#etcetera etcerea.

[survivingthejungle]

foreigner’s god

so i’ve been hyped about this story for a while now. i’m considering posting my character list (complete with pictures!) and if i do it’ll be separate, probably right after i post this. ive also got a long ass playlist that i listen to when i write this specific story so if that’s something you guys are interested in let me know! 

anyways here we go im so excited to finally share this with you <3

(quick proninciation note, bc this story contains a lot of gaelige:)

eoghan = owen

niamh = neeve

labhraín = loren

liusaidh = lucy

Inis = (inish) old gaelic for ireland

At the crack of dawn, four young girls wake themselves up and sneak out of their room, through twisting, winding corridors, and out to the stables to ride off to the forest for a morning adventure. The two twins, Brigid and Niamh— Brigid was the eldest of the two, and would never let the other forget it— had bright blonde hair that shone as yellow as the midday sun. Their skin was soft and white due to the lack of sun in their homeland, and they had nearly identical pairs of light blue eyes. Brigid’s nose was more pronounced, her mouth a bit narrower, and her eyebrows a shade or two lighter than Niamh’s; they were not identical to those who knew them, but many people often could not tell them apart. The other two with them were Labhraín and Liusaidh, the youngest children in the mac Neíll family. Labhraín, unlike her sisters, had curly brown hair instead of her sisters’ pin-straight locks. Her nose was similar to Niamh’s as it was small and undefined- Morrigan always called it 'soft'-, and she had a wide mouth that presented the sweetest dimples when she smiled. Liusaidh was the youngest and, apart from her brother, looked the least similar to the rest of her siblings. She had long, straight, dark brown hair and dark brows to match.  She had brown eyes that looked like honey in the rare sunlight of Inis, and her nose was bigger than all of her other sisters’; though It was perfectly rounded. She had the fullest lips compared to any of them, and was almost always smiling and displaying her pearl-white teeth. She had a small chin and round face, but they were proportionate to her features. The two mac Neíll children who had not accompanied their sisters were Eoghan and Caridwen. Eoghan, the eldest of the six children, was also the only boy in the family. This made him the sole heir to the High King of Tara, Aéd— their father. Eoghan had dark brown curly hair all atop his head that matched his eyes and eyebrows. His brows were thick and always appeared to be well-groomed. His eyes were big and dark, and often carried bags underneath them. Eoghan was no stranger to sleepless nights as the future ruler of a large kingdom. He had a wide mouth like Liusaidh, Niamh, and Labhraín, but his own lips were not as full as theirs. He did, however, share the same dimples that Labhraín had. His chin was larger than theirs but segued well into the rest of his face, which was home to prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw. The sun had not yet peaked over the horizon when the four girls left, but was already beginning to light up their world. The fog in the open meadows and fields was highlighted by the sun’s rays and the morning dewdrops on the grass lightly stuck to the hem of their dresses. The group of horses and the girls that accompanied them were headed to the forest at the edge of the cliff, where they often spent their mornings watching the sun rise and climbing the trees until they were expected to begin their daily lives inside of the castle. Liusaidh was the first to begin climbing, which was not at all unusual to them. Though she was the youngest of the family, she was the fastest and often won their lighthearted races. She had made it nearly as high as she could go by the time the rest of her sisters had gotten halfway. Looking out at the terrain all around her, she was shocked when she saw what looked like a boat all the way at the end of a horizon. "Labhraín! Look, look!" she yelled down, as Labhraín was the nearest to the top. "What, Liusaidh?" She called back, now even more eager to reach the top. "Can you see something?" "It's a boat! Look! A boat! I think it's Vikings!" Liusaidh responded anxiously. She'd never met, or even seen, a Viking before; but she had heard plenty of stories about them from her brother, Eoghan. He used to tell his sisters stories before bedtime, and the girls' favorite kinds were scary stories about the big, bad Vikings who lived far away in Norway. Eoghan had never met a Viking, either, but he knew that everyone was scared of them; it made for easier storytelling. Brigid exclaimed her disbelief that Liusaidh had, in fact, seen a Viking boat. "Catch yourself on! There are no Vikings in Inis, especially not this close to Tara; don't be silly, Liusaidh!" Brigid loved her brother's Viking tales as much as the rest, but she always firmly believed that there was no reason to fear ever meeting one face-to-face. 'Father would never let the Vikings get close to us. He'd send out hundreds and hundreds of fleets before they could reach the shore,' she'd tell her sisters when they got scared. "Where is it, Liusaidh?" Labhraín asked once she'd reached her sister. Liusaidh was squinting her eyes and caning her neck out. Labhraín looked in the same direction and couldn't see anything; she told her sister as much. "It was there! I swear I saw it." She sighed, dejected. "Told you there were no Vikings, Lius." Brigid and Niamh finally reached their younger sisters, slightly panting from the climb. "Stop telling stories." Liusaidh  was upset at that. "I am not, Brigid! I saw it, I really did!" "I believe you, Lius," Labhraín admitted. "Sometimes I have dreams of Viking boats all on the coast, and that we don't have enough soldiers to send them off, and they conquer the whole island." "But that’s just a dream, Labhraín," Niamh noted. The four of them found comfortable branches to sit down on as they let their legs swing underneath them. "Dreams aren't real." "Not so! Morrigan said that dreams are the doorway to the faeries' land, and that they always give us  prophecies-" "Morrigan's a pagan, Labhraín. You can't believe what she says." Liusaidh and Labhraín shared a look with one another at this statement. Morrigan had been the nanny to all the mac Neíll children, even Eoghan. She was one of the few remaining pagan Celts in Tara, and though the girls were all Celtic Christians, she was beloved by all of them. Lius and Labhr were especially fond of her, because she always told them stories about the faeries, and the Tuatha Dé Danann, and the Celtic pantheon. While the two youngest girls were, of course, devout to the Christian God, they also believed deeply in the fair folk. It was why the youngest mac Neíll girls were always so apt to go to the forest; they loved to search for the magical beings. "Let them pretend, Niamh," Brigid chastised her twin. "They're only wains. Didn't you ever believe in the fair folk?" "Niamh is such a bore, she never believes in the fun things!" Liusaidh laughed. "She'll probably become an Abbess and never get married." The sister in question rolled her eyes at this, but the other three all had a good laugh. "You're all so horrible," Niamh grumbled. "I'm going back to the castle before I get in trouble, like the rest of you lot surely will." She swung her legs over the side of a branch and swiftly dropped from branch to branch until she had reached the forest floor and could reach her horse to return home. She was off before the rest of them could say a word. "Lius, Labhraín; we must go apologize to her. We have been particularly wretched this morning," Brigid conceded. Her younger sisters solemnly agreed and soon enough the three of them had also swung down to the forest floor, ready to take off on their horses and head back to the castle for family breakfast. - "You wee wains are going to make your mother sick with worry if she sees you like this!" Morrigan exclaimed, upon seeing the twins and the youngest girls. They'd returned home as absolute wrecks- feet covered in dirt and grass, the bottoms of their dresses covered in grass stains, scrapes from the branches on their arms and legs, and pine needles and small leaves stuck in their wild and unkempt hair. "I'd best lock you all up each night so you can't get to your stables before sunrise. Wee devils, so you are," she muttered, grabbing a handful of maids to help her fix the young princesses up properly. They'd been promptly ushered back to their room upon their return, and scolded by Morrigan (as was a part of their usual morning tradition). "Or maybe I'll send you lot off to the Wasteland and leave you there!" she considered, while picking through the girls' hair to rid them of the pine needles and leaves. She then instructed the maids to brush their hair out smooth while she retrieved their day clothes. "No! Morrigan, we are so terribly sorry. We didn't mean to get this messy." Liusaidh was desperately trying to save her and her sisters hides in the face of such a dangerous threat. Morrigan hummed in amusement. "Is that so?" "Really, Morrigan, honest," Labhraín swore. "We'll be more careful next time. We're sorry." "So are we; We really didn't realize it," the twins added. Soon enough, the girls were decently cleaned up and properly dressed, and they were all sent down to breakfast with their parents, eldest sister, Caridwen, and eldest brother, Eoghan. "Ah; good morning, my girls!" King Aéd greeted them cheerfully. "Eat your breakfast, we have something to tell you all afterwards." "Good morning, father." They each greeted him with a kiss on the cheek; then their mother. "And where have you little sprites been all morning?" Caridwen asked, winking at them. She knew, of course; she was the one who'd began the tradition of tree-climbing in the morning, back when the twins were little. Eoghan had sometimes joined them, when he was seven and Caridwen was six; before he had to begin constantly preparing to become High King of all Tara, and therefore all Inis. "I'm certainly positive they weren't climbing in the forest," their mother, Queen Danu, mused, staring down each of them before returning her attention to their breakfast. "Now don't you girls be late to your music lessons today. Your father and I haven't heard you play in so long!" "We won't be late, mother; We can't wait to play for you," Liusaidh grinned at her. Her mother smiled back. The rest of breakfast was eaten in relative silence as the six children of the mac Neíll family pondered over what news their father might have for them. The longer the silence continued, the more anxious they became. Breakfast was over soon enough and King Aéd decided to deliver the news to them while they were all still gathered. "Wains… I've-- Well, I've arranged for Caridwen to marry. A Saxon prince, so he is! Right good lad." The children were dumbfounded. Their eldest sister, their voice of reason, their anchor… was being married off across the sea? Caridwen remained silent and did not show any sign of reaction; she kept her mouth shut and stared straight ahead at the cleared feast table. Her siblings, however, were not inclined to be so passive. "Father," Eoghan began, "She's only fifteen--" "And I've been in contact with the Saxon king; his youngest wain, Alfred, is also fifteen. They won't be wed immediately, lad! We've decided to arrange the official marriage in three years’ time. As for now, they'll only be courting one another." Caridwen, Eoghan, and all of their sisters breathed a unified sigh of relief. At least she would get a chance to know the boy before they had to marry, and at least he was her age! She knew that as the eldest daughter of a royal family, that was not always guaranteed. "What about before she gets married, then?" Labhraín asked. "May she stay here in Tara, with us? Sure I don't want her to be gone forever!" "Of course your sister won't be leaving, Labhraín!" their mother responded. "She won't be living with the wee prince until their wedding. She will stay home with us until it is time for her to leave." "When will I meet my betrothed?" Caridwen finally asked, eyes still focused on the table. Her parents noticed her cold demeanor but decided to let her come to terms on her own accord. "We'll set sail for East Anglia tomorrow, Caridwen." "May my sisters accompany me?" She knew Eoghan had no chance of going, since he was expected to watch over Tara in his father's stead. "Labhraín and Liusaidh may," Aéd agreed. "The twins will stay to keep your mother and brother company." Brigid and Niamh weren't happy that they couldn't partake in the voyage, but accepted it anyways. Lius and Labhraín, however, were deeply grateful that they could be with Caridwen when she met her husband-to-be. They loved their big sister dearly and cherished all the time spent together before Caridwen inevitably would be sent off to marry as a political alliance. The Queen decided to end the conversation there. "Wains, please; don't wear such sad faces! Your sister is doing a great act for the future of Inis; and she sure may come to love the Prince! But for now, how about we all do our duties for the day and focus on the rest later. Hm?" — The next day the four mac Neílls set sail to Wessex; in another two days they'd arrived at Caridwen's future home. The family was met by two representatives from the House of Cerdic: Judith, the Princess of Wessex, and her son Alfred, the prince, and Caridwen's betrothed. The meeting, for the both of them, was awkward and uncomfortable. She was very thankful that they were the same age, because she knew that he must have been just as anxious and unexcited as she was. The queen welcomed them all to her kingdom and guided the mac Neílls back to the castle, where they were shown their living quarters for the time being. Judith, after a brief conversation with Aéd, instructed for Alfred to give Caridwen a tour of their home, accompanied by Liusaidh and Labhraín. Their parents, in the meantime, were to discuss the more 'political' matters that would be a part of their marriage arrangement. Once the four children were out of earshot of their parents, they finally felt comfortable to speak freely with each other. "You… You're not excited about this, are you?" Alfred asked Caridwen, not able to look her in the eye as he said so. She looked at him wide-eyed as she disputed the statement without missing a beat. "Oh, no; of course I am! I'm so sorry for being so aloof with you," she admitted, "It's very difficult to speak freely among our parents." Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. At least she doesn't hate me, he thought. "Yes, I agree. I'm glad to know that you don't despise me." He smiled softly at her. "I'd never! That wouldn't be very convenient for either of us, now would it?" she responded teasingly. "I suppose not. And these are your sisters?" He gestured to Liusaidh and Labhraín, who were walking behind them. "Yes," she smiled, "The wee babies of the family. That's Labhraín, and that's Liusaidh." They smiled warmly at him, and he was glad that his betrothed's family was not behaving coldly towards him. "Where are the other two?" "The twins are at home with our mother and brother. I'm sure you'll get to meet them soon enough." "You have a large family," Alfred noted. "Yes," Caridwen agreed. "And I love them all so dearly." Her smile now was bittersweet. "I'm very sorry that you must leave them. I hope you know that when we are married, you ought to feel free to visit them whenever you want. They can even come to Wessex, if that would be better," he offered. Caridwen took his hand and thanked him heartfully. Liusaidh decided to interrupt the conversation she'd been listening in on. "Sure you’ll swear it? We can come whenever we want?" Alfred took her hands in his own. "I swear it, Liusaidh. I'd never try to keep your sister away from you." She grinned widely and embraced him; at which point he was unable to hide his initial shock. Caridwen and Labhraín couldn't hold in a laugh at this, and soon enough they were all in a much better mood than when they had all met at the docks. The young royals' happiness wasn't to last for much longer. The announcement of unexpected visitors at the castle entrance was enough to dampen the joy. Judith and Aéd were quick to find their respective children. "Children, all of you; to your rooms.. We have… unexpected guests. From Norway." Liusaidh glanced, wide eyed, at Caridwen and Labhraín, who wore a similar look of concern on their faces. She leaned over to Labhraín and whispered quietly, "I told you I saw a wee Viking ship." — It had been days since the arrival of the Northmen, and soon enough the children had found out that there were only two of them; the King of the Northmen, Ragnar, and his son, Ivar. It had been whispered through the hallways that his son was a cripple, and that is why he was not being treated as harshly as his father. On the third day, after the King had invited Ivar to dine with him and his father, he was brought back to the solar with the other royal children currently  in Wessex. Caridwen and Alfred were in the midst of a game of chess, while Liusaidh and Labhraín were watching them and making comments to one another about each players choices. It was just beginning to irritate Caridwen when Prince Ivar was thrown in with them. "Prince Alfred, Princesses," a guard stated, "The King's ordered that the Northman's son be kept with the other children." "Yes, I understand," Alfred responded, dismissing them and approaching Ivar. "Do you speak our language?" he asked the teenager, speaking with more enunciation than most usually would. "I speak enough of it." His quick response was almost shocking to the three young girls. "You are the Prince?" Before Alfred could respond, Labhraín butted in with a question of her own. "How do you know English?" He looked to her with a blank expression, but through it Liusaidh could sense bitterness. "I learned it in Kattegat." "Is that your wee kingdom?" Liusaidh wondered. "Yes. It is in Norway. I would like to return, but I can not leave without my father." He glared at Alfred. "Your grandfather is keeping him locked in a tiny cage; like an animal." Alfred looked troubled. "I'm sorry, Ivar; there's nothing I can do. I have no power over the king. All I can do is assure that you will be treated well by all of us," he gestured to the three girls behind him. Ivar looked past him again at the three girls. "And who are you? I knew of a prince, but no princesses." "We are from the country of Inis, the kingdom of Tara. I am Caridwen. These are my sisters, Labhraín and Liusaidh. Prince Alfred and I are arranged to be married as an alliance between our two nations." "How diplomatic of you," he rolled his eyes. Dragging himself over to the table where all the royal children had just been sitting, Liusaidh took particular note of the way he resembled a snake. "What happened to your wee legs?" she wondered. Labhraín slapped her arm and Caridwen gave her a sharp look. Ivar was less offended than her sisters had been. "I was born with weak bones. But do not be fooled," he warned, leaning closer to her than she would have liked, "I could still kill you in the blink of an eye." Her eyes went wide and she turned her head to focus her attention on her lap, refraining from any more questions. "You are playing chess?" he asked Caridwen and Alfred. They nodded. "Let me play next." "Of course," Alfred told him. While Caridwen and Alfred finished their game of chess, Liusaidh was struck with the uncomfortable sensation of being stared at. She looked up from her lap and was met with the sight of Ivar looking directly at her from across the table, as if he were peering into her head. She averted her gaze swiftly but the sensation did not fade; he was still staring at her. In fact, he had been staring at her ever since he'd vaguely threatening her life. She felt a chill run down her spine and goosebumps creeped onto her arms. Caridwen lost— by a small margin, her sisters declared— and Ivar took her seat across from Alfred. He was quiet and calculating during the game, not breaking his focus as he moved pieces across the board into Alfred territory. Liusaidh was grateful for his lack of focus on her while he played against her future brother-in-law, but every once in a while, when she wasn't looking at him, he would steal glances at her. She is pretty, Ivar mused. Very timid, like a cornered cat. I wonder what it would take to make her strike. Moments later, Ivar won the match, and a nursemaid entered the solar to inform them all that it was time to eat with Alfred's and the princesses families. All the young royals stood up— save for Ivar— and made their way to the Great Hall for their meal. Liusaidh was the second to last to leave the room, trailing after Labhraín, when her arm was roughly grabbed by a gloved hand. She looked down to her left to see Ivar still seated, his grip on her not wavering. Her breath hitched in her throat. "I could kill you," he reminded her, referring to their previous interaction, "But what a waste that would be." He pulled her arm down and she was brought down with it. His free hand reached her face and he brushed some stray hairs back, letting his gloved palm rest on her cheek, his fingertips residing on her temple. His thumb moved across her cheek and she felt unable to breathe. Ivar did not break eye contact with her, but unlike with the rest of the royal children, he was not glaring at her. It was more of a gaze than anything else she could describe. She was finally able to find her voice as she meekly pleaded, "Please let me go." His momentary trance was broken and he released his grip. "Your sisters will be waiting," he noted, "You'd better hurry along." She wasted no time in obeying, swiftly exiting the room and moving down the hallway to follow behind her sisters and Alfred. When Ivar arrived in the Great Hall to join them, pulling himself forward on the ground, he seated himself directly across from where Liusaidh sat. She made a point to look anywhere but in front of her. Judith, sitting at the right hand of her husband, broke the silence after they had all eaten their fill. "Girls," she began, smiling at the princesses, "Your father tells me you are gifted musicians." "Father flatters us," Caridwen smiled, looking from Judith to Aéd. "Well. I would love to hear you all play something for us. Wouldn't you?" The sisters agreed and moved to the side of the room with an assortment of instruments ready to be played. 'What would you like us to sing for you?" Labhraín asked. "Something from your home. A traditional song from Inis, if you would; we had best begin to learn the culture of our allies," she smiled at them, then at King Aéd. He returned the look and turned his attention to his daughters. "The wains do have lovely voices. None better in the whole kingdom, so it is; and I'm not just speaking as their father," he stated. "Go on wains; sing us a wee song." "Very well, all of you. We'll sing something." Each sister sat down in the chairs set up amongst the instruments and picked one— a fidil, a cláirseach, and a buinne were chosen by the three. "What do you think we should sing, Caridwen?" Labhraín asked. She pondered for a moment. "Let's do Fáinne Geal an Lae," she suggested. It was one that the siblings had only learned recently, and it was fresh in their minds. It was a simple, slow, melancholic song; but the only ones who'd truly know that were them and their father. Softly, they began. "Maidin moch do ghablas amach ar bruach Locha Léin; An Samhradh 'teacht 's an chraobh len' is ionrach te ón ngréin. Ar thaisteal dom trí bhailte poirt is bánta míne réidhe, cé a gheobhainn me m'ais ach an chúileann deas le fáinne geal an lae?" One morning early I went out on the shore of Lough Leinn. The leafy trees of summertime and the warm rays of the sun; as I wandered through the townlands and the luscious grassy plains, who should I meet but a beautiful maid at the dawning of the day? "Ní raibh bróg ná stoca, caidhp ná clóc ar mo stóirín óg ón speir. Ach folt fionn órga síos go troigh ag fás go barr an fhéir. Bhí calán crúite aici ina glaic; 's ar dhrúcht la dheas a scéimh. Do rug barr gean ar Bhéineas deas la fáinne geal an lae." Not a shoe, nor sock, nor cape, nor cloak had the maiden from the sky. Her golden hair in tresses hung and touched the grass up high. In her hand she held a milking pail; in the dew, she looked so far. Her beauty excelled even Helen of Troy at the dawning of the day. "Do shuigh an bhrídoeg síos le m'ais ar bhinse glas den fhéar, as magabh léi, bhíos dá maíomh go pras mar mhnaoi nach scarfainn léi. 'S é dúirt sí liomsa, 'Imigh uaim is scaoil ar siúil mé a réic. Sin iad aneas na soils,e as teacht le fáinne geal an lae.'" The young maiden sat by my side on a green grassy bench; joking her and claiming that I'd never part with her. She turned and said, 'Please go away, you are not wide awake. Here come the lights, I must be gone with the dawning of the day.’ The three princesses lowered their instruments and were met with lively applause from their small audience. Liusaidh, daring to look Ivar's way, even saw him slowing clapping for her. For me, she chastised herself, That's a silly thought. Even so, I'm surprised he's even clapping at all. "What lovely voices you girls have. And so talented with the instruments, as well!" Judith praised them. "Your mother and father must be very grateful to have such lovely singers amongst them." Caridwen accepted the compliments on behalf of her sisters gracefully. "Thank you very much, Princess Judith. If you would like, we could sing something in English as well?" Judith accepted the offer and Caridwen traded the cláirseach for a timpán. "This love it is a distant star, guiding us home wherever we are. This love it is a burning sun, shining light on the things that we've done. I try to speak to you every day, but each word we spoke the wind blew away. Could these walls come crumbling down? I want to feel my feet on the ground. And deep behind this prison we share, step into the open air. How did we let it come to this? What we just tasted we somehow still miss. How will it feel when this day is done? And can we keep what we've only begun? And now these walls come crumbling down, and I can feel my feet on the ground. Can we carry this love that we share into the open air? Into the open air, to the open air. This love it is a burning sun…" Once again the girls were met with quiet applause. "Oh, dear Caridwen, I do hope you'll play for us when you come to live in Wessex with us." "Gladly, Princess Judith. It would be an honor." "I'm so happy to hear that." Judith addressed her husband and King Aéd. "Aethelwulf, King Aéd, I believe it's time for us to discuss more matters on the topic of our alliance. Children, would you all return to the solar?" The young royals all obeyed, and were soon enough back to the room they'd previously been lounging in. Ivar's gaze never left Liusaidh, even when she caught him staring at her again. 'Does he feel no shame?' she wondered, 'Staring at a girl like that… I suppose that's what Northmen do. Oh, I can't wait to go home and never have to see another Viking again.'

[melbynews-blog]

"Im Wettbewerb der Religionen hat der Islam manchen Selektionsvorteil"

Neuer Beitrag veröffentlicht bei https://melby.de/im-wettbewerb-der-religionen-hat-der-islam-manchen-selektionsvorteil/

"Im Wettbewerb der Religionen hat der Islam manchen Selektionsvorteil"

Ina Wunn über die Evolution der Religionen, „male loosers“ und den Ärger pakistanischer Touristen

In ihrem Buch Barbaren, Geister, Gotteskrieger zeichnet Ina Wunn die Entwicklung der Religion anhand der Evolutionstheorie nach und benennt die gesellschaftlichen und politischen Faktoren, warum den Weltreligionen womöglich eine gewalttätige Renaissance bevorsteht. Telepolis sprach mit der Religionswissenschaftlerin.

Frau Wunn, warum sind Sie überzeugt, dass sich Charakteristika der biologischen Evolutionstheorie auf die Entwicklung von Religionen übertragbar sind? Geht nicht das eine ohne und das andere mit menschlichem Bewusstsein vor?

Ina Wunn: Sie haben vollkommen Recht. Es handelt sich bei Lebewesen einerseits (Materie) und religiösen Überzeugungen (geistige Entitäten) andererseits um völlig verschiedene Kategorien. Dies ist auch der Grund, warum alle Versuche gescheitert sind, die Evolution der Religionen „irgendwie“ an die Evolution des Menschen anzuhängen. Das ist ein klassischer Kategorienfehler, und die entsprechenden Versuche haben dann auch folgerichtig zu keinen Ergebnissen geführt.

„Eine fest umrissene, aber zeitlich wandelbare Einheit“

Was machen Sie jetzt anders?

Ina Wunn: Ich nehme die biologische Evolutionstheorie, um deutlich zu machen, wie Evolution im Bereich der belebten Natur funktioniert. Die biologische Evolutionstheorie zeigt, dass es zunächst einmal eine fest umrissene, aber zeitlich wandelbare Einheit geben muss, damit überhaupt etwas evolvieren kann. Diese Einheit ist in der Biologie die Art, beziehungsweise die Spezies. Diese Einheit ist fest, da sich nur die Angehörigen derselben Spezies als potenzielle Geschlechtspartner erkennen und sich unter natürlichen Bedingungen ausschließlich untereinander fortpflanzen.

„In jeder Generation neu gemischt“

Die Einheit ist andererseits variabel, da das von den jeweiligen Eltern weitergegebene Erbmaterial, die Gene, in jeder Generation immer wieder neu gemischt und in jeweils anderen Kombinationen an die Nachkommen weitergegeben werden, wodurch sich die Nachkommen in verschiedenen Merkmalen unterscheiden. Die Rekombination des elterlichen Erbgutes produziert also letztlich die Varietäten.

„Male loosers“

Und auf diese Varietäten wirkt dann die Selektion ein?

Ina Wunn: Genau. Die einzelnen, unterschiedlichen Individuen müssen sich anschließend im Wettbewerb um Nahrung, Sexualpartner, Brutmöglichkeiten etcetera behaupten, und nur derjenige, der seiner Umwelt genügend angepasst ist, kann hier bestehen und sich selbst wieder erfolgreich fortpflanzen. Nicht allen Individuen gelingt das. In einem Nationalpark in Uganda verwies eine Wildhüterin wiederholt auf einsame Büffel, die sie als male loosers bezeichnete, da es ihnen nicht gelungen war, sich eine Herde zu erobern. Das Ganze ärgerte einen pakistanischen Touristen so sehr, dass er die Safari abbrach!

„Alle diese Religionen haben sich im Laufe ihrer Existenz massiv gewandelt“

Was hat das jetzt mit Religion zu tun?

Ina Wunn: Sehr viel: Will man hier von einer Evolution sprechen, muss zunächst geklärt werden, ob es auch hier die einerseits feste, andererseits zeitlich wandelbare natürliche Einheit gibt, und das ist nicht selbstverständlich. Eine Gruppe ist zum Beispiel nicht eine solche Einheit, da sie eben nicht fest ist, sondern sich die Zusammensetzung der Gruppe immer wieder ändern kann. Eine Religion als solche ist jedoch eine solche Einheit, denn die Anhänger der jeweiligen Religion wissen genau, wer zu ihrer Religion gehört und wer nicht. Christen erkennen sofort andere Christen, auch wenn sie verschiedenen Konfessionen angehören, Muslime erkennen andere Muslime, und Parsen wissen genau, dass sie weder Juden noch Hindus sind – um es ebenso einfach wie drastisch auszudrücken.

Dennoch haben sich alle diese Religionen im Laufe ihrer Existenz massiv gewandelt, und zwar so stark, dass ein heutiger Christ die Ängste eines Christen des Mittelalters mit seinen Vorstellungen von drohenden Höllenqualen und seiner kritiklosen Anerkennung päpstlicher Autorität kaum noch verstehen könnte. Selbst ein heutiger Salafist, der ja angeblich dem Islam in seiner ursprünglichen Form anhängt, würde sich im Medina des Propheten kaum zurechtfinden.

Innerhalb der einzelnen, fest umrissenen und von anderen Religionen klar abgegrenzten Religionen finden sich dann allerdings immer wieder die unterschiedlichsten Meinungen und Auffassungen, die miteinander konkurrieren – man denke nur an die Meinungsverschiedenheiten zwischen Luther, Calvin und Zwingli oder zwischen den Anhängern des Propheten-Schwiegersohns Ali und den Anhängern der Prophetengefährten Abu Bakr, Omar und Uthman. Auch heute finden innerhalb der Religionen und ihrer Kirchen heftige Diskussionen statt, so zum Beispiel in der katholischen Kirche über den Fortbestand des Zölibats und die Mitwirkung von Laien. Auch diese Varietäten müssen sich in ihrer jeweiligen Umwelt bewähren und können sich entweder durchsetzen oder verschwinden aus dem Meinungsspektrum.

„Aufsässiger Mönch mit Unabhängigkeitsbestrebungen“

Müssen bei der Entwicklung von Religionen, anders als in der Biologie, nicht also auch geschichtliche, soziale, politische und ökonomische Faktoren berücksichtigt werden?

Ina Wunn: Das ist völlig richtig. Nicht nur sind Religionen völlig andere Einheiten als Spezies, nämlich nicht materielle, und ihre Umwelt stellt sich ganz anders dar. Während für die Spezies die Natur mit Fressfeinden, Beute, Konkurrenten, Klima etcetera die Umwelt darstellt, bilden für Religionen die ökonomischen, sozialen, vor allem aber auch die politischen Verhältnisse die Umwelt, die selektierend auf die Religionen einwirkt. Nehmen wir wieder ein Beispiel aus dem Christentum: Für Luther war die soziale Umwelt ein aufstrebendes Bürgertum, das nach intellektueller Weltdeutung einschließlich einem intellektualisierten Glauben nur so gierte; die politische Umwelt waren die Verhältnisse im Deutschen Reich, dessen Fürsten nach Unabhängigkeit strebten und nur zu bereit waren, einen aufsässigen Mönch in seinen Unabhängigkeitsbestrebungen von einer autoritären Kirche zu unterstützen.

„Religionen bedrohen oft ihre Anhänger in ihrer Existenz“

Sie schreiben, dass Religionen mit ihren Hang zu Märtyrertum, Askese, Verstümmelung, Selbstkasteiung etcerea, die biologische Konsistenz der Menschen untergraben und dennoch gibt es auch heutzutage noch massenhaft Religionen. Wie erklären Sie das?

Ina Wunn: Ich erwähne diesen Faktor, da Kollegen oft die Evolution der Religionen an die Evolution des Menschen anbinden und davon sprechen, dass Religionen einen Evolutionsvorteil bieten. Dem stelle ich gegenüber, dass dies keinesfalls so ist, sondern dass Religionen oft die Lebenszeit ihrer Anhänger entscheidend verkürzen oder sie gar in ihrer Existenz bedrohen – hier ist die Shoa ein ebenso eindrückliches wie grausames Beispiel.

Religion existiert, evolviert und verbreitet sich ganz unabhängig davon, ob sie ihrem Bekenner nützt oder schadet. Religion wird in der Kindheit erlernt, man wächst in sie hinein und gehört ihr an. Selbst wenn Menschen weder einer Kirche noch einer Synagogengemeinde oder einem Moscheeverein angehören und wenn sie weder einen buddhistischen noch hinduistischen Tempel besuchen, hängen sie oft einer Religion an. Zuhause finden sich dann kleine Altäre für die tägliche Haus-Pujah, man feiert das Zuckerfest oder Weihnachten. Religion bietet Weltdeutung, ist sinnstiftend, reduziert die „unerträgliche Leichtigkeit des Seins“ auf ein erträgliches Maß und bietet seelische Heimat.

„Der Islam kennt weder Dogma noch kirchliche Organisation“

Welchen Selektionsvorteil bietet zum Beispiel der Islam?

Ina Wunn: Für den Menschen – also in der Evolution des Menschen – bietet der Islam keinen Vorteil, im Gegenteil. Muslime in den muslimischen Stammländern werden nur zu häufig Opfer von ideologisch motivierten Attentaten. Im Wettbewerb der Religionen hat der Islam jedoch manchen Selektionsvorteil: Er ist erstens einfach. Eine Religion, die nur den unbedingten Glauben an einen Gott verlangt und weder über Trinität noch über unbefleckte Empfängnis philosophiert, ist für den Menschen der heutigen Zeit leichter akzeptabel als das komplizierte Christentum. Auch bietet der Islam große Freiheit im Glauben, denn er kennt weder Dogma noch kirchliche Organisation. Dementsprechend finden sich viele kleine und kleinste Spielarten – auch salafistische – die alle den gleichen Anspruch auf Wahrheit erheben können.

Gerade diese Liberalität in Glaubensfragen hat den Islam im Übrigen auch gegen Ende des liberalen 19. Jahrhunderts für ein intellektuelles deutsches Bürgertum attraktiv gemacht. Die Wilmersdorfer Moschee in Berlin erinnert noch heute an diese Zeit.

„Generell werden die großen Religionen das Feld behaupten“

Wird es in Zukunft weniger Religionen geben oder werden diese zunehmen?

Ina Wunn: Es muss leider konstatiert werden, dass viele ethnische Religionen, umgangssprachlich Stammesreligionen genannt, aussterben werden. Sie fußen weniger auf einer bestimmten Lehre als vielmehr auf Ritualen, die jedoch nicht mehr durchgeführt werden können, weil die Anhänger dieser Religionen nicht mehr in ihren geschlossenen Siedlungsgebieten leben. Auch entsprechen diese alten Religionen nicht mehr den Anforderungen einer inzwischen ganz anders gewordenen Welt. Diese ethnischen Religionen werden also verschwinden oder zu bloßer Folklore herabsinken.

Generell werden die großen Religionen in den nächsten Jahrzehnten jedoch das Feld behaupten und teilweise sogar mehr Zulauf haben, und zwar aufgrund der politischen Verhältnisse. Eine Politik, die zunehmend populistisch agiert, die in Dichotomien denkt (hier wir, dort die anderen) und kulturelle Eigenheit bis hin zu kultureller Überlegenheit postuliert, fördert in diesem Zusammenhang auch die Religionen, die dann dazu missbraucht werden, Grenzen zu ziehen und mögliche kulturelle Unterscheide bewertend zu betonen. (Reinhard Jellen)

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