try to be mindful of this.
Yes, at this point I’d have to agree that it’s an aesthetic preference, neither right nor wrong, though I think it’s a preference with potential dangerous consequences, on which point it seems we’ve also come to some sort of agreement. That said, I appreciate that you’ve given my view consideration; some of my comments may have come off as less tactful than I intended, and you and other commenters have been quite patient.
By the way, thank you for the link; as it happens, reading the post and some of the comments has cemented my views on rituals and group bonding. I think this comment by JenniferRM (and her longer comment just downthread) is very insightful and quite appropriate to the current discussion.
ETA: Another data point for the “some people don’t like this sort of thing” claim.
My family has a similar tradition of silence before meals. It provides a moment to relax and change mindset to meal time. It says that this is a time to spend together, and not just another thing to be rushed through. It’s nice if everyone participates, because that provides a pause in conversation and makes it easier to stop and relax.
I think before meals is not that unlikely a time working from a blank slate. There is something powerful about sharing food. It’s a bonding ritual. Using that same time to reflect and relax makes the moment of silence, grace, etc. more effective.
Agreed. As I mentioned at the last meetup, saying grace is a form of negative visualization, which allows you to gain more satisfaction from your meal than you otherwise would. It works by using framing-effects to change your “default” mindset from having the meal to not having it.
That was more of a joke. This is what was said: “To all whom it may concern, thanks.”
My apologies, then. I read this part:
as being motivated by a dislike of religious ritual, as it explicitly mentioned “mass” and “sermon” as examples of things to avoid. But upon a re-reading, I can see that you were rather worried about Eliezer’s writings being promoted to a status where they wouldn’t be questioned.
Also, I might have somewhat used your comment as an excuse to make a general point I’d been wanting to make for a while. Sorry about that. But also thank you, for giving me an excuse to make it. ;)
All of that said, I can understand having a dislike of the collectivization of sacredness, I just don’t share it myself.
Heh, no worries. Rereading that quoted bit of mine, I can see the source of the confusion. Your revised interpretation of my intent is correct.
Incidentally, the term “sermon” as applied in this context is from Yvain’s linked review.
Hah. Glad to provide, I suppose. ;)
In Japan, it is customary to say “itadakimasu” before eating, which is a sort of grace, and which is not seen as religious at all.
My dad has a gracelike ritual which he has carried on despite having been an atheist for decades (people lean over to kiss those sitting next to them) which my mom and many others have been very happy with.
Many languages have equivalents of bon appétit. That’s like “cheers!” but for food instead of drinks. (In English there’s “enjoy your meal” but IME IIRC it’s very uncommon among native speakers in non-formal situations.)
Can you explain what you did to experience it? (Sorry to go off on a tangent, but I’m curious what it feels like.)
Hmm. Well, first of all, I don’t guarantee that what I’m thinking of is the same (or analogous) emotion as what everyone else here is talking about; after all, if I don’t experience it in the same way, or in the same condition, who’s to say it’s even the same thing at all? But to pursue that line of reasoning is to get into the problem of other minds, and that’s probably an unnecessary tangent. (Although this may be empirically investigated; perhaps check to see whether the same parts of my brain and e.g. Raemon’s brain trigger in situations we would both describe as being consistent with emotional responses to sacredness, etc.)
Anyway, to your question: the most recent thing I can think of was watching Cosmos (as in the Carl Sagan series, and yes, I really hadn’t ever seen it before this year). Some parts of Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality trigger a similar feeling.
As an aside, I think sacredness is not the most apt term for this emotion; I think a better word might be exaltation.
I think of sacredness and exaltation as overlapping circles in a ven diagram. The parts of HP:MoR that I assume you’re talking to are both exalting and sacred to me. They’re specifically about humanity rising up and conquering a powerful challenge.
Wandering out into the night and looking at the stars gives me a sense of sacredness that is not inherently about exaltation—My connotation of exaltation is a sort of power, and the stars make me feel simultaneously big and small, but in such a way that power is almost irrelevant. I’m just experiencing being this small but meaningful part of the universe. I’m not sure if my use of the words here is common though.
Mmm… I sort of see what you mean. What I meant was that “sacredness” does not feel grammatically appropriate to be naming an emotion. Also, “sacredness” in the moral-philosophy sense in which I’ve seen it used refers to an infinite value, something which may not be traded off. I wouldn’t apply the term to stars (don’t get me wrong, contemplating the cosmos does trigger in me that-emotion-to-which-I-think-we’re-both-referring, I just don’t think they have infinite value; to the extent that I think anything could sensibly be construed to have infinite value, stars just don’t qualify).