Loss of Faith
by Ami Weghorst and Molly Buck, Staff Writers
From Trinity College Magazine


In this postmodern world of doubt and uncertainty, the question of religion often seems futile. Many people wonder how spirituality can possibly exist in a world that is so obsessed with rationality, scientific method, and efficiency. Is there any room left for spirituality? And if so, where and how can we fit it into our lives?

I have noticed two main groups of people who generally refuse to believe in any sort of religious system. Highly educated academians, for one, often seem to feel that they have been educated beyond a point where any belief in mythical stories that were made up thousands of years ago could possibly work for them. The other main group is people like ourselves - college students, confronting the world in such a different way than our parents did. When our parents were sent off on their own, most were positively certain of their religion. Their parents never questioned it and so it was fact - pure and simple. We, however, have been brought up in an extremely secular culture, regardless of what our parents taught us. Even if we were raised with a certain religion, the majority of us already had doubts about it before we graduated from high school. The world has become somewhat hostile to concepts of spirituality. Much of what we watched on television, read in magazines, and heard on the radio constantly veered us away from any sort of spiritual belief system.

I am not speaking only of traditional religions, such as Christianity, Islam and Judaism. Spirituality in general is hard to discover these days. Many people could never adhere to the traditional rituals of past patriarchal religions, but often strove to create their own mode of religious thought. This seems to be the most common belief system, if any, that young kids have in our time. Even this is fraught with uncertainty and often looked down upon as mindless mysticism.

Besides the development of secular thought, another major downfall of religion that has existed since time began is the justification of suffering. It is very hard for many people to accept the idea that an omniscient being is running this world that encompasses so much evil. Writers have been approaching this problem for centuries. Milton wrote Paradise Lostin an attempt to "justify the ways of God to man." Two hundred years later, Nietzsche announced that God was dead. The philosophy of existentialism that arose in the twentieth century with writers such as Albert Camus and Sartre further shook any substantial belief in God. Camus refused to believe in any God that could possibly allow such suffering in the world. In his book, The Plague, the main character suggests that we would do much more good for the world if we refused to believe in God and hence took all the guilt and responsibility upon ourselves. Camus could not believe in God because he said that it undermined the entire idea of rational, logical, and lucid thought.

Countless numbers of young people have tried to confront their own spiritual crisis. Some have found a solution, others have chosen a path more akin to Camus'. The following is an example of how one Trinity student has approached this dilemma within the context of her own personal experiences with religion, spirituality, and loss of faith.

    Is it even possible to believe in G-d anymore? Considering the world in which we live (if you could even call it living), is there any real way to honestly believe in anything anymore? Let alone some abstract entity that supposedly watches and governs us from some higher place? With all the shit in this miserable world, all the crap that we deal with every day, how can any intelligent or sane human being really think that some other cosmic force gives a flying fuck about our pathetic lives? I would like to examine these questions within the context of the failure of religion for a particular individual. And although I am hesitant to write about myself, I am going to take my own case as an example, for I find there is little else I know quite so well.

    For years and years I was a very religious person. I found a religion that neither of my parents followed, though they were very supportive of my endeavors. I took it upon myself to learn as much about this religion as I could. I studied the language, I learned the traditions, I visited the mother country: I counted myself in all possible ways a highly devoted member of this religion. My faith seemed so much more special because I had done it all on my own. Coming from a very secular background in a relatively non-religious environment, my own choice and my own determination made me such a strong believer.

    In addition to a relatively strict adherence to the traditional laws and customs of this religion, I also believed in G-d. And not just your typical kind of shrug-the-shoulders, half-hearted whatever sort of belief. I mean, I BELIEVED. I put my trust, my faith, my hope, and my heart into my belief in G-d. At one point, it would even be safe to say that I was a religious fanatic or zealot. Major aspects of my life were guided and affected by my belief in this higher deity. For a time, it was my reason for being, my salvation, my life. The trust and faith I instilled in that abstract idea, with no face or gender or personification, goes beyond words. Only those who have been what I have been, and have felt how I have felt, will understand the unique kind of connection a human being can only have with G-d. Some will say it is the most awe-inspiring and momentous thing that one can experience, and at one point in my life I would have agreed. Now, however, I am going to tell you that it sucks. It sucks hard. If you've read this far, you must be wondering at the source of my bitterness, as I'm sure you've figured out I'm a little angry at the world these days. So I'll tell you. I am 20 years old and I have cancer. I stand a very good chance of leading a "long and fulfilling life," however I will always have this cancer as well. So where the fuck is G-d in this, I ask you? How come I can devote several years of my life with the most virtuous of intentions, and the only thanks I get or ever see, is a giant tumor on the side of my neck? Where is the religion in that? How the fuck do you rectify your beliefs to fit that kind of dichotomy?

    I haven't been able to forgive G-d for what has happened to me. I don't understand it myself, but I don't particularly want any of my old ideals in my life anymore. You've probably noticed by now, however, that I do not type the complete name of G-d. I've been sticking that little dash in there in order to ensure that the word doesn't ever actually come up on my screen. Within the religion that I used to follow, there is a law requiring that any text with the name of the Maker on it must be saved forever. It becomes sacred and holy with the combination of those three letters and can therefore never be thrown away. Eventually these papers are buried in the archives of various institutions. With the invention of the computer and all its modern implications, it is generally assumed that this idea extends to print graphics, and people avoid typing the name of the Creator as well. So, if I'm such a rebel to my religion these days, why don't I just spell out the name? Why dodge the issue? To be honest, I can't really tell you. It might have something to do with habit or tradition. It might also relate to a fear of blasphemy, perhaps the "o" would be taking things a little too far and I might really get in trouble. What I think is most likely, though, is that for all my bitterness and anger towards G-d and religion, I still hold to an underlying belief in spirituality.

    Spirituality is a difficult term to define, and I'm not sure I am set enough in my own convictions yet in order to effectually explain them to you. There is a fundamental difference, though, between religion and spirituality however vague or ethereal these distinctions may be. I do not believe that one needs the structural concoction of a church or place of worship in order to have a spiritual experience. In fact, I might claim that it is impossible to derive anything truly spiritual from those buildings.

    But what I am wrestling with in my own trivial existence, and something that I am willing to bet many people contend with on a daily basis, is how do you blend these concepts into some coherent set of beliefs? I mean, I had a solid and concrete set of beliefs and ideals that were ripped away from me by a few words from some crummy doctor. If they can be that easily stripped away from us, then how are we supposed to place any faith in them? If it could all be gone tomorrow, and your whole life can change because of one stupid lump that you should have had checked sooner, what is there to hold on to in this world? If G-d can dessert you in the most trying of times, then what do you put your faith in? If not G-d, then what do we have left?


Here we find ourselves where we began. In a world that is filled with so much suffering, how can we claim that there is any sort of spiritual realm? When religion has been shaken at its very foundations by doubt and uncertainty what can we possibly do with it? Many who suffer are able to maintain their belief in a religion. For many, it helps them get through thier difficult times. Others, however, refuse to acknowledge that any sort of God could allow such things to happen.

So, how do we end this discussion without being completely nihilistic and depressing the hell out of the readers? Can we possibly discover an essence of hope in all of this? Perhaps the only solution is to rely on our own individual spirituality. Not everyone has become jaded by the status of traditional religion today. Some are still able to rectify the doctrines of a formalized religion and incorporate it into their everyday lives. Many who feel a void from the world's loss of faith are compelled to discover a religious route of their own. Despite the challenges that this chaotic world poses against the individual's religous ideals, it is not impossible to discover a way to include spirituality in our day to day existence. Even those who deal with suffering on a regular basis, like our writer, can still develop their own method of coping.



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