Jasper considers the spiritual risk involved in challenging our beliefs and trying others on for size. How far should one go in search of spiritual integrity? How much should the stakes affect your spiritual decision making? -Editor
A little while ago I saw a problem with the way I was thinking. I didn’t feel like the package of belief that I officially subscribed to was one that I could clearly explain or defend. When challenged to do so—either by a friend or simply by an idea—my responses came up hollow and unconvincing: repetitions of other people’s words or hedging statements that didn’t really address the issue. It’s important that the way I live my life, the way I understand the world, and the things I believe be in alignment and I realized that I needed to reevaluate my beliefs if I wanted to have that integrity.
But in my understanding of the beliefs I subscribed to there were a few reasons that it felt unacceptably risky to question or reconsider. Some were specific teachings that warned against straying from the path, and some were more vague, cultural fears based on what the outside world seemed like.
First off, there’s hell. Hell is a frightening concept. You might spend eternity absolutely miserable if you don’t believe or do the right things or if you make too many missteps. To worry about hell turns your whole life into a continuous exam that has an unspecified time limit and vague grading criteria. Every decision with any moral weight involves a lot of risk. Will it be the one that pushes you over the edge and down into hell? The risk of that question is scary enough already when it comes to morally ambiguous problems that knowingly choosing to reject or rethink what has been clearly told to you seems quite foolish.
I think this fear is stifling and leads to a painfully stilted spiritual life. Thankfully, removing that fear requires only a more sensible interpretation of the idea of hell. We get a taste of “hell” whenever we allow selfishness to win out over our desire to help those around us. It’s simply the state of knowing that what you are doing is hurting someone else and choosing to do it anyway. It’s uncomfortable. It’s usually accompanied by some justification for why it’s ok. It’s not really mysterious or complicated. Some reflection or some input from a third party will generally show the harm in your actions, and then what is required is for you to choose to change what you’re doing. Sometimes it’s just mildly embarrassing and sometimes it’s incredibly difficult, but it will always be a question of whether it harms your neighbor.
Another, perhaps more realistic concern is if in exploring and empathising with another person’s seemingly contradictory (wrong) ideas you then become inured to them and blinded to their wrongness. This fear is more insidious, I think, because we can see it happen all the time. We don’t like to think about how often we change our minds—how quickly things that we used to consider unthinkable become commonplace. But take a look at all the places this human frailty manifests itself.
Yes, it can happen in dangerous ways: hang out with people who make a habit of stealing and you’ll probably end up believing the same justifications as them for why it’s ok (see True Christian Religion 120). And it’s sad to watch this happen to people. Didn’t they used to know that stealing is wrong? Why do they suddenly believe these lame excuses? Can’t they see the pain this will cause them? But you can also hang out with people who root for the wrong sports team, read stupid books, eat gross food, or dress funny. And they become normal to you pretty quickly, and it stops seeming unthinkable that you might do one of those things.
What I’m getting at is that that sense of acclimation is universal, the “risk” of succumbing to it is very high, and it is important to realize that you’re not immune to it. But it shouldn’t be something to fear in itself, it’s simply how it works. Know that if you allow yourself to explore new things, you might begin to think differently about what you have now. Perhaps the question then is, are you becoming blinded or are you seeing more?
Finally, I think there is one more specific fear that makes spiritual adventuring seem to be really high stakes. It stems from this passage from John:
If anyone hears my words but does not keep them, I do not judge that person. For I did not come to judge the world, but to save the world. There is a judge for the one who rejects me and does not accept my words; the very words I have spoken will condemn them at the last day. John 12:47- 48
Although there could definitely be some dispute about its meaning, the gist seems to be that if you are lucky enough to come into contact with the Truth, you’d better commit to it. It’s frightening (especially if your only experience is in your church) to imagine what the mysterious judgment might be. You think there must be something special about your church if everyone believes it and you think it seems reasonable to be expected not to stray. But thinking that your church is special is a short way from thinking that being in your church makes you special. And that kind of us-them mentality about the rest of the world is a really strange way to live.
I don’t think it works to be afraid that hearing and then not obeying will have such dire consequences. And I really think it doesn’t work to fear becoming like non-believers. You have to take responsibility for what you believe and that includes being able to articulate why you believe it beyond simply that “it makes so much sense to me.” Why is it better than what millions of other people believe? This question was troubling to me and has sent me exploring, which I hope will allow me to have more conviction about the things I think are most important. Is there another way to gain this perspective? Consider this section of Arcana Coelestia 5432 :
People who have reached adult years, and especially those who have arrived at old age, but have not used their own ability to look at the truths known to the Church, called its doctrinal teachings, to see for themselves whether these really are truths, or to form any subsequent wish to live in conformity with them, inevitably retain them in exactly the same way as they do all other factual knowledge.
The exhortation here is for us to examine and apply our beliefs through our own search for truth in the Word. I hear in it a call for some spiritual daring. Do not remain comfortable in what you’ve always believed, but challenge it against the truth you see and test how it works in service of your neighbor. Hone it until it is stronger than simple knowledge. How far should you let this testing go? Might you break a truth or injure yourself in the process? I’m not sure, but it seems worth it to me.