Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.28

To those who ask, where have you seen the gods, or how do you comprehend that they exist and so worship them, I answer, in the first place, they may be seen even with the eyes.

In the second place, neither have I seen even my own soul, and yet I honor it.

Thus then with respect to the gods, from what I constantly experience of their power, from this I comprehend that they exist, and I venerate them.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.28 (tr Long)

There was a time when a fiery debate about the existence of God would consume my attention, because I saw that if there was no question more ultimate, then there could be no question more important. I am still convinced of that, but I also see that many people, if not most, who enter into such discussions aren’t really interested in a reasoned argument, and they aren’t really interested in the importance of God either. They are already beginning with their conclusion, and they are interested in their own importance.

So I will now usually keep my thoughts to myself, while trusting that a genuinely open mind will look to the evidence of Nature, and will come to understand for itself, in its own time, and in its own way. No amount of posturing, or yelling, or dramatic speeches will change that. If I have a sincere respect for the truth, I commit a great disservice by trying to force it down someone’s throat.

Some will insist that the Divine is just a fantasy, a blind acceptance of something invisible and unknowable. But why do they assume this is the case? Are we to simply dismiss the direct experience of God, however we may understand or express it?

And can things not also be known indirectly, by means of their effects? If I already don’t wish to see something, if I choose to turn away, of course I won’t accept it. I need to take off my blinders if I wish to perceive the fullness of reality around me.

I will never be open to a direct experience of the Divine if I take it for granted that it is something separated and distant from my world. Could it be something immanent and immediate?

Even if I do not see it right in front of me, I need to consider how so many of the things I know are only known through other things. I see smoke, and I think fire. I see symptoms, and I think of the disease. I see a kind deed, and I think of love, though I have never seen love in itself, only how it acts upon others.

I remember the Buddhist story of the skeptical monk, who refused to acknowledge anything he couldn’t see with his eyes, until his master pointed out that surely he believed in the wind.

Fighting about God seems so pointless to me. Might it not be better to first look and listen? 

Written in 10/2009