“What else?”
“The little art they generate beyond the tombs is invariably about death, for example, drawings of people who have just died or are about to die rendered in shockingly gruesome detail. Similarly, the plays that are held in the burial ground pavilion traditionally end with a scene of anguished death. Even their comedy is about death.”
“Doesn’t their religion help them deal with death?”
“Thanatomamo shamans tell their congregants to prepare for death throughout their lives.”
“Do the Thanatomamo believe in an afterlife?”
“Yes. Generations of their shamans have created an elaborate afterlife that takes years to describe to their congregants. Learning the details of it requires a commitment to lifelong study.”
“All of this detail based on no evidence?”
“Not any evidence that our Church of Science would accept,” John said with a knowing smile.
“To record this detail, the Thanatomamo obviously know how to write.”
“Yes, they learned about writing from us a few decades after we arrived in the rain forest. They developed their own symbols specifically so they could record their speculations about the afterlife.”
“Do shamans’ sermons elaborate the afterlife?”
“Yes, in excruciating detail. There is even a group of shamans who are relieved of preaching duties so they can pray for departed villagers in the afterlife. They do nothing else.”
“How do those shamans get food to live?”
“They are fed from the mourning feasts.”
“Thanatomamo culture seems somber, indeed.”
“I’ll grant them that death is a sad event, but the Thanatomamo are so preoccupied with it they don’t live. As we say, ‘when you are thinking about death, you aren’t living’.” John paused and then added, “We Euromamo think there is no need for much concern with death. After all, death takes care of itself in due time.”
Rick remembered the Euromamo cremation facility: a simple and dignified building located on a side path outside the village to the west. John told him that the Euromamo almost always cremate without much ado. Their grief is real, of course, but villagers think it’s best to move past it.
“Which is worse?” Rick asked. “Believing there’s no purpose to life or believing preparation for death is the purpose of life?”
“I don’t know.”
“Isn’t there more to life than either giving up or wallowing in contemplation of death?” queried Rick.
“I mentioned a few of our preferences earlier, but let me add another. Euromamo think that building social wealth is a worthwhile activity,” John replied. “It’s one of our fundamental values.”
“Social wealth. I see the topic has returned.”
“It amounts to something.”
CHAPTER 17
Testing Beneficence
Following his visit to the Nihilamamo, Rick was in a funk. He walked across the Bel Ami to a pleasant spot overlooking the rapids and sat in one of the comfortable chairs placed on the smooth stone surface, like a patio. It was a good place to think.
What a downer! I don’t think I’ve smiled once since I got back from the Nihilamamo. Isn’t there anything I can count on? My stuff’s worth nothing, even my library. Throw it in a dumpster at my death. Why did I spend so damn much effort accumulating it, and why do I want to accumulate more? I thought my pursuit of anthropological research had some prestige to it, but it may destroy the peace and privacy of the village, and they’re not bothering anybody. I’m threatening to disrupt them so I can go teach at a university and write books that won’t sell. A lot of the guidance you get about living is just made up. Damn! Not that I am terribly philosophical but I’d like something to cling to. As it is, I’ve got nothing, and for that nothing, I’ve placed my life in peril.
At least the Archbishop admitted that he was making it up. That’s better than pretending that you’re spouting eternal truth. Wait. John mentioned a second denomination, the Church of Science. I’ve been meaning to go to one of their services. Maybe the pastor will say something that will help my disposition. I could go on my own but I’d rather see if John can go with me because I’m sure I will have questions afterwards.
After the short walk to John’s, Rick checked for a blue disc on his door frame and none was displayed. Inside, he laid bare his state of mind.
“You should go to go to the Church of Science,” John suggested cheerily. I’ll let the pastor, Reverend Scientist Watt, know your plans. Her sermons are usually provocative and well thought out.”
The next Church of Science service was scheduled for Wednesday evening in the main room of the entertainment center. John came by to join Rick for the service.
As they entered the main room, Rick asked, “What’s meaning of the symbol on the front of the lectern in the entertainment center? The arc with the arrow pointing upward?”
“It’s a Euromamo symbol for one of our central tenets. The arc at the bottom represents the curve of the earth and the arrow sticks upward from the village, our spot on the planet. It means: ‘In this place on Earth, build social wealth’.”
“Social wealth again.”
“That, Rick, we need to discuss soon.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to it.”
As they settled into their seats, Rick noticed four large symbols on wooden stands behind the lectern: a hash mark (#), percentage symbol (%), question mark (?) and lightning bolt. The stands were about three feet high, nicely made, with the arc-and-arrow design that matched the design on the front of the lectern. The four symbols on top of the stands were about two feet tall and carefully carved from fine, dark wood.
As Rick finished noting them in his journal with his Albatross, Reverend Scientist Watt entered from stage left, wearing a white tunic similar to a lab coat and a medal around her neck. She was a young woman, still in her thirties Rick judged, with short, straight black hair, cut in a page boy, with dark sparkling eyes set in a round, golden-toned face. As she took her position at the lectern, she flashed a pleasing smile that seemed every bit as genuine as the smile that had graced the face of Archbishop Witch Doctor Richards.
“Welcome all,” she began. “Today we’ll explore the fundamental tenets of our denomination, the tenets that define us as a group and serve as our constant guide. To fully appreciate their importance, we must look to the time of our forebears. We became a separate denomination in 1840 when, at the end of an Anglican service, the minister blessed the congregation, saying ‘May God’s goodness be descended upon you.’ Young Isaac Huxley, only sixteen years old at the time but wise beyond his years, boldly asked the minister from his seat in the congregation, ‘What does that mean? Can I be certain to receive God’s goodness? What form will it take? When can I expect to receive it?’ Although these questions took many aback, a few independent thinkers muttered that they agreed with him. The young man, exceptionally bright and irreverent, would shortly become the founder of our denomination and is still known to us as the Founding Scientist, but let’s not get ahead of our story.
“In response to young Huxley’s inquiries, the minister agreed to hold a public meeting in the old Community Center that stood right here where the entertainment center does today. The minister would answer Huxley’s questions, followed by open discussion. During the following week, as news of the proposed meeting circulated, there proved to be much greater interest throughout the village than the minister had anticipated, so the meeting was moved from the Community Center to outdoors.
“Early in the meeting, young Huxley cut to the heart of the matter. ‘Is there any evidence that God actually responds to requests for beneficence from his followers?’ he asked pointedly. ‘I don’t know that anyone has counted it up,’ the minister admitted half-jokingly, ‘so the short answer to your question is that there’s no evidence. However, I remind you that there’s no evidence that God doesn’t deliver on requests for beneficence either. We just don
’t know.’ ‘Why then do we bother to ask for blessings?’ pressed Huxley. ‘For us, asking for beneficence is an article of faith, not a quid pro quo. It would be presumptuous for us, we think, to demand, or even expect, that God fulfill our requests.’ the minister replied. ‘We’re on shaky ground, it seems to me,’ Huxley countered, not backing down an inch, and then offered ‘Since there’s no evidence either way, I propose that we gather some.’ This simple solution sent a ripple through the audience. In short order, there was general agreement that they would perform some elementary experiments to test God’s beneficence.
“At the end of the service the following week, the minister asked for God’s blessing as was his custom. The members followed suit during the week by asking for God’s blessing in their own prayers. They kept careful records on how many good and bad things happened to them that week, as well as how good or bad each of them was on a ten-point scale. The next week, the minister didn’t ask for God’s blessing at the service nor did the members in their personal prayers. The same recording of events was done. They continued this for a year, alternating weeks. Although Huxley readily admittedly that this was crude testing, he argued that it was surely better than nothing, which is what they had before. It will come as no surprise to you, as members of the Church of Science, that praying didn’t increase the good things that happened to them, and failing to pray didn’t increase the bad things that happened to them. The numbers simply weren’t there. They had received nothing for their entreaties.
“After the year of counting, some thought the matter had been proven fairly enough, but young Huxley suggested a further test. It required courage, he warned them. They drew lots to form two groups within the church: the Worshippers and the Blasphemers. Each group would go out on similar hillsides during lightning storms throughout the next year. Both hills had bare areas that were exposed to the sky. The Worshippers were reverential and prayed to god for delivery from the storm, while the Blasphemers cursed and insulted god in a loud voice, referring to him as ‘the fat, arrogant bastard in the sky’. They dared him to strike them with a lightning bolt. ‘Come on and fry me if you’re up there, you pompous, self-important windbag. Then you’ll get some believers.’ Other references were made to the Virgin Mary that I will not repeat here.
“Thankfully, no one got hit during the year, but two lightning bolts struck trees nearby, one shocking a Worshipper and the other shocking a Blasphemer, so it ended up a tie. They drew tentative conclusions at that point but continued the experiment for three additional years, generating the same results. God didn’t dole out benevolence if you asked for it, nor did he dole out punishment if you insulted him. Many began to question the efficacy of prayer and some even of religion itself. Why waste their time praying if they didn’t get anything out of it?
“Huxley, who by now was twenty-years old, pointed the way forward. ‘There is surely goodness in the world,’ he said. ‘For example, we’ve learned a lot about herbal remedies from the rain forest that keep us healthier. Surely, health is preferable to illness. We need not trouble ourselves about who, if anyone, created this goodness, it seems to me,’ he continued. ‘Rather, in the here and now, let us maximize it to our benefit. I make the following suggestion. While we already compare our cures with those of nearby shamans, we need to become more detailed in our record-keeping. For example, when we compare the cure rates for those using different herbal remedies, we should not tell the participants ahead of time which group they are in. They will never know which remedy they took. The same applies to those who use no herbal remedy. They should get a potion that we know has no effect. With these new controls, our results will not be distorted by patient biases. Beyond this, we need to deepen our research and analysis wherever we can.’
“The Congregation was persuaded and began to do as he suggested. They intensified their research on plants of the rain forest, cataloguing as many of them as they could find, preserving samples, and discussing plants with neighboring groups. Our forebears thought that knowledge of as many plants as possible would benefit them in the long run even if they had no use for them at that time. As we say in our denomination’s creed: ‘We think data are good per se.’
“Finally, the Founding Scientist encouraged them to establish a laboratory where they could perform controlled experiments to increase the medicinal benefit they got from plants. The facility produced such remarkable results that the Anglican minister gave up his position to become the head of the laboratory. That left young Huxley in charge of the church, whereupon it promptly severed all references to Anglicanism, changing its name to the Church of Science, a name that reflected its methodology. Huxley was given the title Founding Scientist and it was decreed that all his successors should have the title of Reverend Scientist, the title I proudly wear today.
“Meanwhile, the laboratory refined our conclusions regarding the medicines. It produced reliable data about new plants faster than before. It was measurable goodness. Beneficence. The lab findings became a regular part of our Church services. Because congregants got real health benefits from the information they received, it was a lot more gratifying than praying.”
As Rick listened to the sermon, he thought about churches in the United States.
They offer god’s blessings and goodness with no empirical evidence that congregants obtain any benefit, and they accept donations for the purported service they render. Tax exemptions to boot. That’s the central problem, isn’t it? No proof of benefit but still collecting money. How do we allow that? What’s it similar to? It isn’t allowed in the marketing of drugs. The Food and Drug Administration requires rigorous proof of benefit for new medicines before they can be sold to the public. No proof of benefit, no receipt of money. Wait. That’s it! What churches do is what snake oil salesmen did before the passage of the Pure Food and Drug Act, selling so-called cures with no empirical evidence that purchasers obtained any benefit. That’s why it was outlawed. The Church of Science was right to seek proof for what they got—and didn’t get—from religion.
“This is a brief summary of the early history of our denomination,” continued the Reverend Scientist. “While it may be familiar to our longtime members, it’s always good to recount it for the benefit of those who are new. Because this sermon has been largely historical, I have used the term ‘god’ rather than our preferred term of ‘Hosfowotine’ because ‘god’ was the term that was used by our forebears during the period I discussed.”
The Reverend Scientist paused briefly.
“Join me for our recessional chant,” she said, raising her arms. The congregation rose and recited together,
We are members of the Church of Science.
We think data are good per se.
We value conclusions derived from data.
We value testing conclusions.
We value doubt, not belief.
We value irreverence, not reverence.
Science is the most efficient method
For increasing Hosfowotine’s goodness on Earth.
Science is our religion.
As the congregants filed out of the service, Rick turned to John with a one word question, “Hosfowotine?”
“It’s an acronym for “He or she for whom there is no evidence.”
Back in his room, as he zippered himself in his hammock, a small smile curled Rick’s lips. Reverend Scientist Watt’s sermon on testing beneficence suggested at least one path forward: prefer wellness over sickness, and then increase wellness by counting the results when you treat illness. It was something he could hang on to.
How happened it…that your workers were able to produce more than so many savages would have done? Was it not wholly on account of the heritage of the past knowledge and achievements of the race, the machinery of society, thousands of years in contriving, found by you ready-made to your hand? How did you come to be possessors of this knowledge and this machinery, which represent nine parts to one contributed by yourself in the value of your prod
uct? You inherited it, did you not?
Edward Bellamy
We might, indeed, have much larger incomes, individually, if we chose so to use the surplus of our product, but we expend it upon public works and pleasures in which all share, upon public halls and buildings, art galleries, bridges, statuary, means of transit, and the conveniences of our cities, great musical and theatrical exhibitions, and in providing on a vast scale for the recreation of the people. You have only begun to see how we live yet, Mr. West. At home we have comfort, but the splendor of our life is, on its social side, that which we share with our fellows. When you know more of it you will see where the money goes…and I think you will agree that we do well so to expend it.
Edward Bellamy
CHAPTER 18
Social Wealth
Rick walked along the rectangular path around the core of the village, admiring the brilliance of its flower borders along the entire length. He appreciated the beautiful buildings and other fine facilities the Euromamo had constructed over the years.
What a beautiful place! Look at those bright pink flowers! The center looks like a pink artichoke! I’ve never seen one like that, but then that’s true for lots of these flowers.
Back to my own situation. Individual wealth is weighing on my mind. Since John talked with me about it, I’ve had to face the fact that my personal possessions are largely worthless. What a shock it was to realize that! He’s right. There’s no lasting legacy I can leave going down that path. To all appearances, other Euromamo agree with John’s comments. Recently, when I’ve walked through the village, I’ve paid attention to the things the Euromamo own. They don’t have a lot of personal possessions, significantly less than people in outside society. They make a lot of their items—furniture and ceramics, for example—from rain forest materials, but some are imported from outside society. The other day, I noticed that the imported items are almost entirely free of logos or embellishment. Curious. Could be by chance, I suppose, but I doubt it. Another thing—hard to prove—villagers seemed, to my eye, content with their stuff and they don’t strut with it as much as people outside do. I think I’m right about that.
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