Freethinker Sunday Sermonette: dog is god spelled backwards

I don't like the term "anthropomorphise" because there's an implied assumption that humans are not animals, and that animals do not experience emotion. We, of course, are a species of animal and everything we do or feel therefore falls within the realm of possible animal behavior. Not every species exhibits every behavior, and those of us who dote on our pets are susceptible to projecting our own wishes, needs, and feelings onto our animals--who have no clue that we are doing so, and who cannot tell us that we are full of hooey: "No, I don't love you; I just want you to feed me!"

Since people can and do at times project their own wishes, needs and feelings onto other humans, I don't think that "anthropomorphise" is an accurate term for that particular behavior.

Corax is on to something.

Those of us who love animals (my cat is yelling at me) are seeing ourselves in our phyl-mates.

C. Corax and Melanie: I will grant the point. On the other hand, to anthropomorphise also means to assign charcteristics the thoughts of one species to another. You could suppose dogs looking at us and thinking, "It's disgraceful how humans through food away by flushing it down the toilet." And of course soon I'll hear from a composting toilet advocate who will agree with the dog (and have a point). Except that the dog isn't thinking it.

From the literature: "Dog is love."

Also, a zen koan: "All things have buddha nature. Does a cat have buddha nature?"

I'm glad I'm a mammal.

For that matter, humans aren't the only species that "own" other animals. I saw a nature show recently that microphotographically presented evidence that some species of ant has domesticated (that's the word I would use, and I think they did too) a very tiny crawling bug of some kind (sorry, my memory is weak on the details of what was what). These ants were herding the microbugs around, and also protecting them, at the cost of their own lives if need be, in a way that is frankly hard to distinguish, in the externals, from a sheepherder protecting his flock of sheep.

Another cherished myth of human distinctiveness, busted?

Ants maintain "flocks" of aphids and other not-so-tiny creatures.

My dogs often have favorite cats (who may or may not return the affection) that they capture and cuddle and lick half to death. Unless they are just "tasting" the cats or exhibiting maternal behaviors - which the male and neutered dogs also exhibit - it looks like owner-pet, or some kind of familial, behavior to me.

And didnt that famous "talking" Gorilla, Koko, have pet kittens?

As the mother of two, I have always maintained that we should never anthropomorphise young children.

wenchacha: LOL. I have two grown ones. You shouldn't anthropomorphise them either.

To address the essence of your blog entry, i.e. your analogizing from our relationship to our pets to God's relationship to us (after first positing that there is a God, which you don't really believe to be the case): If we narrow our religious perspective to Christianity, which I will do because I happen to know it best, I suspect that most pastors, ministers, etc., will tell you that the analogy is wrongheaded because it doesn't account for the fundamental, absolute difference between God and everything that is not-God, i.e. not-God = pretty much everything in the universe.

On the other hand, I see your analogy as insightful, suggestive and spiritually useful. Unfortunately, institutional Christianity has, over two millennia, been deformed in various ways. Where would one even begin? It's such a vast topic. At the risk of sounding hopelessly abbreviated and cryptic, let me just say this: It's too bad that Augustine, and not Irenaeus, was the earliest dominant influence on subsequent Christianity.

William James, in his book A Pluralistic Universe (his greatest work, in my view), eloquently put his finger on the problem, and since I cannot dream of improving on his words, I will quote two paragraphs from him verbatim (the passage is from Lecture 1):

"The theistic conception, picturing God and his creation as entities distinct from each other, still leaves the human subject outside of the deepest reality in the universe. God is from eternity complete, it says, and sufficient unto himself; he throws off the world by a free act and as an extraneous substance, and he throws off man as a third substance, extraneous to both the world and himself. Between them, God says 'one,' the world says 'two,' and man says 'three,' -- that is the orthodox theistic view. And orthodox theism has been so jealous of God's glory that it has taken pains to exaggerate everything in the notion of him that could make for isolation and separateness. Page upon page in scholastic books go to prove that God is in no sense implicated by his creative act, or involved in his creation. That his relation to the creatures he has made should make any difference to him, carry any consequence, or qualify his being, is repudiated as a pantheistic slur upon his self-sufficingness. I said a moment ago that theism treats us and God as of the same species, but from the orthodox point of view that was a slip of language. God and his creatures are toto genere distinct in the scholastic theology, they have absolutely nothing in common; nay, it degrades God to attribute to him any generic nature whatever; he can be classed with nothing. There is a sense, then, in which philosophic theism makes us outsiders and keeps us foreigners in relation to God, in which, at any rate, his connection with us appears as unilateral and not reciprocal. His action can affect us, but he can never be affected by our reaction. Our relation, in short, is not a strictly social relation. Of course, in common men's religion the relation is believed to be social, but that is only one of the many differences between religion and theology.

"This essential dualism of the theistic view has all sorts of collateral consequences. Man being an outsider and a mere subject of God, not his intimate partner, a character of externality invades the field. God is not heart of our heart and reason of our reason, but our magistrate, rather; and mechanically to obey his commands, however strange they may be, remains our only moral duty. Conceptions of criminal law have in fact played a great part in defining our relations with him. Our relations with speculative truth show the same externality. One of our duties is to know truth, and rationalist thinkers have always assumed it to be our sovereign duty. But in scholastic theism we find truth already instituted and established without our help, complete apart from our knowing; and the most we can do is to acknowledge it passively and adhere to it, altho such adhesion as ours can make no jot of difference to what is adhered to. The situation here again is radically dualistic. It is not as if the world came to know itself, or God came to know himself, partly through us, as pantheistic idealists have maintained, but truth exists per se and absolutely, by God's grace and decree, no matter who of us knows it or is ignorant, and it would continue to exist unaltered, even though we finite knowers were all annihilated."

William James, it turns out, believed that God himself was a finite knower. He was probably persuaded of this by his French philosopher-friend Charles Renouvier who, in turn, was probably persuaded by his friend and mentor, Jules Lequier (also sometimes spelled Lequyer). Lequier was the author of a great, but virtually unknown, work in the mid-nineteenth century called The Dialogue of the Predestinate and the Reprobate. An English translation of this work was recently published in book form (Edward Mellen Press; Donald Wayne Viney, editor and translator). In the book's Foreword, Robert Kane wrote, "This dialogue between two clerics, who by a miracle are made privy to divine omniscience -- one seeing that he is damned the other that he is saved -- is an astonishing tour de force that would serve well as an introduction to the problem of human freedom and divine omniscience in the modern college classroom as well as for modern readers of any persuasion." Indeed, I know of no work, at any time or place, that so effectively guts the old, but still widely believed (by Christians), scholastic idea of divine omniscience.

Returning, then, to your analogy, at the heart of our relationship with our pets is its sociality. Unless one can subscribe to some kind of reciprocal social relationship between us and God, the analogy falls flat. And that act of reciprocal social predication is precisely what institutional Christianity, as we now know it today, is not prepared to do.

Mike: I commend to your attention the theology of Karl Rahner who dispenses of the nea-platonic dualism which has so plagued us (see, here's the public health angle) since Augustine.

Hi Melanie,

Thanks for the recommendation! I do know of Rahner in the sense that I know he is considered one of the great Catholic thinkers in the 20th century, but I have not yet closely studied his works. The Catholic theologian that I have read the most, I suppose, is the French Jesuit Jean Danielou, but my two biggest influences, in terms of modern theology, are Joseph Sittler and Gustaf Wingren, both Lutherans. From that, you might guess that I'm Lutheran, but I'm not. I'm actually a member of the Church of the Brethren, an anabaptist-pietist denomination. (Of course, my beliefs are my own, and I'm not representing any particular denomination here, even my own -- which would likely disown what I've said here!)

Interesting that you would pick-up on this from v's comment "Did you know that god is just dog spelt backwards?" on March 4 at last week's Freethinker.
You just turned it around revere.

Can't figure out if you really want to talk about God or are just toying with your commenter's.

Our dog, Huchima (who-chee-ma) translated on June 19, 1995 at 9:30 p.m.
He was a beautiful german shepard/golden retriever mix. A big boy that thought he was a lap dog.
We haven't had the courage to get another dog-companion because it overwhelmed us with incapacitating emotional and mental stress.

No doubt he's now reincarnated to the human state for he was the Best Dog that God ever made.
~~~~~~~~~~~

Lea, having lost my beatimous Rosa, the end all and be all of Maine Coon cats in August, I feel your pain.

How about a photo of the revere dog?

Melanie: What? And blow my cover? What if someone recognizes her? (She's a Shih-Tzu).

In my experience, one Shih-Tzu looks pretty much like another. Unless you have her all gotten up in bows and doggie t-shirts from the alumni store.

Melanie: Our Shih-Tzu looks just like all the others in a completely different way.

I get to choose between Eddie's health and my groceries tomorrow. Eddie wins.

You've succintly explained why I don't like dogs as pets. The only dog I've ever truly loved was far more catlike in her behavior. I don't *want* unquestioning worship.

I've had a lot of pets, if you can call them that. I'm not an animal-rightist of any sort, but I do think that in some cases, it's not you owning the animal, but them owning you, or a pleasant companionship.

When I had the space, I provided a home to rescued iguanas. Adult iguanas, the ones that herp societies are flooded with. I've taken in wild lizards, snakes, hedgehogs, parrots, and many other animals in need of a place. Now I stick to reptiles with smaller space requirements, fish, and pet mice (note: mice are pets, not food for reptiles, thank you)

Aaaanyway, the point of my comment is mostly that it's possible to keep, care for, and love animals, while not expecting, demanding or even wanting that worshipful status. I'd much rather slowly and patiently gain the trust of an animal than try to force some sort of dominance. Is it so odd to not want worship?

Heidi: I have no doubt what you say is true. There is a difference between cat owners and dog owners (and reptile owners, several of whom I know). I wonder itit has been studied.

Melanie: Thank you dear heart.

We did rescue a rabbit from a neglectful owner seven years ago. When I finally talked them into giving her to me I asked what her name was and they said they "didn't remember".
"Hey-Bunny" got spoiled from that point on and translated June 20, 2003. Her ashes are on a lamp table in a beautiful wooden box. Will throw the ashes into the wind eventually.

Mike; interesting an unusual post. My impression of many atheists or anti-Chirstian types is that they often have little academic knowledge of Christian theology or tradition. They often base their opinion on a caricature of Chirstianity or Christian history and / or a straw man representing some alleged Christian doctrine that they then procede to demolish. Refreshing.

Here in San Francisco, we don't "own" our pets. We are the guardians of our pets. Humans are referred to as the guardian. I can't remember why it came to this ....

I guess I must be very strange. I love them all... I've had the privilege (or the pain) to be caretaker to dogs, cats, horses, rats, mice, snakes, lizards, geckos, skinks, and a tarantula.
The one I loved best of all was our first rat, a white lab baby my daughter won at school in 4th grade. That one animal taught me more about being a caretaker than any other creature I have ever known.
When she died in my arms I was heartbroken for months. I planted a blue spruce over her grave and put a rose on it every anniversary. I left the porch light on since she was afraid of the dark and even now, 8 years later, the light is still on.
Guess that alone proves I am really weird.

And when it comes to diseases, I guess I am really going to get it. I checked out that website about the animal diseases and I have had almost one of every kind of critter on the page. I forgot about the fish and the turtles...
Oh well, gotta die of something.

Those pets died loved. That is not a small thing.

carl: I am not a theologian, just as you are not a scientist (I know you are a political scientist, but I'm not talking about that kind of scientist). I don't think that matters in either of our cases. I don't have to be a Talmudic scholar to think that the frame within which they are arguing is without serious merit except as mental exercise (no small thing, of course). The more germane issue is that the kind of religion most atheists criticize is the kind we all see around us everyday -- not the arcane squabbles or refined articulations of professional theologian scholars, but the overwhelmingly large body of religion as it is practiced daily, to the world's detriment. The rest of you, a tiny, tiny minority, are irrelevant to that.

revere: I agree with your last post, up to a point, but I think it is a mistake to dismiss, out of hand, the work of the best theological scholars, simply because they are numerically insignificant at any given time. In biology, after all, Darwin was once a minority of one.

I could turn your argument around, and say that since science is now the handmaiden of big business (since science could not exist without corporate funding) that the most germane issue is that the kind of science environmentalists criticize is the kind we see around us everyday -- not the arcane squabbles or refined articulations of cloistered researchers, but the overwhelmingly large body of science as it is practiced daily, to the world's detriment, in applied technology that degrades and despoils the earth. To say that the intentions of science are pure and disinterested, and that scientists can't be held responsible for the fact that their results are misused by profit-oriented benefactors, is just so much prattle. After all, you cut theologians no such slack when you point to the unfortunate effects of religion in the world.

Mike: Touché. But the environmental movement is more vocal and more effective than the humane theological movement in my estimation, but you have a point. Again, I have nothing against theology as an intellectual activity (other than it doesn't interest me, like lots of other intellecutal activities) and I certainly have my own arcane interests (philosophy, mathematics). I would hope theologians would spend plenty of time arguing against both harmful science and destructive religion and I will do the same. I don't think it is very useful for theologians to argue that science is good and I am not looking for them to do that. It is incombent on scientists to point out the bad things about science and I think we do a lot of that, although the world around us is, as you say, replete with the bad effects of science. But at least we recognize it and talk about it quite a lot. I don't see as much of that on the theological side, at least not visibly so. Maybe it is hidden in corners.

There is a lot of critical thinking in theological circles, you just don't get to hear it because the MSM can't be bothered to notice that there are theologies other than the far right Christian Evangelical one.

Also, the blogosphere is staked out between the religious extemists and the anti-religious extremists.. who combine together to swarm anybody daring to go in the middle.

In some cultures husbands "own" their wives.Does this mean that they treat their wives in a nicer way than husbands who do not.I suggest that,in many cases,if the "wife-owning" husbands were to "anthropomorphise" their wives a little more,the world would be a slightly happier place.heh...