November 24, 2009
Dear Colleague:
The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein says that he suspects that he is religious–or that he is inclined to consider religion seriously–for two reasons. One is: "I wonder at the existence of the world." And the other is: "feeling absolutely safe. I mean the state of mind in which one is inclined to say, 'I am safe, nothing can injure me whatever happens' " (Norman Malcolm, Wittgenstein: A Religious Point of View? Cornell University Press, 1994).
Well, by these criteria, I am religious. Not being a philosopher, I confess that I never seriously wondered at the existence of the world. I take the existence of my computer and my condo completely for granted. But this is not quite the whole story, for I do wonder at the existence of the people I meet every day. There is this student, for example, sitting at the other side of my desk. We are chatting and we will soon get up and go to the Sunroom for coffee. I find it bewildering that when I came to Madison twenty-five years ago, which seems to me yesterday, he didn’t even exist. I mean his parents probably didn’t even know each other then. They met by chance, fell in love, married, and on the night of consummation, one lucky spermatozoon out of billions fertilized the egg, and–lo, and behold–the student was conceived and, in the course of time, born! He–this particular young man–sitting next to me, telling me about his trip on the Trans-Siberian railroad last year, suddenly seems to me pure miracle. But if he is a miracle, then so are all the others I meet in Science Hall and on State Street. I am surrounded by miracles, by which I mean existences that can in no way be predicted.
Wittgenstein’s other reason for being religious is the feeling of being "absolutely safe." Now, that’s curious, isn't it? Overwhelmingly, people are religious for the opposite reason–they feel unsafe. Fear is the foundation of religion. God offers safety, but only if his people obey his thousand-and-one commands to the letter, and only if they show their worminess by crawling to him on hands and knees. The human sense of insecurity, already made acute by the threats of nature from poison ivy to thunderbolt, is immeasurably increased by the threat of God's displeasure should one of his rules and regulations be wittingly or unwittingly trespassed.
"Feeling absolutely safe" implies an absolute confidence in God’s goodness. If I ever feel safe, it is fleetingly. But even the briefest of such feeling builds self-confidence, enabling me to be open to the wonders of existence, grateful to my creator for being allowed to witness them and fearful–the only right fear!–that my own existence may be more bane than joy to my fellow creatures. I say creatures rather than just humans, for even if it be granted that I have done little harm to my fellow humans, the harm I have done to animals and plants is beyond measure. And may be that’s another reason for being religious: the "safety" I feel is not so much that no harm comes to me as that any harm that does come, as it surely will, is–if I have any moral sense left-- mere justice, another token of God's goodness.
Best wishes,
Yi-Fu
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