A traditional text for the dedication of a new sanctuary is Locus iste, which translates to:
This place was made by God, |
Humans are wired for transcendent experiences. We each experience those transcendent moments on different triggers. For many of us, those triggers are some form of what we consider "beauty" in all its myriad forms. The beauty of physical artwork. The beauty of the world around us, whether landscapes on this planet or the beauty of the amazing cosmos. The beauty of music, whether instrumental or vocal.
It's no accident that traditional religion pushes those buttons. Religions have had centuries to test and refine what makes people have transcendent experiences and get the dopamine hit, the "mountain-top," the amazing moment that convinces us that there's a deity. Religion has been the sponsor of so much beautiful artwork – because it enables their adherents to get that moment. Religion uses amazing music – because it enables their adherents to get that moment.
It doesn't stop there. Most ceremonial activities are things that psychologists have found produce feelings of bonding, regardless of any divine invocation. Speaking and singing the same thing at the same time. Moving in unison with a group, even as simple as sitting and standing at the same time. The more you pay attention, the more you notice that a church service is designed to push those buttons – awe, beauty, belonging.
So I think more accurately, one would say that "God was made by this place." It's not that God makes the sanctuary and the things we do there holy. Rather, it's the sanctuary and the things we do there that give us the feelings we ascribe to the presence of God.
I can have that same feeling of awe under a starry night sky. I can have that same sense of community singing with a community choir. I can find the same peace and comfort in meditation. These things are not restricted to theists.
In Sunday's service, the deacon referenced this verse from 1 Kings:
How long will you waver between two opinions? If the LORD is God, follow him; but if Baal is God, follow him.
-1 Kings 18:21
He railed against atheists "marveling at the beauty of creation while denying the existence of a Creator," as if we were holding two contradictory positions. There is simply nothing contradictory about appreciating beauty without believing that there was volition in the creation of it. Some beauty is made – sculpture, music, architecture – and some beauty develops of itself – space, nature, fractals. Appreciation of beauty, or even the existence of beauty itself, tells us nothing about whether a divinity exists, or which divinity that might be.
As an aside, the Israelites Elijah railed against in this verse also weren't holding contradictory positions, since both Yahweh and Ba'al were members of the same Canaanite pantheon. They'd been worshiped side-by-side for centuries; demanding that they decide which one was god was a false binary under their existing religion.
But that aside leads into another fork of this fallacy. If you'd asked a Canaanite, they'd have told you that beholding the wonders of the Heavens proves the existence of El, their creator god. An Egyptian would have said the same about Aten or Atum. The marvels of the universe were variously vomited out by Mbombo, created by the Great Rabbit Nanabozho, or the corpse of Ymir. One thing cannot simultaneously be proof of all these deities.
The simplest and best explanation is that it is proof of none of them. Beauty is something we have evolved to appreciate, and we experience the wonder of knowing we exist on this tiny speck in the imponderably large cosmos.
And God truly is made in this place – by us, for us, and out of what we ourselves brought to it.
Hail Satan! Amen.