Faithless: Is Anyone, Really?
Many people identify their faith with a religious belief system. Not everyone though.
I’ll always remember my father’s response to reading the short paper I’d written right after having the spontaneous “mystical experience” - or “one with the universe” type of experience that people often seek through meditation or contemplative prayer - that turned my life around at age twenty-three. It soon led me to meet with Fr. Basil Pennington at St. Joseph’s Abbey, then on to divinity school, and eventually to complete Original Faith.
In that paper, I wrote about how although the experience went far beyond anything I could put into words, I’d immediately learned one thing from it that I could clearly state: that I was hopeful about life as a whole.
I’d thought I’d lost that. But in fact, it was there. I hadn’t been present to faith but faith had been present to me. And with this insight, I began dismantling what had been a very negative world view and got on track to discovering possibilities for life and experience that I couldn’t have imagined were in store for me.
Speaking of negative world views… back to my father’s reaction to reading my paper. It would have been within a few weeks of my having written it. I had mailed him a copy. We were on the phone, him in Florida and me in New Hampshire. It turned out to be one of the last conversations we’d have. We weren’t in touch regularly and he died a few years later.
My father was an atheist – the first atheist I’d known, when, at age eleven, I’d asked him if he believed in God and he'd replied, with visible regret, that he did not. He also happened to be a deeply unhappy man. (For the record, I’m not suggesting that atheists as a group are less happy than theists.) He had a pretty jaded view of human nature and, as far as I’d ever been able to tell, a pessimistic view of life.
During that phone call, he listened quietly as I related how the experience had let me know that I was still fundamentally hopeful about life and death and wherever it’s all headed and whatever it all may mean. I was astonished and uplifted at his response: “I have hope too. I don’t know for what – but I have hope too.”
I’ll always remember my father’s response to reading the short paper I’d written right after having the spontaneous “mystical experience” - or “one with the universe” type of experience that people often seek through meditation or contemplative prayer - that turned my life around at age twenty-three. It soon led me to meet with Fr. Basil Pennington at St. Joseph’s Abbey, then on to divinity school, and eventually to complete Original Faith.
In that paper, I wrote about how although the experience went far beyond anything I could put into words, I’d immediately learned one thing from it that I could clearly state: that I was hopeful about life as a whole.
I’d thought I’d lost that. But in fact, it was there. I hadn’t been present to faith but faith had been present to me. And with this insight, I began dismantling what had been a very negative world view and got on track to discovering possibilities for life and experience that I couldn’t have imagined were in store for me.
Speaking of negative world views… back to my father’s reaction to reading my paper. It would have been within a few weeks of my having written it. I had mailed him a copy. We were on the phone, him in Florida and me in New Hampshire. It turned out to be one of the last conversations we’d have. We weren’t in touch regularly and he died a few years later.
My father was an atheist – the first atheist I’d known, when, at age eleven, I’d asked him if he believed in God and he'd replied, with visible regret, that he did not. He also happened to be a deeply unhappy man. (For the record, I’m not suggesting that atheists as a group are less happy than theists.) He had a pretty jaded view of human nature and, as far as I’d ever been able to tell, a pessimistic view of life.
During that phone call, he listened quietly as I related how the experience had let me know that I was still fundamentally hopeful about life and death and wherever it’s all headed and whatever it all may mean. I was astonished and uplifted at his response: “I have hope too. I don’t know for what – but I have hope too.”
Posted by Paul at 10:10 AM Permalink
16 Comments:
To me, a theist and an atheist who each have ultimately hopeful attitudes share a feeling for the same thing. They "see through the same glass darkly," whatever language each puts to it.
CRYSTAL: My guess is that's how it is for most believers. There's a metabelief, so to speak, that their faith depends on their beliefs.
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"The name of infinite and inexhaustible depth and ground of our being is God. That depth is what the word God means. And if that word has not much meaning for you, translate it, and speak of the depths of your life, of the source of your being, of your ultimate concern, of what you take seriously without any reservation. Perhaps, in order to do so, you must forget everything traditional that you have learned about God, perhaps even that word itself. For if you know that God means depth, you know much about Him. You cannot then call yourself an atheist or unbeliever. For you cannot think or say: Life has no depth! Life itself is shallow. Being itself is surface only. If you could say this in complete seriousness, you would be an atheist; but otherwise you are not."
-from The Shaking of The Foundations
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I think there are some people who are flat in their thinking about reality, and many of them can be found among the religious fundamentalists and New Atheists. Then there is being flat in how one experiences their existence. I am in the odd position of having a very nuanced and subtle view in thinking about reality, but my actual experience seems to be, at least for as long as I can now recall, to be without much depth.
I have heard descriptions from followers of all traditions and none, from disciples of Jesus and the Buddha to folks who follow the insights of Eckard Tolle, about waking up. About the vividness that had been previously lacking, the directness and fullness of experience. Even something as simple as color - that what they had experienced before was a foggy, bland greyness compared to the brilliance they now perceive. How glorious! So whether it is God or the Dharma(kaya) or the Tao or whatever, the urgency of the pregnancy of the potential of Becoming is experienced in a calm and non-grasping way.
But not by me. Everything is just like it appears, and its mostly dull and often disappointing. Not complaining, but I really think I am a candidate for any experiment in spiritual dullness or related issues like being faithless. I am not saying it isn't there, but that I am really missing it.
It's a whole lot more articulate than my "ham sandwich" response to Susie, but I think it points in the same direction...
You've probably tried things like meditation then? Personally, I found that practice needed to occur in a context of insight and some sense of the direction I was taking to be effective. Much writing in this area, especially on the internet, strikes me as being less than complete. "Ten tips" can be helpful, but in my experience it took more than that...
When we have, by choice through devout spiritual practice or more commonly through the unforeseen circumstances of our lives, been forcibly separated from our delusions about our attachments (even to false idols we thought were God), that which we thought would adequately complete or fulfill us, we fall. Nothing left to cling to. Nothing left to fall back on. Naked and humble and tumbling screaming into the abyss.
And then we are caught.
Then we realize we were never alone. We never fell. It was all our delusional world of being isolated and separate from all things, including God. We wake up from that nightmare into the settled certainty of being held in the loving arms of Amida Buddha. Of Jesus Christ. Of Kuan Yin. Of Mother Mary. Of the unfathomable ocean of light and love of which we a part.
Or so I am told by these various sacred traditions, and of which I was reminded by a recent book (How to Believe in God Whether or Not You Believe in Religion). And from sites like this. But again, to me it's all academic. A nice story. I kind of assumed I was desperate enough in the existential sense of confusion and humble surrender to qualify for such a realization, but I guess not. Obviously not everyone receives that moment of clarity in a single lifetime, or else we would have no suicides and no Hitlers.
I think (see the huge qualifiers above about the irony of me giving an opinion on such matters) that there are two avenues of subtle difficulty that obstruct many of us (me too?). One comes from a popular image employed by folks like Thich Naht Hanh about Dharmakaya / the Tao / God as an ocean, and phenomena as waves formed from the ocean. Some people think that to see God / the Ultimate clearly we need to get past the "obstruction" of phenomena. That is like trying to know the ocean by getting rid of all the waves. Eventually there is nothing left. So to know the Divine is to know and love all phenomena.
The related difficulty is thinking our spiritual practice is to make us superior, separate, distinct, rather than to help us better identify and understand others. Improvement? Yes. Libertion? Yes. For only some? No. The salvation of all is needed for the salvation of one, while "salvation" for some is really the salvation of none.
Just found this. It definitely socked me square in the jaw. As soon as I stop seeing double I will read it again more carefully...
An excerpt:
Our life is embosomed in mystery, the universe is wrapped in a garment of mystery. The unknown infinitely exceeds the known; the incomprehensible outweighs beyond all comparison the intelligible. To some persons this is an unpleasant fact. Yet, properly regarded, it would give them great comfort. Religion conducts us to the borders of mystery. Whatever direction we pursue in our religious inquiries, we are soon brought to a pause by limits which we cannot pass. With some persons this is a special occasion of surprise, disappointment, and complaint, while it should, on the contrary, strengthen their faith and enliven their gratitude...
But not for everyone. Sometimes it turns into more of an endless gray day.
I've known people for whom this is true. Just anecdotal, but these are the two major problems I've noticed:
Psychological problems - the person has some significant issues that they really need help with because they're coming up empty on their own for years, decades - but he or she never seeks help.
Intellectualization - the person needs direct, first-hand experience, especially experience that expands compassion, joy, serenity – the emotional side of spirituality. But they confine themselves to books/thoughts/study.
Another great quote... Once again it really resonates with me.
Aid for the first one can find with a priest/chaplain, counselor, therapist, etc.
I'll be damned (poor choice of words) if I know where/how to "find" the second. Maybe those kind of things "find" you?? I think I read something about that...
really solemn and well written.
i agree that nobody is faithless. non-faith is a form of faith. besides, i really see it as impossible to not believe in god. i don't believe in religion but it's not really possible not believe in god.
inspiring stuff.
and thanks for your honest, well thought out comment on my site.
keep in touch
alex - unleash reality
Many spiritual practices are done in solitude. For some people, things done in relation to others, like volunteer work, with, say, the old or sick, might be more the sorts of experiences that are in order.
ALEX: Thank you, and for stopping by. On belief in God, everything depends on what one means by the word. It can mean so many different things to different people…
VISHESH: I’ve read that research shows hopelessness to be the clinical feature of depression most linked to suicide…
Glad you appreciated this post. It's probably my favorite memory of my father after I'd become an adult - he died when I was 27.
What I hear is direct experience.
I wonder why most religions insist on the word "faith," when most religious folk talk about actual experience?
Once one has direct experience it is (relatively) easy to shrug off not knowing the details. Without it, the details form insurmountable mountains.
Where all roads lead to Rome, glorification of Rome is always probable - but how can that be what was intended when once in Rome, no one knows your name?
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