On Belief, and the value of Belief

"The Devil and a friend were out watching the world go by.
A young man walked past and stooped down to pick something up. Said the friend, "What was that?"
The Devil replied, "A piece of the Truth!"
"You aren't going to just let him walk off with it?"
"Of course," said the Devil, "It won't do him any good - he shall turn it into a Belief!"

My inelegant retelling of someone else's retelling might at first suggest that belief is itself a denial of Truth; but since I suspect there isn't really any such thing as Truth (in a spiritual or philosophical sense) it doesn't really matter. Let us turn instead to the purpose and nature of Belief.

The Firefly episode Jaynestown, deals almost entirely with the idea of belief, in particular belief in falsehoods or inconsistencies.

Of the three separate storylines, the one detailing Shepherd Book and River is the more obvious.

When River inspects the preacher's bible, she finds inconsistencies, contradictions and logistic impossibilities. She sets out to "fix" his bible.

The Shepherd attempts to explain that faith isn't something to be fixed. That the content of the bible is internally inconsistent or outright impossible isn't important - the belief in something in order to change one's life for the better is the purpose of faith.
Much like the often fruitless discourse between atheists and the religious, River fails to understand him at the time, and Book allows her to keep his torn pages.

The substory involving Inara and Fess addresses the purpose of rituals and symbols - both having no physical place in the real world, but having genuine psychological significance. Inara notes that the loss of Fess' virginity has nothing to do with his being a man in any real sense, but it is a ritual of significance to his father. She explains that he doesn't feel any different because he isn't really any different - that he questions the nature of his manhood at all is indicative of his being a man already.
Heartened by his experience, Fess gains the courage to stand up to his father - and emulate a hero of his, the only other man to have ever done so. Although knowing that nothing has actually changed, having experienced his ritual has enabled him to "become a man" - something his father can no longer deny. Faith in a physically purposeless ritual has a genuine physical presence and purpose.

The main storyline addresses that of Jayne's legend among the poverty stricken "mudders".
Even though it is revealed to them that their belief in his heroism was completely wrong, they are still prepared to give their lives for him.

The physical embodiment or idol of their "messiah" - the statue of Jayne, for which the mudders caused a riot - is destroyed by Jayne himself, in front of the entire township.

Yet even so, Jayne bitterly guesses that they will probably restore the statue.

The significance here isn't Jayne - he's not the hero, god or saviour of the people. Their genuine saviour is their belief in who they thought Jayne was.

A grieving and impassioned Jayne confesses to them that he is not any sort of hero, and never meant to drop money on the town, saying "There aren't people like that! Just people like me!"

But the mudder's belief that someone free and important cared about them - them - is what caused them to stand up as a whole against their tyrant. Belief, albeit false, brought the township together and fuelled their community.

So do people who believe in falsehoods or impossibilities do so knowingly? Do they do so in spite of knowing the ridiculousness of their faith?

Perhaps some do - and if so, why?

Belief is a powerful and benevolent force in our lives. We are actually capable of lying to ourselves, both knowingly and in ignorance of the lie (seen an optical illusion lately?) in order to achieve something or to just survive.

Of course, as a result there are those who would exploit belief in the ridiculous in order to profit from others - whether knowingly or not - and we have a world full of "alternative medicine", cults, religious persecution and a whole rash of believers in paranormal events.

People believe in a god, ghosts, the afterlife, psychics, magical healing water and more, because it hurts so much to address the fact that we're tiny and insignificant. That we are a result of chance and that nobody cares about us.

Is it any wonder the world has to cling onto some kind of belief, even when it should know better?

Perhaps one day we will grow up and face the fact that the only ones who care about us are here among us - we can't rely on a god, a force of nature, the power of telekinesis or anything else to rescue us from our foolishness, or protect us in times of desolation.

There's nothing but us.

And so it is that I profess my belief - my completely unfounded and indefensible belief.

I believe in humanity.

One day, we might dust the mud off our clothes, tip our hat to the statue of Jayne, and stand on our own two feet to face the magistrate.

In the meantime, those of us prepared to acknowledge the flaws and falsehoods of our former beliefs would do well to also acknowledge how important and significant they were to us, and are to everyone around us.

Because all we have is here and now.

Doubts and Loves

A favourite of mine:

A Place Where We Are Right

by Yehudi Amichai

From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.

The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.

But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plow.

And a whisper will be heard
in the place
where the ruined

house once stood.

---

Without wanting to labour the point, doubt, or at least, the possibility of doubt is part of what fuels all religion and is a characteristic of the best mystics (and just Nice People generally).

Why?

"Getting things right" is fundamentally unimportant - I'm not talking about accounting or building bridges - obviously in these cases it is, but in most areas of life - and particularly faith, religion and philosophy (as well as life experience), being Right isn't actually necessary, nor is it particularly desirable.

This isn't new - lots of people have come up with the same basic idea before me, but I don't think it is particularly popular, among the atheist and believer alike.

Doubt is the very thing which makes faith worthwhile, just as hard work increases the value of the money it earns, or a strong hunger results in a more delicious meal - without doubt, faith becomes wholly unremarkable (to the individual), and one can become somewhat vindictive and largely useless to one's faith (from both an evangelical and retention perspective).

Of course, telling this to a person who is experiencing a "crisis of faith" is just as useless as telling them there is no god - if things were that simple, they wouldn't be having the crisis in the first place.

Greene's Monsignor Quixote touches on this topic on many occassions, in particular in the priest's dream, wherein all mankind knows of the existence of Christ, and the priesthood is, therefore, pointless (as, Monsignor Quixote feels, is faith itself).

I feel the sentiment is exemplified in this delicious quote:

"It's odd, he thought, as he steered Rocinante with undue caution round a curve, how sharing a sense of doubt can bring men together perhaps even more than sharing a faith. The believer will fight another believer over a shade of difference; the doubter fights only with himself.''

How true, indeed.

Another proponent of doubt is Richard Holloway himself, from whom (in addition to Amichai) I stole the title quote.

More interestingly, the lack of doubt displayed by mainstream church leaders as well atheist apologists (such as Dawkins, who is no doubt often right, but still a dick) leads them to be largely unloved by one side or another. Contrast these with, say, Ghandi, and you can see how universally loved and powerful such a philosophy can be.

Ghandi was undoubtedly one of the most skilled at the practises of doubt and faith, and pretty much every religion wanted him exclusively for themselves.

Such selfishness!

A man assured in his faith might choose to align with one religion, but for Ghandi there are no simple answers:

"Yes I am [a Hindu]. I am also a Christian, a Muslim, a Buddhist and a Jew."

What could be more beautiful and powerful than the ability to see the power and beauty of all relgion?

Science and reason cannot deliver such philosophy, and while our society and industry needs to run on science, we live our lives by our philosophies.

The outspoken atheist is as obnoxious and irritating as the evangelical Christian - each believes themselves to be right, and both either preaches to the choir or attempts to convert the disinterested.

What place do you have to preach your Being Right to those content in their faith? Leave well alone, and ask that they do the same to you.

Certainly, real danger lies in the hands of those who would enact faith as politics - and here is the real fight for the proponents of reason.

When the misapplication of faith and the upright belief in one's own puritan nonsense (of either the secular or religious variety) results in forcing one's way of life onto others, you've gone too far - the prevention of gay marriage, the prohibition of recreational substance use - these are not useful to society, and they should be fought with reason.

Faith itself, should not.

Crude vessels, housing immortal souls

Recent events have resulted in my defending the purpose of religion in the modern world to my very Catholic girlfriend.

This has been both surreal and difficult, given I'm a newfound athiest who is as yet, unable to "come out" to the people around him.

As this is my first post, I'll start by trying to outline my intentions for the blog, and some of my own personal philosophical or moral foundations.

Actually, forget that.

I'm tired and I'm angry. We've reached the point in society where we're educated enough to question the existence of a creator; some people find themselves reassured after some pondering, others find themselves doubting.

It's the doubting that gives me cause for complaint - when someone who had no faith becomes (say) Christian, they are said to have "found God" or "found faith". This is a beautiful thing in whichever church is applicable - there are celebrations, there is joy felt by all around.

Often there are ceremonies and rituals to cement this person's conversion and show their commitment to their faith.

When someone who has been a part - particularly an active part - of a faith questions their beliefs, or the denomination and organisation to which they belong, there is no celebration.

Perhaps, if one is Catholic, there is a furtive confession, or for other Christians, a chat with the pastor or another mentor. In many cases, one does not admit to these doubts and questions.

This can be (depending on the severity) a "crisis of faith".

Although to some extent, modern faiths encourage members to question and test their beliefs, there is an understanding that this is done within a controlled environment - a kind of passive question/answer session in which one is reassured of one's position and can happily carry on with their lives.

There is no celebration when a member chooses to leave their faith behind and view the world purely in their own terms - religion could not exist along such lines.

The leap from faith to a view of the world without a god or an afterlife is (to many people) terrifying and filled with despair; yet there is no real structure, ceremony or ritual to allow people to pass from faith to atheism.

I don't have any answers.

I don't particularly want any answers. But I do want to untangle my own faith - there are no rituals when one "finds atheism" - but there can always be the therapy of writing.