Faith January 25, 2009

This is the first in a series of essays about various concepts I find relevant to my work as a nun and priest. These may or may not mirror the lists of values I’ve written about in previous entries, and they are not meant to be taken as either a declaration of firm personal convictions or an attempt to impose dogma on others. It’s not that I don’t have convictions, but as I have no formal training in theology or religion, this is my way of learning to see certain things in a new light. As always, your comments and observations are welcome.

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Recently I was talking to a friend about various issues related to the presence of the gods in one’s life. I heard myself utter the following, without really thinking about what I was going to say beforehand.

“Faith,” I said to him, “is about not having assumptions.”

I don’t know exactly how I came up with that, but later on when I thought about what I’d said, I realized that it makes a certain kind of sense, at least from my particular theological standpoint, which is different from that of many people — especially those from traditions where the Deity or Deities are seen as all-powerful.

I believe that when many people say that they have faith, what they really mean is that they have hope. They hope that things won’t be as bad as they fear they’re going to be. They hope that circumstances will lead to this or that desired outcome. They hope that their loved ones will choose this course of action rather than that one. They hope that all their attempts to behave in what they see as a proper manner will earn them a reward in the end. I don’t believe this is faith, because while hope may be faith holding out its hand in the dark, as George Iles said, real faith is not fueled by fear. And much of what people call “faith” these days seems to be — fear of the unwanted outcome being the predominant driving force.

I’m not slamming people for being afraid of outcomes, or for wanting some shred of comfort in dark times. It’s not as if I’ve never wanted things to turn out the way I desired, or hoped against all hope that something wouldn’t happen the way I feared it would. But as a monastic, one of the things I have had to learn right off the bat was that fear of what might be should not be the main thing that powers my belief in the gods or my desire to cultivate a better relationship with Them. And having faith without its attendant shadow of fear is a difficult thing indeed. Perhaps it’s not even possible, some would argue. But I disagree.

When we’re talking about big issues like life and death — rather than, say, whether or not the buffet at Pizza Hut has any sausage and mushroom pizza left — that sort of “faith” is also very dependent on two assumptions: 1) The universe is a fair and equal place where people who are good get what they deserve, and people who are nasty likewise get what they deserve, and/or 2) There is a higher power that is benevolent and wishes for you to be happy and well above all else. Unfortunately, neither of these viewpoints are ones I find particularly useful, true or very conducive to the maintenance of my mental health. Judging from the ambivalent way people express their various interpretations of faith these days, it seems as if I’m not the only one who feels that way, either. As a hard polytheist with some small personal experience in dealing directly with higher powers who are neither omniscient or omnipotent, I can with certainty say that, in my life at least, neither #1 or #2 is at all true.

There is nothing wrong with hope, of course. It is the thing that cannot be killed — in Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, there’s a scene where Dream is challenged to “the oldest game” and wins because the demon he’s pitted against cannot think of anything that can defeat hope. Hope helps people fight and win battles against all odds, and brings others back to their loved ones after many years and extenuating circumstances have forced them apart. Hope has kept many a prisoner or other victim of misfortune or crime alive when things were at their worst. However, I’d say faith in the context of religion (especially Pagan religion) is a different animal altogether.

If it is your belief that having faith in the gods means assuming that They will always act in what we believe are our own best interests, then I strongly advise anybody with such an inclination to reconsider your thoughts. Our gods, at least those of the Nordic lands, are mighty and marvelous but most definitely not perfect. They occasionally make mistakes. They do not know everything. Shit happens and sometimes even They cannot stop it from hitting the fan. And because They can be ruthless as well as generous, They will sometimes act in what is purely Their own best interest — which may have nothing to do with what we want for ourselves.

I don’t say this merely because I am a Lokean and thus more familiar than most with a deity who is less than trustworthy when it comes to making His followers happy. I say this because I have also dealt with other, less “exciting” gods and know many other folks whose experiences with the Holy Ones have borne out my view that blind faith in the gods is a dangerous and ultimately disappointing endeavor. Believe me or not, as you will, but unless you are one of those people who’s convinced that the universe and everything in it exists for the sole purpose of making you feel empowered or aiding your personal growth, you must admit that gods are not obligated to do whatever we want, and there is no way to make Them.

Also, the idea that, apart from the influence of the Divine, the universe is a fair and equal place is one that I cannot share or even pretend to share. First of all, one need only look around at the state of the world to discover that no, people don’t always get what they deserve whether they behave rightly or wrongly. Second, the laws that ensure that nature abhors a vacuum and that nothing exists without an equal and opposing force do not have a lot to do with human ideas of morality. Will the universe smite someone who said something nasty about you just because they hurt your feelings? No. Will you be bound to never defame another person if you then use magic to curse that person for what they said? Possibly, but that’s because you expended some energy in a particular direction, not because the stars themselves find it odious that some guy at the occult shop called you a dilettante wanker. The point of this is that if you have “faith” that the people you dislike will all wind up broke, old, helpless and alone just because it’s not fair that they get away with things, or that by “harming none” you will escape all misfortune, you’re most likely going to be as sorely disappointed as you will be by expecting Thor to smite whoever rubs you the wrong way.

So what’s the point of having any faith at all, then, if the gods are going to act however They please and the universe doesn’t seem to care if anybody behaves themselves or not? Why should we bother with faith at all? I believe faith is important because assumptions are a dangerous thing, and if faith really is about not having assumptions — about the gods, the world we live in, other people or ourselves — than striving for that makes us readier to handle whatever challenges arise and more likely to appreciate the blessings that come. While the universe is not an entirely benevolent place, neither is it an entirely awful one. Faith prepares you to handle whatever you get because it is as much about not assuming the worst as it is about not hoping for the best.

Having faith in one’s gods is somewhat more complex. While I would advise folks never to take anything Loki says merely at face value, I can and do try to have faith in Him, even though I know He isn’t always honest with me. I don’t have faith that Loki, or any other god for that matter, is going to do something just because I want it. I have faith that They will be Themselves. In order to cultivate that faith, I need to try and understand the gods as They truly are, not just as I want Them to be. This is really hard, and it’s also where not having assumptions really comes in handy, because few things are so disappointing as when we discover that people really aren’t what we thought they were. And when it’s a god or goddess who’s suddenly shown you Their true colors, it can be devastating to realize that you were wrong all along about Them. I don’t have faith that Loki will protect me from every harm, or strike down all my enemies, or that He’ll never do something that affects me in inexplicable or possibly painful ways. He isn’t all-powerful, after all. But He is what He is, and I have faith that Loki won’t be other than what He is — imperfect as my understanding of that might be. And the imperative is on me to gain greater understanding of Him, rather than expect Him to jump through hoops to “prove” to me that my faith in Him is justified.

When it comes down to it, faith without assumptions can bring us to a level where we are continually aware of our exact place in the web of existence, with our orlog around and behind us, our hamingja in our hands, our wyrd before us, and the Holy Ones beside us to guide us along the way and to use us as Their hands in this world of ours. Cultivating faith, having it, can also show us that our concerns of the moment, the things for which we say we have “faith” or hope, might really be insignificant in the long run. Or maybe not. The cool thing about faith is that you can choose to have it or not. If you’d rather live with hope because faith as I’ve defined it here doesn’t seem optimistic enough, that’s up to you. Even if my ideas about the alleged true nature of faith seem somewhat sketchy, I do know one thing for certain: nobody can give or take away your faith. You’ve got to find it and keep it for yourself.