Actually, I am the recipient of three such amazing educational experiences, the first being my philosophy studies through some equally talented, and thankfully less volatile, professors at Texas A&M. One of them, Dr. John McDermott, turned out to be the foremost scholar in America on John Dewey’s pragmatism, a philosophical system that revolutionized the world and catapulted America to the forefront of science. This remarkable training in science and philosophy taught me, what is possible in human understanding, and what is not. It has helped me to understand what is knowable, and what is, by its very nature, eternally unknowable in the universe. I understand the limits of science and the limits of logic. Beyond these limits, we enter into the inexplicable realm of impressions and experiences that can be described only through sentiment, poetic metaphor and allegory, a place often conferred using prose, religious symbolism, and sometimes even silence. Ideally, I think everyone should strive to be, at the very least, conversant in science, demonstrate a capacity for reason, and be willing to tell a piece of one’s own story in a way that others glimpse the profundity of life, even if the words are less than spectacular. Sadly, however, many choose only one mode of understanding and thus an attempt to communicate deeply with another is unsuccessful. Worse yet are those myopic individuals who discount completely the richness provided by the other modalities. I frankly find it disheartening, for example, to hear a religious person disavowing evolution because it does not match his reading of Genesis, just as it is to hear a scientist decrying meaningfulness because of an oversimplified reductionistic understanding of nature. We must stand vigilant against those currently trying to make such a misreading into governing policy, especially when it can be demonstrated that such policies lead to greater despair and alienation. The problem is, how do we know the difference? How do we distinguish between an utterance that could be construed as fact and another that is best understood as more, shall we say, aspirational or theoretical? Ultimately, as I stated earlier, you can never know (for reasons which are too complicated to go into here). What you CAN know is the impact such beliefs have on another person or on yourself. This is the reason why I find ethics so intriguing. If holding some beliefs leads you to connect more fully, inspires you into service for others, and fosters an active reverence for Life, can it not be rightly said, that whether or not that belief is true, it is certainly worthy of our attention. However, and don’t miss this point, it is not the belief alone that is powerful, but rather the interplay between the perceived understanding of any given belief and the self, the human. Remove the second part of this equation - remove the person, and you render even the seemingly most profound truths ineffectual. Those who would sacrifice others in the maintenance of some lofty virtue have rendered that ideal meaningless. This is one of Ethical Culture’s most profound insights. One remarkable person in Ethical Culture’s history was Leader John Lovejoy Elliott. One of my favorite quotes from him is as follows: I have known good people who believed in God. I have known good people who didn't believe in God. But I have never known good people who didn't believe in others. While lying on his deathbed, after an amazing lifetime in the service of the poor and downtrodden, he called for a piece of paper and scribbled these final words. The only thing I have found worth living for is others. As one who deeply believes in Elliott’s quest for goodness, I wholeheartedly agree. Curt Collier
Curt Collier, Leader