Faith

Wonderful high school kids conducted a forum about faith during lunch for three days. Here's my reaction to what I heard:

Believing in a transcendence, a deity, something supernatural . . . requires faith. Faith is what we use when we have no rational reason to expect something. Hebrews 11:1 "Now, faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." So says the Good Book. When the existence of something is wholly irrational, and therefore there is no rational evidence in support of its existence, then "faith . . . is the evidence." A god that can be rationally proven . . . is not a god.

I'm told that atheists use "faith," too, whenever we "park the car and expect it to be in the same place later." But that's not faith. It's rational to expect my car to be where I parked it: I don't need faith for this. When I expect my car to be where it's parked, I don't need and can't use faith that it's there. I have a rational expectation that's it's there. If it's not there, then there's a rational explanation: It was taken or towed or I mis-remember where I parked it. So, no, that's not where this atheist's faith lies.

I'm told that "it's a miracle when I wake up every day." But that's absolutely NOT a miracle. It's to be expected. It's rational and natural. Even for me at 56.

Faith is reserved for what we cannot rationally expect.

There's nothing rational about the existence of the transcendent and nothing rational about believing in it. The whole enterprise is irrational. But that's what makes faith remarkable: We believe despite all the rational world's rational evidence to the contrary. We believe despite the absurdity of it. Jesus: "I am in this world, but not of it." Kierkegaard tells us we must take a "leap of faith." We leap from the rational, over the abyss, to the irrational.


And when we find some other people who believe much the way we do, we congregate with them and start a religion. Or join in one already existing. How could we not? How could we keep this revelation to ourselves, a revelation so grand and absurd, and not share it with others who are similarly ecstatic or confused?

Faith is purer than religion. Faith is one person's commitment to the absurd. All it is is a devotion in heart and mind.

Religion is the human enterprise of bringing the faithful together and thus it is more flawed and fraught. At first, it's a celebration of like-hearted people. Then all too often they force the faithful to toe some line and all hell breaks loose.

Yet, it seems to me, faith as a human enterprise has to be a social enterprise. Unfortunately, it's the congregating that makes it less pure sometimes. Other times, we all see the light. . . together.

Faith should never be conflated with religion. But we do need to congregate with like-hearted people. Just need to avoid the hubris. The Southern Protestant churches I grew up in were all about the holier-than-thou hubris. I took what little faith I had and hid it away from the blowhards in those churches. Big smiles . . . followed by lots of talk of Hell.



I say "we" above, but I'm an atheist and relatively new to my atheism. Actually, perhaps I'm not an atheist. I just don't care if there's a god. If there IS a god, that being doesn't seem to care about us. And if I'm right, then what kind of god is that? Given whatever god there MAY be, what's the point? This god may as well NOT exist. We pray to God for a better relationship with a brother. Why SHOULD god answer that prayer? God or no god, it's OUR responsibility. You may say that the act of praying may help us sort out what we need to do. Well, that praying is also called quiet contemplation.

I do believe in things being greater than the sum of their parts. But not supernaturally so. I am moved by the Bluegrass and African-American Gospel traditions, by Hank Williams singing hymns, by Duke Ellington's "Come Sunday." I recognize that these beauties are an expression of faith. But for me, it's the glory of human expressiveness, not the spirit entering a soul. And this glory of human expressiveness is plenty for me.

I'm fascinated by faith as one of the gloriously human engagements with all things mysterious, with the great Mystery, with the absurd. And while mine never fired up whatever kindling there was in me (though there was an effort back in my 20s), I know also that when people discuss their waning faith with me, I don't tell them to join me on the dark side. I help them and encourage them to rekindle, to find, the faith they think they're losing.