An Old Giant

Someone remarked to me today that a body had been found in Wellington harbour. Tongue in cheek he added, They were dead. I smiled and went back to what I doing. Of course they were dead, I thought. They were referred to as 'a body'. Even without context it would be obvious that the person in question was deceased. It wasn't them really - it was just their body. Everyone (as far as I'm aware) thinks like this, not just religious folk who believe in an afterlife. The funny thing is, most people in New Zealand don't think that humans (or anything else) consist of anything more than the sum of their physical elements. Materialistic humanism has reached deep, but hasn't quite penetrated to the centre of our psyche. Far down in our guts (whether we care to admit it or not) we know that when a person dies what we're left with is just an empty shell; no one (or very, very few) could tell themselves that a corpse is a person (like anyone else) that has merely stopped functioning.
It's hardly a matter for supernaturalists to crow about though - materialism is becoming feeble and will soon (I believe) die. Insinuating itself into the vacuum left by the demise of a powerful (but short lived) worldview is an old giant: Pantheism. The adherents of the current brand of this ancient belief system embrace the supernatural without acknowledging any power outside of themselves. God is all and all is God. They will borrow elements from any religion but cleave to none. Humanism is hard and strong, but brittle. It endorses our selfishness, but tries to squash too much of what we know to be true. Pantheism, on the other hand, absorbs blows, melts softly past rigid defenses, and gently smothers opposition with half-truths. It is the old enemy, almost forgotten, that we must probe anew - rediscovering its tactics and weak points, and adjusting our strategy accordingly - before its grip becomes a stranglehold.