Let's begin with Draupadi. In the Mahabharata, the colossal Hindu epic poem, Arjuna wins her hand at an archery tournament organized by her father, the king of Panchala. Things get complicated when the groom returns to his palace and swollen with pride he goes to his mother, Kunti, telling her he brought back with him a great gift. In a twist that would make any porn director happy, before he can go on, Kunti replies, “Whatever it is, share it equally among your brothers.” Since Mama is sacred and can't be disobeyed, Arjuna complies. And Draupadi who was single just a few hours earlier, found herself married to five different guys known as the Pandavas. The Mahabharata doesn't get into the nitty-gritty details of their arrangements, but it does tell us that Draupadi spent one year at a time with each of her husbands, and had five children in five years from her five husbands.
It seems that in a previous life Draupadi had begged the god Shiva to grant her a husband with five very desirable qualities. Shiva had warned her that it would be next to impossible finding a single man possessing all those qualities at the same time, but Draupadi stuck to her request. Unable to find her such a man, Shiva figured that the next best thing was to find her multiple husbands, one for each of the qualities she craved.
And just to add another layer to the already abundant weirdness of this story, Draupadi has the considerable talent of returning a virgin each year before switching to a new husband. She almost makes the Virgin Mary look like an amateur by comparison … Some say this twist may be a later Christian idea superimposed on the original Hindu story, but in any case it's too good to pass …
Let's turn to Draupadi's mother-in-law, Kunti, who is one of the most venerated feminine figures in the Hindu pantheon, despite having three sons from three different fathers—none of them being her husband. The story behind this … well, I’ll leave it up to you to find the right adjectives … Her husband, Pandu, was cursed. One day, while on a hunting expedition, he had come upon a male and female deer having sex, and had promptly shot them full of arrows. Big mistake. As it turns out, the male deer was the sage Kindama, who was gifted with the ability to shape-shift into animal form (and who was apparently fond of kinky sex games with the furry creatures of the forest …). Once shot, Kindama turned himself back into human form and cursed Pandu. Shooting animals while they are having sex is just rude—Kindama argued—so your punishment will be to die if you ever try to have sex with a woman.
Quite bummed out, Pandu became a celibate hermit with his wives, but was constantly worried about dying childless. Kunti, however, knew exactly how to save the day. One of her gifts was the ability to conjure the gods and have kids by them, so puff … three sexual marathons later with three different gods, Kunti popped out three sons.
Anyone who thinks religious stories are prudish, moralizing and boring should seriously check out some Hindu tales.
34 THE GODFATHER OF CHRISTIANITY
The Roman emperor Constantine is one of the great heroes of Christian history. As legend would have it, he singlehandedly put an end to religious persecution and became the first Christian emperor. His impact was nothing short of miraculous, and this is why his name is often adorned with superlatives: he is Constantine “the Great,” or as some branches of Christianity regard him “Saint” Constantine. More than any other figure, he is the true Godfather of Christianity, who helped it turn from a small troubled sect into the dominant religion of the empire.
But the word godfather applies to Constantine in more ways than one. Think Don Vito Corleone kind of Godfather (actually, I like Don Vito Corleone, so more like Michael Corleone). The historical reality is that Constantine was a brutal dictator who used Christianity for his own self-aggrandizing means and probably never even converted (some say he converted on his death bed, while others say he never did).
At the beginning of the 300s, the Roman Empire was a mess: there were too many people following too many religions speaking too many languages. Culturally, politically, religiously and in every other way, hardly anything brought unity to the empire. The confusion was so intense that it was not unusual for multiple people to claim the title of emperor at the same time. Civil wars to settle the squabbles between these contenders were the norm.
Constantine had quickly understood that ruling over such a diverse population, with such divided loyalties, would always be an uphill battle unless he figured out a way to bring them together. Religion seemed to fit the bill: a shared religion would give his citizens a common sense of loyalty and identity.
The old Roman polytheism didn't seem to serve his purposes since few people still believed in it. Christians instead were very enthusiastic about their faith. Perhaps even more attractive, monotheism preached the need for all to worship a single source of authority—a concept that was music to Constantine's ears. By tying religion and imperial power together, Constantine would be able to claim that any rebellion against him was a rebellion against God's right hand man. Saint Paul's writings about political leaders receiving their authority from God gave Constantine plenty of ammunition for his totalitarian project.
Constantine probably didn't give a rat's ass about religion (or if he did, he had a curious way of showing it since—as we will see—his newly found interest for Christianity didn't dampen his passion for murder). He professed devotion to the Church, but he also regularly offered sacrifices to Apollo, Diana and Hercules, and remained head of the official pagan priesthood throughout his life. What he was looking for was a tool that would allow him to tighten his grip on power.
Accordingly, Constantine tested the waters by putting an end to the persecutions against Christians in 313 CE. The infighting among different Christian sects, however, bothered him. Religious disagreements could lead to conflicts and rebellion, and this would mean more people to kill, more heads to be bashed, and nothing but work, work, work. If Christianity were to serve his purpose, only one official version should be allowed. So, in 325, Constantine invited bishops from all over the empire at the Council of Nicaea, where they could get their act straight and vote once and for all regarding which one would the true Christian doctrine, and which should be eliminated as heresies. Once the bishops were done bickering, Constantine immediately moved to repress any alternate versions of Christianity.
Shortly after thus becoming the champion of the new religion, Constantine demonstrated how much religious piety had touched his soul by having his son executed, and his own wife boiled alive, for he feared they may have been plotting against him. Jesus's message to “love your enemies” must have not gotten to destination, since Constantine had some of his rivals beheaded, and others hanged after he had promised them clemency if they surrendered.
Constantine played an incredibly important role in legitimizing Christianity, but considering him a saint may be a tad overoptimistic. The man, in fact, was a gangster with a tiny heart and a Godzilla-sized ego.
35 THE SLAVE OWNER’S BEST FRIEND: THE BIBLE
Back in the 1800s, when abolitionists and defenders of slavery were slugging it out, both sides turned to the Bible for ideological ammunition. Clearly, convincing the world's public opinion that God was on your side could do wonder for your PR campaign, and perhaps help turn the tide of battle.
Now, the obvious question is: how could both sides appeal to the same book to justify opposite conclusions? That's because with its usual clarity, the Bible seems to offer support for mutually contradictory answers. And so, naturally, what people did was pick the passages supporting their position and ignore the others.
Abolitionists, for example, loved Deuteronomy 23:15–16, which stated, “If a slave has taken refuge with you, do not hand him over to his master. Let him live among you wherever he likes and in whatever town he chooses. Do not oppress him.” Sweet, isn't it? And to add more fuel to the abolitionists’ fire, Exodus 21:16 argued, “Anyone who kidnaps another and either sells him or still has him when he is caught must be put to death.”
Sounds like we have settled the debate since God is obvious
ly against slavery, right? Not exactly. Leviticus 25:44–46, in fact, clarifies that this prohibition only applies to enslaving fellow Jews. “However, you may purchase male and female slaves from among the nations around you. You may also purchase the children of temporary residents who live among you, including those who have been born in your land. You may treat them as your property, passing them on to your children as a permanent inheritance. You may treat them as slaves, but you must never treat your fellow Israelites this way.”
Slaves, incidentally, are part of the prize God gave to Abraham in Genesis, and slavery itself is mentioned without a hint of condemnation within the Ten Commandments. And in case you are still not convinced, Leviticus 19:20 sets down the rules for dutifully raping a slave woman. But the most blood chilling of all passages is found in Exodus 21:20–21. Here, the Word of God tells us, “When a man strikes his male or female slave with a rod so hard the slave dies under his hand, he shall be punished. If, however, the slave survives for a day or two, he is not to be punished, since the slave is his own property.” Yes, you read right. God gives you a thumb up for killing your slaves as long as they survive your beating for a couple of days … Lovely.
Ok, you may wonder, but at least the music will change in the New Testament. Jesus will get rid of this barbaric Old Testament crap, right? Some passages, after all, seem encouraging. At least indirectly, the injunction to “Do to others what you would have them do to you” appears to run counter to slavery. Plus, the ideal of the equality of all in front of God—Jew or Gentiles, slave or free, male or female—denies the very hierarchy on which slavery depends.
So how did the defenders of slavery spin the New Testament into a pro-slavery document? Well … it turns out that they didn't have to spin it that much. The first piece of evidence they could use in their favor is that despite being surrounded by slavery, Jesus never openly denounced it (or if he did, the Gospels are silent about this). But even less ambiguously, they could just quote direct passages that don't exactly sound like harsh criticisms of slavery. Titus 2:9–10 counsels, “Teach slaves to be subject to their masters in everything, to try to please them …” 1 Peter 2:18 adds, “You who are slaves must accept the authority of your masters with all respect. Do what they tell you—not only if they are kind and reasonable, but even if they are cruel.” And in case you weren't paying attention, Ephesians 6:5–6 reminds you, “Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ. Obey them not only to win their favor when their eye is on you, but like slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from your heart.”
Ok, let's stop. I can't take this anymore. If we continue at this rate, I may convince myself that, since God is obviously fine with slavery, maybe I should be as well. After all, that's what the Bible says.
36 TAO IS THE SHIT
Taoists (and their close cousins Zen Buddhists) are funky people. The way they make their point is nearly always weird, and sometimes flat-out gross. Consider this dialogue between some guy (who no doubt regretted ever being part of it) and Chuang Tzu, one of the founding fathers of Taoism.
Having a difficult time understanding what exactly was this universal energy Chuang Tzu was fond of talking of, a man named Tung Kuo Tzu (we'll call him Tung for short) decided to question him about it. Where exactly can I find this mysterious Tao you always speak about? “It's everywhere,” Chuang Tzu replied. Not satisfied Tung asked for an example. Chuang Tzu pointed to an ant crawling on the ground and said, “It's here in this ant.” Tung was taken aback that something so grandiose and elusive as the Tao could be found in something as low as an ant. Now, Tung was probably being just a pain in the ass. The idea that God (or however people conceive of ultimate reality) is everywhere and in everything is something found in many religions. But Tung continued his line of questioning demanding more examples, thus giving Chuang Tzu a chance to let loose. In short order, Chuang Tzu proceeded to explain that, if he wanted to find the Tao, Tung could look in the grass, in some broken tile, and in the steaming pile of shit that a dog had graciously just deposited nearby. Needless to say, Tung was speechless.
Poor Tung. He had come to question a great spiritual master about the secrets of the universe, and instead he was getting a speech about dog shit.
Chuang Tzu, on the other hand, was having a blast. He could have made his point about the Tao being in everything in many, more delicate ways. But they wouldn't have been as much fun. The expression on Tung's face at the end of the speech was priceless.
Probably Zen master Lin Chi was in the same mischievous mood as Chuang Tzu when he advised his disciples that the key to enlightenment was to “Shit, piss, and just be human. Eat when hungry. Sleep when tired.”
What these two sly cats were doing with their scatological speeches was to teach a lesson to the delicate souls who have an overly romanticized notion of spirituality. So busy looking for deep, mystical truths, plenty of starry-eyed searchers begin dividing existence between physical and spiritual, profane and sacred. Many are those who, infatuated with all things “spiritual,” forget that real spirituality is nothing but daily life lived with full awareness. This is the only difference between a Buddha and an ordinary person. One goes through life awake, while the other is sleepwalking.
Annoyed with the many posers who crowd the spirituality-business, Chuang Tzu and Lin Chi have fun shocking them. Lin Chi would always yell at his disciples reminding them not to “love the sacred and disdain the profane.” In a similar vein, when people questioned him why he spent so little time in monasteries, master Tao-Chi would reply, “Drinking in the wine shops and sleeping in brothels—this is where I practice best.” The bowel movements of dogs, wine, hookers, and other seemingly inappropriate subjects are all ways to shake overly rigid “religious” people from their own self-importance. By taking themselves too seriously, these guys ultimately missed the point. And if they didn't get it … well, then might as well have a good time freaking them out with the dog shit speech.
37 WHY A PAGAN EMPEROR WAS THE BEST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN TO CHRISTIANS
When people think of early Christianity under the Roman Empire, the typical images that come to mind are of crucifixions and lions having Christian filet for lunch, while the Roman plebs chant “Die, Christian bastards, die!” and some fat emperor, with an evil laughter looks on while squeezing the asses of his slave girls (and slave boys while he is at it). For the most part, these images are right on the money. Despite a long tradition of religious tolerance (or at least something close to that), the Roman Empire went after Christians with a vengeance. They were considered dangerous atheists, because of their deep hatred for the traditional gods. For good measure, they were also accused of cannibalism, incest and orgies (all that talk of “eating the body of Jesus” and “universal love” was slightly misunderstood). And, most worrisome of all, they refused to pay homage to the emperor, which was taken as a sign of disloyalty to the state. As long you were loyal to the state, the Romans would have no problems with whatever weird beliefs you decided to live by, but even a tiny suspicion of disloyalty … well, maybe it's time to bring out the lions. And this is exactly what the Romans did for over two centuries.
But the relationship between pagan Roman emperors and Christians could also be more complicated than that. Take the example of Julian, the last pagan Roman emperor.
Flavius Claudius Julianus was the lonely survivor of the massacres of possible troublesome claimants to the throne organized by Constantine's very Christian sons. Julian saw his whole family butchered by Christians, and he himself grew up under close watch—the possibility of getting whacked never too far from his mind. So, needless to say, when he finally did manage to become emperor, he didn't exactly have a soft spot for Christianity. Rather, his preferences were for Greek philosophy and classic Greco-Roman paganism.
In just about every way, he did everything opposite to the way Constantine and his evil heirs had run the business. Unlike them (an
d unlike most other emperors), he insisted on treating others as one of them, as if they were equal—something very odd in the highly hierarchical and class conscious Roman society. He immediately dismantled the secret police that Constantine had used to build his totalitarian state. And in a very dramatic move, he withdrew the empire's support for Christianity. His religious platform was remarkably modern: freedom of worship for all, and no forms of state imposed religion. Despite his strong dislike for Christianity, he refused to systematically persecute them. Simply, he just took away government-paid salaries and other benefits from the bishops.
50 Things You're Not Supposed To Know: Religion Page 9