This commentary is by Duane E. Sherwood, a retired nurse and erstwhile technical writer who lives in Winooski. He received a bachelor’s degree in linguistics from Binghamton University and an associate’s degree in nursing from the University of Alaska.
Skeptic though I am, I admit that faith is a beautiful thing. For me, it begins in the heart with feelings too delicate to be called emotions.
For example, if something good happens, I have an impulse to offer thanks. If I have trouble, there is an impulse to ask for help. These impulses emerge in the form of prayer.
Intellectually, I don’t know where prayers go. My mind cannot wrap around any concept of God. Nonetheless, I believe the Creator hears all prayers. I recognize this belief is a preference, a choice I find comforting.
This is where my path of faith begins — being quiet enough to listen to the heart. To me, these gentle feelings are like the needle of a compass. My Native American friends speak of the Great Mystery. The compass of the heart seems to point in that direction.
But not all feelings are small. There can be moments of overwhelming inspiration: goose bumps, tears of joy, inability to speak. A powerful, felt truth takes up residence in the body, and the mind is compelled to directly grasp an illuminated understanding.
Such moments are often a turning point in the path of faith. Mind and heart seem to imprint on the source of the inspiration. A single moment of inspiration can motivate someone to become a devout follower of a particular religion or teacher.
While faith is beautiful, reason is magnificent. How daring, how presumptuous it must have been for the ancient Greek philosophers to assume the reasoning mind could apprehend the true nature of things, and that the world operated on principles, not the whim of the gods. They were right.
Science is the product of the reasoning mind. It focuses on that which is measurable and verifiable — in other words, matters outside the heart. In its centuries-long endeavor, science has answered many questions. With every answer, more questions arise. With every advance, the event horizon of knowledge moves further out. Curiosity drives us to uncover the mysteries lying beyond the horizon’s edge. I hold that, in its quest, mind too is seeking the Great Mystery.
So if mind and heart are both good and necessary resources for discerning truth, why do faith and reason often lead to irreconcilable differences?
As I see it, heart and mind are aspects of awareness, while faith and reason are processes of belief. All four of these things are subject to human error: ego tricks like self-justification, attachments to desired outcomes, erroneous assumptions, and deceptions by self or others. We can easily be led off course and may not know.
I’m sure the experience of inspiration is similar from person to person regardless of religious affiliation. Inspiration leads to devotion, and devotion leads to trust. If you believe a religion is divinely inspired (as your heart may have been), then the teachings of that religion must be accepted as true while conflicting beliefs are seen as wrong. That’s the logic of devotion for all religions.
But there is a pitfall: When you unquestioningly turn to the teachings, you might stop noticing what your heart says. This is faith made blind. It is a chink in the armor where, for example, imperfect humans can exploit your trust to convince you that stoning sinners is what God wants. Rooted in compassion, my heart says no, stoning sinners is not of God: It’s abhorrent, not inspiring. There must be a misunderstanding.
Reason has its weaknesses too. Cold logic can reason its way to an excess of self-interest where greed is a virtue and striking first is imperative. Again my heart says no. If my heart has the capacity for inspiration, yours must also. That suggests we’re spiritual kin. Working cooperatively for mutual benefit makes more sense than endless competition and conflict.
Can the logic of mind can be balanced against the nonverbal, subtle reasonings of the heart? If mind and heart both seek truth, then faith and reason may function best as a complementary pair. By working together and holding each other in balance, each can help the other avoid the excesses of cold logic and blind faith.
A balance between faith and reason applies directly to the Supreme Court. The authors of the Constitution were men of various faiths who were well educated in law, logic, and debate. They based the Constitution on the following noble and sometimes competing principles: individual rights and liberties, respecting the will of the people, universal justice, promoting the collective well-being, sharing power, separation of church and state, etc.
These principles are the inspirations of liberty, the very heart of the Constitution. The authors designed a government where these principles could always find balanced, appropriate, and evolving expression in the law.
In all decisions, the court must never lose sight of those overarching principles. Roe v. Wade was accepted law supported by a majority. In overturning it, the court disregarded both the will of the people and the collective well-being. Instead it issued a narrow, controversial decision supporting what amounts to a faith-based dogma and partisan talking point.
Reason demands better balance.