Faith Schools: Creators Of Faith Or Disparity?

Faith schools. They raise very interesting questions, and although not directly in the media spotlight at the minute, the issue of the place of faith within a modern twenty-first century society is constantly being addressed at the minute; whether discussing same-sex marriage or child adoption policy. Surely as a responsible society though we should be questioning how we educate the next generation, including what exactly we are inculcating, and perhaps more importantly, the environment in which our children learn.

As a theist, I am always going to argue against the marginalisation of religion within society, and equally I’m going to vehemently justify the need for a ‘religious society’ (whatever that may mean) in 2012 and beyond. It naturally proceeds that I would therefore place a large emphasis on religious education. There will be many theists that will agree with much of what I’ve said up to this point; however, many will disagree with how I believe such education should take place. Simply put. Not within a monotheistic educational setting (i.e. not in a traditional faith school).

Young people today are growing up surrounded by commercialism and vulturine capitalism. The single most deadly effect of such an upbringing (and no I don’t think I’m exaggerating by using the word deadly) is to remove any sense of kinship and human unity, and to centre their entire existence on the idiosyncratic ego. Did the second commandment to not worship idols really just refer to molten and wooden images of deities? Or were the ancient Israelites referring to an unchecked ego? In such an age, it seems clear that we have a responsibility to promote collective unity, and a sense of moral responsibility. But unity can only be achieved within an engulfing atmosphere of tolerance and respect (and I’m certainly not referring to the Respect political party). Herein lies the central problem of faith schools. I am convinced that despite their good intensions, they are actually perpetuating the aforementioned problem through fixating on distinctions. When we desperately need to feel a sense unity, we’re promoting sectarianism and disparity.

I light of this I would advocate for two possible solutions to the problems of faith schools. The first solution would be to completely do away with such schools altogether, thereby placing the emphasis of religious education upon local communities, and individual families. I can see no reason why a parent that sees the inherent worth in a particular faith, cannot find the time or opportunity to educate their child in that faith at home. Equally valid is the point of local communities working together to ensure sufficient resources are in place for the teaching of religious faiths to young people. The second potential solution involves adapting our current faith schools to ensure the successful promotion of tolerance and respect. I envisage polytheistic faith schools. That’s not to say schools where students worship different deities throughout the day, but rather schools that place a large emphasis on religious faith (larger than state schools) without focusing their curriculum on a single faith. Of course a Jewish school would tend to place more emphasis on Judaism than say Sikhism, but I think it’s totally unacceptable for students leaving a faith school to have gained knowledge of only a single religious tradition. But of course people will say ‘how can a Christian school possibly teach their children about Buddhism when Christianity and Buddhism are completely opposite theologies’. What they really mean is ‘why should we teach our children something that we don’t believe is true?’ Without ranting about the obvious contradiction of how faith schools still find it acceptable to teach creationism over evolution, we desperately need to move away from this idea of religious faith and truth (whatever truth actually means. Try and define what ‘true’ means to yourself.). Until the various religious traditions relinquish their apparent monopoly on faith, and accept that the construction ‘faith and true’ is an inherent oxymoron, then we still have a long way to go I’m afraid.

50p Rate Of Tax: A Matter Of Heart Over Head.

George Osborne’s budget has gone down like a speech concerning the stupidity of the Maginot Line delivered in the heart of Paris. I want to make it clear that I don’t agree with everything in the Budget. In fact, I think some aspects of it make for a depressing read; however, I am adamant that a significant majority of the bad press it has received is due to nothing more than the Labour Party’s pathetic scaremongering and opportunistic outbursts.  Nothing has been ravished more than the cutting of the 50p rate of income tax for those that earn more than £150,000. For many people this tax cut is about nothing more than principles. In light of this, I’m not going to concentrate on the numbers surrounding the issue, but rather give an electronic oration based on principles.

I don’t agree with David Starkey on many issues, but I think he was wonderfully eloquent when he blamed two female MPs of thinking with their hearts rather than their heads (I want to stress that I don’t agree that such a mentality is limited purely to the female sex, but rather I concur that many people tend to think with their hearts instead of their heads in many political situations). The debate around scrapping the 50 rate of tax is perhaps a perfect example of how people simply allow reason to give way to pure, unmitigated emotion.

I really can understand why an apparently unnecessary tax break for the wealthiest in society is unpalatable at a time when many families and individuals on low incomes are struggling financially (and I don’t just mean because of Labour’s attempted indoctrination). But I implore people to use reason, and to try to rationalise such a move. Let’s be honest. The coalition government inherited an astronomical fiscal deficit due to New Labour’s toxic obsession of spending more money than we actually had. In light of this, some incredibly tough decisions are required to be made (the majority of which I am sure are yet still to come). As a direct result of attempting to diffuse this fiscal ticking time bomb, public spending has to be reduced to a minimum. One of the most important results of this slashing of public spending is that we cannot rely on the public sector to generate the colossal number of jobs required to extract large segments of our society from their current state of unemployment. Only the private sector can be relied upon. If we have to place our hope in the private sector, then it seems logical that we should also ensure that incentivising the private sector is one of our highest priorities. Does a cut in the 50p rate of tax appeal to the capitalist ‘demons’ that we have to rely upon? Apparently (if you ask them) it does. Therefore cut the 50p tax rate we must. How on earth can we refuse to listen to those people that will alleviate our current miseries? Elementary. We can’t.

If we refuse to attempt to stimulate the economy, and remain wedded to the nauseating idea of taxing the wealthiest in society to prop up an increasing number of welfare dependents, then we will have failed as a responsible society. In a different economic situation I would have agreed (probably not entirely) with Labour that removing financial burdens from millionaires isn’t a top priority. But in the current dire situation that one finds oneself in, I’m all for cutting the 50p rate of tax. Why you ask? Because it will indirectly avail the most vulnerable within our society. Interestingly enough, there is evidence to suggest an inverse correlation between revenue generated and tax rate i.e. higher tax rates actually bring in less than lower rates.

As I set out in the beginning though, I’m not coming at this argument from a numbers point of view (and I can guarantee that neither will the Labour party), but from a point of principle: I believe in helping the most vulnerable (which by the way doesn’t include those people that can work but simply don’t) by whatever means necessary. Your heart may tell you that means taxing the rich to oblivion. My head tells me the inverse. Which is right? I’ll let you decide.

Animal Sacrifices

Considering my blog is called ‘A Tree Of Life And All The Other Stuff.’, it seems appropriate to have my first post centred on A Tree Of Life (the expression ‘a tree of life’ comes from the Book of Proverbs and refers to the Torah, for whose that didn’t have a clue what I was on about). This week’s parashah (Torah portion) of va’yikra (first five chapters of the Book of Leviticus) is a perfect example of how an apparently outdated and primitive practice contains some truly eternal concepts.

Va-yikra is a parashah that is often dreaded. I’ve heard it said that some people have begun to read the five Books of Moses, and abruptly stopped at Va-yikra (The Book of Leviticus). A quick read reveals why. The first five chapters are entirely concerned with animal sacrifice and ritual slaughter. The precise details of how to sacrifice various animals, and which parts can be eaten, are painstakingly described in exquisite detail. The idea of sacrificing an animal to appease a vengeful God is one that instantly meets most readers of the twenty-first century with unmitigated animosity.  It radiates primitiveness, and is apparently wholly irreconcilable with today’s modern theologies.  But is this the case? Is there nothing we can extract from such an apparently abhorrent concept? I believe there is.

It’s often misunderstood that sacrifices were intended to appease a deity. That is, to achieve expiation for a sinful act. A closer reading of va-yikra, however, suggests this wasn’t entirely true. The first three chapters fail to mention once any idea of expiation or purification. In other words, the sacrifices were more of an attempt to show immense gratitude towards God for all the material benefits man received from the earth, but also, and perhaps more importantly, they acted as a means to thank God for their simply being alive. An offering was described as an isheh, a gift to God, which led some commentators to suggest that just as we feel closer to a person when we give them a gift (e.g. birthday gift), so too the Israelites felt closer to God after giving him a gift (don’t worry about my use of the masculine personal third-person object pronoun. That’s whole a whole essay in itself). It’s also worth mentioning that the offerings were referred to as isheh reich nichoach l’adonai (gifts of pleasing odor to God). The idea of God physically smelling the aromas was never endorsed, however, Eliezer Ashkenazi suggested that “Should the worshippers imagine that they have atoned for their sins by bringing a sacrifice, the Torah informs them that the sacrifice is merely a foretaste of proper behaviour in the future, even as a smell of food is only an anticipation of the meal.” This idea of being a foretaste of future behaviour finds strength when we think about where the animals to be sacrificed came from? They were brought to the temple by individual Israelites; that is people willingly brought their own livestock, and therefore livelihoods, to be transformed into a gift to God. There is a very powerful message behind this, in that people could instantly overcome their own egotism, and realise their potential for selflessness.

The final two chapters of va-yikra, however, do mention the idea of confessing sin, and expiation. There is a very good reason why confession is mentioned so little in this parashah. The situations that call for confessions are those that are private acts, after people have come to realise their guilt on their own accord. Other acts that involve a second party are never found to require confession. Why is this? Hidden beneath all of this is a principle that transgresses millennia. Sinful (again a whole essay on the meaning of sinful is required) acts concerning a second party never require confession to God, as everything needed to amend the situation can be found within the situation i.e. the offender and the victim. No confession to God can remove the hurt and pain afflicted onto one person by another: only active reconciliation between the two persons can heal any wounds. It simply isn’t God’s place to forgive one man for causing distress to another: only the victim can exculpate the offender. Private acts of sin, however, that do not directly affect a second party are placed between the dimensions of God and man, and necessitate active confession to God.

The final chapter of the parashah concerns sins of omission, whilst chapter four specifically addresses sins of commission. In this nuance we find the final branch of this part of the tree.

We often associate sin with wrongful acts. According to our individual faiths we all possess some idea as regards sin. Atheists and agnostics will also hold certain actions as being ‘sinful’, although a different word may well be used. What the final chapter of va-yikra­ does, is challenge our idea of sin by specifically addressing the ritual sacrifices associated with sins of omission. We are provided with a framework of offerings for acts that we fail to do, as appose to acts that we succeed in doing. In other words, we are challenged to think that sin encompasses failing to act when we have a responsibility to do so, as well as performing morally repugnant deeds. The Talmud teaches us that one who fails to inform a court of law of knowledge regarding a crime is “innocent before a human court but liable in the sight of God” (BT BK 56a). Sin is much more than simply bad things we do. It also concerns things that we fail to do. 

I’m not for one second advocating a return to animal sacrifices (interestingly there were also grain sacrifices as well), and I’ve failed to mention the various different types of offering (i.e. burnt, wellbeing etc), because I didn’t want the emphasis to be placed on the physical action of sacrifice, but rather to exhume the recondite principles that animal sacrifice rested upon. It’s important to understand that the Israelites were surrounded by peoples that offered sacrifices to their deities (some sacrifices were even human), and so it simply wasn’t realistic for them to conceive of worship without sacrifice. It has been argued that once God saw the Israelites worshipping the Golden Calf, he was convinced that humans needed animals as part of their worship routine, and so the sacrificial system was created to address this fundamental need of the time. What is important however, is that the act of animal sacrifice was turned on it’s head by the Israelites, and a multitude of revolutionary concepts was added to a very primitive and ancient act.  One final point of worth, is that regardless of how one sees animal sacrifices, the Israelites had a daily routine of introspection and benediction facilitated by the sacrificial system. In the twenty-first century how many times a week does man stop, and declare his gratitude for simply existing? I can’t help but think that we may have lost more than we gained through the termination of sacrifice.

This is by no means a thorough reading of this parashah, and Midrash teaches us that there are 70 ways to read Torah. This particular reading is indebted to the Eitz Hayim Chumash.