Have a little faith in me.

There’s more than one kind of faith.

There’s the faith we put in things for which there is little or no evidence, or even evidence to the contrary.  For example, faith that Jesus died and rose from the dead so you can go to Heaven when you die.  This might also be called dogma or religious faith.

Then there’s the faith we put in things for which there is some evidence.  Faith that the partner one has known for many years is telling the truth, based on past actions.  Faith that a friend who hurt one’s feelings didn’t mean to, based on past actions.  This might also be called trust, the benefit of the doubt, or the assumption of good faith.

Awhile ago I posted the following status update on Facebook:

Michelle Galo still, as an atheist, enjoys discussing theology, and is quite aware of how hilarious that is.

The post gathered no less than ten comments not counting my own.  Many – no, I’d say most of them turned into an interesting discussion.  But in the midst of all that, a few things just got my goat, and good.

First of all, one person came out of woodwork for the sole purpose of posting this link.

Har.

I really wonder where a person who hasn’t spoken to me in years gets off telling me that I’m smug.  By way of a poorly-drawn pun, no less.

Then, from someone who knows me a bit better, came this (not in response to the original post, but to another comment I made in the ensuing discussion):

But Faith is not determined on evidence. It’s the firm belief in something for which there is no proof. If you have a mind set not to believe than not enough evidence in this world could convince you otherwise.

Sigh.

In the spirit of good faith that I’m asking for myself, I will give my friends (plural; this one isn’t the first) the benefit of the doubt and assume they don’t realize what an unflattering statement this is.  It says, “Your mind is closed.  You are unwilling to learn.  You are dogmatic.  You are everything you hate.”  This isn’t what they mean to say, but that’s what “Evidence can’t convince you” means when you say it to a skeptic.

This was my response:

What you say about faith is true, and that’s perhaps my problem. If it is a virtue to believe without evidence (not to say proof) and reason, then on what criteria should we choose what we believe? What if I’d chosen to convert to another faith instead – how would you go about telling me that Christianity is the right one?

You’re not the first to tell me that if I don’t want to believe, no evidence could convince me. That’s an unflattering statement on many levels, but one big problem with it is the assumption that I don’t, in fact, want to believe.

Those who say these things haven’t seen me on the days I agonized over this, when I searched my own mind for a way to remain a Christian, when I grieved the loss of the community and the ritual that once held my faith together.

Some days I very much want to believe in something. Other days, I have learned to be happy with what I’ve got.

On those days, some people call me smug.

I do the best I can with what I know and I am always open to learning. That’s why I love conversation, especially with people who think differently (as anyone who went to college with me can attest). That was the point of my original comment.

I can’t prove my intentions.  You can either believe me, or not.  I would ask you to consider what I’ve said here in light of what you know about me.  If it’s your experience that I have a tendency toward dishonesty or self-deception, then you should probably not believe me when I say I’m truly open to new evidence about the world.  But if you don’t think I have a history of such things, then maybe you’d consider giving me the benefit of the doubt.

I’d appreciate it.

Edited to add: Though it has no practical relation to this post, this is a great song.