The Righteous Men

I’ve been reading a book by Sam Bourne (a pseudonym for Jonathan Freedland, the journalist) called ‘The Righteous Men’. I didn’t know it when I purchased the book, but it has kabbalah at the core of its story (and a very good story it is too – Da Vinci Code-ish without quite so many terrible factual errors)

I don’t want to spoil the story for anyone who hasn’t had the pleasure of reading it yet, so won’t go into too much detail, except to say that ‘a righteous man’ is one who does good things for other people anonymously. The recipients never know who their benefactor or helper is. The righteous men do good for others because it is the right thing to do. They are not trying to win a place in heaven, or the admiration of others, or simply following rules. They are often in very ordinary everyday occupations, or even in occupations scorned by others.  They are not necessarily religious, or even spiritual. But they are regarded by some Kabbalists as the holiest of men.

(I’ve kept using the term ‘men’ here though I have no doubt that there are righteous women. I expect the concept was first solidified in a time when women weren’t considered evolved enough – or given enough freedom – to exercise free will.)

In the past religion has been mainly either consoling, (i.e. it gives people hope for the future, and a meaning, plus guidance); and/or a form of social control. Most forms of spirituality seem to come about as a result of glimpses of, or a yearning for, the transcendent. Spiritual revelations however are often shattering; they tend to turn one’s world upside down and inside out. As St. John didn’t quite say ‘And ye shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free. But first it will make you bloody miserable.’

One of the first things one has to let go of in the wake of many spiritual revelations is the idea of the 'ground of all being' as a personal God (though one often discovers intermediaries between humans and the no-thing- which-is-the-cause-and-essence-of-everything which/who are very personable indeed.)

But it doesn’t even take a spiritual revelation for something to start to happen which society, especially those in charge of it, consider very dangerous. People look at the rules contained within their local religion and state laws and start to make choices about ‘good’ and ‘bad’ rules based on their own rationality and feelings of fairness and goodness. And so there were the women who kept vigil at Greenham Common, and CND supporters breaking the law (and accepting they had to pay the penalty for that.) In South Africa and in the south of the USA you had people breaking the segregation rules. Many modern Christians turn a blind eye to the bible’s injunctions for women to obey their husbands and slaves to obey their masters.

Often these law breakers are ‘righteous men’.

Karen Armstrong (see my post 'Who is this God person anyway?') talks of the need for the rituals which produce a sense of ‘other’, of awe, and which religion has often provided in the past. But in the Guardian today was news of a new sort of ‘church’ that has set up in Islington, where the ‘services’ include inspiring music and sing-alongs, talks on the wonders of nature, and discussions on the best ways of helping other people. The service includes an opportunity for people to meet and mix, in order to engender a feeling of community. But God is not mentioned. It is a service for atheists.

 I would call this a humanist meeting, but humanists are materialists, and I don’t know if the people who attend these meetings in Islington are all also materialists (though at least one of the organisers is.) If it is an essentially materialist approach, that would discourage me from attending, but I applaud the idea of such meetings. Indeed I consider that they are probably a fertile breeding ground for ‘righteous men’, the ‘most holy’,  and when it comes down to it, as Helen Titchen-Beeth said (see my post Goodbye-meditation-hello-spontaneity.) loving, kind behaviour towards others is more important than any dogma, or any cosmology.