The Ethics of Belief

William K. Clifford once said the well-known quote, “If men were better than their religions, the world would be hell, indeed.” In his work of The Ethics of Belief, my interpretation of this quote was expanded greatly. A significant question is lightly asked of, what is the basis of morality? Some may answer that it is their religion, but Clifford refutes that exact response. The correct answer, according to Clifford, is that the basis of right and wrong lies in the state of our being, or more specifically, the being of all mankind.

Throughout the work, Clifford utilizes several examples to strengthen his notion that the origin of belief cannot be founded on wrongful grounds nor insufficient evidence. In one example, a shipowner inquires the details he needs to rest in his conclusion firmly. Although his shipwrecks, his sincerity of conviction was shown through patient investigation of honestly earning his beliefs. Clifford attempts to reveal his notion of the origin of belief here. Whatever wrongful action that may tragically occur will still occur, yet the difference is rested within ourselves and the genesis of our belief. Clifford states in the first part, “The question of right or wrong has to do with the origin of belief, not the matter of it. It is easy to brush off this matter and think, “well okay, and? People are people.” Yet that is Clifford’s point...it is our duty to mankind to not stifle inquiry.

Clifford deems ignorance as a sin to mankind. Throughout his work, an analogy can be made of humanity as fabric. In the second part Clifford quotes, “We are not only injuring ourselves, but by refusing to do our part towards the building up of the fabric which shall be inherited by our children, we are tending to cut off ourselves and our race from the human line” (104). Clifford reveals our two choices: either to knit society together or to render it in pieces. Whether we desire it or not, this fabric of mankind will continue to be knit, with or without us. Why would we not fulfill our universal duty, given morality? More importantly, how would the basis of commonality be directed otherwise? The purpose found within the importance of this duty is to strengthen and to bind men together, which can establish a root of common sense or morality for the rest of life to follow.

We can refer to Descartes, “I am” and reside in that what we know is simply what we know. Clifford is not petitioning for us to go beyond our experiences, as most religions do, but to fulfill our “time-honored tradition of the human race” to not be ignorant. More specifically, do not utilize any sort of ignorance as the base grounds for any sort of belief. Willful blindness is deemed as a sin to mankind. A close comparison can be made from certain religions or contemporary religious values, and this criminalized ignorance. It is no secret that Clifford refutes dogmatic religion. I remember as a child almost being afraid to doubt any predisposed religious knowledge, because it is wrong to ‘doubt’ God. Clifford clarifies that he is not speaking of matters beyond our existence, just that the basis of integrity lies within us, so it is our duty to act upon it.     

-Azlee 

Things I Used to Believe, Part IV

When I was a little kid, I used to have a recurring nightmare about burning in hell when I died. At the age of 5, this was a very powerful and vivid picture in my mind. This idea of eternal damnation was planted at an early age. My entire life revolved around my Southern Baptist Church where I had been in attendance since the beginning of my life. From the pulpit, I heard tales of hell, fire, and brimstone. If I didn’t accept Jesus Christ as my personal lord and savior, this tortuous fate would be mine.

I used to believe death was only the beginning. I thought of our lives as finite. In the grand scheme of the universe, they occupied nothing more than a short period of time. If we believed in the grace of Jesus, we would be delivered to heaven where we would live eternally knowing no pain throughout infinity. When you are little kid, scared of what awaits you when your head hits the pillow, there is great comfort to be found in the stories of the bible. Your choice to be saved is such an easy escape route from what scares you most. Wanting to escape a fate I barely understood, I believed them. In the summer of 1991, I gave my life to Jesus. When I did, I sealed my fate. At the age of 8, I knew I would never know hell.

Now, I look at life differently. I no longer look at death as some beginning. Instead, I live a life where I know death to be the end. I have retired from my life stories of salvation, grace, heaven, and hell. Instead, I stand firmly in my ability to not know my fate. I have built a life where rationality wins the day, facts reign supreme, and this life is the only one I will ever have. I don’t know what fate awaits me beyond this world. I don’t know if anything awaits me beyond this world.

This new-found belief doesn’t mean I live a life without purpose. My morality comes from humanity itself and my reason for being is found in service to others. I am inclined to believe that my days are numbered, and I better make the most of them. Each day is a gift. In other words, I have avoided the concept of being “so heavenly minded, I am no earthly good.” Instead, I live every single day being earthly focused in the hopes of doing great things with my time on this planet.

My chase for meaning also doesn’t end because I don’t believe in an afterlife. Again, my meaning is derived from my fellow human beings, acts of services, and earthly experiences. I pause longer, breathe in the air more deeply, and look more intensely because I only get to do this once. My memories serve as opportunities to cherish experiences and I fully do so knowing I don’t get to live with the good thoughts later in heaven. This earth is where I take my stand and it is where I shall fall.

This change of beliefs is perhaps the most challenging of all. It divides people into camps and alienates others. When I speak of what I think to be true, people form a certain opinion of me. Some see a kindred spirit. Others are sure of my damnation. No matter where you fall, the experiences of this life should be intensified by knowing where you stand. If you believe in an afterlife, you should relish in the knowledge you only get to experience this creation of God’s once. If you don’t believe in an afterlife, you should live every day like it is your last. If both camps adopted this mindset, I truly believe our interactions would be more genuine, loving, and kind. We would worry less about collecting things to make us happy and we would spend more time amassing experiences to be proud of when our number is called.

Be good to each other,

-Nathan

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Natetheworld Podcast Episode 3: "I Once Believed"

Natetheworld is a podcast for readers, writers, and listeners that explores the world through the lens of life, love, culture, and society. On today’s episode, we bring you original piece written by a dear friend of mine called, “I Once Believed.”

I Once Believed

I have a wonderful, creative friend who has a blog and a group of us collaborate with him. I’m possibly the worst of the group, turning in writings late or not at all each month. I’m an undisciplined writer, but the fact that I will now at least call myself a “writer” (although it’s tough and I used quotation marks), is major progress. I’m honored to at least be asked to contribute; he hasn’t given up on me. The topics aren’t required of us, but there are suggestions to help out in case we’re stuck. This month one struck me. Hard. It’s Things I Used To Believe. I think very often about my beliefs, partially because I’m asked often about my them. Sometimes—although rarely—I’m unsure. And certainly, many things have changed since I’m in my late thirties.

As my birthday comes up, I started thinking even more than I usually do. Not because I especially care about birthdays—I don’t. I actually forget most people’s birthdays. But I’m a fourth-grade teacher, and for kids, it’s a HUGE thing to have a birthday. I also teach kids in poverty who may not get a single thing for their birthday. So to them, simply recognizing it’s their day matters a great deal. They’re counting the days to mine, and that matters a great deal to ME.

My students care so much what I believe about absolutely anything that I have to be careful how I say things. We teach fact vs. opinion as a skill in both fourth and fifth grades, and they honestly get it better than most adults. Still, my words carry power as an adult who sees them much of their waking hours. And it makes me realize that my own opinions are my personal facts. So here, my truths, in list form simply because I love lists.

·        I used to think there were actual childhoods, only I was too scared to have one.    

·        I thought people could talk about politics and learn about things that way. It’s how I did. I grew up in a split-party household. They refused to tell us what party to be, only to talk about both sides. I thought that’s how it worked.

·        I thought alcoholism and AA were something to be embarrassed of, and not to tell kids at school I knew about. Then I went to my first open meeting and saw other kids I knew. We formed this secret club, and I knew I wasn’t alone. I was as proud of their dads as I was of my own. I hope they have 32 years too and God, grant them the serenity.

·        I once hoped I was more than my breasts. Now I know most of the time, I’m not.

·        I thought I would be a bad mother. That I couldn’t handle it. I hadn’t been tested enough—I didn’t yet know that I could handle anything. I can’t say more than that here, but I just didn’t know.

·        I once believed that adults were right back when I was in high school and that maybe you DO outgrow your friends, and maybe driving DOES get old. False. Some adults are condescending and just bad with teenagers. Those were the ones saying those asinine things to me over and over. I kept the friends I needed, and that needed me. For 20 and 30 years. Not because we talk about high school, because we talk about now. Because we love each other now. I drive because my best friend/cousin died when we were sophomores in high school in a car accident. I was either going to be afraid to drive or do the damn thing. I chose to drive, safely, to the lake most likely. It’s still one of my biggest stress relievers. Loud music, windows up, Thunder Dogg in the back.

·        I thought talking to friends about a relationship helped. No. Talking to the person you’re in a relationship helps. Or a professional. Writing. That’s it for me.

·        For maybe 7 minutes I thought I liked disco music.

·        I thought I wanted a sister. That my parents conspired against me to give me only brothers and make me the only girl and leave me stranded on some horrible, lonely island. Instead, I found out I was IN HEAVEN AND HAD IT MADE. I had my own room, didn’t have to share clothes (except I did, because Matt and I shared giant concert t-shirts and sweatpants, since I dressed terribly), and became incredibly close with all my female cousins, none of whom had any sisters either. I am the middle child in almost all senses of the word, except I never felt ignored or left out because—you got it—I AM THE ONLY GIRL. Geniuses, those parents.

·        I thought I could write. But I love the occasional run-on sentence, especially when used intentionally. See above.

·        I thought my brain was on my side. I believed it to be a weapon I could fight things with, not a gun that would turn on me.

·        I hoped I could be friends with guys, and not be left behind. I thought the women they loved would see what the guys saw in me—a trustworthy friend who isn’t a threat. Instead, I’ve become mostly a choice and an ultimatum, and I’m not going to be chosen. I expected much more of women and of the men who I gave too much time and trust to.

·        I didn’t think my beliefs would change so much.

s. jensen