The Alpha Course - Session 3: How Can We Have Faith?

I'm not going to lie: I'm finding these sessions excruciatingly uncomfortable. Not because the people there are unpleasant; quite the opposite. In fact, they're all really nice.

There is a clear and distinct difference between skepticism and cynicism that people sometimes muddle, and it's a fine line that we often tread. I take great pride in my skeptical approach, taking care not to fall into the trap of cynicism, but I'm not too proud to admit that I sometimes falter. With regards to the truth value of the claims of Christianity, I think I've already given it enough thought and careful consideration to be able to rationally, confidently and justifiably dismiss them as false, or - at the very least - not worthy of belief. My beliefs about the church itself, however, may be a little trickier to justify. So I'm taking a slight step back tonight. The moment I become a cynic is the moment that all my integrity falls away.

At the beginning of this week's session, we walked into the dining area where dinner was served, as is the case every week. For the first time, I hadn't come alone. My friend Martin decided - having read my previous posts - that he was intrigued and wanted to also come along to see what it was all about. Martin, like me, is a hard line skeptic/atheist, and this just made me feel even more conspicuous among the group of people "searching for something in their lives".

Why the sudden concern about my attitude? Alongside the group of Alpha attendees were a small number of homeless people who the course leaders had also invited in to eat with us. Having made food for everybody, they obviously decided it would be nice to do something good for the less fortunate.
These are clearly good, charitable people. They obviously have good intentions and are kind and caring. To be honest, I expected nothing less.

But when the dinner is over and the talk begins I just feel sad. I don't feel annoyed or angry, just sad and a little frustrated. The speaker tonight is a woman who had actually been sitting and chatting with us over dinner just a few minutes before. She told us all about herself, how she'd become a Christian in 1996 and when she'd taken the step of faith. She made reference to verses from the Bible (verses that, at present, I'm unable to reference as I've misplaced my course guide, but I'll add them in a future edit) about how Jesus only comes into your life if you invite him in. She told another series of stories that didn't really seem to go anywhere. And at the end of it all, her conclusion was: you just need to have faith.
Her talk culminates with a prayer, which she asks us all to take part in, bowing our heads and closing our eyes. To be honest, I was feeling tired anyway, so the opportunity to shut my eyes for a moment without seeming rude was quite welcome, but when it's over and we have a few minutes break for coffee, I feel like this has all been a total washout. It becomes clear that they're not even trying to convince people, they're instead working with people who are eager to be convinced and ready to try anything. These people on the course aren't being misled against their will, they're here because they're not seeking truth, they're seeking fantasy and comfort.

I may be wrong! Perhaps some people here do care as passionately about the truth as I do, but are less critically minded and unable to discern good evidence from bad. Either way, I'm very much out of place.

I go into the discussion group with a sense of dread. At the end of the talk, I want to go home, but Martin says he wants to stay and see more, so I reluctantly stick around.
I'm actually glad I stayed, because I was able to say a few words in the discussion group that made me feel better.
This being the third week in, I was much more comfortable with laying all my cards out on the table and being completely frank and honest about my position and my beliefs. The question was thrown out towards the group: what kind of changes have you seen in yourself or in others when they have come into faith? A couple of people answered that they'd seen changes in their family members who had moved toward faith, describing the positive effect it'd had, and it was here where I felt myself becoming more and more eager to speak. It was difficult to find the courage at first but eventually, just as I could sense that the topic was about to change, I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Umm... I'm going to have to buck the trend slightly and tell a bit of a different story. I've never considered myself to be a believer in any religion, or in having any kind of supernatural beliefs in general, but I think it would be fair to say that my investigations and musings on religious beliefs in recent years has had quite a profound effect on me. The deeper I delve, the more I study, the more confident I become in my position that... I believe there is no God. I have no emotional attachment to, or investment in, that belief, and if it turns out that I'm wrong then so be it, but what I have become passionate about is a method of thinking and a way of coming to my beliefs. Since I've done that, I've been able to feel comfortable in a certain identity I have of myself that has given me a feeling of self-respect that I would say had been lacking in the years before that kind of... turning point."
The group leader quite graciously listens and acknowledges what I say. She's obviously heard this before and can clearly see that I'm not trying to be rude or disrespectful to anybody else's beliefs. Everybody knows exactly where I stand now and I feel far more at ease.

As the discussion goes on, people continue to share the personal experiences that had led them towards their beliefs, and I sit and listen. We here people tell of times they'd heard stories of people seeing ghosts; a feeling of being surrounded by angels; prayers being answered etc. One of the Alpha attendees, who had earlier identified himself as Anglican, seemed to be giving me evil stares since my declaration of the joy that a complete rejection of God had given me, and smug looks when people described seemingly unexplainable phenomena... though it's quite possible that I'm just being paranoid and he was doing nothing of the sort.

At the end of the discussion, the course leader invited me to comment on anything I'd heard brought up. I don't think it was a direct challenge along the lines of "Explain that then, Mr Smartypants skeptic!" but I declined to comment, smiled and said, no, I have nothing to say about that.

The truth is, I did have something to say about all that, I just couldn't see the point in bringing it up. The truth is that the psychology of belief is something that has fascinated me immensely for a long time, and I've looked into it... there was nothing described in the discussion group that couldn't be explained by well understood psychological phenomena such as hypnagogia, or sleep paralysis, or logical fallacies such as the post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy, confirmation bias and cherry-picking.

Leaving the course that night left me feeling sad on two levels: for myself and for the people who are "searching".

I'll finish off this post by seemingly going off topic and talking about the X Factor (bear with me, it's relevant).
How often do you see somebody attend the auditions on X Factor, telling the judges that they're there because they've always dreamed of being a singer and that "all their friends" tell them that they have a "really good voice"... only to open their mouth and reveal themselves to be completely tone deaf? Happens pretty often, right?
To me, the Alpha Course attendees are like those people attending the audition, and the course leaders are like the friends behind the scenes. They tell people - with the best intentions - that they have a good voice, because they think that that's what they want to hear, that it'll make them happy, and that it'll give them a reason to feel good about themselves.
The problem is, what they're being told isn't true, and that's a problem because if you believe something that isn't true it informs your decisions and your actions, and leads you to be humiliated on national TV. Then along comes Simon Cowell who pays you the ultimate respect by telling you the truth. No, you can't sing.
Of course, we all see Simon Cowell, or the skeptic, as the bad guy, the meanie who doesn't care about how you feel. But if people had been honest with you in the first place, would you have given up your job and driven yourself into debt chasing an impossible dream, or found yourself in The Sun under mocking headlines?

I'll leave you with that thought.