Exploring Religious Faith: Reason, Appetite, and its Implied Virtue

“I have faith in X” is a platitude of modern-day language. However, its meaning and implications are far more convoluted than this phrase renders at first glance. Lying between a conviction grounded in facts and guesswork of mere fantasies, faith is an attitude that relies on insufficient evidence. Its close sibling, belief, is often used interchangeably, but there are subtle differences. If I have faith in God, it does not mean my mere belief in God’s existence, his omnipotent character, and an exhaustive list that ultimately molds my impression of the image of God (McCraw, 2015, p. 143). The latter is a mere acknowledgment of the potential facts, while the former accompanies this impartiality with a warm recognition—that is, an attitude. Faith further differs from belief in that it does not leave room for doubt (Clegg, 1979, p. 225). The statement “I have faith in God” implies an unwavering conviction despite the lack of conclusive evidence. It indicates a mismatch between the external evidence and the resulting attitude. Belief, in contrast, endorses doubt. The implication behind “I believe it is going to rain tomorrow” is that it might not.

This mismatch is a result of an all-or-none confrontation. Theism and atheism are the two antithetical positions that do not tolerate a neutral ground. Therefore, in a circumstance that no sufficient evidence could correspond to either a theist or an atheist standpoint, humans could solely garner the available evidence to infer a logical conclusion that does not guarantee its truth, meanwhile sincerely holding the conclusion as if it is correct.

Faith, thus, is a purely logical response to the presented evidence. However, such a model is problematic. First, humans could not sincerely trust in either of the two standpoints while holding counter-evidence. Humans thus leave doubts in their convictions, directly contradicting the definition of faith. Second, and perhaps more fundamentally, the human mind encompasses not only reason but also appetite. (Appetite is the affective response independent of reason.) Thus the depiction of religious faith according to an evidential account would be impossible. Third, a logical stance does not explain the weak correlation between evidence and religious faith. Theists and atheists, according to each individual, hold a varied amount of evidence and arguments to justify their faiths. Neither, on the virtue of their respective religious faiths, necessarily possess more evidence than the other. In other words, a theist could possess more atheistic arguments than an atheist, and vice versa. Therefore, reason is not the only factor of faith.

The question thus begs an alternate interpretation of religious faith. Imagine a student, upon sufficiently preparing for tomorrow's exam, still feels an unreasonable amount of anxiety. Two interpretations are present. The first is that the student does not understand the disconnect between his sufficient preparation and inordinate anxiety. The second is that the student, whether through genetic makeup or environmental impact, feels a disproportionate amount of fear. In other words, reason and appetite serve as two distinct explanations (Clegg, 1979, pp. 227-228). (Notice that this inordinate fear equates to appetite because both are independent of logic. Fear, or emotion in general, does not correspond to appetite because it builds on reason’s foundation.)

Faith, as fear, delineates humans’ unreserved trust towards each other and God in the absence of reasonable justifications. A mother could have faith in her son’s innocence despite the lack of evidence because she grounds her faith in an irrational love instead of reason. Religious faith works in the same way. Humans could devote their entire lives to God not on evidential support but on affective appeal. However, evidence is not altogether unnecessary. If the son admits all charges, the mother would be foolish to remain faithful to his innocence. In other words, evidence, or the lack of evidence, sets the groundwork for faith. Any counter-evidence works in its disfavor, even to its ultimate destruction.

Reason and appetite consist of various proportions of faith depending on the individual: a strong appetite complements weak evidence and vice versa, whereas an insufficient aggregate of the two results in the absence of faith. Two mothers could hold the same trust towards their respective sons at the start of the trials. However, one mother’s faith could waver as the evidence sides with the plaintiff while the other could hold her faith steadfast. The former, inviting doubt into her mind, effectively relegates faith to a state of belief. Religious evidence and arguments, unlike those of the trials, are inconclusive and weak, so their changes do not often correspond to a shift in faith. Their corresponding proportion within the construct of faith is therefore also relatively small.

The main variable that separates theists from atheists, it follows, is the appetite. The appetite for religious faith is love and the object of such an appetite is God. The external factors, but not the internal will, manipulate love. A child listening to the Church services loves God not from his conscious will, but from the teachings of churchmen. A child growing up in a secular environment does not love God because of his predetermined belief in the divine being’s nonexistence. Religious love is arguably more difficult than a relationship, say, between a mother and a son because God is immaterial. Thus the complex elements that consist of a relationship are more difficult to achieve in the case of religious love. Faith, thus, holds a high threshold that necessitates predetermined factors instead of voluntary wills. One could contend that the extent of love is based on the correspondingly varying evidential support, as, for instance, a churchman supports his love with reason. This is not necessarily true. A personal experience, while it does not testify to God’s existence, impacts the experiencer on an affective level. In other words, the foundation for love is not strictly reason. As the platitude “blind love” already implies, love is often built on appetite—an illogical and affective response. 

It becomes apparent that faith does not suffice as a virtue. A virtue, in its broad sense, is a will to promote basic goods. The appetite is a result of the external factors instead of the internal will. The reason is a reflection of the available evidence and argument. It describes the capacity of the mind, but not its will wherein.

Furthermore, a discrepancy between the scant evidence and the sincere faith in God indicates an irrationality that, at its best, does not suffice as a virtue. Therefore, the proposition of faith as a virtue undermines its exact definition—faith relies on the collaboration of reason and appetite, so the absence of the latter eradicates the existence of faith itself. The objection, however, is questionable. Faith often manifests its virtuousness with a lack of evidence. As everyone could trust each other in a credible society, only the most virtuous could demonstrate the same trust among the creditless. Their faithfulness is not contingent on the surroundings to serve their own interests. Instead, they find goodness in faith itself.

Religious faith is a desirable trait by its own nature. It acknowledges something infinitely bigger than ourselves, whether it means a friend, a community, a country, or the omnipotent God that creates it all. Faithful humans do not have salvation, or any personal interest, in mind. They trust God, or country, or community, or so on because an act of faith is good by its own nature. Our conviction in its goodness, despite the lack of evidence, is the instinctive appetite. Appetite might not be a volatile feeling after all: it grounds in our intuitive appeal to virtue—it is the moral law inside us.

Virtues often conflict with each other. A mother might not lend money to a stranger because financial risk could threaten her family’s well-being. In other words, faithfulness to a stranger and love for her family are the mother’s conflicting duties. Her choice of one over the other does not demonstrate a lack of character, but solely a necessary judgment that, as long as made for the right reason, is justifiable. Religious faith is not the only human virtue. A system of virtues limits its operability to solely the right place and time. Its excessive dominance threatens its virtuousness; for instance, physical assaults on behalf of faith override the love for neighbors. Therefore, religious faith is not a fundamental end. Sometimes knowing when to stop manifests one’s more profound understanding than an unending craving.

On the other side of the scale, religious faith should not be weak. Evidence and moral law may appear as a potent combination to maintain religious faith. Nevertheless, free will often triumphs over them. A mother could fight for her son’s innocence even when evidence and moral code urge otherwise. That is, humans betray a faith already established to pursue an interest more desirable on the first outlook. On other occasions, there is no interest involved. Personal experiences, like a recent breakup or a lost relative, undermine faith on an affective level instead of a rational one (Lewis, 1952, p. 139). A firm foundation builds beyond an immediate interest or an affective appeal: it builds on the evidence and moral law themselves. Their triumph is the true manifestation of religious faith.

Religious faith is no easy task. It requires a search beyond the obvious evidence—a search within one’s inner self. It requires the moral law to not outshine all the other virtues, nor to be swayed by petty interests and feelings. The journey is painful as humans learn from their mistakes and renew their faith, but the reward is great: each time they climb back up, they realize that they are smaller than they think—-they are a friend to their friends; they are a member of their community; they are a citizen to their country; they are a part of God.