Does What You Believe Actually Matter?

actually? ACTUALLY actually?

pink salt = MAGIC salt. Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash

When my nine-year-old wants to know if something is true, he’ll ask three times. As in, “Some people believe the Earth is flat? Actually? Actually actually?” Maybe his skepticism is a sign that I joke around too much. Maybe it’s the natural effect of growing up in such surreal times. Imagine how strange it is to discover that the tool you consult to find out the capital of Eritrea or the height of polar bears is disseminating conspiracy theories about Flat Earth and Q-Anon. Discerning fact from fairy tale is more complicated than in the days we consulted the encyclopedia.

As we talked about last week, beliefs are one label we use to determine who is in our group and who’s out. They are often used a shortcut to answering the question, “is this stranger trustworthy?” It’s why all American presidential candidates pretend to go to church and why school administrators care about things like “school spirit.”

Growing up in Evangelicalism, belief was not just the main thing, it was the only thing. American Christianity, in the main, has grown out of both the Reformation (salvation through faith, not good deeds) and Dispensationalism—a belief that the rapture is imminent and, therefore, Christian efforts should focus on Evangelism instead of social reforms. (Before Dispensationalism came into vogue, Christians were behind a number of social reforms, including universal education and women’s rights via the temperance movement and women’s suffrage.)

Avoiding Hell has become the end-all, be-all of many Christians, to the point that, for those who stop believing in Hell, the whole religion feels pointless. If there is no Hell, does it actually matter what we believe? Actually actually?

My initial impulse is to say no. Whether you help someone in the name of YHWH, Allah, or to satisfy your own conscience, what matters is the helping. But on the other hand, belief is the lens through which we see the world. We often don’t know why we do what we do until we examine our beliefs and biases, which is why therapy is so helpful.

Beyond the mystery of our own motives, oftentimes our hidden agendas seep out into the work we’re doing. I recall with a cringe how many service projects and “mission trips” I took as a teen, helping with the intent of converting others. Does it count as “helping” if you do it with an ulterior motive? The Good Place would say no.

never forget the value of full-size candy bars. Photo courtesy of NBC

Our beliefs impact how we are able to see our actions. In the last decade, many antiracist groups have been struggling with the tension between intent and impact. Many Americans (perhaps influenced by Protestantism) tend to value intent over impact—I meant well! It’s helping in a way that makes the helper feel good, regardless of their actual impact. It’s middle-class parents assuming low-income families want their cast-off clothing instead of asking what they need. Nobody wants your daughter’s stained leggings, I don’t care if they’re from Boden!

Some activists will say that impact is all that matters—this is often talked about when it comes to things like microaggressions: language can be hurtful, whether you intend it that way or not.

Then again, I tend to think there’s a noticeable difference between a well-intended person who’s not up on the latest PC language (God knows there’s a lot of it and a lot of disagreement about it) versus someone who’s intentionally using derogatory language because they either a.) don’t care or b.) want to offend. To my mind (and take this with an able-bodied middle-class white lady-sized grain of salt) we need to value both intent and impact, both belief and actions.

Fundamentalism, to my mind, is the certainty that:

• I am right,

• everyone who disagrees with me is wrong, and

• it’s my job to persuade them of it!

It’s a disease that has crossed from religion and into other aspects of American identity like politics. When I was a kid in the 90s, I cannot imagine someone wearing a t-shirt or ball cap with a political slogan on it (and I spent three years in Washington D.C.) Now there are year-round yard signs and social media meme avalanches. Isn’t it all a bit much? Isn’t it foolish to fritter away a relationship trying to convert the other person to your viewpoint?

Rather than focusing on what other people believe, we should watch what they actually do. My therapist gave me this advice: words are easy; actions prove a person’s values.

None of us can be certain that our vision of god, morality, or the afterlife is correct, but all of us can strive to treat others as we’d like to be treated. We can recognize that there’s something good/divine/magical in each of us, and that that same thing is in each person we encounter. And I actually mean that. Actually actually.

Does what a person believes matter? Are there certain beliefs you feel “fundamentalist” or “evangelical” about? How is it received when you share those beliefs? Are there areas of your life where your beliefs and actions are out of alignment? Pick a question to journal about, or discuss in the comments. I love learning from y’all.

BONUS MATERIALS":

• this classic XKCD comic

• “Why can’t I say ‘fork’?” (SPOILERS after the 3 min mark)