Hear Carl Sagan Artfully Refute a Creationist on a Talk Radio Show: “The Darwinian Concept of Evolution is Profoundly Verified”

It takes a spe­cial kind of per­son to calm­ly debate those who pre­fer dog­ma to rea­son and who insist on ignor­ing or dis­tort­ing evi­dence to suit their pre­con­cep­tions. Carl Sagan was such a per­son. Among his many oth­er sci­en­tif­ic accom­plish­ments, he became leg­endary for his skill as an edu­ca­tor and sci­ence advo­cate. Sagan com­mu­ni­cat­ed not only his knowl­edge, but also his awe and won­der at the beau­ty and intri­ca­cy of the uni­verse, bring­ing to his expla­na­tions an unri­valed enthu­si­asm, clar­i­ty, and tal­ent for poet­ic expres­sion. And when faced with inter­locu­tors who were less than intel­lec­tu­al­ly hon­est, Sagan kept his cool and car­ried on.

This could be dif­fi­cult. In the audio from a radio call-in show above, we hear Sagan answer ques­tions from a caller with a clear, and rather fool­hardy agen­da: to best the astronomer, astro­physi­cist, and astro­bi­ol­o­gist in a debate over Dar­win­ian evo­lu­tion. He begins right away with some ad hominem, call­ing Sagan and his wife Ann Druyan “true believ­ers, who are no more will­ing to ques­tion the the­o­ry that you base your beliefs on than were the min­is­ters of the 19th cen­tu­ry who you reg­u­lar­ly crit­i­cize as being close-mind­ed.” The irony of accu­sa­tions like these should be obvi­ous. Though the caller doesn’t announce him­self as a cre­ation­ist, it’s abun­dant­ly clear to Sagan from his talk­ing points that he’s defend­ing a cre­ation­ist par­ty line.

Sagan attempts to answer his first ques­tion, but before he can fin­ish, the caller leaps to anoth­er bul­let point, the “gaps in the the­o­ry” or “gap­ing hole” of “fos­sils in tran­si­tion.” Sagan press­es his claim, with evi­dence, that “the Dar­win­ian con­cept of evo­lu­tion and nat­ur­al selec­tion is pro­found­ly ver­i­fied.” The insis­tent caller again inter­rupts and Sagan almost gives up on him, say­ing he “rather reminds me of Pon­tius Pilate. He asks, ‘what is truth?’ but does not stay for the answer.’” Then Sagan, with­out hes­i­ta­tion, patient­ly makes a case in brief:

Con­sid­er arti­fi­cial selec­tion. There is some­thing par­tic­u­lar­ly implau­si­ble about nat­ur­al selec­tion, par­tic­u­lar­ly if you think that the world is only a few thou­sand years old, as the Bib­li­cal chronol­o­gy would have it. Then the idea of one species flow­ing into anoth­er is absurd, we nev­er see that in our every­day life, we are told. But con­sid­er, for exam­ple, the vari­ety of dogs on the plan­et… We humans made them… by con­trol­ling which dogs shall mate with which…. In the short peri­od of 8 or 10,000 years, we pro­duce this immense vari­ety of dogs. Now com­pare that with four bil­lion years of bio­log­i­cal evo­lu­tion, not arti­fi­cial selec­tion, but nat­ur­al selec­tion, which goes into not just the over­all per­son­al­i­ty and char­ac­ter­is­tics of the dog, but the bio­chem­istry and inter­nal organs… and then it is clear that the beau­ty and diver­si­ty of life on earth can emerge. But if you don’t buy four bil­lion years, you don’t buy evo­lu­tion.

Sagan fre­quent­ly cit­ed this fig­ure of 4 bil­lion years for the ori­gin of life on Earth. Dur­ing his huge­ly pop­u­lar pro­gram Cos­mos, for exam­ple, he used the num­ber in an accel­er­at­ed evo­lu­tion­ary his­to­ry, which you can hear him nar­rate accom­pa­nied by a nifty ani­ma­tion in the video below. Most sci­en­tists have used that fig­ure or a few mil­lion years ear­li­er. For some time, the actu­al num­ber was thought to be between 3.6 and 3.8 bil­lion years. Recent­ly, as Tim Marcin reports at the Inter­na­tion­al Busi­ness Times, some sci­en­tists have con­clud­ed that “liv­ing organ­isms may have exist­ed on Earth as long as 4.1 bil­lion years ago.”

Marcin quotes UCLA pro­fes­sor of geo­chem­istry Mark Har­ri­son, who spec­u­lates, “life on Earth may have start­ed almost instan­ta­neous­ly” (rel­a­tive­ly speak­ing) after the planet’s for­ma­tion some 4.6 bil­lion years ago. These esti­mates come from car­bon dat­ing, not fos­sils, but just yes­ter­day, Sarah Kaplan writes at The Wash­ing­ton Post, dis­cov­er­ies of “tiny, tubu­lar struc­tures uncov­ered in ancient Cana­di­an rocks” may be evi­dence of ancient microbes thought to be 3.77 bil­lion years old, “mak­ing them the old­est fos­sils ever found.”

Like all new sci­en­tif­ic dis­cov­er­ies, these recent find­ings have been con­test­ed by oth­er sci­en­tists in these fields. And like some dis­cov­er­ies, their ques­tions may nev­er be resolved in our life­times. Sci­ence depends on meth­ods of data col­lec­tion, eval­u­a­tion and inter­pre­ta­tion of evi­dence, peer review, and many oth­er process­es sub­ject to human error. Sci­en­tists must often revise their con­clu­sions and recon­sid­er the­o­ries. No sci­en­tif­ic expla­na­tion is con­clu­sive­ly defin­i­tive in all its par­tic­u­lars. Nonethe­less, Sagan believed that only through the sci­en­tif­ic method could we obtain knowl­edge about the cos­mos and the ori­gin of life on earth that was in any way reli­able. He admired reli­gious ethics and the space reli­gions held for the big ques­tions. Sagan even declared in his 1985 Gif­ford Lec­tures (pub­lished posthu­mous­ly as The Vari­eties of Sci­en­tif­ic Expe­ri­ence) that “the objec­tives of reli­gion and sci­ence… are iden­ti­cal or very near­ly so.” But he did not think reli­gions could answer the ques­tions they asked.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Carl Sagan Presents a Mini-Course on Earth, Mars & What’s Beyond Our Solar Sys­tem: For Kids and Adults (1977)

Carl Sagan Explains Evo­lu­tion in an Eight-Minute Ani­ma­tion

Watch Episode #2 of Neil deGrasse Tyson’s Cos­mos: Explains the Real­i­ty of Evo­lu­tion (US View­ers)

Carl Sagan, Stephen Hawk­ing & Arthur C. Clarke Dis­cuss God, the Uni­verse, and Every­thing Else

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Japanese Priest Tries to Revive Buddhism by Bringing Techno Music into the Temple: Attend a Psychedelic 23-Minute Service

Many reli­gious lead­ers would like to liv­en up their ser­vices to attract a younger, hip­per flock, but few have the nec­es­sary back­ground to pull it off in a tru­ly impres­sive way. Not so for the Japan­ese Bud­dhist priest Gyōsen Asaku­ra, who answered the high­er call­ing after a career as a DJ but evi­dent­ly nev­er lost his feel for the unstop­pable pulse of elec­tron­ic music. Get­ting behind his decks and don­ning his head­phones once again, he has begun using sound, light, and the orig­i­nal splen­dor of Fukui City’s Shō-onji tem­ple to hold “tech­no memo­r­i­al ser­vices.” You can see and hear a bit of one such audio­vi­su­al spir­i­tu­al spec­ta­cle in the video just above, shot at a memo­r­i­al ser­vice last fall.

“Bud­dhism may be approach­ing some­thing of a cri­sis point in Japan,” reports Bud­dhist­door’s Craig Lewis, “with 27,000 of the country’s 77,000 Bud­dhist tem­ples fore­cast to close over the next 25 years, reflect­ing shrink­ing pop­u­la­tions in small rur­al com­mu­ni­ties and a loss of faith in orga­nized reli­gion among the country’s pop­u­la­tion as a whole.”

He also sites an Asahi Shim­bun sur­vey that found 434 tem­ples closed over the past decade and 12,065 Japan­ese Bud­dhist tem­ples cur­rent­ly with­out res­i­dent monks. Can this tem­ple in a small city, itself known for its phoenix-like rise from the ash­es of the Sec­ond World War, do its part to reverse the trend?

Gyōsen Asaku­ra frames his tech­no memo­r­i­al ser­vices, how­ev­er incon­gru­ous they might at first seem, as in keep­ing with the tra­di­tions of his branch of Pure Land Bud­dhism. “Orig­i­nal­ly, gold­en dec­o­ra­tions in the tem­ple are expres­sions of par­adise light,” he told THUMP. “How­ev­er, the light of a tra­di­tion­al tem­ple has not changed its form from 1000 years ago to use can­dle­light, even after elec­tric­i­ty was invent­ed. I felt doubt­ful about that, and then I thought about express­ing par­adise with the lat­est stage light­ing such as 3D map­ping.”

After all, as he said to Japankyo, “peo­ple used to use the most advanced tech­nolo­gies avail­able to them at the time in order to orna­ment tem­ples with gold leaf,” so why not har­ness today’s tech­nol­o­gy to evoke the Bud­dhist “world of light” as well? And in any case, ecsta­t­ic sen­so­ry expe­ri­ences are noth­ing new in the realm of faith, though ecsta­t­ic sen­so­ry expe­ri­ences of Gyōsen Asaku­ra’s kind do cost mon­ey to put togeth­er. And so he, in the way of most reli­gious projects the world over, has asked for dona­tions to fund them, using not a bowl but the crowd­fund­ing site Ready­for. Judg­ing by 383,000 yen (more than $3300 U.S. dol­lars) he’s already raised, quite a few tech­no-heads have seen the light.

via Elec­tron­ic Beats

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The “Amen Break”: The Most Famous 6‑Second Drum Loop & How It Spawned a Sam­pling Rev­o­lu­tion

Edward Snow­den & Jean-Michel Jarre Record a Tech­no Protest Song, “Exit”

Hear the Great­est Hits of Isao Tomi­ta (RIP), the Father of Japan­ese Elec­tron­ic Music

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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Take a Break from Your Frantic Day & Let Alan Watts Introduce You to the Calming Ways of Zen

By the end of the 1960s, Alan Watts had become one of the gurus of the coun­ter­cul­ture. Though he was not real­ly a Zen Bud­dhist, he was many a person’s gate­way into the reli­gion due to The Way of Zen pub­lished in 1958. His was a philo­soph­i­cal and pop­ulist approach to East­ern reli­gion, an antecedent to the Eck­hart Tolles of our time.

This short film, Now and Zen, was direct­ed by Elda and Irv­ing Hart­ley, shot in the gar­dens at their res­i­dence, and fea­tures Watts encour­ag­ing the view­er to go beyond the mate­r­i­al world, espe­cial­ly as we under­stand it through lan­guage and our cul­tur­al view­point. Instead, he says, “This world is a mul­ti­di­men­sion­al net­work of all kinds of vibra­tions” which infants under­stand bet­ter than us adults. The film then tran­si­tions into a guid­ed sit­ting med­i­ta­tion of sorts, and ends with the sounds of nature. (Plus, there’s ducks.)

“Hence the impor­tance of med­i­ta­tion in zen,” he con­tin­ues, “which is, from time to time, to stop think­ing alto­geth­er, and sim­ply be aware of what is. This may be done very, very sim­ply. By becom­ing aware of the play of light and col­or upon your eyes. Don’t name any­thing you see. Just let the light and the shad­ow, the shape and the col­or, play with your eyes, and allow the sound to play with your ears.”

Elda Hart­ley, work­ing with her hus­band Irv­ing, used this film to launch the Hart­ley Film Foun­da­tion, its mis­sion to pro­duce doc­u­men­taries on world reli­gions and spir­i­tu­al­i­ty. (It still exists as a non-prof­it). Zen as a sub­ject came first, because Elda had been on a trip to Japan with Alan Watts, and when she pro­posed the film, he agreed to nar­rate. She would lat­er make films with Mar­garet Mead, Joseph Camp­bell, Ram Dass, Hus­ton Smith and oth­ers.

There are sev­er­al oth­er films on archive.org’s Hart­ley Pro­duc­tions page, and anoth­er Watts-nar­rat­ed one: The Flow of Zen. (Warn­ing: this is the oppo­site of med­i­ta­tive, and its harsh aton­al elec­tron­ic sounds very far removed from any medi­a­tion CD you might have kick­ing around.)

Bet­ter still: Open Cul­ture also has plen­ty of Alan Watts in the archive.

Final­ly, as some­one who spent many an under­grad night lis­ten­ing to his late-night lec­tures on KPFK and at the time not under­stand­ing a whit, it was edi­fy­ing to hear Watts say in the above film:

As you lis­ten to my voice, don’t try to make any sense of what I am say­ing. Just be aware of the tones and your brain will auto­mat­i­cal­ly take care of the sense.

I can vouch that he was right about that…eventually. But only after read­ing many, many books on Bud­dhism.

Now and Zen and The Flow of Zen will be added to our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Alan Watts Intro­duces Amer­i­ca to Med­i­ta­tion & East­ern Phi­los­o­phy: Watch the 1960 TV Show, East­ern Wis­dom and Mod­ern Life

The Wis­dom of Alan Watts in Four Thought-Pro­vok­ing Ani­ma­tions

What If Mon­ey Was No Object?: Thoughts on the Art of Liv­ing from East­ern Philoso­pher Alan Watts

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

How Leo Tolstoy Became a Vegetarian and Jumpstarted the Vegetarian & Humanitarian Movements in the 19th Century

tolstoy rules 2

Leo Tol­stoy is remem­bered as both a tow­er­ing pin­na­cle of Russ­ian lit­er­a­ture and a fas­ci­nat­ing exam­ple of Chris­t­ian anar­chism, a mys­ti­cal ver­sion of which the aris­to­crat­ic author pio­neered in the last quar­ter cen­tu­ry of his life. After a dra­mat­ic con­ver­sion, Tol­stoy reject­ed his social posi­tion, the favored vices of his youth, and the dietary habits of his cul­ture, becom­ing a vocal pro­po­nent of veg­e­tar­i­an­ism in his ascetic quest for the good life. Thou­sands of his con­tem­po­raries found Tolstoy’s exam­ple deeply com­pelling, and sev­er­al com­munes formed around his prin­ci­ples, to his dis­may. “To speak of ‘Tol­stoy­ism,’” he wrote, “to seek guid­ance, to inquire about my solu­tion of ques­tions, is a great and gross error.”

“Still,” writes Kelsey Osgood at The New York­er, “peo­ple insist­ed on seek­ing guid­ance from him,” includ­ing a young Mahat­ma Gand­hi, who struck up a live­ly cor­re­spon­dence with the writer and in 1910 found­ed a com­mu­ni­ty called “Tol­stoy Farm” near Johan­nes­burg.

Though uneasy in the role of move­ment leader, the author of Anna Karen­i­na invit­ed such treat­ment by pub­lish­ing dozens of philo­soph­i­cal and the­o­log­i­cal works, many of them in oppo­si­tion to a con­trary strain of reli­gious and moral ideas devel­op­ing in the late nine­teenth cen­tu­ry. Often called “mus­cu­lar Chris­tian­i­ty,” this trend respond­ed to what many Vic­to­ri­ans thought of as a cri­sis of mas­culin­i­ty by empha­siz­ing sports and war­rior ideals and rail­ing against the “fem­i­niza­tion” of the cul­ture.

Tol­stoy might be said to rep­re­sent a “veg­etable Christianity”—seeking har­mo­ny with nature and turn­ing away from all forms of vio­lence, includ­ing the eat­ing of meat. In “The First Step,” an 1891 essay on diet and eth­i­cal com­mit­ment, he char­ac­ter­ized the pre­vail­ing reli­gious atti­tude toward food:

I remem­ber how, with pride at his orig­i­nal­i­ty, an Evan­gel­i­cal preach­er, who was attack­ing monas­tic asceti­cism, once said to me “Ours is not a Chris­tian­i­ty of fast­ing and pri­va­tions, but of beef­steaks.” Chris­tian­i­ty, or virtue in general—and beef­steaks!

While he con­fessed him­self “not hor­ri­fied by this asso­ci­a­tion,” it is only because “there is no bad odor, no sound, no mon­stros­i­ty, to which man can­not become so accus­tomed that he ceas­es to remark what would strike a man unac­cus­tomed to it.” The killing and eat­ing of ani­mals, Tol­stoy came to believe, is a hor­ror to which—like war and serfdom—his cul­ture had grown far too accus­tomed. Like many an ani­mal rights activist today, Tol­stoy con­veyed his hor­ror of meat-eat­ing by describ­ing a slaugh­ter­house in detail, con­clud­ing:

[I]f he be real­ly and seri­ous­ly seek­ing to live a good life, the first thing from which he will abstain will always be the use of ani­mal food, because, to say noth­ing of the exci­ta­tion of the pas­sions caused by such food, its use is sim­ply immoral, as it involves the per­for­mance of an act which is con­trary to the moral feeling—killing.

[W]e can­not pre­tend that we do not know this. We are not ostrich­es, and can­not believe that if we refuse to look at what we do not wish to see, it will not exist.… [Y]oung, kind, unde­praved people—especially women and girls—without know­ing how it log­i­cal­ly fol­lows, feel that virtue is incom­pat­i­ble with beef­steaks, and, as soon as they wish to be good, give up eat­ing flesh.

The idea of veg­e­tar­i­an­ism of course pre­ced­ed Tol­stoy by hun­dreds of years of Hin­du and Bud­dhist prac­tice. And its grow­ing pop­u­lar­i­ty in Europe and Amer­i­ca pre­ced­ed him as well. “Tol­stoy became an out­spo­ken veg­e­tar­i­an at the age of 50,” writes Sam Pavlenko, “after meet­ing the pos­i­tivist and veg­e­tar­i­an William Frey, who, accord­ing to Tolstoy’s son Sergei Lvovich, vis­it­ed the great writer in the autumn of 1885.” Tolstoy’s dietary stance fit in with what Char­lotte Alston describes as an “increas­ing­ly orga­nized” inter­na­tion­al veg­e­tar­i­an move­ment tak­ing shape in the late nine­teenth cen­tu­ry.

Like Tol­stoy in “The First Step,” pro­po­nents of veg­e­tar­i­an­ism argued not only against cru­el­ty to ani­mals, but also against “the bru­tal­iza­tion of those who worked in the meat indus­try, as butch­ers, slaugh­ter­men, and even shep­herds and drovers.” But veg­e­tar­i­an­ism was only one part of Tolstoy’s reli­gious phi­los­o­phy, which also includ­ed chasti­ty, tem­per­ance, the rejec­tion of pri­vate prop­er­ty, and “a com­plete refusal to par­tic­i­pate in vio­lence or coer­cion of any kind.” This marked his dietary prac­tice as dis­tinct from many con­tem­po­raries. Tol­stoy and his fol­low­ers “made the link between veg­e­tar­i­an­ism and a wider human­i­tar­i­an­ism explic­it.”

“How was it pos­si­ble,” Alston sum­ma­rizes, “to regard the killing of ani­mals for food as evil, but not to con­demn the killing of men through war and cap­i­tal pun­ish­ment? Not all mem­bers of the veg­e­tar­i­an move­ment agreed.” Some saw “no con­nec­tion between the ques­tions of war and diet.” Tolstoy’s philo­soph­i­cal argu­ment against all forms of vio­lence was not orig­i­nal to him, but it res­onat­ed all over the world with those who saw him as a shin­ing exam­ple, includ­ing his two daugh­ters and even­tu­al­ly his wife Sophia, who all adopt­ed the prac­tice of veg­e­tar­i­an­ism. A book of their recipes was pub­lished in 1874, and adapt­ed by Pavlenko for his Leo Tol­stoy: A Vegetarian’s Tale(See one exam­ple here—a fam­i­ly recipe for mac­a­roni and cheese.)

In her study Tol­stoy and His Dis­ci­ples, Alston details the Russ­ian great’s wide influ­ence through not only his diet but the total­i­ty of his spir­i­tu­al prac­tices and unique polit­i­cal and reli­gious views. Inter­est­ing­ly, unlike many ani­mal rights activists of his day and ours, Tol­stoy refused to endorse leg­is­la­tion to pun­ish ani­mal cru­el­ty, believ­ing that pun­ish­ment would only result in the per­pet­u­a­tion of vio­lence. “Non-vio­lence, non-resis­tance and broth­er­hood were the prin­ci­ples that lay at the basis of Tol­stoy­an veg­e­tar­i­an­ism,” she observes, “and while these prin­ci­ples meant that Tol­stoy­ans coop­er­at­ed close­ly with veg­e­tar­i­ans, they also kept them in many ways apart.”

via His­to­ry Buff

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Leo Tolstoy’s Fam­i­ly Recipe for Mac­a­roni and Cheese

Watch Glass Walls, Paul McCartney’s Case for Going Veg­e­tar­i­an

Tol­stoy and Gand­hi Exchange Let­ters: Two Thinkers’ Quest for Gen­tle­ness, Humil­i­ty & Love (1909)

Leo Tolstoy’s Masochis­tic Diary: I Am Guilty of “Sloth,” “Cow­ardice” & “Sissi­ness” (1851)

Leo Tol­stoy Cre­ates a List of the 50+ Books That Influ­enced Him Most (1891)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Organized Religion Got You Down? Discover The Church Of Saint John Coltrane


Orga­nized reli­gion got you down? Feel like giv­ing up on it alto­geth­er? You are not by any stretch alone. Reli­gios­i­ty is in grave decline in Europe and the U.S., prompt­ing pan­ic in some quar­ters and sat­is­fac­tion in oth­ers (that young adults, for exam­ple, agree more with Karl Marx than with the Bible). The list of rea­sons for religion’s grow­ing unpop­u­lar­i­ty is long and rather pre­dictable, and you won’t find a case for the con­trary here—unless, that is, it’s for the St. John Coltrane Church. If there’s any reli­gion that deserves an upswing, so to speak, per­haps it’s one based on the gen­uine­ly ecsta­t­ic, con­scious­ness-expand­ing music of one of America’s most spir­i­tu­al­ly-mind­ed jazz com­posers.

Found­ed in San Fran­cis­co by Bish­op Fran­zo King and his wife Rev­erend Moth­er Mari­na King in 1971 as the Saint John Coltrane African Ortho­dox Church, the small body of wor­ship­pers has since become some­thing a lit­tle more rad­i­cal: The Saint John Will-I-Am Coltrane Church, whose vibe, writes Aeon, “is a rap­tur­ous out-of-your-head-ness, where instead of the choir and the hymn book there is the sin­u­ous, tran­scen­dent music of the jazz saint.” We get a pow­er­ful immer­sion in that vibe in the course of the 30-minute doc­u­men­tary, The Church Of Saint Coltrane. (Watch it above, or find it on Aeon’s YouTube chan­nel). The church band, with Bish­op King him­self on the sopra­no sax­o­phone, gets deep into Coltrane’s music, in funky per­for­mances of cuts from Coltrane’s ground­break­ing 1964 A Love Supreme espe­cial­ly.

That career-defin­ing album of reli­gious music changed the course of Coltrane’s career at the very end of his short life. (He died three years lat­er at the age of 40.) He wasn’t always such a mys­tic. Before he dis­cov­ered the idio­syn­crat­ic God of his recov­ery from hero­in addic­tion in 1957, he was a rapid­ly ris­ing star in an increas­ing­ly pre­car­i­ous place. After his “spir­i­tu­al awak­en­ing,” as he describes it in the lin­er notes to A Love Supreme, Coltrane became a musi­cal evan­ge­list. And Bish­op King heard the call. King’s “sound bap­tism” took place when he saw Coltrane in 1965 at the Jazz Work­shop in San Fran­cis­co, a Pen­te­costal expe­ri­ence for him. “I am the first son born out of sound,” he says.

Oth­er wor­ship­pers iden­ti­fy with Coltrane on a more bio­graph­i­cal lev­el. Sax­o­phon­ist Father Robert Haven is also a for­mer addict and alco­holic, who got sober “under Coltrane’s spell.” At the church, he found both a spir­i­tu­al and musi­cal home. As the doc­u­men­tary pro­gress­es, you’ll see the expe­ri­ences of non-musi­cian church-mem­bers are equal­ly pro­found, but the com­mon thread, of course, is that they all love Coltrane. That would appear to be the most impor­tant cri­te­ri­on for join­ing the Saint John Coltrane Church, where one can osten­si­bly come for the music and stay for the music. At least that seems to be the pitch, and it’s quite a com­pelling one for peo­ple who love Coltrane, though Bish­op King’s ser­vices do get preachy at times. But the res­i­dent church icono­g­ra­ph­er tells us that King con­vert­ed him with one sim­ple phrase, repeat­ed with con­fi­dence over and over: “It’s all in the music.”

The Church Of Saint Coltrane will be added to our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

For more back­ground on the church, see our 2014 post: The Church of St. John Coltrane, Found­ed on the Divine Music of A Love Supreme

via Aeon

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of Spir­i­tu­al Jazz: Hear a Tran­scen­dent 12-Hour Mix Fea­tur­ing John Coltrane, Sun Ra, Her­bie Han­cock & More

The Sto­ry of John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme, Released 50 Years Ago This Month

John Coltrane’s Hand­writ­ten Out­line for His Mas­ter­piece A Love Supreme

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Aleister Crowley & William Butler Yeats Get into an Occult Battle, Pitting White Magic Against Black Magic (1900)

crowley-yeats

Aleis­ter Crow­ley—Eng­lish magi­cian and founder of the reli­gion of Thele­ma—has been admired as a pow­er­ful the­o­rist and prac­ti­tion­er of what he called “Mag­ick,” and reviled as a spoiled, abu­sive buf­foon. Falling some­where between those two camps, we find the opin­ion of Crowley’s bit­ter rival, the Irish poet William But­ler Yeats, who once pas­sion­ate­ly wrote that the study of mag­ic was “the most impor­tant pur­suit of my life….. The mys­ti­cal life is the cen­ter of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write.”

Crow­ley would sure­ly say the same, but his mag­ic was of a much dark­er, more obses­sive vari­ety, and his suc­cess as a poet insignif­i­cant next to Yeats. “Crow­ley was jeal­ous,” argues the blog Rune Soup, “He was nev­er able to speak the lan­guage of poet­ic sym­bol with the con­fi­dence of a native speak­er in the way Yeats def­i­nite­ly could.” In a 1948 Par­ti­san Review essay, lit­er­ary crit­ic and Yeats biog­ra­ph­er Richard Ell­mann tells the sto­ry dif­fer­ent­ly, dri­ly report­ing on the con­flict as its par­tic­i­pants saw it—as a gen­uine war between com­pet­ing forms of prac­ti­cal mag­ic.

Hav­ing been eject­ed from the occult Theo­soph­i­cal soci­ety for his mag­i­cal exper­i­ments, writes Jamie James at Lapham’s Quar­ter­ly, Yeats joined the Her­met­ic Order of the Gold­en Dawn, “an even more exot­ic cult, which claimed direct descent from the her­met­ic tra­di­tion of the Renais­sance and into remote antiq­ui­ty.” At var­i­ous times, the order includ­ed writ­ers Arthur Machen and Bram Stok­er, Yeats’ beloved Irish rev­o­lu­tion­ary Maud Gonne, and famous magi­cians Arthur Edward Waite and Crow­ley. (Just below, see a page from Yeats’ Gold­en Dawn jour­nal. See sev­er­al more here.)

yeats-journal

“When Crow­ley showed a ten­den­cy to use his occult pow­ers for evil rather than for good,” Ell­mann writes, “the adepts of the order, Yeats among them, decid­ed not to allow him to be ini­ti­at­ed into the inner cir­cle; they feared that he would pro­fane the mys­ter­ies and unleash pow­er­ful mag­ic forces against human­i­ty.” Crow­ley’s ouster lead to a con­fronta­tion in 1900 that might make you think—depending on your frame of reference—of the war­ring magi­cians on South Park or of Susan­na Clark’s Jonathan Strange & Mr. Nor­rell, or both. “Crow­ley refused to accept their deci­sion,” writes Ull­mann, and after some astral attacks on Yeats,

.… in Highlander’s tar­tan, with a black Crusader’s cross on his breast… Crow­ley arrived at the Gold­en Dawn tem­ple in Lon­don. Mak­ing the sign of the pen­ta­cle invert­ed and shout­ing men­aces at the adepts, Crow­ley climbed the stairs. But Yeats and two oth­er white magi­cians came res­olute­ly for­ward to meet him, ready to pro­tect the holy place at any cost. When Crow­ley came with­in range the forces of good struck out with their feet and kicked him down­stairs.

This almost slap­stick van­quish­ing became known as “the Bat­tle of Blythe Road” and has been immor­tal­ized in a pub­li­ca­tion of that very name, with accounts from Crow­ley, Yeats, and Gold­en Dawn adepts William West­cott, Flo­rence Farr and oth­ers. But the war was not won, Ell­mann notes, and Crow­ley went look­ing for converts—or victims—in Lon­don, while Yeats attempt­ed to stop him with “the req­ui­site spells and exor­cisms.” One such spell sup­pos­ed­ly sent a vam­pire that “bit and tore at his flesh” as it lay beside Crow­ley all night. Despite Yeats’ super­nat­ur­al inter­ven­tions, one of Crowley’s tar­gets, a young painter named Althea Gyles, was “final­ly forced to give way entire­ly to his bale­ful fas­ci­na­tion.”

kuntz-the-battle-of-blythe-road

Ellmann’s both humor­ous and unset­tling nar­ra­tive shows us Crow­ley-as-preda­tor, a char­ac­ter­i­za­tion the wealthy Eng­lish­man had appar­ent­ly earned, as “respon­si­ble gov­ern­ments exclud­ed him from one coun­try after anoth­er lest he bring to bear upon their inhab­i­tants his hos­tile psy­chic ray.” [Bren­da Mad­dox at The Guardian gives a slight­ly dif­fer­ent account of the Bat­tle, in which “Yeats, with a bounc­er, saw him off the premis­es, called in the police and end­ed up (vic­to­ri­ous) in court.” ] Yeats and the oth­er mem­bers’ dis­taste for Crow­ley sure­ly had some­thing to do with his preda­to­ry behav­ior. But the rival­ry was also indeed a poet­ic one, albeit extreme­ly one-sided.

As Crow­ley biog­ra­ph­er Lawrence Sutin writes, “the earnest­ness of the young Crow­ley could not com­pen­sate, in Yeats’ mind, for the tech­ni­cal dif­fi­cul­ties and rhetor­i­cal excess­es of his verse.” Yeats’ opin­ion “infu­ri­at­ed Crow­ley,” who indulged in the mag­ic of pro­jec­tion, writ­ing “What hurt him [Yeats] was the knowl­edge of his own incom­pa­ra­ble infe­ri­or­i­ty.” Crow­ley’s remarks are both “ridicu­lous,” Sutin com­ments, and apply “far more con­vinc­ing­ly to Crow­ley him­self.” Nev­er­the­less, Crowley’s “Mag­ick,” con­tin­ued to make Yeats uneasy, and he may have invoked Crow­ley in his famous line about the “rough beast” slouch­ing toward Beth­le­hem in 1919’s “The Sec­ond Com­ing.”

While the mag­i­cal bat­tle between them might pro­voke more laugh­ter than curios­i­ty about their dif­fer­ent brands of mag­ic, Sutin notes a cru­cial dif­fer­ence that dis­tin­guish­es the two men: “where­as Crow­ley placed him­self in the ser­vices of the Antichrist ‘the sav­age God’ of the new cycle, Yeats’s fideli­ty was to ‘the old king,’ to ‘that unfash­ion­able gyre.’” The gyre, so cen­tral an image in “The Sec­ond Com­ing,” stands for Yeats’ the­o­ry of time and his­to­ry, and it belongs to an old mys­ti­cism and folk­lore that for him were syn­ony­mous with poet­ry.

Crow­ley viewed the occult as a source of per­son­al power—his rev­e­la­tions filled books devot­ed to explain­ing the phi­los­o­phy of Thele­ma (“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. Love is the law, love under will); ” Yeats was cer­tain­ly more of an “orga­ni­za­tion man… in his occult activ­i­ties,” writes Mad­dox, and sought to prac­tice mag­ic as a holis­tic activ­i­ty, ful­ly inte­grat­ed into his social, polit­i­cal, and aes­thet­ic life. His “pub­lic phi­los­o­phy,” as he called it, writes James, “pro­pounds an extra­or­di­nar­i­ly con­vo­lut­ed sys­tem that aims to inte­grate the human per­son­al­i­ty with the cos­mos.”

To under­stand Crowley’s mag­i­cal think­ing, we can prob­a­bly skip his poet­ry and attempt as best we can to the deci­pher his sev­er­al arcane, tech­ni­cal books full of invent­ed terms and sym­bols. To under­stand Yeats, as much as that’s pos­si­ble, we need to read his poet­ry, the purest expres­sion of his mys­ti­cal sys­tem and sym­bol­ic thought.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Aleis­ter Crow­ley: The Wickedest Man in the World Doc­u­ments the Life of the Bizarre Occultist, Poet & Moun­taineer

Rare 1930s Audio: W.B. Yeats Reads Four of His Poems

W.B. Yeats’ Poem “When You Are Old” Adapt­ed into a Japan­ese Man­ga Com­ic

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Carl Sagan & the Dalai Lama Meet in 1991 and Discuss When Science Can Answer Big Questions Better Than Religion

sagan-dalai-lama

Images via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In a 1997 essay in Nat­ur­al His­to­ry, Stephen Jay Gould (in)famously called the realms of reli­gion and sci­ence “Nonover­lap­ping Mag­is­te­ria”—a phrase that acknowl­edges both endeav­ors as equal­ly pow­er­ful and impor­tant to human life. His the­o­ry entails “respect­ful dis­course” and “con­stant input from both mag­is­te­ria toward the com­mon goal of wis­dom.” Many par­ti­sans then and now have found the idea hope­less­ly naïve or mis­guid­ed, and Gould did describe a rather specif­i­cal­ly enlight­ened exam­ple of the posi­tion: a per­son seek­ing “a more spir­i­tu­al view of nature” who also acknowl­edges “the fac­tu­al­i­ty of evo­lu­tion and oth­er phe­nom­e­na.” An edu­cat­ed skep­tic, with mys­ti­cal and poet­ic sen­si­bil­i­ties.

The major­i­ty of reli­gious believ­ers do not fit this descrip­tion. But some do. So too did Carl Sagan, to whom Gould ded­i­cat­ed his essay in a post­script. Sagan “shared my con­cern for fruit­ful coop­er­a­tion between the dif­fer­ent but vital realms of sci­ence and reli­gion.” How­ev­er, like Gould, Sagan gave the sci­en­tif­ic method the over­ride, and stren­u­ous­ly advo­cat­ed that we all do like­wise or become eas­i­ly duped by char­la­tans or by our own flawed per­cep­tions. Sagan acknowl­edged the cos­mos as a great mystery—one he want­ed to under­stand, not wor­ship. And he spoke of the nat­ur­al world with the kind of lyri­cal awe and rev­er­ence often reserved for the super­nat­ur­al.

Sagan, in fact, orga­nized and attend­ed the meet­ing at the Vat­i­can that occa­sioned Gould’s essay. He also found him­self, in the ear­ly 1990s, con­nect­ing deeply with anoth­er world reli­gious leader, the Dalai Lama. The exiled Tibetan Bud­dhist and the astro­physi­cist first met in Itha­ca in 1991, sit­ting down for the dis­cus­sion record­ed in the video above. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, the pro­duc­tion qual­i­ty ren­ders this record­ing near­ly unwatch­able. Their con­ver­sion is audi­ble but they both dis­ap­pear into a pix­e­lat­ed blue blur. That said, the con­ver­sa­tion mer­its preser­va­tion in any form (you can also read a tran­script of their talk here).

Sagan puts to the Dalai Lama the ques­tion he asked every major reli­gious leader he met with: “What hap­pens if the doc­trine of a religion—Buddhism let’s say—is con­tra­dict­ed by some find­ing, some discovery—in sci­ence, let’s say—what does a believ­er in Bud­dhism do in that case?” The answer below came very much as a sur­prise to Sagan, who lat­er said the Dalai Lama “replied as no tra­di­tion­al­ist or fun­da­men­tal­ist reli­gious lead­ers do.”

DL: ‘For Bud­dhists that is not a prob­lem. The Bud­dha him­self made clear that the impor­tant thing is your own inves­ti­ga­tion. You should know the real­i­ty, no mat­ter what the scrip­ture says. In case you find a contradiction—opposite of the scrip­tures’ explanation—you should rely on that find­ing, rather than scrip­ture.’

CS: ‘So, that is very much like sci­ence?’

DL: ‘Yes, that’s right. So I think that the basic Bud­dhist con­cept is that at the begin­ning it is worth­while or bet­ter to remain skep­ti­cal. Then car­ry out exper­i­ments through exter­nal means as well as inter­nal means. If through inves­ti­ga­tion things become clear and con­vinc­ing, then it is time to accept or believe. If, through sci­ence, there is proof that after death there is no con­ti­nu­ity of human mind, of life, then—theoretically speaking—Buddhists will have to accept that.’

Of course, many Bud­dhists may not find this sur­pris­ing at all. The prin­ci­ples the Dalai Lama out­lines are clear­ly out­lined in the Kala­ma Sut­ta, a sup­posed dis­course of the Bud­dha in which he issues a “Char­ter of Free Inquiry” as one inter­pre­ta­tion has it. It is indeed a unique fea­ture in world reli­gions, though the Dalai Lama did add—“mischievously,” said Sagan—that “it will be hard to dis­prove rein­car­na­tion!” In such areas where a propo­si­tion can­not be fal­si­fied, reli­gion and sci­ence may agree to disagree—civilly or otherwise—or change the sub­ject. In the course of their acquain­tance, Sagan and the Dalai Lama dis­agreed on very lit­tle.

When it comes to Bud­dhism, the Dalai Lama points out that the con­ver­sa­tion between sci­ence and reli­gion is hard­ly one-sided: “Some sci­en­tists also show a gen­uine and keen inter­est in Bud­dhist expla­na­tions…. One thing is quite clear: As far as men­tal sci­ences are con­cerned, Bud­dhism is very high­ly advanced.” The inter­est researchers and neu­ro­sci­en­tists have shown in Bud­dhist psy­chol­o­gy and med­i­ta­tive ther­a­py has only increased in the past twen­ty-five years, such that entire depart­ments devot­ed to mind­ful­ness med­i­ta­tion have sprung up at ven­er­a­ble uni­ver­si­ties and respect­ed med­ical schools.

And since Sagan’s death in 1996, the Dalai Lama has con­tin­ued to reflect on the con­ver­gences between sci­en­tif­ic dis­cov­ery and Bud­dhism in his books and talks. And Sagan’s wid­ow Ann Druyan has car­ried on Sagan’s lega­cy, shar­ing the awe and won­der of sci­ence with a pop­u­lar audi­ence through film, print, and tele­vi­sion. In 2007, Druyan appeared at Cor­nell to talk about the affini­ties between Sagan and the Dalai Lama dur­ing their first and sub­se­quent meet­ings. You can see her talk in full here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Carl Sagan Presents His “Baloney Detec­tion Kit”: 8 Tools for Skep­ti­cal Think­ing

Carl Sagan Issues a Chill­ing Warn­ing to Amer­i­ca in His Final Inter­view (1996)

The Dalai Lama on the Neu­ro­science of Com­pas­sion

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

The History of Spiritual Jazz: Hear a Transcendent 12-Hour Mix Featuring John Coltrane, Sun Ra, Herbie Hancock & More


Jazz has inspired a great many things, and a great many things have inspired jazz, and more than a few of the music’s mas­ters have found their aspi­ra­tion by look­ing — or lis­ten­ing — to the divine. But that does­n’t nec­es­sar­i­ly mean they sub­scribe to tra­di­tion­al reli­gion. As befits this nat­u­ral­ly eclec­tic music that grew from an inher­ent­ly eclec­tic coun­try before it inter­na­tion­al­ized, its play­ers tend to have an eclec­tic con­cep­tion of the divine. In some of their inter­pre­ta­tions, that con­cep­tion sounds prac­ti­cal­ly all-encom­pass­ing. You can expe­ri­ence the full spec­trum of these aur­al visions, from the deeply per­son­al to the fath­om­less­ly cos­mic, in this four-part, twelve-hour playlist of spir­i­tu­al jazz from Lon­don online radio sta­tion NTS.

“Dur­ing the tumul­tuous ’60s, there was a reli­gious rev­o­lu­tion to accom­pa­ny the grand soci­etal, sex­u­al, racial, and cul­tur­al shifts already afoot,” writes Pitch­fork’s Andy Beta. “Con­cur­rent­ly, the era’s pri­ma­ry African-Amer­i­can art form reflect­ed such upheaval in its music, too: Jazz began to push against all con­straints, be it chord changes, pre­de­ter­mined tem­pos, or melodies, so as to best reflect the pur­suit of free­dom in all of its forms.”

This cul­mi­nat­ed in John Coltrane’s mas­ter­piece A Love Supreme, which opened the gates for oth­er jazz play­ers seek­ing the tran­scen­dent, using every­thing from “the sacred sound of the South­ern Bap­tist church in all its ecsta­t­ic shouts and yells” to “enlight­en­ment from South­east­ern Asian eso­teric prac­tices like tran­scen­den­tal med­i­ta­tion and yoga.”

It goes with­out say­ing that you can’t talk about spir­i­tu­al jazz with­out talk­ing about John Coltrane. Nor can you ignore the dis­tinc­tive music and the­ol­o­gy of Her­man Poole Blount, bet­ter known as Sun Ra, com­pos­er, band­leader, music ther­a­pistAfro­fu­tur­ist, and teacher of a course called “The Black Man in the Cos­mos.” NTS’ expan­sive mix offers work from both of them and oth­er famil­iar artists like Alice Coltrane, Earth, Wind & Fire, Her­bie Han­cock, Gil Scott-Heron, Ornette Cole­man, and many more (includ­ing play­ers from as far away from the birth­place of jazz as Japan) who, whether or not you’ve heard of them before, can take you to places you’ve nev­er been before. Start lis­ten­ing with the embed­ded first part of the playlist above; con­tin­ue on to parts two, three, and four, and maybe — just maybe — you’ll come out of it want­i­ng to found a church of your own.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

John Coltrane’s Hand­writ­ten Out­line for His Mas­ter­piece A Love Supreme

Dis­cov­er the Church of St. John Coltrane, Found­ed on the Divine Music of A Love Supreme

Sun Ra’s Full Lec­ture & Read­ing List From His 1971 UC Berke­ley Course, “The Black Man in the Cos­mos”

Sun Ra Plays a Music Ther­a­py Gig at a Men­tal Hos­pi­tal; Inspires Patient to Talk for the First Time in Years

The Cry of Jazz: 1958’s High­ly Con­tro­ver­sial Film on Jazz & Race in Amer­i­ca (With Music by Sun Ra)

Space Jazz, a Son­ic Sci-Fi Opera by L. Ron Hub­bard, Fea­tur­ing Chick Corea (1983)

A Huge Anthol­o­gy of Noise & Elec­tron­ic Music (1920–2007) Fea­tur­ing John Cage, Sun Ra, Cap­tain Beef­heart & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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