The Empty Mirror
Chapter 72: Anointing of the sick
“During that medieval era," he pondered with profound seriousness, "it stood as a stage where faith and reason wrestled to find harmony through the intricacies of medieval theology." With his gaze lost on the horizon of medieval thought, he continued his dissertation: "Scholars of that time endeavoured to reconcile Church doctrines with philosophical introspection. A fortress of arguments was erected where it was demonstrated that the existence of God could be grounded on rational foundations." He then questioned how these sages envisioned the divine nature: "For them, God stood as the origin and the end of all existence, the supreme essence upon which reality itself rested. However," he expressed with acute insight, "does such a conception not constitute an excessive reduction of the divine, limited by human finitude?"
His words, imbued with veiled criticism, pointed out the dogmatic tendencies of medieval theology, which sought to delve into the recesses of the divine mind through the mere exercise of human logic. "But if God is truly infinite," he argued convincingly, "how can finite human mind grasp His essence?" With these ponderings, he acknowledged the merit of medieval theology in its quest to comprehend the transcendent, but did not overlook its limitations. "Perhaps," he concluded with a mixture of resignation and hope, "the truth about the divine will always remain beyond the reach of such theological and philosophical constructs." In that moment of reflection, he allowed himself to value the sincere pursuit of truth by medieval thinkers, while maintaining a prudent distance from their categorical conclusions.
"Is not reason, perhaps," he began solemnly, "the beacon erected by the lights upon the pillars of faith and superstition? With its categorical imperative, it urged to guide actions according to maxims that aspire to become universal laws. But how does this apply to the enigma of divine existence? Can they, through pure reason, reach a consensus on His being?" He paused, pondering on the words of existence in thought and how this axiom stood as the irrefutable foundation of human existence. "If I doubt, I think; if I think, I exist. But where then does the essence of God reside? Is it an emanation of thought, or is thought an emanation of Him?". The monologue delved into the depths of existential thought, where existence precedes essence and the human being finds themselves thrown into a world lacking intrinsic meaning. "They were challenged to forge their own destiny in an indifferent world.
If God does not exist, are they then the sole architects of their destinies? Or is divine absence what plunges them into absolute freedom, a freedom that overwhelms them with the burden of constructing meaning?". He posed a question to the ether, as if awaiting the shadows of his chamber to respond: "If the existence of God lies beyond the reach of proof and refutation, are they not then compelled to an eternal quest? Is not this quest itself a form of faith, a faith in reason or in the possibility of finding answers?". With each question, he delved further into the intricacies of the human condition and the pursuit of truth. His dialogue resonated like an echo of the history of thought, a dance between the luminescence of reason and the shadow of the unknown.
"The universe," he whispered with reverent admiration, "is subject to laws that, although immutable, defy the capacity to comprehend reality beyond the limits of perception. The mystery of gravity has been unveiled, that invisible force which holds together the celestial and terrestrial realms. But what does this reveal about divine existence? Is God the supreme architect of these laws, or are they merely the manifestation of an autonomous nature?". He delved into the depths of theory, into that singular moment of infinite density and temperature that spawned all known existence. "If the universe began with a great explosion, does it constitute the prime cause, the 'unmoved mover' spoken of? Or is it merely another link in an eternal chain of cosmic events, without beginning or end?". He paused in his dissertation to reflect on the speculations of planets, those that could coexist with our own.
"If we inhabit a mystery, what implications does this have for the notion of a singular creator? Could God be the architect of countless mysteries, each with its own laws and constants?". With each question, he delved deeper into the vastness of the heavens, into the intricacies of invisible particles, into the very essence of the fabric of space-time. "A world has been unveiled where reality is governed by probability and not by determinism. How does God fit into a world where uncertainty is a fundamental principle?". And so, amidst equations and imaginary theorems, he continued his tireless quest, always aware that, although wisdom may explain the how, it may never unravel the why. His transcendence was a tribute to the unquenchable human curiosity, a recognition that, on the path to truth, wisdom and faith are inseparable companions in the journey towards heresy.
"The early expansion," he pondered, "that proposed theory, leads us to reflect on an exponential expansion of space in the fleeting moments following the primordial explosion. Is this grand expansion the manifestation of an invisible hand, the craftsmanship of a creator, or merely a natural consequence of the physical laws governing the cosmos? Is the universe the fruit of a fluctuation in primordial non-existence?" Thus, he questioned the mysteries of time and space. "If time had its genesis, what existed before? Is 'before' even a valid question in a state devoid of time? How to conceive eternity when existence is chained to the temporal flow?". He then meditated on theories where the world is just one among an infinite multitude.
"If indeed there are multiple planets governed by disparate physical laws, could each have its own artisan, or is there a single creator for all? Or is the concept of God dispensable in such a vast and diverse scenario?". With each question, he pursued understanding the intersection between wisdom and divinity. "Wisdom has led us to the limit of knowledge, but is it capable of crossing the boundary of the unknown to unveil the ultimate truth? Or is faith responsible for filling the voids left behind by reason?". And so, amidst theories and conjectures, he continued his introspection, always aware that the search for truth is an endless journey, a path paved by both logical evidence and philosophical contemplation.
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"Does life, in its vast complexity, follow some design? Are we faced with an indication of intelligent design, or simply with the mysteries of natural laws yet to be scrutinised?". He pauses, pondering the implications of his question. "If we contemplate the intricate structure of inheritance, the machinery residing within the body, can we perceive the footprint of an artisan? Or is natural selection the forger of such wondrous marvel?". With each inquiry, he delves deeper into the labyrinth of uncertainty and curiosity. "Evolution has guided them to this point, from rudimentary organisms to complex beings capable of questioning their own existence. But is this process a result of chance, or is there something more at play? Let us take, for example, the human eye," he continues, "a prodigious creation of biological engineering. How could evolution, step by step, shape something so exquisitely suited to its purpose? Is this an indication of design, or simply a reflection of the limited understanding of the forces at play? What do transitional fossils reveal, those lost links connecting ancient species with modern ones? Do they not constitute evidence of a gradual and directionless process? Perhaps the answer does not lie in the simplicity of a 'yes' or a 'no'."
"Why do they nourish faith?" he wonders, his voice resonating with the solemnity of the topic. "Faith," he begins again, "is a phenomenon as old as humanity itself. But what prompts mortals to uphold the divine? Is it perhaps a survival mechanism, a balm amidst the vastness of the cosmos and the uncertainty of existence?". He glides among the stars seeking to find answers in their touch. "Religion offers community, meaning, and structure. It endows them with narratives that elucidate the unfathomable, that shed light on chaos. Is this yearning for understanding and belonging what compels them to believe?". And furthermore," he continues, "the study of the brain uncovers regions in the brain that activate with religious and spiritual experiences.”
"Are they, perhaps, destined for the transcendent, to yearn for something beyond the tangible?". He pauses, meditating on the duality of the human condition. "Perhaps the inclination to believe constitutes both a decree of biological evolution and cultural evolution. Religion not only assuages existential concerns but also strengthens social and formative bonds." Finally, he concludes: "Believing, then, may be an innate response to life's most intrinsic questions, a quest for meaning in a world fraught with enigmas. And as long as they persist in inquiry, faith will remain a reflection of humanity."
"The faith in the divine," he declares, "is not merely an individual matter but the backbone of society and enlightenment." "Religions," he continues, "have forged entire nations, imbued laws, moralities, and customs. But what is the social and enlightening purpose of such beliefs? What intricate weavings weave into the cohesion and identity of a community?". He reclines in an ancient coffin, intertwining his hands in a gesture of reflection. "Religion can serve as social mortar, amalgamating peers with shared values and purposes. It confers a sense of belonging and a framework for collective interaction. And furthermore," he adds, "faith in the divine is often adorned with rituals and festivities that strengthen group fraternity and perpetuate social heritage. These collective events are vital for maintaining social structure and transmitting traditions. However," he muses, "they must also ponder how religion can be used to justify power and authority or how it can unleash conflicts when different creeds collide. Ultimately," he concludes, "the social and cultural function of faith in the divine is multifaceted. It brings cohesion and meaning, but it can also become an ideological battleground. What is undeniable is that religion remains a potent force in society, an impostor.”
"What force drives man to embrace something more transcendent than himself? Could it be an innate longing, a yearning for the sublime?" He pauses, pondering the duality of the human condition. "Let us contemplate the relationship between the brain and religion, that discipline which scrutinises the brain in its exploration of the divine. Does it not suggest that mystical experience is perhaps a cerebral manifestation, a response to the environment?" But then, are these experiences authentic or mere chemical illusions of living beings? What determines the authenticity of an experience? If the brain interprets these perceptions as genuine, does it perhaps enclose them in an intrinsic truth for the individual?
Let us meditate on the study of society in religion. Do beliefs in the supreme serve a social function, granting cohesion and meaning to communities? It is plausible. Religion has shaped men and civilizations. But does this mean that faith in the transcendent is merely a social artifact, lacking foundations in objective reality? Then, how do we discern between subjective and objective truth? Is it possible to arrive at a definitive conclusion regarding the existence of God? Perhaps truth is not a destination but a path. A perennial process of inquiry and questioning that leads them to better unravel their own essence and that of the space that surrounds them. Or maybe not.
With the licence of florid speech, let us delve into the depths of the mystery that envelops the spheres. "Is it perhaps feasible?" he began to inquire, "that multiple divinities, a pantheon, govern with their inscrutable clairvoyance the strings that criss-cross the cosmos? How, oh ephemeral mortals, could you encompass with limited mind the very essence of the universe? Might it not be that the pantheon, rather, reflects infinite facets, a mirror of the various disciplines and beliefs of man? Let us consider, then, the possibility that there is not a single artisan, but several, each with their domain and realm. What implications would such a stance carry for the perception of the world? Would it not be more plausible to think that the diversity of nature and the complexity of life are the consequence of multiple forces in harmonious coordination rather than a single dictate? And if that were the case, how do these gods relate in their mutual interaction?
"Would it perhaps be an orgy of power and concord, or rather a perpetual conflict reflected in the misfortunes of humanity? Could they find, perhaps, traces of their influence in the disciplines they study, in the wisdom they yearn for, in the reason that guides them, and in the art that elevates them? Wisdom instructs on the natural order, on the laws that govern this vast planet. Could these laws, then, be the decrees emanating from the gods? Methodical doubt prompts them to question their own existence. Might these inquiries, perhaps, be an echo of divine voices? Art, that manifestation of the human soul, could it bear the inspiration of a plural divinity? What, then, will be the truth? Will it perhaps be singular and unique, or rather multifaceted like the pantheon we have ventured? Could they, through dialogue and introspection, approach a more intimate understanding of the reality that surrounds them? Perhaps truth is like the sun, which though it is one, is reflected in the waters of the world in countless flashes of light. Thus, each god, each deity, stands as a reflection of a higher truth, a part of a whole that transcends the sum of its parts.”