What Does it Mean to Believe?

We love to believe.

It's so exciting to have conviction in an idea that has yet to be proven, but that we think is true nonetheless.

There are people that believe in the reptile people, flat earth, or that the manager at McDonalds is the reincarnated Cleopatra. Others believe that Seinfeld is the best show. Or the Sopranos. Or, in my case, Fleabag. And we all have good reasons, from our perspective, to believe. 

But before we judge anyone, we need to acknowledge that we all (and yes I mean all) have at least some beliefs that have no logical, scientifically proven basis. They wouldn't be beliefs otherwise, but facts. No one starts a math lecture with "first of all I just want to testify that the math that I'm about to teach you is true." It's just self-evident.

For example, I believe that artists of all kinds have the most important professions in our society. Everything else just keeps us alive, but artists make us feel in a way that only humans can feel. But that’s just a belief (or strong opinion) not based on observable data. 

From God to government, the beginning of life to the end, that one amazing diet, and who wore it best, we believe all kinds of things. Many of us hold on to beliefs for a lifetime, especially religious or political.

Some argue this is fine, advocating for clinging to what we cherish most - loyalty to our heritage - respect for our ancestors. Others prefer a flexible mindset, ready to adapt beliefs in light of new information.

I used to be religious, but have evolved my beliefs based on my life experience. This isn’t to say others would follow my path after scrutinizing their faith. Many question their religious beliefs only to emerge more devout. Regardless of the outcome, one of my beliefs that hasn’t changed is that exploring our beliefs enriches our understanding of faith and life.

Socrates said, “an unexamined life is not worth living,” and I have come to agree. 

I won’t delve much into the problems I see with religion; those are readily accessible to the curious. My aim isn’t to blindside believers with controversial history or theological inconsistencies. That’s not my place. Rather, I want to share why I left religion in a manner that is respectful to believers, devoid of facts or fictions that incite division.

No one needs to care about why I left religion - I'm just another caveman with a rock. But perhaps my story can foster understanding among your friends and family. My goal is to promote love, break down barriers, and build bridges, and I believe that trying to understand one another is the only way to do so.

With that, here goes:

A Family Vehicle

When we bought our SUV, we spent countless hours researching, testing, and comparing the right fit for our family, finally landing on one that has shuttled us around as we’ve made some wonderful memories together. 

Approaching mid-life, I started asking some big questions about my life, as one does, taking inventory and considering adjustments. Am I on the right career path? Are we raising our kids in the right place? Could I be happier? What makes me happy anyway? Is that even the right question to ask? 

During this introspection in my 30s, I realized I had devoted less effort examining the 'spiritual vehicle' guiding our family than the physical one we drove. If a car merited such meticulous scrutiny, surely our moral, ethical, spiritual, and temporal framework deserved even more.

If our vehicle was indeed right for us, then it should become more and more obvious the longer we research, test drive, and look under the hood.

As James E. Talmage said, "The man who cannot listen to an argument which opposes his views either has a weak position or is a weak defender of it. No opinion that cannot stand discussion or criticism is worth holding."

As I used my mind and heart to explore some big life questions, it indeed led me to a more intentional life built custom for me. But while I can now say that I am happier, that wasn’t always the case. Leaving religion wasn’t easy and didn’t make me immediately happier. It took years of struggle to get to a good place, so this isn’t one of those “check out how happy I am!” messages. This is a real, heartfelt exploration of what it means to reject Journey’s advice to never stop believin. 

So here are the three questions that can roughly summarize my experience:

1) Why Do We Believe What We Believe?

In the past I would occasionally think about this, but my inquiry would quickly turn to defense mechanisms like “other people have some of the truth but not all of it” or “they believe, but I know”. It would usually stop there and I’d move on, sufficiently satisfied. But these became increasingly dissatisfying over time, so I took a harder look at the question of why we believe what we do.

What I found is that there are people of all religions (and non-religions) that truly, passionately, profoundly believe what they believe. Whether one believes in heaven/reincarnation/neither or that Protestantism/Islam/Zoroastrianism is the best way to fulfill God’s plan for humans or that Buddhism/Hinduism/Taoism is the best way to live life as a human. 

You can hear testimonies from members of just about any religious tradition crying tears of joy and certainty that they are on God’s path and, sometimes, that it is the best path and, sometimes, that it is the only path.

From the furthest corners of the Middle East to the Evangelical American South to the FLDS holdouts, you can find people that will die for their conviction that they are not only in the right place for themselves, but that they are in the right place. That they have not only truth, but the Truth with a capital T. 

Importantly, if you ask them why they have such strong conviction in their beliefs, they will all say effectively the same thing, although using different vocabulary. The Holy Spirit/Ghost, the power of God/Allah/Vishnu, the energy of the universe… testified/spoke/manifested to me that this was in fact the right path or, in my tradition’s lexicon, true.

People's beliefs are typically shaped by personal experiences, including spiritual moments, visions, dreams, or unexplained events. These profound experiences, combined with feelings of peace, love, or awe, reinforce their beliefs. Sure, logic and reason are used to articulate these beliefs, but they are fundamentally rooted in these experiences.

The reasonable first question: if spiritual experiences come from god, why do people receive completely different messages from the same presumed source?

To explore this, let’s say that I was born in rural Iran. Would I be a member of my same religion? Of course not - I would almost certainly be Muslim, like 99.6% of Iranians, and almost certainly Shi’a Muslim, like 95% of Iranian Muslims. In the same way that if I were born in New York I wouldn’t be a Red Sox fan, I'd cheer for the Yankees (unless I were born in Queens, in which case, the Mets). Being raised in a particular faith shapes your worldview as your brain develops, making those beliefs seem like absolute truths.

If exposed to a different religion later in life, like Christianity in Iran or Islam in the American Bible Belt, it's unlikely to resonate due to the deep-seated beliefs repeatedly formed during childhood.

A religious text like the Quran, if taught from birth as the ultimate truth, would seem more profound than the Bible, and vice versa. Thus, everyone tends to believe they were born into the "best" religion, feeling grateful for this perceived divine favor.

This of course raises the question, “well if my spiritual experiences aren’t confirmation from the divine, then what are they, exactly?” Let’s consider two examples:

1. An American and an Italian walk into a bar… sorry, wrong story. An American and an Italian attend a fourth of July celebration. The American is emotional with patriotism and gratitude while the Italian isn’t, but enjoys the fireworks. These roles would be reversed if they were in Italy on June 2, Republic Day. 

2. Two people are born into the same Catholic family. One has a positive experience with the church and one is abused by a priest as a child. Show them both a photo of the pope and one may feel love, comfort, and belonging, while the other may feel fear, anger, and danger.

Okay, these are fairly common examples with intuitive results. So what’s going on here? While we don't fully understand the brain's complexities, we know a little bit about hormones and neurotransmitters. Positive experiences with a country or church might trigger the release of dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins, inducing feelings of happiness, belonging, and even euphoria. Conversely, traumatic experiences can trigger adrenaline and cortisol, causing a fight-or-flight response.

Context matters. Different emotional reactions are influenced by personal history, explaining why people have diverse religious and political beliefs, and they always will. It is a natural outcome of our individual life experiences.

Needless to say, realizing how my personal experience had influenced my beliefs caused me to wonder which religion, if any, I would join if I started from scratch with no previous religious experience.

Considering Islam would logically require giving Christianity, its predecessor, the same objective consideration.

If I found the Seventh-day Adventists interesting, then why not the Latter-day Saints? Both were formed by 19th century American visionaries who wrote original revelations which are seen as divinely dictated by the tens of millions of members of their movements.

Why not Buddhism? Or Baha’i? Or the Westboro Baptists? If one is indeed better (depending on one's definition of better), it should float to the top upon objective investigation. But it doesn’t. 

Last example on this point. Pretend that we erased all of our scientific discovery. It’s all gone. Now fast forward a few thousand years and… Eureka! It’s all back! Maybe not every detail, but our primary understanding of physics, biology, math, astronomy… it’s all the same. One molecule of water still has two hydrogen atoms covalently bonded to a single oxygen atom and the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter is still 3.14159… 

Now do the same with religious texts and ideas. They’d be back too, but they’d be totally different. They'd likely still have many of the same moral principles, but the gods, miracles, and truth claims would be different. Similar to how the thousands of religions today evolved from the three major base religions (Judaism, Buddhism, and Hinduism), the same would likely play out again, but differently.

I’m not saying that math and science are true and religion is false. I’m saying that we believe what we believe because we are products of our environment, not because it is objectively true in all circumstances in space and time. This doesn’t mean that our beliefs are necessarily bad or wrong, it just means that ignoring this point leads to misunderstanding and judgment toward people that believe differently, and that’s not great.

It also means that there are some things that we can know, like pi, and some things that we can’t, like if there is a god or what that god is like. One will say that they saw god and she is a glowing flower and another also saw god and he is a white male human. But there is no way to verify it except for our subjective feelings and experiences that yield incredibly inconsistent results across populations and time, emphasizing the influence of personal context on our beliefs.

This point was really hard for me to accept. I want all of the answers, but we just don’t have all of them. People will say that they do, and we listen to those people, and we always will. Certainty is intoxicating and addictive. It feels so good to have answers.

But some things we really will never know… Or, said more poetically by Jack Johnson:

“I heard this old story before

Where people keep appealing for the metaphors

Don't leave much up to the imagination

So I wanna give this imagery back when I

Know it just ain't so easy like that

So, I turn the page and read the story again

And again and again

It sure seems the same with a different name

We're breaking and rebuilding

And we're growing, always guessing

Never knowing

Shocking but we're nothing

We're just moments

We're clever but we're clueless

We're just human

Amusing and confusing

We're trying but where is this all leading

We'll never know”

My attempt to be an honest seeker of truth and take seriously the question “why do we believe what we believe?” didn't lead me to a worldview where my answers can’t be questioned, but one where my questions can’t be answered. 

And while it didn’t bring me closer to the god of Abraham, it did bring me closer to the god of Spinoza - the force that connects all things into one - the wonder and mystery of existence - nature, basically, or something like that. 

Others take this question very seriously and remain steadfast in their faith, which is wonderful and we could all be so lucky. But for many, the risk of changing their existing beliefs is exactly the reason why they feel that they shouldn’t take this question seriously. 

Acknowledging our lack of complete understanding about life shouldn't be viewed as a weakness or heresy. Embracing uncertainty is at the core of faith, which involves moving forward without truly knowing. Recognizing our limited knowledge about life can be humbling and awe-inspiring. The mysteries and wonders in nature, even in a single cell, can be more profound than the most intricate theological doctrines.

Becoming comfortable with uncertainty, rather than fearing it, has been very fulfilling for me. Instead of claiming to have all the answers, I find life more exciting to discover and explore. Instead of singing “follow the prophet, he knows the way,” I sing “the answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.”

2) What Makes a Good Life?

If we can't be certain about life's mysteries, let's focus on what we do know: we have a precious life to live. Regardless of how we got here, we exist, are conscious, and strive for a good life. Happiness varies for everyone, but often includes relationships, time in nature, healthy living, etc. A sense of purpose also contributes to happiness, which can be enhanced by spirituality, but doesn’t have to be. It is for me, so let's spend a minute on spirituality, setting it apart from religion.

Spirituality is a personal connection with the divine, which can be a deity, nature, the universe, or other. It's about experiencing a sense of something greater than ourselves.

Religion, in contrast, is an organized system that nurtures spiritual experiences, offering community and other benefits.

Religion's primary role, from my perspective, is to enhance our connection with the divine and lead to a happier life. What I’ll call “healthy” religion supports one's spiritual journey, while unhealthy religion exploits our spiritual needs for control and money. 

Spiritual experiences can be anything from daily reflections to profound, transformative events. Daily experiences, like gratitude or connection with nature, let’s compare to a TV switching from black-and-white to color. It makes life better.

Transcendent experiences, like profound meditation or religious rituals, are perhaps like discovering new TV channels, offering permanent perspective shifts.

Spiritual experiences are indeed mysterious and can be undeniably life changing. They can make you question ultimate reality or make major life changes based on your new perspective.

But that doesn't necessarily mean they are supernatural, and in fact the more we understand about the brain, the more straightforward the explanation. Not entirely, of course, since there's still the question of conciousness and how much we don't now and what we can't see and such.

This might be a surprise, but I believe all spiritual experiences people have are very real. I had many spiritual exepriences when I was religious, some even profound. I've also had many spiritual experiences since leaving religion, many being profound and transcendent.

These experiences are very real to the one having the experience, but the conclusion about the source of the experience and what it means is the issue. This is why one's life experience and religious background matters, since religions tend to tell people how to interpret them, again each in their own different way.

Historically, religions have promoted direct transcendent experiences with the divine and help to integrate these experiences. In modern monotheistic traditions, however, there is often more emphasis on hearing about past experiences of others (such as Moses, Jesus, or Muhammad) who have connected with the divine, and then typically requiring belief in that experience.

From my perspective, spirituality should be universal, based on personal experience, and unifying. Unfortunately, religions can be divisive, often causing separation and judgment towards those outside their group, even though that isn’t the intention.

I think a healthy relationship with religion should be non-divisive, treating people from different or no religions equally. Judge not lest ye be judged - that kind of thing.

For me, a good life includes spirituality — a sense of meaning, purpose, and awe at life's mysteries. As life happens in my case, I've spent a decent amount of time in spiritual practice both inside and outside of religion, and I’ve personally found a healthier spiritual life outside, connecting directly with creation and its creator and embracing what I find useful regardless of the source.

Here are two examples to illustrate what I mean:

1. I've adopted the concept of unconditional compassion as a path to non-judgment. This idea, found in various philosophies, recognizes that we're largely (if not entirely) shaped by our biology and life experience, which means that things are not always our “fault” in the traditional sense that we attribute blame. This contrasts with my previous belief of free agency, which is that we should be judged based on our choices, which are under our control. I see this approach as a form of spirituality, reflecting a deep appreciation for life and an understanding of the universe's workings. By acknowledging that everyone does their best with what they have, judgment becomes unnecessary, as we all have unique backgrounds. While I’m not perfect at it, of course, it has reduced my judgment towards others and has made me happier. It might not suit everyone, but it works for me. 

2. I’ve embraced the idea of being present, which is common in many spiritual and wisdom traditions. Be here now, live in this moment, find happiness today - that kind of thing. It emphasizes finding joy today instead of dwelling on the past or future, which leads to anxiety, shame, depression, and similar negative feelings. Planning for future necessities like career and family is still important, but the focus is on experiencing life now rather than focusing on a destination. Instead, the journey is the destination. This differs from my previous belief that life is a preparation for an afterlife, where sacrifices now lead to rewards later. I'm happier with this present-focused approach, as it prioritizes joy in this life. It has yet to be seen if this comes back to bite me in the afterlife, but I'll share updates when I get there.

3) What If We’re Wrong?

The last question is what if we’re wrong about what we believe. Let’s pretend that when we die, what we thought was going to happen doesn’t happen. So if you’re atheist, pretend that you go to the judgment bar of God. If you’re Muslim, pretend that you become reincarnated into a tree. And if you’re Christian, pretend that it’s lights out. So imagine that this is reality. Then ask the question, “Knowing this, is there anything about my life that I would change?” 

I propose that if our answer is ‘yes’, then it’s worth thinking about why. If I wouldn’t attend church/synagogue/mosque, donate my time/money to that organization, or do that thing that I do because someone told me that I should, then I think it’s worth considering why, exactly, I do those things. If the answer is an honest ‘no’, then I might just have myself a really healthy relationship with religion. If I knew that in the end it’s game over, but I’d still do the things that I do, spend my time involved with that particular religion, and donate my time/money the same way because I know that it’s still the best way to live this life, perfect!

I personally didn’t feel that way.

I was happy actually, so it wasn’t that. But most of my religious participation I did because I believed that I should if I wanted to achieve the ultimate prize, namely, eternal life with God and family. But these activities didn’t actually bring me closer to God, lead to greater happiness, or help me love others unconditionally. In fact, I felt that helping others and being a good person for fear of judgment from God wasn't actually exercising love or compassion, but is actually self interest. Helping others and being a good person just because it’s the right thing to do, even if there is no punishment/reward - that felt much more like real love and compassion.

There is plenty of good stuff in my religion, no doubt, mostly related to community and a sense of belonging. But for me, religious practice was causing distance from the divine, requiring reverent obedience to a middle-man vs. connecting directly with creation and the creator. It led to (from my perspective) living a life conforming to expectations of men I'd never met and with whom I disagreed on many moral and ethical topics.

Again, I was very happy, but I also didn’t know what I didn’t know. And I can now look back at how rudimentary my happiness was, which is hard to explain without sounding condescending.

Leaving has been very positive for me, making choices based on their merits, not based on who said what and in what context and with what authority. Now I spend my time and energy focused on living my customized good life. 

Most of the things I was told would happen if I left didn’t happen. Instead of feeling morally lost, I feel a greater sense of moral obligation based on trusting myself, not others. I’m not actually afraid of death because I try to live every day with gratitude that I get to live it, that it may be my last, and that I don’t need to soothe the heaviness of impermanence by believing that death is merely the beginning. And while I’ve lost a belief in the meaning of life, I find even greater meaning in life, making the smallest moment of something that I love deeply meaningful to me.

Life becomes a morning contemplation with the sunrise, a conversation with a loved one, a pint of Ben and Jerrys, a piece of art that moves me, a moment connecting with a stranger, an evening laughing with my kids, knowing that they, too, are starting to build their own lives full of moments that are deeply meaningful to them. And that their lives will likely be very different from mine. And I might not agree with some of their choices, but that’s precisely what makes them custom and beautiful.

What If I’m Wrong Now?

So those are three of the big questions that I found useful. Everyone has a different worldview, different ways to look at truth, and different sets of values. That’s what makes humankind beautiful - people with different experiences sharing with one another what they’ve found useful. And this sharing of ideas, if done respectfully and honestly, makes for amazing economic, social, spiritual, scientific, and technological progress. 

We are taught in my religious alma mater to use our minds and our hearts to seek truth for ourselves, and I am confident that this is exactly what I’m doing - being an ‘honest seeker of truth’ without any bias as to where that truth may be found. I don’t have answers to what is the Truth, but I think I have a better idea of what is not. 

But, of course, what if I’m wrong now?

I know some people think that I am, and that’s great. I want them to be happy living their good life. I think everyone should discover and live a life that brings them joy and fulfillment and I do not presume to know what that life looks like for others. 

So let’s say that I’m wrong. Let’s say that when I die (having a heart attack while base jumping Half Dome at age 97, of course), I land at the pearly gates and God is the white human man portrayed in popular Christian theology. He asks me to review my life and I explain how I used the mind and the heart that he gave me and all of the resources at my disposal to maximize the love that I have for myself and others, live the best way that I know how that doesn’t hurt anyone, helps many someones, and did my best to give my children happy, healthy lives full of curiosity, wonder, humility, love, peace, fun, service - all the good things. I lived a good, beautiful, honest life.

Then let’s say that he asks, “But were you religious?” 

“Well, no,” I’d say, “why would I be?"

I’d explain that everything seemed to indicate that god didn’t create men in his image, but that men created god in theirs. That groups claiming to follow him tended to be dishonest and harm people in the process of perpetuating their beliefs. That every new scientific discovery seemed to contradict his religious texts, not support them. That preferring compliance over critical thinking is a bad idea, and that his religions tended to disagree.

I'd tell him that I thought Marcus Aurelius was exactly right when he said, “Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but they are unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.”

Then if god says, “Sorry, you were wrong,” then I will be at peace knowing that I didn't worship an unjust god, and will have to face that harsh reality. But I’ve got some experience with facing harsh realities, so I think I’ll manage.

It’s Not Personal

I know that it’s hard for someone to not take it personally when someone leaves their religion. It feels like they are not only rejecting the faith, but rejecting them personally. Especially a parent that feels that the child is rejecting what they tried so carefully to teach them. But, at least in my case, I have nothing but love for my parents, my upbringing, and my time in my religion. I am who I am because of them and it, and I like who I am. 

Everyone is doing their best with the resources that they have, and my parents did exactly that, and I am forever grateful. I am doing my best as a parent, building off of what my parents taught me and what their parents taught them. And my friends and family are doing the same. I’ll get a lot wrong and hopefully a lot right, but as long as we love one another and stick together, I don’t see how it can end up poorly for anyone. And as paradoxical as this may seem, I really do feel like I’m doing what I was taught, to ‘do what is right, let the consequence follow’. 

It breaks my heart knowing that as I do my best to raise my children in love and happiness, some people think that I am being led astray or somehow harming my children’s future. Or perhaps they don’t have the context to see my choices as anything other than ‘bad’ and that maybe it’s a good idea to keep me at a distance. I understand that perspective because I used to share it.

I know what it feels like to be confused by other people's choices. But the only way to build bridges is to discuss, listen, understand, and love, and I’m not particularly great at those things, but I’m trying. 

I don’t expect anyone to suddenly change their mind and agree with me. That’s not the point or the goal. But I at least hope that people can try to understand what it’s like to change in this way, and appreciate that I’m just doing what everyone else is doing - trying to live the best life possible. I respect everyone’s freedom to live life the way that they think is best, and I am genuinely happy for them when they do. In the end, we need each other and we’re all better off learning from each others’ life experience.

We’re worse when we’re divided and, like Jack says, we’re better when we’re together…

“Love is the answer, at least for most of the questions in my heart

Like why are we here? And where do we go?

And how come it's so hard?

It's not always easy and

Sometimes life can be deceiving

I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together.”

Much love,

Dustin