Category Archives: Religion

Don’t Eat That!

For years, I’ve enjoyed a certain wry bemusement from the dietary restrictions imposed by the world’s various religions. It seems obvious to me that the vast majority of such rules were based upon common-sense recommendations for healthy eating from a pre-refrigeration age. Some rules do seem to have passed their “best-before” date: a favourite of mine that few of us obey is the rule that it’s OK to eat locusts but not prawns (Leviticus 11:9-22).

One such rule I learnt for the first time a day or so ago, as part of reading about the ancient Greek philosophers. It concerns the followers of Pythagoras – he of right-angled triangles fame – and the absolute no-no of eating beans.

Some background may help here. It turns out that Pythagoras was not just a mathematician and geometer but also a leader of a religious and political cult. Followers believed in reincarnation and that some or all living things – animals and plants – have souls. (There seems to be some measure of disagreement among the Pythagoreans whether all animals had souls and they were even less sure about plants, although they all seemed to agree that laurel bushes did.) Strictly interpreted, about all that was safe to eat was milk and honey: that steak or bunch of olives you’re tucking into just might contain the soul of your dearly-departed granny, so best avoided, eh? These rules were frequently broken, but they were all sure about the beans.

The Pythagoreans faded away about 2400 years ago and subsequent generations of Greeks thought the practice odd and speculated wildly on the origins of the “no beans” rule. Suggestions in circulation included:

  • the flatulence beans cause disturbs our sleep and mental tranquillity
  • beans are testicle-shaped
  • they are shaped like the Gates of Hades
  • they are shaped like the universe
  • they are used in allotting political office (Pythagoreans were no democrats)
  • buried in manure, they take on human shape
  • their stems are hollow and so connect directly to the underworld.

More modern research suggests a more prosaic reason: some people get ill after eating fava beans, which were common in southern Italy where Pythagoras and his cult lived.

What struck me about this story is how easily wild rumours and speculation can gain hold and have some currency – a problem which our modern, digitally connected world can make worse for those who inhabit only those parts of cyberspace populated by like-minded people.

More beans, anyone?

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Joining the Dots

This is a tale of Visions and Signs from God, and of the Tiger Who Came to Tea – eventually.

Jesus?

Throughout history, signs and visions from a God or gods have been reported in all sorts of places: lights and cloud formations in the sky, entrails, tea leaves (in pre-teabag days!) and other natural phenomena. They often lead to amazing acts of bravery or compassion – sometimes even to being burned at the stake.

Here’s a fairly typical example of a miraculous “vision” which made the press a few years ago:

image / likeness / jesus face on a piece of toast item sold on ebay no date available web grab no fee

Yes – it’s a representation of a classic portrait of Jesus – on a slice of toast.

Now look at this picture:

Random dots

It’s just a random set of dots. But, now watch this short video:

We can’t help but “see” moving human figures doing a variety of actions: it’s just moving dots. But our brains are very good at joining the dots. What’s going on? Why do our brains trick us in this way?

Tiger?

In evolutionary timescales, it’s but a blinking of an eye since our hunter-gatherer days.

Imagine a scene from this period. Times are hard for the tribe. Food is scarce. Two hunters are out looking for food to kill. In the middle distance, Hunter A notices a movement in the bushes. The subtle changes of light and dark patterns in the leaves and branches alert him instantly. It’s the tell-tale pattern of movement of a tiger on the prowl. He runs for cover. Hunter B notices nothing and carries on hunting.

Nothing happens. It’s just the wind in the trees.

The same story is repeated for ninety-nine days. Hunter A is hungrier and more tired than his companion, because of all the unnecessary running around. But on the hundredth day, there really is a tiger!

So the moral of this tale is:

  • Hunter A, tired and hungry though he is, goes on to pass on his genes to his children.
  • Hunter B is eaten by the Tiger Who Came to Tea on the hundredth day.

And that, dear reader, is an example of what Charles Darwin first called “natural selection”.

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First Doubts

Her name was Vicky, and I thought she was gorgeous! I was a shy 13 year old; she was the vicar’s daughter.

My sisters sang in the local church choir. We weren’t at all religious as a family – it was more of a social thing: meet up with friends, have a laugh at rehearsals, sing a few hymns, that sort of thing. There was talk in the group about going to confirmation classes. Rumour had it that Vicky was attending.

This is a sad tale of those early pangs of what we, rather drily, call sexual attraction. Those awkward, angst-driven days with strange yearning feelings, but without the social skills or experience to know what to do. Confirmation classes: that sounded tempting. Lots of opportunities to sit in the same room as Vicky – perhaps a glance, a smile, and then what?

There was one problem: this religion business. The school I went to was run on traditional lines: daily assemblies, two hymns, a bible reading. I was beginning to think that this didn’t make sense: that the belief in something or someone “out there” was not for me.

I already had the evidence to bust the two main myths that parents tell children. As an older brother, I was in on the secret that the tooth fairy was really my mum. (Incidentally, she was also the fairy who left sixpences under turned-up eggshells on the kitchen window sill, for no other reason than we’d had boiled egg for tea.) As for Father Christmas, I can still remember the Christmas Eve when, pretending to be asleep, I saw my dad come into the bedroom, torch in hand, to place the stockings and Christmas presents at the foot of the bed.

There was no such evidence proving the non-existence of God, but still I felt uneasy. If I went along with the confirmation classes, I would be doing it for an ulterior motive. Worse, I would be a hypocrite. As you can guess, I didn’t go, and Vicky never found out about my unrequited love.

Or at least, that’s the way I tell myself the story went. Truth to tell, it was probably my shyness that did it for Vicky and me.

But that’s how I can remember exactly how old I was when I first had serious doubts about God.

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