Superstitions

Friend Xerxes, in his latest column, conflates, or at least does
not clearly distinguish, superstition, ritual, and placebo. Superstition =
ritual = placebo = sympathetic magic.

Not so. These are all different issues.

Rituals are not superstitions. A wedding, for example, or
the coronation of a king, is not superstition. Rituals have a practical purpose
that is often easy to understand. One does not normally get married out of
superstition.

A placebo is not superstition. Doctors do not prescribe
placebos because they are superstitious, and the patient does not need to be
superstitious in order for it to work. Placebos serve a known practical
purpose. And, if some superstition has a placebo effect, it is not
superstition.

And as for what superstition actually is—I guess that is already
implicit. We call actions that serve no known or understood practical purpose “superstitions.”
Perhaps we say “good luck” or “bad luck”; but isn’t that just saying, “unspecified
or unknown benefits”?

Of course, the conflation of ritual with superstition is
intrinsically anti-Catholic. In his column, Xerxes expressly cites the Catholic
sacramental of holy water, and the sacrament of communion, as superstitions.

They obviously are not for Catholics. Catholics understand
them as producing specific benefits. They are not done for “good luck.” To call
them superstitions is to say that you do not believe in Catholicism.

Once when a fellow instructor was scoffing at the Korean
tradition of pung su chi ri—feng shui—as superstition, I asked her to define
what she meant by the term “superstition.” She said “beliefs not supported by
science.” Xerxes suggests something similar with his concluding statement: “Even
in a supposedly scientific age, we remain creatures of myth and wonder.”

But this is not an adequate definition. Well before empirical
science, philosophers condemned superstition; as do the Buddhist scriptures. One
example: it was a superstitious Irish practice to avoid biting on the host; one
had to let it dissolve in the mouth. Biting was wounding Jesus.

This was superstition, like stepping on a crack to break
your mother’s back: it innocently violated correct Catholic theology.

In other words, “superstition” is whatever violates your
accepted world view. If your religion is “scientism,” then things that cannot
be explained scientifically are superstitious. If it is Buddhism, then things
that do not fit the Buddhist dharma are superstitious.

Just in passing, having studied pung si chi ri, it makes
good sense to me. It is “unscientific” because it attends to our emotional
nature in planning our surroundings, and science is incapable of taking emotion
into account. But the true value of feng shui or pung su is immediately
apparent on entering a Korean coffee shop, a Japanese garden, or a Chinese restaurant.

In sum, “superstition” is a term we use to describe some
practice for which we cannot see the justification, based on our world view,
our religion.

This being so, it is judicious to honour superstitions, all
else being equal.

I will not pass under a ladder if I can avoid it. I also
will not write anybody’s name in red ink, a practice I learned in Korea. I will
not stick my chopsticks upright. I will knock on wood.

It is arrogant to assume any given “superstition” is wrong.
I am reminded of Chesterton’s advice. One must never take down a fence merely
because you do not know why it is there. To be justified in taking down a
fence, you had better first know exactly why it is there.

Friend Xerxes, in his latest column, conflates, or at least does
not clearly distinguish, superstition, ritual, and placebo. Superstition =
ritual = placebo = sympathetic magic.

Not so. These are all different issues.

Rituals are not superstitions. A wedding, for example, or
the coronation of a king, is not superstition. Rituals have a practical purpose
that is often easy to understand. One does not normally get married out of
superstition.

A placebo is not superstition. Doctors do not prescribe
placebos because they are superstitious, and the patient does not need to be
superstitious in order for it to work. Placebos serve a known practical
purpose. And, if some superstition has a placebo effect, it is not
superstition.

And as for what superstition actually is—I guess that is already
implicit. We call actions that serve no known or understood practical purpose “superstitions.”
Perhaps we say “good luck” or “bad luck”; but isn’t that just saying, “unspecified
or unknown benefits”?

Of course, the conflation of ritual with superstition is
intrinsically anti-Catholic. In his column, Xerxes expressly cites the Catholic
sacramental of holy water, and the sacrament of communion, as superstitions.

They obviously are not for Catholics. Catholics understand
them as producing specific benefits. They are not done for “good luck.” To call
them superstitions is to say that you do not believe in Catholicism.

Once when a fellow instructor was scoffing at the Korean
tradition of pung su chi ri—feng shui—as superstition, I asked her to define
what she meant by the term “superstition.” She said “beliefs not supported by
science.” Xerxes suggests something similar with his concluding statement: “Even
in a supposedly scientific age, we remain creatures of myth and wonder.”

But this is not an adequate definition. Well before empirical
science, philosophers condemned superstition; as do the Buddhist scriptures. One
example: it was a superstitious Irish practice to avoid biting on the host; one
had to let it dissolve in the mouth. Biting was wounding Jesus.

This was superstition, like stepping on a crack to break
your mother’s back: it innocently violated correct Catholic theology.

In other words, “superstition” is whatever violates your
accepted world view. If your religion is “scientism,” then things that cannot
be explained scientifically are superstitious. If it is Buddhism, then things
that do not fit the Buddhist dharma are superstitious.

Just in passing, having studied pung si chi ri, it makes
good sense to me. It is “unscientific” because it attends to our emotional
nature in planning our surroundings, and science is incapable of taking emotion
into account. But the true value of feng shui or pung su is immediately
apparent on entering a Korean coffee shop, a Japanese garden, or a Chinese restaurant.

In sum, “superstition” is a term we use to describe some
practice for which we cannot see the justification, based on our world view,
our religion.

This being so, it is judicious to honour superstitions, all
else being equal.

I will not pass under a ladder if I can avoid it. I also
will not write anybody’s name in red ink, a practice I learned in Korea. I will
not stick my chopsticks upright. I will knock on wood.

It is arrogant to assume any given “superstition” is wrong.
I am reminded of Chesterton’s advice. One must never take down a fence merely
because you do not know why it is there. To be justified in taking down a
fence, you had better first know exactly why it is there.

Friend Xerxes, in his latest column, conflates, or at least does not clearly distinguish, superstition, ritual, and placebo. Superstition = ritual = placebo = sympathetic magic.

Not so. These are all different issues.

Rituals are not superstitions. A wedding, for example, or the coronation of a king, is not superstition. Rituals have a practical purpose that is often easy to understand. One does not normally get married out of superstition.

A placebo is not superstition. Doctors do not prescribe placebos because they are superstitious, and the patient does not need to be superstitious in order for it to work. Placebos serve a known practical purpose. And, if some superstition has a placebo effect, it is not superstition.

And as for what superstition actually is—I guess that is already implicit. We call actions that serve no known or understood practical purpose “superstitions.” Perhaps we say “good luck” or “bad luck”; but isn’t that just saying, “unspecified or unknown benefits”?

Of course, the conflation of ritual with superstition is intrinsically anti-Catholic. In his column, Xerxes expressly cites the Catholic sacramental of holy water, and the sacrament of communion, as superstitions. 

They obviously are not for Catholics. Catholics understand them as producing specific benefits. They are not done for “good luck.” To call them superstitions is to say that you do not believe in Catholicism. 

Once when a fellow instructor was scoffing at the Korean tradition of pung su chi ri—feng shui—as superstition, I asked her to define what she meant by the term “superstition.” She said “beliefs not supported by science.” Xerxes suggests something similar with his concluding statement: “Even in a supposedly scientific age, we remain creatures of myth and wonder.”

But this is not an adequate definition. Well before empirical science, philosophers condemned superstition; as do the Buddhist scriptures. One example: it was a superstitious Irish practice to avoid biting on the host; one had to let it dissolve in the mouth. Biting was wounding Jesus. 

This was superstition, like stepping on a crack to break your mother’s back: it innocently violated correct Catholic theology.

In other words, “superstition” is whatever violates your accepted world view. If your religion is “scientism,” then things that cannot be explained scientifically are superstitious. If it is Buddhism, then things that do not fit the Buddhist dharma are superstitious.

Just in passing, having studied pung si chi ri, it makes good sense to me. It is “unscientific” because it attends to our emotional nature in planning our surroundings, and science is incapable of taking emotion into account. But the true value of feng shui or pung su is immediately apparent on entering a Korean coffee shop, a Japanese garden, or a Chinese restaurant.

In sum, “superstition” is a term we use to describe some practice for which we cannot see the justification, based on our world view, our religion.

This being so, it is judicious to honour superstitions, all else being equal. 

I will not pass under a ladder if I can avoid it. I also will not write anybody’s name in red ink, a practice I learned in Korea. I will not stick my chopsticks upright. I will knock on wood.

It is arrogant to assume any given “superstition” is wrong. I am reminded of Chesterton’s advice. One must never take down a fence merely because you do not know why it is there. To be justified in taking down a fence, you had better first know exactly why it is there.