Let's expand a metaphor I introduced in the last post. Imagine, if you will, you are walking in the midst of a vast crowd of people across a flat open plain. Although different people are moving at different paces, nonetheless everyone is traveling in the same direction, drawn inexorably toward a destination no one seems to recall.
A break in the sea of humanity ahead reveals a huge gash that has been cut in the earth, a yawning chasm waiting to swallow up everyone heading toward it. It is right in your path. Most disturbing, you realize that the powerful external forces compelling you and everyone else will not allow you to turn around or stop in your tracks--you must either plunge headlong into the chasm or find some way to cross safely to the distant rim on the far side.
You turn to some of those around you to mention this startling discovery. Most hardly seem to take notice, caught up in conversations of their own or simply too self-absorbed to care what you have to say.
The precipice draws closer. You notice there are a number of bridges crossing the chasm. They are various sizes, made of various materials with different qualities of workmanship. People ahead are squeezing onto the bridges, attempting to cross safely to the far side. An old woman is tiptoeing her way alone across a thin plank supported by spindly trestles stretching down into the misty depths of the chasm. She doesn't look like she'll maintain her balance for long. A large group of people has moved onto a concrete arch spanning the gap. You notice cracks in the support columns, and even some debris spalling off the aging supports as they strain under the weight of the arch's occupants. Some people simply meander right over the cliff without even trying to find a way across.
Finally, it seems an older man on your left and a young woman on your right have taken notice of the danger. You take the opportunity to solicit their advice. "Which bridge should we take?"
"None," the old man snaps. "They don't lead anywhere. The far side, it's just an illusion, a mirage. This is the edge of the world. There is nothing more."
The young woman seems more hesitant. "I'm not sure. Some look safer than others, but how do I know which is the best one? Besides, what if the man is right and the far side is an illusion? How can I know if it's real or not?"
You look ahead again and pick out a narrow brick walkway that appears to be in good repair. You angle towards it and look toward your traveling companions to see if they will follow.
"Don't waste your time," the old man advises as you pull away.
The young woman shrugs her shoulders, confused. "I just can't make up my mind."
You take your first steps onto the brick walk as you hear the old man begin to shout to everyone around him, "We're all going down no matter what! Your bridges are worthless! Don't worry about changing your direction to get on a bridge, it's easier to just head straight over the edge!" His voice trails off as he plunges into the mist.
With one last glance, you look back over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of the young woman, a strange mixture of confusion and apathy on her face as she takes a step out into thin air and plummets into oblivion.
This story is familiar, for it's the story we all face. Death is the chasm ahead that awaits all of us, spreading it's gaping jaws wide to swallow us up. The bridges are of course the religions of man, metaphysical constructs that attempt to make sense of our world and promise safe passage to the far side, the blessed afterlife, whatever form that might take.
The old man is the atheist. Religions are a waste of time, perhaps even harmful since they cause people to redirect their steps and jostle the crowd around. We are all going to plunge into nothingness eventually and everything is, ultimately, meaningless.
The young woman is the classic agnostic. Perhaps some of the bridges are good, and perhaps the far side is a real place. Perhaps not. Who can be sure? It's all quite complicated, and there's not enough certainty to be able to make a firm decision.
And you? Who will you be? Atheist, nihilist, who decides there is nothing more than what we see here and now? Whatever small meaning you might make out of this life will be swallowed up by the sheer numbness of eternal non-existence?
Or will you be the agnostic, lacking the courage or conviction to make a firm decision? Just allow the end to come without even trying to make an attempt to cross to the far side?
Maybe you'll be neither of those. Maybe you do want to find a bridge of your own. Which one? Do they all lead safely to the Promised Land? Are they all just clever manmade constructs, but ultimately won't hold up under weight? Maybe one or more do have divine origin?
If you care enough to examine them, and you're bold enough to be willing to place your faith, then let's start dissecting them. Let's see if we can find a bridge to the Promised Land.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Faith
Faith. It's simultaneously one of the most beautiful words there is among spiritual people, and one of the ugliest there is among ardent secularists.
But what is faith, really? Simply, it is "the certainty or confidence of something not seen."
Faith is how we live and make decisions with incomplete knowledge. And, as we saw in the last post, basically every question and corresponding decision is based on incomplete knowledge.
How do you know when you crack open that can of Coca-Cola you're going to get the most delicious elixir known to mankind (in my opinion!) and not something else? Faith. How do you know your car is going to start and continue running to be able to get you where you need to go? Faith. How do you know your spouse or your parents love you and haven't just been faking it the whole time you've known them? Faith.
None of these questions would require much faith for most of us, but faith is required nonetheless in order for action to take place. When evidence is the 99.9%, faith is the 0.1%. When evidence is 50%, faith is the other 50%. Without a full 100%, uncertainty remains and a decision is not made. Most decisions we make in the course of our day, we don't even recognize the faith that covers the gap in uncertainty because the gap is relatively small.
Faith can be well-founded or poorly founded. You may have all the faith in the world that you can flip a coin ten times and have it land heads every time, and I may have faith it won't land heads every time. Neither of us knows for sure, but my faith is more likely to be vindicated, because it is supported by more evidence (laws of probability, experience, etc).
I suppose another way of looking at this is faith is only as good as its object. I like the analogy of stepping out over a precipice to cross a huge canyon. There are two ways across. One is a rickety old rope bridge with rotting planks and frayed cords, and the other is a large highway supported by huge concrete pillars stretching all the way to the floor of the canyon. A friend and I are trying to get to the other side. He is a rather brave fellow and has always liked rope bridges, so he confidently sets out over the creaking planks. I am terrified of heights, and even though I'd rather not cross at all, we have somewhere we need to go, so I timidly pass down the center of the highway.
Who had more confidence in their bridge? Who was the one more likely to make it across alive? Faith is only as good as its object.
Faith in religion becomes a tricky matter because the stakes are much higher than coin flips or soda cans. Many people disagree over just what percentage the evidence covers in supporting any particular religion, but that only matters to intellectually-minded people who try to arrive at truth through reason.
Many "religious" people don't worry about evidence too much because for them, faith has covered all the gap that evidence will ever leave. The size of the gap doesn't matter. Intuition and feeling often trump reason. Also, in many cases, religions prize great faith, and great faith is more than capable of closing sizable gaps in evidence. This kind of thought process is why you will hear many people (even from contradicting religions) claim that they know theirs is "the right one." It's not that evidence has demonstrated it 100%, but rather that their faith has helped them reach the 100% to assert it with confidence.
Ok, so where does that leave us? If we can't have 100% evidence to be able to decide conclusively on any system of faith, why bother choosing one? Well, that option does remain open, and it's called agnosticism, a state of perpetual uncertainty on matters of faith. However, I would propose that agnosticism, the inability to place faith in any cohesive worldview, is in itself a choice, and perhaps the most foolish choice of all. We'll analyze agnosticism as well as some other worldviews in the next post...
But what is faith, really? Simply, it is "the certainty or confidence of something not seen."
Faith is how we live and make decisions with incomplete knowledge. And, as we saw in the last post, basically every question and corresponding decision is based on incomplete knowledge.
How do you know when you crack open that can of Coca-Cola you're going to get the most delicious elixir known to mankind (in my opinion!) and not something else? Faith. How do you know your car is going to start and continue running to be able to get you where you need to go? Faith. How do you know your spouse or your parents love you and haven't just been faking it the whole time you've known them? Faith.
None of these questions would require much faith for most of us, but faith is required nonetheless in order for action to take place. When evidence is the 99.9%, faith is the 0.1%. When evidence is 50%, faith is the other 50%. Without a full 100%, uncertainty remains and a decision is not made. Most decisions we make in the course of our day, we don't even recognize the faith that covers the gap in uncertainty because the gap is relatively small.
Faith can be well-founded or poorly founded. You may have all the faith in the world that you can flip a coin ten times and have it land heads every time, and I may have faith it won't land heads every time. Neither of us knows for sure, but my faith is more likely to be vindicated, because it is supported by more evidence (laws of probability, experience, etc).
I suppose another way of looking at this is faith is only as good as its object. I like the analogy of stepping out over a precipice to cross a huge canyon. There are two ways across. One is a rickety old rope bridge with rotting planks and frayed cords, and the other is a large highway supported by huge concrete pillars stretching all the way to the floor of the canyon. A friend and I are trying to get to the other side. He is a rather brave fellow and has always liked rope bridges, so he confidently sets out over the creaking planks. I am terrified of heights, and even though I'd rather not cross at all, we have somewhere we need to go, so I timidly pass down the center of the highway.
Who had more confidence in their bridge? Who was the one more likely to make it across alive? Faith is only as good as its object.
Faith in religion becomes a tricky matter because the stakes are much higher than coin flips or soda cans. Many people disagree over just what percentage the evidence covers in supporting any particular religion, but that only matters to intellectually-minded people who try to arrive at truth through reason.
Many "religious" people don't worry about evidence too much because for them, faith has covered all the gap that evidence will ever leave. The size of the gap doesn't matter. Intuition and feeling often trump reason. Also, in many cases, religions prize great faith, and great faith is more than capable of closing sizable gaps in evidence. This kind of thought process is why you will hear many people (even from contradicting religions) claim that they know theirs is "the right one." It's not that evidence has demonstrated it 100%, but rather that their faith has helped them reach the 100% to assert it with confidence.
Ok, so where does that leave us? If we can't have 100% evidence to be able to decide conclusively on any system of faith, why bother choosing one? Well, that option does remain open, and it's called agnosticism, a state of perpetual uncertainty on matters of faith. However, I would propose that agnosticism, the inability to place faith in any cohesive worldview, is in itself a choice, and perhaps the most foolish choice of all. We'll analyze agnosticism as well as some other worldviews in the next post...
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