Monday, April 25, 2016

When Does a Parody Become a Religion?

Recently, a prisoner in the Nebraska State Penitentiary, Stephen Cavanaugh, filed a lawsuit against prison officials for discriminating against him and failing to recognize his chosen religious beliefs and practices, to wit: Cavanaugh claims to follow the Flying Spaghetti Monster. The judge in the case, John Gerrard, recently dismissed Cavanaugh's claim, on the basis that the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (or FSMism) is in fact a parody and not an authentic religion.[1]

There is quite a bit that is valid in Judge Gerrard's decision; it seems clear that FSMism began as a protest against the Kansas State Board of Education when that august body was seriously considering introducing intelligent design theory into public school science classes. After all, intelligent design deliberately does not posit the nature of the designer, and Bobby Henderson, the founder of the Church of the FSM, wrote a letter to the KS BOE urging their acceptance of the FSM as the designer.

Additionally, and perhaps more damningly for Cavanaugh, the judge notes that, while “the Court does not ultimately address whether Cavanaugh's beliefs are sincere, it bears noting that his pleading strategy is not entirely consistent with authentic religious convictions . . . His vagueness [regarding the tenets and practices of FSMism] looks less like inadvertent omission and more like an attempt to prevent the Court from recognizing FSMism for what it is.” I also imagine Cavanaugh's request for relief, including $5 million for “deep emotional, psychological, and spiritual pain resulting from not being allowed to practice” his religion did not help his case.[2]

Judge Gerrard is also careful to note that -

It bears emphasizing that the Court is not engaged in — and has been careful to avoid — questioning the validity of Cavanaugh's beliefs. The Court is well aware that it "should not undertake to dissect religious beliefs because the believer admits that he is struggling with his position or because his beliefs are not articulated with clarity and precision that a more sophisticated person might employ." United States v. Ali 682 F.3d 705, 710 (8th Cir. 2012)

He goes on to state that “to read [the FSM Gospel] as religious doctrine would be little different from grounding a "religious exercise" on any other work of fiction,” for example, claiming that Vonnegut's or Heinlein's works could be read as scripture for Bokononism or the Church of All Worlds, respectively. But this begs the question of when is a text fiction and when is it scripture? The Epic of Gilgamesh is a smashing good read, but most readers today would be more likely to categorize it as a fictional narrative from an ancient time, rather than religious scripture, even though 3000+ years ago it was, in fact, scriptural. And Judge Gerrard does note that using fiction as a source for actual religion is not impossible, given that there is an actual movement based on Heinlein's work.

Gerrard believes that “to read the FSM Gospel literally would be to misrepresent it — and, indeed, to do it a disservice in the process. That would present the FSM Gospel as precisely the sort of Fundamentalist dogma that it was meant to rebut.” The key question, though, is when does a parody cease to be a parody and to become something else, to become a living faith? The Discordian Society was deliberately created to refute the idea that deity had to be both male and serious [3] – perhaps not exactly a parody in the way that FSMism could be called a parody, but a protest movement against the religious and social straitjacketing of the '50s, '60s, and '70s.

However, a cogent argument can be made that the Discordian Society has become a robust faith. Gerrard cites Africa v. Pennsylvania, (1981):

First, a religion addresses fundamental and ultimate questions having to do with deep and imponderable matters. Second, a religion is comprehensive in nature; it consists of a belief-system as opposed to an isolated teaching. Third, a religion often can be recognized by the presence of certain formal and external signs.

Those “deep and imponderable matters” include issues that are existential, teleological, and cosmological in nature. An examination of the forums at principiadiscordia.com reveals serious discussion and debate on all these issues, and Discordians continue to create thoughtful (if humorous – and why can't a real religion include humor?) new scriptures, such as the Chao Te Ching, which, while a parody of the Tao Te Ching, is also a reasoned examination of consensus reality and one's conscious and unconscious behaviors and attitudes toward that reality.

The same could be said for the Church of the Subgenius, which also started as a parody of religion, in this case of the over-the-top Christianity as represented by 20th century televangelists like Robert Tilton, but progressed to become something more for those who are engaged with the Church. The Church of the Subgenius posited July 5, 1998, as “X-Day,” the day when aliens would come to “rapture” up all the Subgenii and destroy everyone else. They held a large gathering at a campground in New York state, and after X-Day, when no one had been raptured and nothing destroyed, a series of posts on Subgenius internet groups revealed a sense of shared community and personal meaning – dare I say, even spirituality – on the part of those who had been there.

One could also point to Jediism, and the fact that 390k+ people reported Jediism as their religion on 2001 census forms in England and Wales, which prompted the UK Office for National Statistics to grant Jediism its own code for processing purposes, though they were quick to note that this did not convey upon Jediism any official status as a protected religion. It must also be granted that many of those 390k+ people probably listed Jediism as a joke; however, there are those who do not consider it a joke, based on the time and thought put into the development of Jedi doctrinal statements.

When does a parody become a religion, then? When does a text become sacred, become scripture? It may be true that to take the Gospel of the FSM and treat it as gospel would be to pervert or subvert the author's intent, but once an author writes a text they have little to no say in how that text gets used. The Apostle Paul, for example, certainly never intended his occasional letters to become scripture, and yet, here we are. While I do understand Gerrard's decision (and I can't help but feel I would have decided against Cavanaugh myself), I do worry about the precedent this decision may set with regard to future cases involving small, new, or “funny” religious movements.
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[1] Reading the decision, Judge Gerrard seems to have taken pleasure in writing it, since he got to read and cite the Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster extensively.

[2] I mean, really, what's a guy in prison going to spend $5 million on – all the cigarettes?

[3] See the interview with Greg Hill in the Loompanics edition of the Principia Discordia, in which Hill states, “I set out to do what my society told me is impossible – make a real religion from a patently absurd deity.”

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Why I Wrote The Testament Of Judas, Part I

Because when I read this:

The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many.

It immediately led me to think of this:


Welcome

Welcome to the new blog.  Thanks for stopping by.

In case you're wondering what you might come across, here's a recent example of my thinking:

Driving out to my father's place a couple of weeks ago, I saw an official-looking sign that read, "Drown Campers."  That seemed to me like an odd thing for the Forest Service to recommend; whoever put up that sign must be fed up with their job and all the people traipsing around the wilderness day in and day out.

Then I realized it actually read, "Drown Campfires," which made a good deal more sense.

Still, I thought, if you did the former, you wouldn't have to worry about the latter, would you?