Part I – Give the Devil His Due
You know how an Oscar acceptance speech includes a shoutout? They’ll say, “I want to thank so-and-so for helping me accomplish something-or-rather”. The actor sometimes ends with “I hope I’m not forgetting anyone!” because how could they thank everyone—I get it. In the same vein, I am not solely responsible for my belief in God—this is important to note. To be transparent, and for my own sanity, I want to start here.
“No man is an island’
“You’re the average of your five friends”
“Nature and nurture”
It’s true, I am not the only one to blame for what I believe. There are a multitude of unexpected contributors in my life—some are people, some are bacterial cells, and some are Christerpher Nolan movies. The common denominator: they are all out of my control. So, considering the difficult-to-comprehend secret recipe that led me to God, I must say, I don’t know. I don’t know what brought me to God—exactly. I don’t know what it was exactly. I mean, try and articulate the reasons you enjoy Mario Cart, prefer bowtie pasta, and would rather listen to indie pop if it’s that time of day. It’s hard to say exactly.
I don’t know what blend of herbs and spices are necessary to attract a nonbeliever to the Church—because I am unsure what initially attracted me, exactly. Not to mention, for some non-believers, barriers to entry could include: an unfavorable encounter with religion in the past, fear of judgement, or a series of potholes surrounding the church parking lot. The list goes on and on.
I am going to chalk my conversion up to: something changed in me. In order to go from non-believer to believer, something must change. In other words, nothing changes if nothing changes (I may be one of the greatest philosophical minds of the twenty-first century). Some people can point to precise moments when it just “snapped” for them—a moment in which they either lost or found their faith. I would posit it was never a single moment, it was a long series of events, near impossible to articulate, that resulted in your conversion, engagement, excommunication, or bar mitzvah for example. Am I ruling out free choices? No. Those are baked-in or sprinkled throughout. So, in conclusion, we have established: outside forces have moved in me, resulting in a change of heart and mind, and a belief in God ultimately ensuing. Whatever it was dumb luck or government intervention, I can confidently say, it’s all brought me here—like an epic crescendo at the end of the symphony.
Maybe you see where I am going… Maybe it was God all along. DUN DUN DUN! I know one thing—my conversion certainly wasn’t a win for Satan. Wrapping up this section, just like those Oscar acceptance speech presenters, I want to thank the forces that be. And because this isn’t being broadcast on NBC, that means I want to thank God.
Part II – The Foundational Philosophy of Belief—Getting Started
Christopher Hitches, one of the four horsemen of modern Atheism, was quoted as saying if he had one wish for the God-fearing world, it would be to remove virtue from faith. Personally, I haven’t been able to separate the two. I believe faith may be the greatest thing to happen to me. So let me continue down this thought boulevard before embarking on existential arguments in the next section.
Here, I would like to discuss the strongest fundamental reasons for my belief in God. Before I jump into dispelling common counterarguments and particular evidence in the next section, I want to start with the emotional reasons I now believe. Emotional tenets of faith are likely the most important—if I am going to change anyone’s mind, I would start here. I’ll break it down into three parts: faith is rational, faith is good, and faith is appealing (this makes it virtuous).
(1) Faith is rational
What do I mean by faith is rational? Remember, I am still in the guise of my own journey, so I am speaking personally. I have heard similar ideas from other popular theologians, but here is my take… Faith makes sense to me—the reality of existence left me searching for a solution. God is a declarative reason for the existence of all things, and on a very instinctual level. God’s existence is intuitive and resonating. In the words of Voltaire, “No one was born with the knowledge of God.” Despite originally using this line to demonstrate the separation between nature and superstition, Voltaire accidentally highlights something else. He highlights the axiomatic spiritualism in human beings. I am not willing to recognize spiritualism as folly, as atheist types may. Instead, I am reminded of the Carl Jung’s architypes—a series of psychological identities that touch every tradition throughout the world, throughout all time. It’s not controversial that human beings are inclined towards the supernatural. I am simply making the claim that my inclination towards God is natural.
Take for example, the Dead Sea Scrolls. These artifacts are said to be one of the earliest written examples of the biblical cannon. They are a collection of Jewish manuscripts discovered between 1947 and 1956. The scrolls are approximately 2,000 years old. The writings confirm much of what was detailed in the Old Testament. The Dead Sea Scrolls are an example of evidence, yes. But, at the very least, they are an example of traditional symmetry. Even to the atheist, they are an example of convergent story telling. If there are similarities between pagan stories and those found in the bible, are they not further examples of convergence in human traditions around a similar narrative? This would lead me to believe that human beings share a similar, God-centered corpus. (I am avoiding a tangent on Catholic theology—Council of Nicaea, Ephesus, or Constantinople—I am just making the point that convergent traditions point me toward a God-centered worldview and not away from it.)
(2) Faith is good
Next, faith is good. Perhaps the most sentimental of the three reasons in this section, I believe faith is good. “Good” in this case comes from a moral sense of the word. Morality, a sense/intuition encoded in our bones, greatly influences my life, likes most people. I feel faith—a deep commitment to God—is good. What precedes faith is good and what comes from faith is good. I see adherence to God as an abject moral good. Without God factored into a decision, whether by a person or a government, what does that decision serve? Utilitarians argue that a good moral code is one that serves all parties to the maximum potential productivity/pleasure. On its face, the utilitarian approach feels rational, but it also feels so empty. Utilitarians suppose that humans can invent morality based on what serves them. What a laughable idea in practice. Everything that comes from secularism, like utilitarianism, is empty and feels empty. It doesn’t take a larger description of facts to recognize this is the case.
So, proceeding from the emptiness of secularism, I intend to make a case for the emotional fullness that comes from faith. I’ll start with the story of St. Kolbe.
Kolbe was a Polish priest from the 20th century. During his life, he evangelized throughout the East spreading his Franciscan tradition. (If you have ever heard the story of Mugenzai no Sono, the monastery on the outskirts of Nagasaki that survived the atomic bomb, this was the same monastery St. Kolbe founded on his mission.) He returned to Poland in the late 1930’s where he published a radio show from his monastery. In addition to issuing anti-nazi publications, the monastery provided shelter to thousands of refugees and Jews. In February of 1941, the monastery was shut down and Kolbe arrested.
In May of the same year, Kolbe was transferred Auschwitz. While imprisoned, Kolbe continued acting as a catholic priest day-to-day, saying mass and praying, and was punished because of it. Kolbe, like many Jews, exhibited pure, unwavering faith at Auschwitz.
In July of 1941, a prisoner escaped from camp. The deputy commander, an evil man in every sense of the world, retaliated. To send a message, the deputy commander picked ten men at random to starve to death—a horrendous trial of suffering. After being selected, a man named Franciszek Gajowniczek stood in the lineup screaming, “My wife! My children!”. This was the moment Kolbe volunteered to take his place. “I am a Catholic Priest,” Kolbe said. “Let me take his place.”
According to the same witnesses, Kolbe led the other nine men in prayer—every day and night—from inside their cell. After two weeks of starving—without water, food, or sunlight—Kolbe and three others remained. The guards, tired of waiting, gave the four men lethal injections of carbolic acid. Kolbe is remembered for calmly raising his arm and saying the prayer of Mother Mary before his death. On the 15th of August, the feast day of the Assumption of Mary, Kolbe’s body was cremated. This was a purpose-driven end for a purpose-driven life of dedication through faith.
In 1982 Kolbe was canonized into sainthood by Pope John Paul II. In attendance of the ceremony was Franciszek Gajowniczek, the man Kolbe saved. In 1994 Franciszek is quoted saying, “so long as I … have breath in his lungs, I would consider it my duty to tell people about the heroic act of love by Maximilian Kolbe.”
This story tears at your heartstrings. Kolbe was dedicated to God so completely; he was willing to sacrifice his life for his belief—like many martyrs throughout time. I respect Kolbe’s adherence to faith during the harshest possible conditions. It is faith that gives his story meaning. Furthermore, I believe faith gives life meaning by the same token. Kolbe’s extreme sacrifice and martyrdom was made possible with God. Extreme examples of good and evil are made possible with God. Without God, the story would be an example of unfortunate and unnecessary suffering, from the utilitarian’s perspective for instance. Without God, Kolbe could live selfishly, and Franciszek might never know unequivocal love. Extrapolating, without faith, the same might be true for the whole world.
Throughout this essay, I am trying to avoid large claims. Every claim I make is intended to either (a) build on a previous claim, or (b) simply prove itself because it’s so basic/axiomatic/common sense. At the end of this section, it is easy to start making larger claims about the nature of suffering and evil. I could jump into how faith acts as an emotional bulwark against each. However, this line of argument is best left for other theological conversations. Debating the role of suffering in God’s universe is daunting, and I don’t want to lose any readers with the previous paragraph—like the church has lost members with its own attempts at a complete answer for suffering. So before interpreting my claim that “faith is good” to mean “faith is an antidote to suffering” or “God is not capable of immorality” (which is true), don’t read too much into it. The point I am making with Kolbe’s story is this: my intuition tells me that acts of faith are good. This story reminds me that sacrifice is inherently noble, beautiful, and loving. Dedicating oneself to a greater purpose/cause is good—perhaps the best thing there is.
(3) Faith is appealing
St. Kolbe is an example of a role model. We all have role models. Matthew McConaughey’s role model, for example, is himself in five years—according to his Oscars acceptance speech. Role models are people we set our sights on; people we want to be most similar to. Roles models are important for signifying our values and projecting them into the future—like McConaughey says.
Ask yourself, who are your role models? I like McConaughey’s answer. He posits, you don’t need to strictly compare your present self to others. You can aim at an ideal—an abstraction you envision to be the best. In the case of Christians, Jesus has always served as a powerful role model. Jesus is the amalgam of everything approximating the best. Jesus is like a thorough vision of everything people are capable of, and Jesus was historically represented. Unlike other deity role models, we know he walked this earth. He is an abstraction, a reality and a good role model.
Before Jesus, I had other role models. Some of my role models were pundits—because I have always followed politics, authors—because I have always loved writing, podcast hosts, relatives, and friends. The people I looked up to were those who spoke the truth, without fear of repercussion, acted nobly because they felt obligated, treated me and others with respect and kindness, and loved people completely. These people were often people of faith. While some of my role models may not have been believers, their best traits were those of believers—whether they knew it or not.
Returning to McConaughey’s hypothetical role model, who is my future self? Using the hypothetical, in five years, I am closer to God and stronger in my faith. Pulling from Kolbe, my future self is unwavering despite the worst circumstances. And learning from Jesus (insert other traditions here to see if they work for you), I speak the truth, show kindness to others, and lead with love. My role models have always been tethered to faith, and I refused to see this as a coincidence. I think faith makes a role model more appealing—humble, kind, and selfless. Moreover, dedication and sacrifice, in the service of higher ideals, are noble traits to say the least.
Put simply, persons that are guided by faith are so much more appealing. Looking to common sense people who live complete lives, I usually see faith making a significant contribution. When I look at pockets of faith around me, church communities and book clubs, I see stability in individual psychology, bedrock philosophy that supplements a neighborhood, and love drawn from sacrifice and good deeds. Faith it is often more appealing that whatever tries to replace it…
Part III – Theology to Stand Against Objections
In this section of the essay, I will focus on the most substantive, and classical, arguments for and against God. I am never sure where this theology fits into my belief. There are good arguments against theism just like there are good arguments for theism; all of which are enumerated at nauseum in the Harvard, Congressional, Admont Abbey, and Strahov libraries around the world. Like I said in the previous section, the emotional approach to faith, one based on intuition, is likely more important for transitioning from nonbeliever to believer—how a person feels about faith personally verses how the philosophy presents itself. That being said, the philosophy is important and for intellectual/skeptical types and thus necessary for a growing population of critical thinkers and reductionist.
Starting with the most foundational argument for theism, existence is a reality, and existence seems intelligently designed.
Arguing as to what God looks like, or how God is semantically defined, can come next. But the initial truth value of the above statement is evident. The universe exists, I exist in the universe in order to attest to its existence, shoutout to Descartes, and it appears intelligently designed. There is enough order in the universe so that concepts like trees, grass, individual identity, varying forms of consciousness and transient psychology/theology can all exist simultaneously. This is what I mean by intelligence—something had us in mind when is created the universe.
Whatever process led to our existence is unnatural. We have only come to know natural from unnatural because these concepts are allowed to exist in our strange reality that is the universe. This is kind of like that stoner-ish question you may have asked yourself or a friend, “do you ever wonder why there isn’t like just nothing at all?” It turns out to be a great question, “where did everything come from?!”
The very fabric of the question demands an answer like this one, “something outside the boundaries of the universe could have created he universe.” This argument for God can be called the “God exists without contingency argument”. Meaning, everything we know in the universe is contingent on the existence of something else. When exploring a things existence, one might move down the chain of chemical bonds, physical properties, or chronological events. God is the thing that is no longer contingent that rest above all existence.
Does he have a long white beard, seven arms, or a fly around on a hoverboard? These are all questions that might arise next. But the major issue can be considered “put to rest”. There is something that created all of creation—something that gives breath to everything else. This Thing (capital “T”) is a non-contingent force that exists outside of time, physical law, or gravity.
More incoming soon…