Introduction:
A
fascinating adventure: Tracing the origins of the creation of
the concept of "God"
(Source: © Rodríguez,
P. (1999). God nació
mujer. Barcelona: © Ediciones
B., Introduction, pp. 7-27)
How and when did God show himself for the first time?
Why did God appear through so many different personalities and
beliefs? Can it be that a god who is the beginning and end of
all things, creator of human beings, would have wanted want to
remain hidden from us until only a few thousand years ago? Could
it also be that that for hundreds of thousands of years, this
god consciously wanted to deprive his creatures of the rules—touted
as so fundamental today—and rituals necessary for our “eternal
salvation”?
Some 30,000 years ago, God still did not
exist. Yet by then, we humans had long been facing our fate alone
on a hostile planet, surviving and dying to the utter indifference
of the universe. Some 90,000 years earlier, some of us had begun
to harbor the hope of a hypothetical survival after death. But
it seems that the existence of any god was unknown until approximately
30,000 years ago. Whatever the case, this god’s image, function
and characteristics were those of an all-powerful woman. Today’s
concept of a masculine god, creator and controller, did not begin
to be formalized until the third millennium B.C., and did not
take root decisively until the following millennium.
In his Summa contra gentiles, Saint Thomas Aquinas
stated “God is far greater than mankind’s best efforts to know
Him”. Obviously profound, this phrase transmits desolation and
emptiness. Why not say, for example, that “reason is far
greater” than the best efforts of men—especially of theologians—to
know it? The universe itself is also very much beyond most
people’s knowledge of it. Even so, based on the idea that nothing
is so distant that it cannot be investigated, science accumulates
data that is lights years ahead of that amassed by the great Saint
Thomas in all his wisdom. Perhaps, then, God truly is beyond
the grasp of our limited understanding. But before we give up,
we must at least reflect on whether there can or cannot be someone
“up there”, or wherever it is that a divine being might dwell.
Though not an easy ball of wool to unravel, surely our reward
lies in the trying.
We never shall be able to shake the power of the very
idea of god’s existence. Although the concept of “God” appeared
only recently in our culture’s evolutionary process, it has had
undeniable affects on humankind. We shall forever live in the
shadow of the notion of a supreme being with the capacity
to reign over all the elements of the material and immaterial
universe. A supreme being who—and this is most fundamental—is
alive with a personality that wheels, deals, and dickers with
us, bending its merciless will in ways that benefit human interests
whenever a propitious occasion arises.
The concept of “God” has been so fundamental in our
recent life on the planet that the mere presumption of its reality,
as governed by religious institutions, has channeled and directed
the formation of entire cultures. It has radically changed both
individual and collective guidelines for human relations, and
led us to alter profoundly the ecological balance of all habitats
conquered by Homo religiosus. The mere evocation of God
is enough for any humans to man their battle stations and to yield
to emotionalism, completely dividing them into two sides or two
irreconcilable life-views: believers and non-believers. But both
glorious heroic feats, as well as and the most heinous of massacres
and execrable atrocities, have been carried out in the name of
God, any god. As it was, is, and evermore shall be.
The world we know was undoubtedly shaped by God. But
our fundamental dilemma is whether these works are attributable
to a real god who acts through a conscious will, or to a conceptual
god, made real only through the cultural phenomenon of being the
mute object of our human needs and wants.
Religions busy themselves with the former, and, according
to religion there is no room for discussion, nor need for evidence.
God exists because He exists, and everything—absolutely everything—is
proof of that existence, including the very fact that we have
the ability to doubt. God is the beginning and the end of everything
that can be known or imagined. Therefore there is not, nor can
there ever be, anything without God. In this all religions take
an intrinsically warped position, since they invert the burden
of proof—they do not irrefutably prove what they are affirming:
the existence of God. They attempt, implicitly and very explicitly,
to place the burden of proof onto those who defend the inexistence
of God or of any deity. Thus, the very debate becomes absurd
when analyzed logically and rationally: some believe (“they
have faith”) while others do not (“they’re atheists”).
The latter type of god, on the other hand,
is the god of history, archaeology, psychology, anthropology,
and other scientific disciplines that attempt to cover and to
comprehend the rainbow of human behavior that we have eventually
come to know as “culture” or “civilization”. There is infinite
material proof of this conceptual god that allows us to analyze
and to discuss him. The formidable and growing pile of clues
relating to this god tie him directly to the former god, the creator
or controller of destinies, whose existence is merely presumed
to be real. But unlike that of the latter god, his existence
can only be traced back to his debut amidst early mankind.
Given the early absence of God, however, perhaps He
had at first limited Himself to being a deus otiosus (leisurely
god), such as that described in the major indigenous African religions,
where the Supreme Being lives separately from all human
affairs. The Akan, for example, believe that Nyame, the god of
creation, fled the world because of the terrible noise made by
women when they beat yams into a pulp. If this were intended
to justify his single-minded existence, very probably in today’s
world, God would have been able to find thousands of more powerful
and convincing reasons than those brandished by the Akan. God’s
remoteness could explain why the planet is coming apart at the
seams while He remains insensitive to human supplication. It
isn’t that God doesn’t exist—he just isn’t around. He just stuck
to creating us and then abandoned us to our fate. Who knows for
sure? The concept of deus otiosus is profoundly intelligent,
ingenious and realistic.
So: who and what is God like? Religions as formal institutions
have published the nature of God and spoken His name for a few
millennia now, but the forms and attributes of God are numerous
and diverse, and the divine mandates that emanate from them are
varied and contradictory. Frankly, the very idea of God eludes
us. Is God the bearded (and presumably good) old man depicted
by the Catholic Church in its most classic iconography? Is God
like the heroic Shiva of Hindu tradition, always seen in hieratic
poses? Is God like El, creator of the Canaanites, represented
as a high-ranking political official? Is God like Osiris, the
hawk-headed Egyptian god? Is God like the Venus of Willendorf,
the most famous of Paleolithic goddesses, with her disproportionately
fleshy form? Is he the unrepresentable God of Jewish, Muslim,
and many other traditions? Is he like Chaos, the basis for most
ancient of Hellenic cosmogony and theogony? Or is God like the
Big Bang of modern science? If each doctrina divina
changes radically according to every epoch and culture, how can
we know which is the true divine message? How can we know the
reason that God mutates His own doctrine so frequently? Who stands
behind the word of those who stand behind the word of God?
The dichotomy between
the concept of “God” and religious structure, however reluctant
the latter be to admit it, is evident. Nothing prevents us from
thinking that “God” is that which may have existed in the instant
before atomic matter organized, giving rise to the universe.
So, this dichotomy is fundamentally necessary in order for us
not to confuse a possible non-specific natural cause with a structure
based on the exploitation of such a probability by transforming
into dogma or acritical belief. This acritical belief is the
praxis of all religion. The ability to distinguish what is supposedly
causal (God) from what is clearly instrumental (religion) also
prevents us from “taking the name of God in vain”, a vice essential
to any religious system. Therefore, there is no shortage of scientists—especially
physicists, astrophysicists and cosmologists—who, on studying
the origins of the cosmos, agree to leave an open door regarding
the possibility of some “organizing force”. They will, however,
slam it in the face of any approaching theology.
Louis Pasteur, one of the greatest scientists of the
19th century, famously said “a little science leads
one away from God, and a great deal of science leads one back
to Him”. But the simplicity (not simplemindedness), plasticity,
beauty and enunciatory capacity of this phrase must not necessarily
lead us to religious conclusions. Perhaps, as British cosmologist
Stephen Hawking (a major supporter of the Big Bang Theory together
with Roger Penrose) says, "If we do discover a complete theory
of the universe (one which encompasses the interrelatedness of
all of the forces of Nature, the dream of every scientific proponent
of the Great Unification Theory), it should, in time, be understood
in broad principle by everyone, not just by a few scientists.
Then we—philosophers, scientists, and ordinary people—shall be
able to take part in the discovery of why it is that we and the
universe exist. If we find the answer to that, it would be the
ultimate triumph of human reason: for then we could know the mind
of God."
Scientific thought—characterized by methods for acquiring
knowledge—opposes religious thought; even so this does not represent
a contradiction for scientists with religious beliefs. Yet the
evidentiary strength of scientific thought leads some of today’s
most notable monotheistic religions to approach science with the
intention of draping the existence of God with their dogmas inasmuch
as certain discoveries are concerned.
For example, there is the Catholic Church’s acceptance
of the Big Bang Theory, a fact clearly highlighted by Stephen
Hawking in his book A Brief History of Time. Hawking points
out that the Church has established “the Big Bang as dogma”,
while he also reminds us—with elegant malice—of a statement made
by Pope John Paul II at a cosmologists’ conference. The Pope
threatened to study the evolution of the universe post-Big Bang,
without studying the Big Bang itself, since that was the moment
of Creation, and, therefore, the work of God. It was the object
of theology, and not of science. Given the Pope’s craftiness,
it could also be said (to paraphrase Pasteur) that if much science
takes us back to God, too much of it could drain the concept of
him completely dry for us. If the Big Bang does the job
of God the Creator, then God loses all sense and function; that
is to say that he ceases to exist scientifically. [i].
The Static Universe Theory, or the perfect cosmological
principle of Herman Bondi, Thomas Gold and Fred Hoyle, purports
that there really is a continuous creation of cosmic matter.
If this is shown to be true, it would mean that we would see
the universe as a complex, auto-regulating mechanism with the
ability to organize itself ad infinitum. This natural
property would make it unnecessary to go running to a god in order
to explain the origin of matter.
The Inflationary Universe theory proposed by
Andrei Linde and Alan Guth holds that our own universe one of
an immense set of universes. This set, in turn, originated from
a “mother universe” from which it tore away, swelling until it
exploded in a Big bang. According to this hypothesis,
the process repeats itself in other universes as well as in our
own, and may still be generating new universes. One needs not
explain this cosmological theory on the basis of some principle
of divine organization, since it postulates a process that has
neither beginning nor end.
Astrophysicist Igor Bogdanov made the cryptic but definitive
statement, based on what is known as Planck’s Constant,
that “we cannot know what happened before 10-43 seconds
before the Big bang (a fantastically short moment), which
contained what was to be the entire universe. Everything existed
in a sphere measuring 10-33 centimeters—thousands and
thousands and thousands of millions of times smaller than the
nucleus of an atom”.
Our own universe, which dates from some 15,000 million
years ago, prompts us to ask one question out of sheer logic:
did God exist 10-43 seconds before the Big bang?
If he did, what was he and where has he been ever since?
Science does not know what happened in that almost
inexistent space and time, but that does not at all justify gratuitous
statements of those who defend the idea that the best proof of
a creator’s existence is the fact that there are physical limitations
to our knowledge. An example of this thinking would be epistemologist
Jean Guitton.
Obviously, a theological vision of the cosmos[ii]
is infinitely less disquieting and more gratifying than the opposing
view. But within the framework of a “cosmic project”, if we see
all natural laws directing the evolution of the universe as having
been designed to make human life possible on this planet, we sin
by thinking anthropocentrically, egocentrically, and unscientifically.
Current knowledge of biology proves without a doubt
that hundreds of thousands of evolutionary projects have failed,
leaving hundreds of thousands of species of all types to follow
a path of non-feasibility that sooner or later takes them to extinction.
This process of natural selection is still not finished, and shall
continue as long as a crumb of life remains on the planet. Therefore,
in a biological context, man is just another species that has
survived (for the time being, anyway) in the evolution of earthly
ecosystems.
There are hundreds of thousands of failed, ill-planned,
living organisms, doomed from the start. So, should there actually
be a “god the creator” or “god the controller”, it could only
be either a god who lacks the ability and experience effectively
to create living beings, or one who enjoys creating creatures
who are doomed from the start, and setting them adrift to meet
their fate. Even in the best case scenario, we cannot avoid the
conclusion that God also creates by means of the same mechanisms
inherent in Nature and in human beings: trial and error. This,
obviously, does not leave any living creature indebted to an advantaged
or superior being.
Dutch philosopher Baruch Spinoza (1632-1677) was right
on the money when he wrote that finalism or teleogism is a “disastrous
prejudice that stems from man’s natural ignorance, arising concurrently
from a utilitarian attitude (...) towards the vain—although comforting—illusion
that all is made to man’s measure. To that is added today’s anthropomorphic
mentality which, if one interprets everything from the standpoint
of a craftsman’s model, impedes one’s knowledge of that which
is an absolutely necessity. Thus, it leads one to the superstition
of a free and personal God the Creator.”][iii]
French scholar, philosopher and encyclopaedist Denis
Diderot (1713-1784) was renowned in his day for his brilliance
as a polemicist. A firm atheist with a Jesuit education, he was
incarcerated for three months for having criticized theism in
his work “Letter on the Blind” (1749). During an encounter
with mathematician Leonard Euler at the court of Queen Catalina
II of Russia, Euler asked Diderot, “Sir, (A+B)N/N = X, therefore
God exists. What say you?”. Diderot was unable to provide an
answer.
On the other hand, notable French physicist and mathematician
Pierre-Simon Laplace (1749-1827), an important proponent of the
theory of probabilities, would probably have responded to Euler’s
tainted formula with the same aplomb he had shown Napoleon. Upon
being asked about the place occupied by God in his theory of a
universe-machine with neither beginning nor end (Treatise on
Celestial Mechanics, 1799-1815), he responded to the Emperor,
“Sir, I have not yet had the need to put this hypothesis to the
test.”
After centuries of philosophical debate on the existence
or not of an ordering principle in the universe and of anthropocentric
finalism, even today the matter remains open for discussion, and
continues to be a subject for lively debate in many areas of science.
While some maintain that life as we know it is the product of
an extremely long chain of hard-to-repeat but altogether real
coincidences, others argue that only an intentional miracle could
explain the coming together of the many conditions necessary in
order to produce life.
The concept of “God” is so attractive that even the
physicists Heinsenberg or Einstein, both of whom claimed to be
agnostic, wrote “mystic” essays that touched upon the idea of
“God”. However, this god is completely unrelated to the anthropomorphic
god postulated by religion. In a letter to a friend in which
he denied rumors of his supposed conversion to Catholicism, Albert
Einstein wrote, “I know that some priests are getting a lot of
use from my physics in favor of proving the existence of God.
Nothing can be done about it; let the devil take care of them.”
In any case, perhaps the limitations of all scientific
models capable of explaining the formation of the universe can
be seen in what is known as Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem.
As postulated by logician Kurt Gödel (1906-1978), states that
“within every formal system that contains the theory of numbers,
there exist propositions that the system itself cannot ‘decide’.
That is to say that it can neither ‘prove’ nor ‘disprove’ them”.
The Incompleteness Theorem implies that no non-trivial
set of mathematical propositions can derive proof of their consistency
from the set itself. Proof must come from an external proposition—something
apparently impossible for mathematical and empirical methodology
upon which current cosmology is based. According to physicist
Paul Davies (*),
indemonstrable truths will always remain outside the scope of
logical deduction. That “does not mean that the universe is absurd
or lacking in sense, rather, that our comprehension of its existence
and properties falls beyond the usual categories of rational human
thought.”.
Within the gap of formal uncertainty left by Gödel’s
Incompleteness Theorem, hope still springs eternal that
God exists, a hope that we humans shall undoubtedly continue to
propitiate ad infinitum. The lack of answers to some of
the key questions related to our existence, coupled with the fear
of our fate after death, is together more powerful than the probative
strength of all scientific discoveries that contradict a theistic
vision of the universe.
So, when one asks rational questions about everything
related to God, it becomes evident that nothing can be known for
sure: neither the nature nor the existence of God. Of course
we may always take refuge in the “sacred texts” of any religion.
Fulfilling the purpose for which they were written, they furnish
us with absolute certainties by means of self-proving “evidence”
while repudiating the logic of reason, since they were configured
within the subjectivism of emotion. But this is fruitful only
to the seeker; only to those who need or already possess
the mental dynamic called “faith”. It is an attitude directly
related to the psychological processes derived from magical thought,
which we shall study in Chapters 2 and 3 of this book.
Undoubtedly, faith can move mountains, but
it will never explain how they got there or what they are made
of. Faith in God, in his existence and accessibility, may have
innumerable advantages for the human psyche, but it is absolutely
useless if we are to know anything about a supreme being, and
that is by far the main objective of the work comprising this
book.
In 1912, the great sociologist Emile Durkheim (1858-1917)
was so right when, in reference to the conflict between science
and religion, he stated, “It is said that, in principle, science
rejects religion. Yet religion exists; it is a system of given
facts; in a word, it is a reality. How can science reject reality?
Furthermore, insofar as religion is action, insofar as it is a
human way of life, science cannot possibly take its place, for
although religion expresses life, it does not create it. Science
may undoubtedly attempt to explain faith, but by this very fact,
it makes assumptions. Thus, there is conflict only inasmuch as
the two original functions of religion. Only one of them tends
increasingly to be free of religion itself: its speculative function.
Science does not criticize religion’s right to exist. Rather,
it questions its right to create a dogma regarding the nature
of things, a special discretion that religion has awarded itself
in relation to man and to the world. In fact, religion does not
even know itself. It knows not what it is made of, nor to what
needs it responds. Religion itself is the object of science;
thus it cannot possibly dictate its own laws regarding science!
Also, since there is no such thing as a specific object of religious
speculation outside the scope of the reality to which we apply
scientific reflection, it is obvious that its future role cannot
possibly equal its past role.”[iv]
If we agree, for example, that God —or the concept
of god— is a diamond in the rough, we could say that what interests
us fundamentally is to know as much as possible about the basic
make-up of a diamond in the rough (pure, compressed carbon within
a compact crystalline structure), the temperature and pressure
that made its crystallization possible and, somewhat less so,
any mineral impurities that gave it one color or another. All
else would be superfluous information. While it is certain that
a diamond in the rough does not appear to be beautiful, it is
also obvious that a cut gemstone is not authentic from a geological
standpoint.
Once a rough diamond has been exfoliated, hewn, cut,
and polished, it takes on a diamantine brilliance. Among other
things, has a high degree of refraction and dispersion—distortion—while
also being highly evocative. Also, we owe one fundamental aspect
of diamonds—their worth—to geological interaction. We owe their
secondary worth, fame and degree of preciousness, to the cutter
and to the jeweler. Thus, we shall endeavor in this book to journey
within the psychosocial aspects of human geology, to avoiding
as much as possible stopping to contemplate the thousands of distorting
facets cuts by theologians.
Once we dismiss faith as a gateway to
knowledge, many others are opened for us, but which fields of
study should serve as a platform for our quest for knowledge?
How should we set about our research? Which elements serve as
a definitive basis for charting the assumed relationship between
God and human beings? What proof is there upon which to build
solid arguments? The journey is long and complex, and we all have
widely varying starting points, since the most important thing
is not the beginning (premise) but the end (conclusions). This
book reflects my personal adventure, starting from the moment
I decided to search for some reasonable answers to the rainbow
of suppositions that define our society (and which the vast majority
of people accept at face value), and to try to arrive at some
substance, coherence and sense regarding some of the important
questions that we all so often ask ourselves.
We approach God, or the concept of god, only through
being human, and by way of the human being. If not, just try
to reach any conclusion from a conversation about God between
two chairs, two geraniums, or either one of them and their human
owners. Thus, it becomes essential to become deeply familiar
with the many aspects of the biological, ecological, and social
past of human beings and of the process that conformed the structure
of their psyche and cultural expressions. The first pieces of
evidence—and therefore the first questions we must ask—take us
back to the dawn of human evolution. Within the process of hominization,
when we first began to differ from primates, are hidden many keys
to the discovery of noteworthy things about God. And although
we have found no proof as to how or why he created us,
there is much evidence to show how and why we ended up
creating him.
In the same way that a forensics team tries to determine
a hidden identity by investigating the clues at the crime scene—a
swatch of cloth, a shoeprint, a speck on the bathroom mirror,
or a drop of dried blood, for example—I have had to follow a trail
of thousands of bits of information, unearthed and elaborated
by dozens of paleo-anthropologists, archaeologists, anthropologists,
mythologists, historians, psychologists, etc. Al of this information,
in combination with additional data, has resulted in a coherent
and reasonable image, not only of the hidden identity we
are examining, but, more importantly, of the entire psychosocial
context that defined it and gave it its attributes and personality.
As much as possible, I have laid out my research chronologically
in order to transmit and analyze what we I see as determining
factors, in order to reach a better understanding of how, when,
and why the presence of God came to exist among humans. Several
synoptic charts have been designed to allow the reader to situate
himself quickly and easily in the analyzed context, in order to
facilitate a global vision of some of the key matters to be examined.
I have also included many footnotes, which at times are just equally
as fundamental or far-reaching as the main text itself. In this
way, I endeavor to offer the reader a broader vantage point and
to provide a basis of knowledge, as well as to serve as a reference
point regarding documentary sources essential to this work.
While writing this book, I have faithfully mapped the
route of my search for coherent answers regarding the apparent
relationship between mankind and God. My journey, which had originally
risen from simple curiosity, has engrossed and absorbed more with
every passing day, and is ultimately riddled with hundreds of
exhilarating surprises that ended up significantly changing my
prior presuppositions about human beings and their past. It made
me change my thinking on many issues basic to our comprehension
of today’s society and its complicated projection into the future.
Given the title, God was Born a Woman, some
may feel perplexed or even defrauded when they embark upon reading
this book, to find themselves before the story of our evolution
from hominids, followed by an inevitably complex chapter on the
formation of language and discursive or logical/verbal thought.
Readers would be correct in wondering if this book might be wrongly
titled. Is all this connected to God and to the sexual gender
attributed to him? Absolutely. Although the essential points
that lead to our title will not be discussed until chapters 6,
7 and 10, all of them are truly important. We shall comprehend
how, when and why we ever arrived at the
concept of “God”, and why we felt impelled to conceive of her
as a woman during all those thousands of years before changing
her gender and making her male is to be found entirely in the
remaining chapters.
This book has no intention of being encyclopedic, philosophical
or theological. There remains much left to be said, as many things
still remain unsaid on the subject in general. From the small
window to the past that opens within these pages, we shall probably
see a parade of facts that cause us to speculate much more broadly
than this book itself suggests.
Once we’ve hiked the rough track of human evolution,
we can never see our fellow man in the same light. If we take
a good, long look at ourselves throughout the prodigious process
that differentiated us from tree-dwelling apes and made us what
we are today—full of fortitude and of miracles, yet brimming
with dramatic fragility—human beings cease to be “creatures of
God”.
If we analyze the development of articulate
human language, we see the unimaginable force of our dominion
over words and concepts in determining our thought processes,
world vision, and culture. Many of our preconceived ideas break
down, and we are forced to see ourselves (and our most fundamental
beliefs) as the product of a children’s game where reality and
fantasy mix until a universal order materializes—a universal order
from which it is very difficult to emerge. When we realize that
the substance and structure of stories invented in the imaginations
of little children in order to explain their origins, or the origins
and function of the world, are identical to the equivalent descriptions
contained in so-called “sacred texts”, a precious door
is opened to us, enabling us to better understand our human psyche
and “religious” behavior.
As we watch the unfolding of prehistoric ideas of the
symbolic universe, along with the signs, myths and rituals that
continue to form the hub of religions even today, we come to passionate
conclusions about the dynamics of our human search for emotional
security. We simply cannot dodge the broad archaeological proof:
our belief in life after death took hold 60,000 years before man
had engineered any concept of supreme beings or gods.
Readers may also be shocked to see that the masculine
concept of “God”, which today has come to dominate all religions,
is actually a relatively recent transformation of the first notion
of a creator/controller deity who, as thousands of archaeological
finds show, was, obviously, feminine! Who, if not the female of
any species, is capable of creating, through fertility and birth,
in order to give life? Who, if not a woman, cares for the young,
and is charged with meeting their basic and immediate needs?
We shall see at the appropriate time that if primitive
Homo sapiens based his conceptualizations on analogy, no
human being ever could have thought to attribute the feminine
qualities of generation, fertility and nurturing protection
to a masculine entity. For this reason, humanity prospered under
the protection of a single Goddess—in all her different
epiphanies— from ca. 30,000 B.C. until ca. 3,000
B.C. From there, the specific typology of a masculine God began
to superimpose itself progressively and somewhat irregularly.
It would eventually take over the generative and protective qualities
of the goddess, relegating her to a role of mother (even while
virgin, in some cases!), wife, sister, and/or lover of the male
God.
This masculine coup-d’état against the goddess
was not a random, accidental, or innocuous event; to the contrary.
In the first place, there is enough archaeological and historical
documentation to show how, starting from a common mythical and
ritual basis, the personality, attributes and functions of the
masculine God and gods changed with the economic and sociopolitical
needs of each culture and moment in history. In fact, we learn
more about “God” by studying the socioeconomic implications of
the first agricultural surplus and the invention of the plough
than we do by concentrating on the theogonies, theology and rituals
associated with each individual god. This observation also applies
to pagan gods (from the Latin paganus, or country
dweller) as much as it does to their direct descendent and heir,
the God of monotheistic religions, which are supposedly based
on truths revealed.
Additionally, understanding God’s annihilation of the
Goddess [v]
also leads us to comprehend the historical dynamics of the complete
subjugation of women by males. Women and the Goddess gradually
lost their autonomy, importance, and power, practically all at
the same time. They were the victims of a changing world in which
men made a power-grab for the control of means of production,
warfare, and culture. Men became the sole custodians and guardians
of private property, parenthood, and thought: in short, of the
very right to life.
This patriarchal culture finished off the last vestiges
of matrilineal societies [vi],
who had worshipped the Goddess since the Upper Paleolithic period,
and, logically, it redesigned myths and gods to suit itself.
It made God in its own image. In analyzing the defeat of the
prehistoric Goddess, we gain not only a novel approach for tackling
the concept of “God”, rather we also comprehend— something equally
important—the past history of womankind and the roots of the
position of inequality and inferiority to which she has been subjected
even to the present.
By following the footprints of God, this book has made
it possible to forge a solid and coherent image of human beings
and their beliefs. However, it is also hoped that what we define
as the concept of “God” has become obvious through the reflection
of its own myth, a mirror image with no apparent origin.
It is likely that the origin of the image lies
within, and not without, the mirror itself. Thus, no one has
ever been able to see it, since no human being can be transformed
into the particles of the silver salt that constitutes the reflective
basis of any mirror without first ceasing to be human. If God
is within our particles, just as an image lies within the silver
of the mirror, how can we discern him in the midst of the patchwork
of our lives and our meanderings between opposite poles? In the
midst of the quasi-infinite flood of emotions, sensations, thoughts,
and conceptualizations?
Human beings have structured their beliefs in a way
that perhaps has much to do with the evocative passages described
by British author Charles Dodgson (deacon and professor of pure
mathematics, best known by his pseudonym Lewis Carroll) in his
second work dedicated to the child Alice Liddell: the delicious
and ingenious 1871 narrative, “Alice Through the Looking-Glass”:
“I can’t believe it”, says Alice.
“Can’t believe it?” the Queen repeats with a sad look on her face. “Try again:
take a deep breath, close your eyes, and believe.”
Alice laughs:
“It’s no good trying. Only fools believe that impossible things can happen.”
“I think what you need is a little training,” answers the Queen.
Readers may draw their own conclusions from this passage,
but the same question will inevitably remain: who has more practice
in believing in the impossible: he who believes in the existence
of God, or he who rejects it?
No text ever published since the invention of writing
some 5,000 years ago has ever shown conclusive proof of the existence
or non-existence of God, and this book is no exception. I have
limited myself only to documenting how and why the concept of
“God”, as proposed by religions, came to be born in the human
mind. In it we shall explore together how it was shaped according
to our own ignorance, fears, and hopes, and how it finally evolved,
maintaining a direct relationship to the organizational requirements
and social, economic, and political control inherent in every
culture and moment in history.
Only by giving credit where credit is due—to human
beings—for all of their past and future works, may we reasonably
attempt to look for God in whatever else remains. Thus, perhaps
he will always be infinite. Or perhaps not.
Notes:
[i]
Pope Karl Wojtyla was obsessed by the conflicting views between
scientific thought and “faith”. This moved him to spearhead a
ferocious campaign against positivism, and against practically
any reflection based on solid and objective data. Many of his
public documents attack “the excesses and dangers of the use of
reason”. In his Encyclical Letter Veritatis splendor (“The
Splendor of the Truth”) he prohibits any critical theological
reflection within the Church, in effect gagging the most lucid
and brilliant Catholic thinkers of the century: those who remain
closest to the very evangelical message while the official, dogmatic
Church brutally and increasingly distances itself. In another
more recent Encyclical Letter, Fides et ratio (“Faith and
Reason”), his attack on reason borders on the pathetic. During
his presentation of Fides et Ratio, Cardinal Ratzinger
manifested that “the universality of Christianity stems from its
intention to be the truth, and it disappears along with the disappearance
of the conviction that faith is the truth. But truth is valid
for all, and Christianity is valid for all because it is the truth”.
Not only does such an authoritative statement lay a fragile foundation
for the Catholic “truth”, which is based on subjective conviction—it
postulates that, since it is subject to doubt, not only must it
be declared to be universally valid, it must be declared to be
the truth beyond the shadow of a doubt. Ratzinger also added
that the Christian faith must oppose all philosophies or theories
that “exclude man’s aptitude for knowing the metaphysical truth
of all things (positivism, materialism, scienticism, historicism,
problematicism, relativism and nihilism)”. In other words, Christianity
must reject the approaches that are most fundamental to modern
thought, and especially any that may question its particular “faith”-based
cosmic vision.
[ii]
Theological argument that pretends to prove the existence of God
based on the concept of the “end” (télos in Greek) was
strongly postulated by Saint Thomas Aquinas, who had got it from
Averroes (and he, in turn, from the Greek philosophers Anaxagoras,
Plato, Aristotle, etc.). Thomas Aquinas states, upon proposing
his “Fifth Way”, that the fact that things in nature, although
lacking in intelligence, appear to have been ordered as if to
fulfill a purpose, shows that there must exist an ordering intelligence,
a supreme purpose. Said supreme purpose is, precisely, God.
British philosopher David Hume (1711-1776), in his posthumously
published work Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (1779),
easily refutes the teleological argument, since it is based on
anthropomorphic analogies (such as the argument that the ordination
of materials in a house indicate the intelligence of an architect,
as cosmic order indicates a divine intelligence) and because “the
natural end” (completely the opposite of the perfect and the divine)
could be the accidental product and unpredictability of the blind
arrangement of essential elements. Also, German philosopher Emmanuel
Kant (1724-1804), in his Critique of Pure Reason
(1781), rejects this argument, which he calls “physical-theological”.
Despite the enormous intellectual weight of the detractors of
so-called finalism (among them Galileo, Bacon, Descartes,
Spinoza, etc.), among its defenders are to be found characters
the likes of Boyle, Newton or Leibniz. In the field of biology,
finalism was swept away, formally at least, by Darwinian
evolutionism, although it continues to live on in modern thought
fed by the concept of “divine providence” still postulated by
the great monotheistic religions.
[iii]
Cfr. Appendix to Part I of Ethica more geometrico demonstrata
(better known as Etica).
[iv]
Durkheim, E. (1992). The Elemental Forms of Religious Life”.
Madrid: Akal, p. 400.
[v]
An annihilation which, in any case, although real in the sense
of the loss of control over social and symbolic power, is still
very relative in relation to the unconscious collective of all
cultures: today, as thousands of years ago, the divine figures
most venerated and prized by the “plain folk” within so-called
“popular religions” are feminine. A clear example of this is
at the very heart of Catholic culture, and may be seen in the
great strength and implantation of the Marian fervor and of the
Mariological movement. In fact, as we shall see, some of the
mythic functions that characterized the prehistoric Mother Goddess
live on, albeit more subdued and controlled by the masculine,
in the Virgin Mary.
[vi]
The term “matrilineality” refers to a genealogical system (ascendants,
descendants, inheritance) still in use in some primitive cultures
today, common before the implantation of the patriarchy, whereby
ancestral lineage is traced though the relationship between mother
and son, and the relationship between the newborn and the mother’s
brother is also privileged.