The faith-mistrust continuum

Make space for both doubt and possibility in your search for truth.

Some days, I’m a believer. I have great faith. I believe in a lot of things that cannot be verified, that cannot be measured, seen, heard or touched – God, ghosts, Kali, Jesus, Kwan Yin, elves (sometimes), ESP, extraterrestrials, remote viewing, baptism, soul quests, clairvoyance, channeling, destiny, etcetera. I see spiritual conviction as a powerful tool that can be used to defend myself against the systemic negativity, ignorance and greed in the world, a compass that can guide me to being kind and living with integrity.

Some days, I’m a skeptic. I have no faith and am suspicious of all methods of spiritual development. I am a demander of proof, certain that knowledge acquired through personal experience is the only god I need accept. I get to thinking that metaphysics, deities, religion, the quantum universe, the occult, New Age ideas, and anything unverifiable by science and observation (and sometimes even science itself) are nothing more than sugar pills hopeful but gullible humans consume as a prophylactic against the uncertainties of life, against the grieve, tragedy, illness and death coming our way. I see “faith” as a collection of fanciful rituals, myths and symbols accrued by humanity over eons in a feeble attempt to find existential comfort. I see religions and the mystery schools as a tome of stories used to make sense of why we are here and why we must live then die.

My parents are devout Catholics who never skip Sunday mass and the Eucharist (even when they are traveling for work or leisure). My husband is an atheist and rationalist who scoffs at talk of miracles, the holy spirit, psychic abilities, energy work or the paranormal. I find it frustrating to have existential discussions with both camps. Because considering how intelligent and self-aware I perceive them to be (perhaps I am biased because I love them) my parent’s conservative Catholic worldview and my husband’s logic-driven cynicism reveal an obstinacy and closed-mindedness that I wish to get rid of in myself.

Perhaps this is why I often cycle between the two extremes of faith and no-faith, believing one minute that “all things happen for a reason” and then buying into random causality the next. Blind faith and unbudging skepticism are both dangerous and possibly evil. Their goal is an insistence that those on the other end of the spectrum are wrong and stupid.

“If you don’t believe in anything beyond this world, how can you have a good and purpose-driven life?” say the holy rollers. “Are you really so naïve as to believe that a piece of wafer is imbued with magical qualities because a man in white robes has mumbled a few words over it?” say the infidels. “We must bomb your secular nation and kill its people because you have disregarded God and the sanctity of your soul,” say those burning with religious zeal. “We can teach the kids about evolution, but we must ban intelligent design”, say the brittle empiricists.

As a believer, you are disadvantaged by your disbelief in the rational world view of the skeptic. As a non-believer you are impoverished by your wonderless conviction as it pertains to the inferior intellect of the spiritual and devout. Blind faith and unbudging skepticism – along with its cousin certitude – are enemies of truth, which can only be sought with an open mind, a mind that is undecided, and therefore able to entertain both incredulity and possibility.

If we view ourselves and others strictly as believers or non-believers, as followers of mystery and magic or students of science, we’ll never really get along. I think the only way to bridge the divide is to realize that we ourselves can be paradoxically faithful and un-believing.

The beautiful thing about the faith-mistrust continuum is that life will most likely cycle you from one extreme to the other, so it’s best not to get too attached to your current position. I have heard atheists praying when an illness brought them too close to death and believers abandoning their gods after losing a loved one under terrible circumstances. When you are in the middle of the continuum – which is where I often find myself – what you must contend with is doubt. You neither deny nor accept implicit faith or absolute rationality. Instead, you exist in a tremulous state of uncomfortable alertness, desperately seeking the grail while listening out for news of its non-existence.