I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say. — Flannery O’Conner
I’m writing this because somebody asked me about faith and I don’t have any.
When do people need faith? And why? I’m not challenging the faithful, I’m trying to assemble the fragmented impressions of my own elusive faith… or lack thereof. So here goes:
I speculate that people probably need faith when they find themselves in shaky circumstances. I have successfully avoided dangerous adventures for decades although shit happens, like the time I hit a patch of black ice high in the Rocky Mountains and slid sideways — with my kids in the truck, (no seat belts), one arm around the kids, the other hand on the useless steering wheel, slow and smooth to the edge of a precipice only to be arrested by a single, sturdy fence post. Only relief melted the shock of survival and there is no faith after the fact.
Or the time I walked out of Boston’s landmark saloon, Jake Wirth’s, and ran straight into a cluster of very large gangsters chillin’ on dope boulevard. Some might argue that it took faith to proceed, but I didn’t have much choice.
I haven’t climbed many rock faces recently or thrown Molotov cocktails at cop cars and besides — when I was doing stuff like that — did those actions require faith, or conviction, or fury, or foolhardiness, or a combination of all?
I don’t have faith that I won’t be shot in my classroom by a deranged Second Amendment gunperson. I might be, but probably not. Is that faith? Listen to it the other way — I have faith that I won’t be shot in my classroom. Really?
I don’t believe in god so I don’t need faith to bridge the contradictions of religion. I do believe in spirit, but I don’t have to take spirit on faith. I watched a dancing skein of smoke rise from my mother’s thorax the instant she died. I’ve also seen spirit in rocks, trees, and clouds. Also a hawk. And an owl. .
I don’t have faith in humanity; nor do I harbor any contradictory views about human nature that would require faith. Life is complicated. External circumstances and personal experience help shape human behavior, along with a largely indecipherable relationship between physics, neuroscience psychology, and mystery. So…
I can’t buy what my hero Mahatma Gandhi said: “You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is like an ocean, if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.”
Times change and so do oceans. We no longer have a few dirty drops in the ocean, most ocean drops are now officially filthy. Does that destroy my faith in Gandhi? In humanity? In oceans? No.
Mostly I think humans are good-natured mammals who can be twisted by outside forces or who can generate great beauty, love, and intelligence. But I don’t think good nature, distortion or beauty qualify as articles of faith. They’re simply claims based on the understanding that inside and outside stuff shapes human behavior and experience.
I suppose faith and superstition could form a dialectic between light and dark but I’m not superstitious. I do know good when I see it, but I don’t believe in evil, so there’s nobody riding that end of the seesaw.
Maybe there’s a connection between faith and mystery. I am mystified by my amateurish forays into cosmology and quantum theory, but my studies don’t lead me to faith. Do we really know black holes and the boson particle exist? Probably. Good enough for me. But what lies beyond those holes and bosons? That’s what I want to know.
All I need to explore beyond black holes and bosons is an acceptance of unimaginable scope and scale. Disclaimer: This acceptance of mystery does NOT extend to ignorant, willful or negligent violence, terror, humiliation, tyranny, and stupidity. I resist them on principal, not faith. So…
I don’t think I need faith. For me, the planet simultaneously waxes beautiful, mysterious, amazing, horrifying, tragic and hilarious. At times I can accommodate all these elements, sometimes I can’t. But nothing I see depends on faith. So, I pass.
Is that a bad thing?
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Charles DegelmanWriter, editor, and educator based in Los Angeles. He's also played a lot of music. Degelman teaches writing at California State University, Los Angeles.
Degelman lives in the hills of Hollywood with his companion on the road of life, four cats, assorted dogs, and a coterie of communard brothers and sisters.
Wonderful and thoughtful, Chas. Amazing per usual. I can’t wait, week to week, to see what you will write and you never disappoint me. “I suppose faith and superstition could form a dialectic between light and dark, but I’m not superstitious.” Wow, love this thought and so many more in this superb essay. Please keep adding to the treasures of the body of work you’ve created for us mere mortals.
Thanks for your kind, smart response, Betsy! It was an interesting prompt for me, in that Flannery O’Conner’s words — “I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say,” gave me impetus to explore my (apparently) faithless insides. I’m delighted at your anticipation of words by the Great God Degelman. Now THAT’s a leap of faith! I’m looking forward to catching up with your good words!
Love the Flannery O’Conner quote. I certainly feel that way myself sometimes. Your musings are delightful to read, but I find it hard to believe that you don’t have faith in anything! What about music? Or theatre? Or the revolution? The first definition of faith is “complete trust or confidence in someone or something.”
You’re right, Suzy! I do have faith. All I would have needed was a quick peek at the dictionary! I’m always doing things the complicated way but it was fun to explore a la Flannery’s method.
Charles, I enjoyed putting your story next to mike7353’s, “Which Club Should I Join?” He connects Faith, the concept, to organized religion and I love how he typified evangelizing as marketing the best package of benefits. Your take also unlinks that kind of faith from spirit, and how we move in this world.
Interesting comparison, Susan, thanks. As with Mike 7’s I hope my tongue-in-cheek (and cursory) exploration comes across as just that, a write-to-reflection exercise using Flannery O’Conner’s rationale: “I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.”
This intriguing story feels like watching you try on different kinds of faith to see what might fit. In finally invoking the planet, it feels like you come to rest with a belief in nature. Contrasting it with superstition reminds me of a line Patti and I wrote in our screenplay about Darwin: “Our connection with the natural is so profound, why do we need the supernatural?” (To which a member of my screenwriting group protested, “Believing in God isn’t believing in the supernatural!” But, pretty much by definition, it is.) Thanks for letting us watch you explore and reflect.
Great John. Maybe I should call this piece The Changing Room. And your Darwin line does resonate for me. Who needs god when we got the mysteries that lie beyond our ability to quantify. I think I’ve visited this theme before in Brahmins, Transcendentalists, and Sunday School Science. All that exploration did unfold in real time, sitting here responding to yet another cool Retro prompt. And thanks to Suzy for broadening the rumination to include music, theater, art in general I suppose. Write on!
Good to catch up on this story of yours I missed Charles.
I struggle with the paraphrased Anne Frank quote, “ I believe people are good at heart.”
She wrote that before the Nazis broke in, didn’t she.
Yeah, Dana. Not a fan of Anne’s stated belief, although I understand why she needed that faith. I’m guessing you found Anne’s convictions shattered by the horrible people who took her away.
Thanks for your comment. I hadn’t read this one since I wrote it!
You’re right C and poor Anne wrong, 80 years later evil still abides and here at home.
I used to avoid the word ‘evil’ as being broad, religious, and subjective. Now it’s the only word that applies to a growing list of people, organizations, and events.