During the last several years of his long life, a man widely regarded as the most influential philosopher in the world became one of my frequent associates. That does not mean that we were intimate friends but we did talk frequently, usually over lunch with other people. I came to feel much affection for him, even though we agreed on very few of the most important questions of life.

In particular, this eminent philosopher whom I called Van made clear to me that he did not at all share my faith in a personal God who created the world and cares for human beings. In fact, he did not even think that the question of God’s existence has any meaning.

At first, it came as something of a shock to discover that a person with whom I had a fine relationship held an outlook on reality so radically different from mine. In time, however, this contact has helped me appreciate my own faith anew.

Though I recognized that Van was incomparably more brilliant and intellectually accomplished than I, his views did not seriously tempt me to undervalue my own. After all, my faith has been carefully nurtured over a lifetime and has become part of my personal identity.

In any event, faith, as understood in the Judeo-Christian tradition in which I am steeped and confirmed by long experience, does not depend on the power of intellect but rather is received as a gift. Besides, this faith is not so much an assent of the mind to a set of statements but comes much closer to a loving trust in God.

That is the kind of faith that impelled Blaise Pascal, the great French thinker of the seventeenth century, to write these words, found hidden in the lining of his coat after his death: “Fire: God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, not of philosophers and thinkers. Certitude. Certitude. Feeling. Joy. Peace.”

So Van and I remained friends who could talk about all sorts of subjects with an unspoken agreement not to discuss those vital matters on which we differed. Incidentally, the topics outside discussion included politics in which his surprisingly conservative views were in sharp contrast to my own.

For many reasons this personal contact with unbelief was valuable for me. My friend’s view of the world allowed me to see what it might be like not to believe in God. In the United States it’s not easy to meet atheists or agnostics. National polls consistently show that Americans who profess belief in God or a universal spirit has consistently remained in the mid-ninety percent range over the last six decades.

Entering into my friend’s mentality, I imagined what would be for me a terrible void. If you do not see God as the supreme reality, then you are left with a world that, to my mind, lacks explanation. And your own life can easily seem meaningless, especially after you suffer the loss of people important to you.

When my friend’s wife died, he himself was ninety years old. Her loss left him obviously bereft and, it seemed, disoriented. This event made me fantasize about what it would be like to undergo such a trial without faith in God. In writing my friend a note of condolence, I found it difficult to know what to say.

The one temptation I did not experience was superiority or smugness. I was aware of the truth in what Carlo Martini, the Cardinal-Archbishop of Milan has written: “There is in each of us – whatever our religion, even in a bishop – a believer and a non-believer.” These words suggest that atheism is often not far removed from people of faith. The line between faith and unbelief can be thin indeed.

Personal contact with someone for whom belief in God had no meaning has served to remind me that God goes beyond mere human ideas. God can never be captured by our concepts. Whatever can be said of God has to be qualified to make sure that we do not make of him a mere superhuman being.

Part of the Christian tradition reminds believers that God cannot be defined. As the Italian philosopher Umberto Eco observes, that tradition has a concept of God who “cannot be named because he cannot be described with any of the categories we use to designate the things that are.”

Richard Griffin

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Many people whose faith has been lifelong enter into crises of belief. They can experience times of severe trial when their certainties are shaken. When this kind of dark night envelops them, they can feel a kind of atheism that may show them how faith in God may become different from what they have known previously.

This experience can also purify their faith, free it from some of the merely human factors that sometimes masquerade as true faith in God. A person can emerge from this kind of crisis spiritually renewed and enriched in mind and heart.

So if there is a thin line separating faith and atheism, that is a tribute to the quality of faith. It may be experienced as frightening and this entering into fear and trembling may shake us to our roots. But this is spiritual experience at its deepest and most valuable. Doubt can live with a lively faith and can even make that faith more dynamic.  

Of course, the dominant role of science and technology in modern times has put traditional faith on the defensive because the scientific viewpoint can sometimes seem the only valid way of looking at life. The other kind of atheism that looms large in modern life is Marxism, Fascisim, and other ideologies that have done so much damage to the world.

It remains a striking fact that some of the world’s great religions do not believe in God. In fact, Hindus and Buddhists, if they are orthodox, should not be believers in the God that Judaism, Christianity, and Islam profess.

What I have discovered, among other findings, is that the arguments for their position make some sense, if you accept their ideas about human life and the world.

However, considerably fewer (eight in 10) believe in a personal God, that is, a God who watches over humankind and answers prayers. And even fewer of these believers, six in 10, express complete trust in God.
 
Faith, however, does not come from intellectual argument. Rather, at least three of the great spiritual traditions of the world see faith as a gift from God that goes beyond human thinking. Faith is God revealing himself to us, a self-disclosure that enables us to grasp a reality that goes far beyond anything we can achieve on our own.

Many people in these three traditions remain comfortable with a belief in God acquired in childhood and retained at each succeeding stage of life. Of course, that faith changes and develops as the person grows in years and adapts to different circumstances. But some retain a simple almost childlike faith that continues to serve them well.

Since going through a test of this sort can be so difficult for a spiritual seeker, it seems best to have a guide for the time of trial at least. A spiritual director can provide assurance when everything seems threatening. A wise and understanding counselor can help stir us through these perilous passages.

Richard Griffin