I find faith to be an interesting concept. Living where I
do, it’s hard to avoid the constant barrage of sermonising that hits you as
soon as you walk out of the station. I don’t resent this – everyone is
entitled to their own beliefs, and to express them extremely loudly on the high
street if they so wish – but it does make me reflect on my own views around
what having faith means.
It’s not the first time I’ve had occasion to stop and ponder
on what faith means to me. When I was learning to drive, my instructor was a
very bubbly born again Christian. She was nice, and we generally plodded
along without hitting too many sticking points, but there was one point at which she succeeded in making me feel pretty uncomfortable. Just as I was about
to reverse around a corner (a manoeuvre which to this day strikes me as being
utterly pointless), out of the blue she asked “Jessica, do you have faith?”
I was a little taken aback, to say the least. I paused in my
mirror checking and looked at her. “Sorry?” She went on to espouse the way in
which finding God had changed her life for the better, and how she was on a
path to spread the word to as many people as possible. Fine. I wasn’t going to
stand in her way. But I also wasn’t going to be backed into a corner (coincidentally whilst backing around one). I calmly
told her that I do have faith, but that it is in the people around me – my
family and friends – and in myself, and that that is enough for me.
Surprisingly, that seemed to be a convincing argument and she stopped her line
of questioning.
I really don’t have a problem with faith as a concept, and
I’d never suggest to anyone that they should reconsider their views on the
matter. Though I myself have never been able to believe in a God or an
afterlife (and as such am rather envious of the comfort that must bring to
those who do), I think everyone is entitled to their own opinion and belief
system. I have many friends that believe in God in one form or another: it is an important part of their life, and comes hand in hand with a sense of community, a moral code, and respect for the people around them. Faith can be a source of comfort, of reassurance, and of strength – no matter
what form it comes in. Where I start to get uncomfortable is when other people
use their faith as an excuse to infringe upon the rights or happiness of
others, placing judgement on those who are different to them in a hurtful and
thoughtless manner.
An example – several years ago, whilst I was still at university, I opened the door of our house to be greeted by an elderly woman
collecting money for Christian Aid. As door-to-door collectors are often wont
to do, she immediately launched into a spiel without giving me room to say
hello. I let her continue on for a while, nodding and smiling until there was a
brief lull in the narrative flow. At that point, I calmly let her know that I
was already a regular donor to a couple of charities, and wasn’t looking to
sign up to anyone new on a whim. I was polite, I smiled, and I didn’t slam the
door in her face. But the immediate response I got was “Why don’t you want to
do the Christian thing and help these poor people? It’s your duty to God to
lend a hand. Do you not have any morals?”
Oh my.
I was not happy about this. My demeanour instantly
changed from friendly and understanding to bristly and short-tempered. I don't doubt that she was a rarity amongst Christian Aid charity workers in her extremism and rudeness, and that it was a highly unfortunate encounter. But it felt intrusive, aggressive...like I was being pounced on in the safety of my own home. We don't accept or expect that kind of behaviour in any other walks of life, and I was angry that she was using her faith as an excuse to verbally attack me.
Ultimately, I subscribe to the “live and let live” philosophy.
I think faith is a good thing – whether it’s in God, other people, or yourself –
and can give us something to draw on when it’s a particularly bad news day, or
life hands us an unfortunate set of circumstances. If someone wants to believe
in God, or hold firm to any religious ideology, then they are perfectly
entitled to do so. But by the same logic I feel I am perfectly entitled to put
my faith in people rather than God, and to do so without people telling me I’m inherently wrong. I would never go door to door,
accusing people of being immoral because they don't share my particular viewpoint on the world. That is
behaviour that infringes on the independent spirit and happiness of another,
and I strongly feel that should not be condoned in any belief system.
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