socialized truth

It's too easy to accuse the other side of being mindless. I can say that back when I was also someone whose life and thoughts revolved around sincere belief in supernatural concepts, thinking in depth about those concepts wasn't that strange. People would at least admit that it was good to love God with your mind and to learn more than the basics of the religion rather than be shallow. Of course, this part of the subculture sits side by side with a strong anti-intellectual bent of "stop analyzing and have faith instead". And fearful hostility toward publicly funded universities has only grown as the political divide between college attendees and the rest of society is purer than ever.   

Within that group, the strategy is to channel critical thinking into approved directions, similar to how there were approved "Christian" contemporary songs, approved "Christian" movies, approved "Christian" games, etc., etc. One approved direction for contemplation was to "engage with society" by focusing on specific targets. Scary postmodernism was a popular one: a caricature of postmodernism that claimed all beliefs were completely produced by, not merely colored by, cultural context. In a sense the traditional notion of "truth" didn't exist at all in scary postmodernism. It was often linked with total moral relativism, which was another approved target. 

The general line of argument was to contrast scary postmodernism to the timeless and objective statements of religion. Religion was a fixed point, neither coming from the surrounding society nor changing itself to fit in. Attempting to poke holes in scary postmodernism was a smug intellectual pastime that appeared in Christian media. The shoe was on the other foot; those postmodernists were the ones who weren't thinking coherently. Followers of religion obtained solid truth through time-tested methods. They weren't controlled by the ever-changing whims of popular sentiment. 

However, recently I had an amusing realization. Despite the attention that this subculture devotes to contrasting itself with scary postmodernism, I'd say that in practice it is an excellent example of truth that's been socially determined. One might call it socialized truth in order to playfully invite a comparison with the socialized medicine they dread. It seems to me that their truth is thoroughly socialized. Pursuing ideas that are too individualistic is one definition of grave heresy, after all.

They gather not only for mutual support but to hear other people tell them what the truth is (sermonize). They read their prized book, but it's sufficiently difficult and ambiguous that they're forced to rely on other people (or a predigested lesson written by other people) to decode it into "timeless objective truth" that has something comprehensible to say about current everyday life. They adhere to their inflexible moral rules, but deciding on what set of moral rules to have, such as minute restrictions about behavior and diet, depends on the other people in their particular religion and sect. Negative reactions from them are enough of a deterrent from committing violations. 

They vote as a bloc according to nonnegotiable political platforms, but the political opinions they hold, as well as the categorization of opinions into negotiable and nonnegotiable, come from what other people tell them is core to their identity. As for a wide variety of topics that are entirely separate from their supernatural beliefs, strangely their thoughts about those are still directed by other people who have supernatural beliefs that match theirs. (For instance, their thoughts about the best course of action to safeguard their own health and their community's health might come from their group rather than people who know what they're talking about.)

Overall, the overwhelming pattern is that their thinking is transparently steered by their social context. "I think about it this way because that's just what we think." Most followers of supernatural beliefs aren't hermits or prophets. They may not even be especially countercultural, really, if their beliefs are in fact held by a large subset of the people around them. Although they may loudly object that no one tells them what to think, I'm inclined to assume that they haven't worked very hard at deeply examining the beliefs that they say are precious to them. What an amazing coincidence that everybody in their context happened to "independently" reach the exact same conclusions over and over again...

On the other hand, their reliance on socialized truth is far from unique. Each individual has limits. Everybody needs to get truths from others. The vital distinction is the manner in which someone relates to socialized truth. As always the question to never stop asking is "How does the speaker know what they say they know?" The problem with cultures that explicitly endorse faith is that it encourages the mental habit of brushing over that important question! Socialized truth should be considered and chosen, not thoughtlessly absorbed. Trust in the speaker's credibility is essential, but credibility isn't a total substitute for the speaker explaining the work they did before they spouted something. To the contrary, the speaker's reluctance or inability to explain the work they did is a hint to lower trust in their babbling. If they worked hard to back up their statements then they should be proud to explain!

There are helpful signs either that someone is deliberate about socialized truth or that they're the opposite: nothing more than a yo-yo yanked to and fro by a culture they identify with. The signs I'm listing here aren't a complete list but only some of my favorites that echo the themes I tend to return to. First, a bad sign is when the socialized truth is conspicuously vague. "Truths" that seem to be avoiding verifiable details should raise suspicion about whether these supposed truths are undergoing any scrutiny before being accepted. Generalizations rest on top of specifics, not motivate frantic searches for justifications to shore up the generalization that came first.

Second, lack of nuance can be a possible sign of an undeserving socialized truth. The reality of many people is that they could claim multiple social groups, and the groups might not be in strict agreement. Reconciling the competing truths of their groups would take effort. They'd need to compare the "truths" coming from each and the basis for the truths. The end result would be a more complicated view with many sides and compromises. "As a _____ I think this, but as a ______ I also combine it with that." 

The lazier albeit less confusing alternative would be to make a blanket choice of a singular group and then enthusiastically accept whatever that group proposes. Then the socialized truths pushed by someone's other social groups have no moderating effect. The villains of that singular group can do no right, and the heroes of that singular group can do no wrong. Therefore another sign is when there's virtually no difference between all of someone's thoughts and the common thoughts of the group they idolize. One can be partially affiliated or allied with a group without reflexively echoing it in every way. Is someone thoughtfully choosing to identify with a group because some of its socialized truths are good matches, or is the group rewriting someone's ideas with socialized truths?  "I once thought ____ but now I realize this is something our enemies think, not us."

Third, when a socialized truth fits perfectly with preconceptions, that might be a reason to doubt. Just as the full reality of a person's social position is a complex mixture of group cultures, the full reality of all facts is a complex mixture. The expectation should be that some facts fit well with a preconception, some are merely compatible with it, and some clash with it. Each situation isn't identical with another, so the facts of the situations might or might not be identical. The speeds of falling feathers and hammers on the moon are famously different than the speeds observed at the gas-wrapped surface of Earth. Disagreements between facts and preconceptions can point to the need for deeper understanding. Socialized truths that solely confirm could be coming from someone who either intentionally selects facts to flatter and strengthen the group's beliefs...or twists facts to be more suitable...or passes along the unsupported rumors they like...or fabricates stories from start to finish.

Fourth, extremely rapid shifts in beliefs can be a sign of an improper acceptance of socialized truths. If there are established reasons for holding one belief, then uprooting that belief and replacing it would be a process. Those reasons would need to be carefully judged side by side with reasons to reject the belief. But if a socialized truth was adopted without much analysis, then replacing it is far easier. The one reason it was adopted was that it was belched out by the group; when that group belches out something else then that one reason for the old "truth" no longer exists. An individual who dances to the group's tune will switch dances immediately when the tune switches. (Cue the obligatory reference to Nineteen Eighty-Four: we've always been at war with Eastasia.)

That said, I wouldn't recommend beliefs that never shift at all. These could also be signs of an unreasonable group loyalty that controls someone's thinking. Some groups' cultures have foundational precepts, especially if a group is supposedly defined by commitment to such things. Even to ponder the limits or flaws of these precepts is forbidden. Doing that is viewed as a loathsome betrayal of the group. In countless times and places, people's own innermost thoughts have been effectively corralled by their desire to not be seen as a "traitor". Although it's been said that the one freedom that cannot be violated is the freedom of innermost thoughts, the tyranny of socialized truth does so all the time—and with the consent of people who can't be bothered to think for themselves.

seeing the love

Discussion about the love of some particular religion's god—or the absence of such—generally centers on the problems of evil and suffering. Why would a miracle-working and generous god permit so much evil and suffering in the past and present, including a lot that serves seemingly no purpose? It's an excellent question. And it's inspired many interesting (attempted) justifications.

It's also not the topic of this blog entry. Highly committed religious followers raise other questions when they continually insist through sermon and song that their god is loving, because many would say that they aren't merely repeating a piece of foundational doctrine. They'd say (testify) that their god is always loving in terms of what it does day by day in their very lives. It's active now. Its love continues past the long-ago actions it took according to stories passed down through tradition.

But when they list examples, they fail to sway listeners who don't have the same loyalty to the underlying beliefs. The examples might be minor, coincidental, and possible to explain without invoking supernatural intervention. If this is pointed out to them, they may respond, "Love isn't something that can be slid under a microscope. To believe in love sometimes requires faith and trust. Faith allows you to see a beneficial occurrence for what it really means, which is a loving act of my god. I cannot prove that my god is filled with overflowing love, but why do you say this is strange? I also cannot prove beyond all doubt that the people who are dearest to me feel love in their hearts. Faith is an essential part of the picture."

I'm pretty sure that for them, their response feels well-considered and even somehow natural. However, this is yet another illustration of the way that discarding supernatural beliefs reverses one's outlook. Seen from my current perspective, it's almost nonsensical. It verges on insulting to the people who actually are loving to me. How does it take faith to believe in the love of people who have done so many good things for me, directly and in plain view? When they've been a comforting presence in bad times, not through a cryptic email but through sitting nearby and patiently listening, or through assisting with getting food and performing other tasks? When they've laughed at my jokes and tried to cheer me up when I'm sad? When they've offered the insights they learned from their mistakes, to prevent me from making the same ones? When they gladly spend time with me, not only on big occasions but on a casual whim?

To repeat something I've written before in other contexts, the main point isn't that love is defined by what someone gets out of it. The point is whether or not a concept displays a strong if not undeniable link to the detectable differences it makes in reality. It's not an ambiguous "sign" of something that demands a skewed viewpoint to comprehend it. ("One of my life-long friends has invited me to a cookout. What could it possibly mean?") It might not be visible to the eye but it will certainly be easily traceable, like someone making a payment on the recipient's account. Picking up the pattern is like connecting numbered dots, not like stretching threads between tacks on a big board. It's possible for there to be someone who expertly manipulates various things, sight unseen, in order to eventually produce a loving outcome. This possibility requires a huge mental leap, though.

Unfortunately, there is a flipside to perceptible loving acts. Unloving acts by someone who loves you can be just as perceptible. And the category of unloving includes both cruelty and indifference. Would it be more understandable to say that it does require faith to believe in an individual's love regardless of their cruel and/or indifferent acts? It's true that real people are a mix of characteristics with varying moods and motivations. There's no question unloving acts make it harder to believe in their love. It's also harder to trust that they'll act in a loving manner again in the future.

Nevertheless, I wouldn't stoop to using the word "faith" for it. Because reality is complicated, there are a lot of factors and moving parts. That's why conclusions often aren't perfect in every circumstance. A cause that's very strong can still be subject to competing causes, at least from time to time. The result is that the full set of evidence is likely to be mixed. Statistical analysis comes into play. Genuine strong love might be reflected in committing loving acts "significantly more" than acts of cruelty and indifference. I wouldn't say that it's faith to infer love from a heap of obviously loving acts despite a few unloving acts. It's more like noticing that two fair dice have a sum of 5 more frequently than a sum of 12. 

To properly apply this analogy to the influence of an omniscient and omnipotent actor, it shouldn't be necessary to point out that a complete view implies tallying up a mountain of facts about reality's ups and downs. Unlike a person, an omniscient actor has countless more opportunities to act in ways that are loving, indifferent, and cruel. Of course, I'd maintain that the far greatest amount of hypothetical "acts" are in the category of inaction. If there were something that wasn't acting, then indifference would be the explanation that isn't strained. Perhaps it's true, with a focus that's narrowed and aimed, someone can sometimes feel that "someone up there is watching out for me". I'd say that when someone uses a focus that isn't so narrowed and aimed, this feeling is outweighed by the sheer number of times that it isn't applicable. And I'm not referring to the large important evils and sufferings that are usually brought up in the philosophical Problem of evil and suffering; I'm merely referring to an individual's own experience.  

One additional defensive analogy between personal love and the love of a god deserves some attention. It goes like: "I think your view of love is superficial. Part of maturity is recognizing that love has well-defined boundaries. Love can actually hamper someone when it doesn't allow them to make decisions, face consequences, and learn. The loved person also can't reach their full potential if love doesn't allow them to face and defeat challenges without immediate help. Boundaries establish that people believe in each other's capabilities and that they're entitled to a realm of independence or non-interference (autonomy). In the same way, my god is obligated to hold back from taking action a lot of the time. Its superior love goes hand in hand with its wise boundaries."

As analogies go, it's not that bad. Yet it seems to me that it doesn't quite work for another reason that's commonly associated with a mature concept of love: open communication. Boundaries that aren't openly communicated are misleading. Nobody knows for sure where they stand and how to correctly interpret each other's acts. If someone distinctly says they're not doing something loving because it would violate boundaries, then I agree that it's a reasonable course to take. If someone simply doesn't act, and they don't express clearly that it's because of boundaries, then I disagree. If it's for the purpose of teaching a memorable "lesson", then specific communication matters so that the right lesson is learned (i.e. not the lesson that the teacher is undependable). A god that honors valid boundaries without communicating the meaning behind its refusals to act is a god that's, once again, suspiciously reminiscent of an indifferent god rather than a loving god with boundaries. 

Furthermore, the huge range of possible actions for such a god remains a problem. If the analogy of love that honors boundaries is implicitly parent-like—noting but setting aside the psychoanalytic comparison of gods to parental figures—then this analogy has another failure: parents have sensible limits on how far they will extend the decision to not act. The god that would be compatible with what we experience would be a god of archaic brutality. Would we say that it's a loving balance of help and boundaries when the loved individual's choices are allowed to result in, for instance, losing a leg or a hand? Would we say that it's a loving balance when their choices are allowed to result in diabetes or cancer? Would we say that it's a loving balance when their choices are the right ones but those choices give someone else the opportunity to exploit them? Would we say that any kind of boundary or lesson explains why someone's house is ripped apart by a natural disaster? (Supposed divine judgments on subjectively "sinful regions" notwithstanding...) 

Forget about a love that can't even be seen without taking a leap of faith, projecting hidden influences onto commonplace events, and ignoring numerous counterexamples. Give me a love between people, concretely demonstrated and unmistakable, any day. I understand why the most admirable followers of supernatural beliefs comment that their beliefs are communicated most effectively by being their god's hands and feet on Earth. I'm not convinced of its existence, but if I were then "its" most convincing acts of love on an ongoing daily basis would be the acts of people who care.

knowledge breach

I often mention the frankly awe-inspiring ability of people to compartmentalize, because even now I think it's not always appreciated enough. They can separate their views of reality into compartments, consciously or not, neatly or not, and then they can treat their compartments much differently. Part of the reason I emphasize this is to explain that I wasn't totally irrational when I followed supernatural beliefs, and that's also true of a lot of people who still do. Thanks to compartmentalization, they may live in ways that mostly seem sensible, or they may hold a variety of opinions that mostly seem sensible, yet they assert that once upon a time a god was human.

At the same time, as I've previously described, compartmentalization gradually quit working for me. That's why I ended up discarding the beliefs I had followed. There was a breach. It wasn't a data breach but a knowledge breach. My knowledge about reality kept invading the supposed "knowledge" provided by my former beliefs. It poured in faster and faster until it swept away the counterfeits. 

I had grown thoroughly convinced of the fundamental principle that an idea is real to the extent that its predicted impacts are confirmed by actions, observations, and reasoning. Furthermore, the very definition of realness is this principle. The breach happened as I questioned why I had been raised to have a compartment that was exempt from this superb principle—and then I realized that the need for the compartment was due to the failure of the beliefs inside it to meet the standard. In retrospect, of course the least credible beliefs were the ones accompanied by the loudest appeals to faith. 

But that was my experience. Lately I've been noticing that knowledge breaches occur in the other direction too. Rather than a breach that exposes unverified knowledge to attack, there are breaches that expose the verified sort. The principle behind these is simply the distorted mirror image of the other principle. I'd characterize it as a lengthy ramble: "Knowledge gained through human senses and reason is fallible and unimpressive. Impartial and systematic investigation is an impossible myth. It mocks the all-important contributions made by what we feel to be right and what we've been taught through time-honored tradition and communication with the divine. Everybody lies all the time and prizes their goals more than objective truth. Their goals might be profit, political power, or flat-out hatred of goodness. Anyone who says they can demonstrate the accuracy of their ideas deserves no more consideration than someone who uses their common-sense to rant. Plus, as long as it's possible to cite a different poorly-run 'study', an anecdote on a website, or someone who's an expert in an entirely unrelated field, then that means there's equal proof for the conclusions I'm comfortable with. Confirmation bias is something I need to watch out for? Whatever, I've never heard of it. Every idea that's contrary to my wishes or deeply-held intuitions is being spread by evil widespread conspiracies, and the goal of those conspiracies is to destroy everything I care about. Experts and organizations made up of experts are wholly devoted to these conspiracies, no matter what they may say. Naturally, everyone who says they're similar to me but has good reasons to disagree with me is a traitor and a fraud. Trust is based solely on whether someone grew up in the correct culture and whether they're committed to the correct groups, causes, and figureheads. There are more of us than them, which implies that they only win through deception. Anything they claim, we'll automatically accept the opposite. Our scriptures literally use sheep as a metaphor for us, and that's a good thing."

That ramble was intended as an exaggerated extreme...but sad to say it's not that far off from the mindset of some people. The point is the knowledge breach that it can cause. Like I did, they probably have compartments in which they selectively do or don't define an idea's realness by its confirmed impacts. The difference is the path they're going down. I wondered why I was allowing the reality of some of my beliefs to be defined under laxer philosophical rules. In their minds they're wondering why they're allowing the reality of some of their beliefs to be defined under the illegitimate rules of the culture they consider themselves at war with. 

Perhaps truths in the supernatural domain are completely decided by the irrefutable sayings and writings of one's culture, or by the dictatorial authorities within that culture, or by the truths someone feels, or by judging the degree that something is in subjective harmony with one's preexisting assumptions and aims. If these are the methods for absolute truth in the domain that controls everything they think and do, then they may be easily convinced to reapply these faulty methods in other compartments as well. At that point the original dividing line is blurred and the high-quality knowledge they did have is exposed to the breach. Falsehoods masquerading as truths move in. The lack of skepticism spreads. It metastasizes like cancer.

Unfortunately, the risk of this is plain to see. This knowledge breach is like a keypad lock programmed with the numbers 1-2-3-4. Anyone who uses the relevant combination of inputs could use the breach to cynically push "knowledge" in for their own purposes. I hate to see it happen. When the consequences are worse health, wasting money, acting against someone's own interest, feeling fear and anger toward others or even toward imaginary foes, paying all attention to short-term effects, and on and on, discussions about the definition of realness start to not seem so trivial after all. 

calling a temptation cease-fire

I've been critiquing some of the attitudes and opinions that I've frequently seen in people who structure their lives around supernatural beliefs. Sometimes these are far different from mine, but sometimes there are similarities. For instance, I think it's clear that we share a common experience of facing temptations. One of the major pros of leaving the beliefs behind is that plenty of the "wrong" thoughts and actions simply don't seem wrong to me now, and so some of these often trivial "temptations" have stopped being problems.

Nevertheless, some temptations apply to me still. It might be the temptation to overeat an unhealthy snack or surrender to an unpleasant habit. It might be the temptation to procrastinate about a task that must be done sometime. It might be the temptation to assume the worst about someone else's motivations. It might be the temptation to litter. In any case, the temptation is for a temporary and/or minor benefit that comes with a substantial cost. Worse, the cost might only take effect in the future or gradually over time, or it might affect others more than oneself.  

The crucial differences start to appear when the basic idea of temptation is put into the larger context of how someone views reality. Within the culture that I left, temptation is consistently seen as a deadly serious battle. It's an attack from an antagonist such as the evilness someone is born with, the pleasures of the world, or diabolical spirits. Because of that, the struggle is treated as a test of inner strength. It's an arm-wrestling match between the temptation and force of will. The eight-year-old who has the impulse to steal a candy bar is in the middle of a cosmic theater of war in which good and evil are firing heavy artillery.

When I consider this picture in my present frame of mind, I'm struck by how counterproductive it is. Regardless of what the temptation is about, handling it as a hard-fought battle isn't a wise strategy. I've become more familiar with alternatives. I'd argue that it's better, when the temptation first forms, to not charge at it full-speed. Instead, leave it be and let it pass.

I don't refer to pretending the temptation doesn't exist. On the contrary, I mean that it is to be seen fully, without flinching away from it, as the bare thought that it is. It's a "bare" thought in the sense that it doesn't need to be inflated into something big and scary. It doesn't need to be focused on or connected up to anything else. Does it produce a reaction of desire in the person tempted? Of course. And neither is it useful to pretend that this reaction doesn't exist. Bare thoughts of all kinds evoke reactions constantly. The fact that a thought evokes a reaction doesn't imply that the thought merits even more of a reaction (a counter-reaction and then a counter-counter-reaction, and so forth). 

Admittedly, there are challenging subtleties to this approach. First is emphasizing that it's not the same as simplistically ignoring temptation. To focus on banishing the thought, forcefully replacing it, or coming up with counterarguments, is to prolong the thought and "play its game". The recommendation is to recognize it, observe its futile efforts to be provocative, and endure its temporary effects. Simultaneously its pull is only observed too, in the sense that it's felt without being linked to corresponding action. It's like tugging on a rope tied around a tree trunk.  

The main thing is to steadily break the mentality that if a temptation thought isn't fought, then it's only a matter of time before the tempted person will act on it. Fear of the experience of having the thought, and the self-defeating determination to ignore it all costs, is tied to the assumption that the sole path to not perform the particular behavior is to strenuously never have the thought. However a thought is a thought; it's not the act and it's no more than brain activity. Someone who's sitting quietly and experiencing a temptation is still only sitting quietly.

On the other hand, I wouldn't say that it involves embracing the temptation thought either—granting it a stamp of approval or relishing it. Merely watching it calmly until it fades doesn't imply that someone is welcoming the thought. Refusing to feed the thought is to withhold either strong acceptance or strong rejection from it, until it starves by itself or its repetitiousness just grows uninteresting (or annoying). This is why it works better when it's applied as early as possible, when the temptation pops up, before it's progressed to dominating mental attention. Someone doesn't think "This is just a bare thought; I can enjoy it for a bit as long as I don't take action". They do think "This is just a bare thought; I see the desires it provokes but I'm not under the dictatorship of something that appears and vanishes without hurting me in a lasting way". 

Another motto to describe it is that temptation is normal. It's no cause for dread once someone is comfortable with that fact. The existence of an unfulfilled desire isn't a never-ending torture! If it's genuinely left alone and not dwelt upon, it will likely diminish in minutes. If it arises again in an hour's time then so be it. It will again likely diminish in minutes at that time too. (This doesn't work for something like hunger pangs, naturally.) Depending on personality, keeping a sense of humor about the whole thing might be good advice. 

Furthermore, a coping strategy for temptation pairs well with prevention. Shrinking temptation down to the size of a bare thought is good, but stopping the thought from forming at all is better. One of the reasons it's a relief to think of a temptation as a thought is that thoughts can have plain origins like anything does. If a temptation thought regularly comes about in a specific situation, then that situation can be avoided. Being less worried about the experience of temptation when it happens isn't a reason to be careless about letting it happen in the first place. 

Prevention is immensely useful, but it comes with its own layer of subtlety. The situations to prevent have both external and internal contributions. A person's surroundings can matter but so can the condition of the person. Tempting thoughts could be frequently seen alongside boredom, fatigue, rage, sadness, isolation, or something else. These general conditions might not be preventable—sometimes life gets hard—but it's smart to recognize that these can affect the number and the strength of tempting thoughts. And then someone will know to expect the increase when the conditions return.   

The final subtlety is that letting temptation pass is far from a perfect strategy. There will probably be instances in which someone sees the temptation thought for what it is...and proceeds to choose to obey it. (Any strategy at all can give someone "room" to analyze a decision, but it won't make the decision for them.) Afterward, the tempting thought's return will stir up ruminations on the past and the associated shame and regret. 

But responding to it by ruminating on the past is yet another method to fuel it. Obviously, the only time someone can act is in the present. A failure in the past isn't an absolute prediction for how someone will respond now. Perhaps someone has obeyed a specific temptation numerous times, with little hesitation. Such a trend doesn't inspire hope, but perhaps this case today could very well be the start of a new trend. This case could be the turning point if someone chooses it to be. The amount of control someone has to change their future is limited, but that amount of limited control is infinitely greater than the zero control they have to change their past.  

tossing out change

I've written that people frequently—and perhaps strategically—don't respond to the actual statements made by those who discarded their supernatural beliefs; instead they simply respond to what they guess or wish we'd say. So it's fair for me in turn to put a spotlight on the favorite words of followers of supernatural beliefs. Permanence is an underlying pattern of many of these words: "forever", "never", "timeless", "faithful", "always", "never-ending", "everlasting", "enduring", "solid", "unceasingly", "unfailing" (and "unchanging", needless to say). 

Once someone has shaken off this mindset, its weaknesses stand out. The sort of perfect permanence expressed by these words starts to appear so plainly unrealistic. The more that people have examined the universe in depth, the more apparent it is that change itself is fundamental. From the largest collections of matter to the smallest, individual energy fields and particles don't remain in the same positions. Even massive stars and black holes are predicted to go through different phases. Mountains erode. Atmospheric gas concentrations shift. Although important quantities are conserved at specific scales, conservation isn't a rule against change. It's for restricting the changes that can possibly coexist.

Someone might laugh and retort that they're still who they've always been. But this is an illusion: human bodies replace individual cells constantly (and also, er, accumulate wrinkles and spots and such). Work is necessary for anything to stay the same. A thing that doesn't appear to change a lot is generally going through changes of maintenance and repair to reverse changes of decay. Like a person on a treadmill, it's running to hold position. Similar metaphorical truths apply to relationship commitments and personalities. People do change over time in how they think and behave, and their goals and preferences can too. Commitments between people are repeated recommitments as they choose to persist regardless of changes in circumstances and personalities. 

To demand that something never change is to refuse to face something as it really is over time. I'd say that it's beneficial to acknowledge one's own honest reactions about change, whether the reactions are positive or negative. But there is a point at which clinging too much to the past or trying to resurrect it is a waste of the finite time and resources someone has in the present. 

Change is central and inescapable. So how is it that followers of supernatural beliefs can confidently proclaim that the very real beings and otherworldly realms in their beliefs absolutely never change? From the vantage point of someone on the outside looking in, the claim doesn't seem right. Its characteristics are like a flashing red warning light. Questions are raised. What are these beings and realms made of? What are the different rules of motion and composition and why are the rules so different? How do the different rules fit into or violate the rules of everything else that's real? And to return to the main point, how is that these rules work without change being fundamental?

Of course, there are well-known things that don't change: concepts and information created and communicated by minds. Mathematical definitions. Written stories and songs (that have been accurately copied and stored). Theoretical abstractions. It's true that some groups of followers are more than willing to agree that the contents of their beliefs exist purely as historical myths that are useful as inspiring metaphors. And some cerebral followers might be willing to state that the contents of their beliefs are no more than the stark conclusions or axioms of a philosophical logical system. 

However, this comparison isn't a workable solution for many common followers. The more that they say that their preferred deities are as timeless as an integer or a catchy tune, the more that they're placing their deities directly next to human creations...which are understood and preserved through human mental efforts. After all, a supernatural concept can indeed be timeless because, well, a concept can be whatever someone imagines it to be. 

It doesn't help their case that they regularly gather to insist to themselves and each other that the objects of their beliefs have timeless qualities. If these objects are intrinsically timeless, then outsiders have good reason to wonder why people clearly pour so much mental effort into reinforcing the idea. It's almost as if the timelessness of the concepts is a reflection or projection of the unending craving for timelessness and not a discovered independent reality...   

feeling things out

It's obvious that in-depth intellectual debates are often fruitless at convincing people to discard their supernatural beliefs. An analogy for this is attempting to play tennis with someone who responds to a gentle serve by leaping out of the ball's path, picking it up after it lands, and hurling it away from the court ("Hah! You weren't ready for that!"). If pressed, they might state that they follow their beliefs because of how the beliefs make them feel. They aren't pondering what facts they would expect to see if their beliefs were accurate and then judging how closely those expectations are met by the facts on hand. They judge by their emotional expectations: "How could the beliefs I follow be inaccurate when they line up with my emotions so well?"

One answer is that the beliefs have been designed to do this. They took modern form after the tremendous effort of councils and prophets and theologians. Alternative forms with jarring inhuman qualities simply didn't win the arguments. The second answer is that the beliefs have evolved too. The more that they could pull on their followers' heart-strings, they more that they were likely to be accepted, faithfully kept, and passed on. The more that they failed to connect with common human feelings, the more likely they were to fail to compete and then die out. As others have observed, countries without official supernatural beliefs actually boost this evolution because beliefs can lead to mutated competing variants instead of a vigorously enforced monopoly or monoculture.

On the other hand, to some degree the ability of supernatural beliefs to match followers' emotions isn't because of the beliefs at all. When a belief of any kind is conventional, it's integrated into a context. It plays its particular part. It satisfies needs that the context evokes, so of course it seems fitting. In a context in which family ancestors are heavily revered, a belief that grants lasting afterlife and oversight to those ancestors will "feel right". In a context in which individual freedom is a top value, a belief that emphasizes the import1ance of a personal conversion decision will "feel right". In a context in which people's hunger for thrilling mystery isn't well-served, a belief in paranormal phenomena will "feel right". 

Even apart from specific content and favorable contexts, supernatural beliefs tend to have a general advantage for validating sentiment: constant certainty. They provide larger-than-life inspirations and targets that aren't messy. A supremely evil thing merits uncomplicated condemnation, and supreme good merits total adoration. The (alleged) support of an utterly powerful ally is a reason to remain calm despite circumstances. Statements that cannot be false (...or disproven...) give an unbending structure that can encourage trust. Detailed laws about morality offer up categories of acts and thoughts that deserve total disgust. Missions to save the world gratify cravings for purpose. 

Essentially, while emotions paint huge importance onto normal many-sided existence, supernatural beliefs can directly present an existence that in itself has huge importance and is made out of one-sided ideas. No wonder the diligent gathering of verified impartial knowledge can't fit emotions as well. But it's a superb fit for one: the drive to embrace reality as it is and escape the oppressive thoughts that don't.

unbalanced

I exited slowly from religious belief (though it was common to call your emotional connection to God a "relationship, not a religion"). A major reason I didn't move any faster was because it took time to accept that my entire perspective needed an overhaul. Obviously, year after year, I either learned about or experienced flaws in my former beliefs. But my rigid perspective acted as a comforting frame around the flaws. It was as if my brain automatically placed each flaw under a protective glass dome and calmly set it aside, like a collector of insect specimens. A flaw wasn't treated as anything more than a harmless curiosity to ponder for a little while, perhaps to feebly show that followers don't dodge the hard questions. It wasn't permitted to genuinely disturb one's bedrock assumptions. To the contrary, it was an opportunity to further solidify assumptions by coming up with a rationalization...and of course the rationalization could be crude. It didn't need to be able to persuade anyone else.

As problematic as this mode of thinking is, some clever people who are stuck in it may offer up a reasonable-sounding justification. "I see the flaws you've mentioned. I don't claim that those are nonexistent or easy to explain. However, I have reasons of my own for why I do follow my beliefs. These two collections of clues are in competition. And that just means that all of us are balanced between thinking that my beliefs are accurate or inaccurate. The fragile balance is like a pencil standing on its eraser or unsharpened end. It could tip either direction. I fall one way, and I follow my beliefs. You fall the other way, and you don't. Both you and I can present evidence for our stances, and the evidence we present is more than enough for each of us to be satisfied with opposite conclusions. The only difference is a choice that each of us makes about which collection of evidence speaks to us more as individuals."

This approach is far more appealing than insults. It's tactful. It doesn't shut down conversation immediately. It encourages mutual tolerance, because no side's evidence is said to be superior. It portrays the sides more like people with differing preferences. By doing so it echoes the common-sense advice that attacking anyone for having other tastes than yours is mean and unsophisticated (yet typical in internet venues).   

Unfortunately, it has a shortcoming that's hard to overlook: it's a deception. The reasons and the flaws that anyone happens to count as "evidence" aren't all on equal footing. A supposed clue, whether it's a reason to accept an idea or a flaw in it, must do more than exist. It must be weighed in order to see how much it deserves to affect the total balance. This weighing refers to asking essential questions about the clue and facing the answers fearlessly: 

• How was it obtained? A story about an event in someone's life is vulnerable at first to incorrect interpretations of sensations, then vulnerable to revisionist human memory, and finally vulnerable to the gap between the storyteller's intended meaning and the listener's understanding. Another source of clues is what someone "feels" to be right, but the motivations underneath this feeling need to be examined. It's very possible that the clue is really an expression of the feeler's deep wishes, thoughtless instincts, or narrow preconceptions. The thoughts that make people relax or make them queasy vary greatly between cultures and time periods. Statements about how things are "meant to be" are actually prone to widespread disagreement and evolution.
• How is its accuracy determined? Until a statement has been checked and supported, its level of accuracy cannot be assumed. After all, it takes extremely little effort to spit out an inaccurate statement. The expectation should be that accurate statements are rarer, and any given statement is more likely to belong in the inaccurate pile. And the clue's accuracy could have limits because the methods for obtaining the clue have limits. Nobody should ever be penalized for forthrightly stating that a clue's accuracy isn't absolute! 
• What is the context it came from? A clue is less convincing if it emerged from someone whose consciousness was in an abnormal state. Brains in abnormal states are known to produce total fantasies and display impaired judgment.
• Is it self-consistent? A clue is less trustworthy when it can't be reliably reproduced, or is frequently found among facts that throw doubt upon it ("just...overlook all the times when that other thing happens!"), or even contains a logical contradiction. 
• Is it plausible? A clue requires a greater amount of support if it demands a perfect coincidence, a sequence of improbable events, or a thinly stretched thread of arguments that have few observable connections to, well, anything. For example, explaining a dubious claim's lack of effect on reality with a dubious excuse doesn't inspire confidence.
• Is it distinctive? A clue doesn't speak for itself. The more effort someone needs to put in to clarify how a clue can be viewed as a significant contribution to their side, the weaker the clue. Or, if it could easily be twisted to support multiple points of view, then it's not an excellent contribution to any single one. That said, ambiguity isn't necessarily avoidable—we live in complex realities where ambiguities abound. 
• Is the source credible? Someone earns more consideration if they avoid sloppy generalizations, go into gory details about the work they did to find the clue, and have shown that they value truth more than "winning". If they have a habit of pompously spewing whatever fiction that they have a "gut feeling" about or whatever statement will benefit them if a sufficiently large group eats it up, then it's best to cover one's ears and eyes and sprint away. Communicating with such a person is futile. 
• Does it clash with clues that carry a lot of weight? Real clues coexist in harmony with other real clues. When an idea is well-verified, it should prompt questions about the clues that don't fit with it. When one fresh clue disagrees with an idea that's been confirmed repeatedly, the idea isn't in danger of being thrown out momentarily; the clue is.

After the clues have been sorted by "weight", the perception that the sides are well-balanced quickly falls apart. Instead it's easier to realize that each side's ability to endlessly suggest clues doesn't lead to an evenly matched contest. Quality matters. A little mound of many wafer-thin clues isn't enough when the clues on the other side are much more substantial. In fact the outcome is a pronounced tilt, not a balance. 

This shift to analyzing clues more closely happened at larger scales than individuals' philosophies. It took place in a variety of subjects and had massive effects. Theories about the motions of physical objects were tied to measured experiments and mathematics, not creative philosophizing. Chemical reactions were openly shared instead of performed in hidden rooms and written in arcane books. Historians distinguished between primary and secondary sources and remembered that people are often biased or enjoy telling tales that have been...dramatized. Medical treatments were thoroughly vetted in large trials. Journalists adopted standards instead of spreading unverified rumors. 

At the same time, some people don't always appreciate the value of it. A tilt toward one side might not impress such a person at all. They may blatantly choose to override the tilt and follow the beliefs they want. That's not what I did after I learned to weigh clues honestly. However I'm grateful when anyone at least admits it rather than bluff that their beliefs are backed by equivalent evidence.

Postscript: There's a position on the materialistic naturalism side that also appears to assert that evidence itself hasn't resolved the debate. "I haven't yet been presented with sufficient reasons to think that there's a supernatural realm. Meanwhile, as a general principle it's impossible to prove that anything definitely doesn't exist. Therefore, I still need to be alert for the required evidence if it does arrive. Until then, I'll be neutral, which in practice means that I won't prematurely speculate that there's a supernatural realm."

This second case doesn't arouse the same antagonism from me because it has a crucial difference. It assigns the burden of proof appropriately. It recognizes that, echoing the comments above about accuracy, falsehoods vastly outnumber truths. There's a sea of incompatible possibilities. So most of the group must turn out to be false most of the time. Ideas aren't scarce. Each one should need to earn more attention than the numerous others available. Opting to not hastily accept a belief is wise, if one's goal is to accept as few falsehoods as one can. Simply put, skepticism is a shrewd default. 

Another characteristic of this difference is the complexity of the belief that's followed or declined. In the first case, the belief being followed consists of a whole system of interrelated concepts, not to mention a stack of astounding stories. That's a lot to go along with. It's a stretch to argue that there are enough clues to furnish satisfying rationales for every concept in the system. The decision that's presented is an extensive one, as if the only two options are not believing at all or believing in A+B+C+D+E+F+G+H... 

In the second case, the belief being declined is relatively minimal. The two options are logical opposites; there is or isn't a supernatural realm. Furthermore, "supernatural realm" is left vague on purpose. Ideas about what's in the realm or the rules by which it operates are separate from bare existence. The second case acknowledges that convincing someone of the realm's existence is step one of many. Once someone has demonstrated that a First-Cause god exists or that human souls exist, then the tasks of demonstrating the myriad details of a particular belief system come next—keeping in mind that these details differ dramatically in the huge range of belief systems.

reality is in the details

The saying goes that the devil is in the details. But I would add that reality is in the details. This is borne out by day to day existence. By contrast, thoughts can leave out details—in fact this is an essential strategy for sketching out the basic outlines of a complex whole without getting lost partway through. Details cannot be left out forever, though. When thoughts are confronted by the reality of the universe outside one's skull, the overlooked details often take revenge. Hasty plans are ruined. Naive hopes are dashed. Again and again, the details of reality are the tests that eliminate flimsy thoughts. The thoughts that mesh the best with reality keep the details in.

This reasonable and experienced point of view is the opposite of the frequent advice to not "get hung up on the details". Offering that innocent-seeming advice can quickly deflect any question...rather than the ordeal of attempting an answer. Even so, the above comments show why it's inherently flawed. It's not as convincing as intended. For the more that someone is nonchalant about the details of the position they're arguing for, the more they deepen the impression that their position is independent of reality. 

This isn't an insult; it's simply the immediate consequence. Real things have many nonnegotiable details in many categories: characteristics, histories, forms, appearances, patterns, locations, interactions with other things, etc. Furthermore, the thing's details are the exact "handles" for grasping its existence. The different existences (substances) of, say, a marshmallow and a bowling ball, are observed through differing details. The more that details don't matter, the more that the nature of a thing appears to be closer to that of a hazy thought than a solid reality.

(Naturally, there are all sorts of creative and nuanced versions of deities that embrace the quality of being more like human thoughts than real things. In these, "God" isn't an anthropomorphic mind that ponders and takes action. It exists more like an abstract ideal such as Order or Oneness. I'd guess that most who say "don't get hung up on the details" aren't going that route.)

On the other hand, the advice to drop the details could have several pluses. First, it's probably an earnest reflection of how the speaker really treats their own beliefs. It isn't a ploy. It isn't someone pretending that their beliefs are a logically constructed system of propositions. It isn't the pretense that they arrived at their beliefs after carrying out a long intellectual study. Instead, it's what someone would say after they've already decided what to think. When someone is committed to a stance, they don't need to know the details. They've already signed up, so they're uninterested in double-checking the fine print. Unsurprisingly this attitude is far less appealing to someone who isn't using a belief as a basic assumption or granting it "the benefit of the doubt"—when a belief is under the magnifying glass, the full details do make a difference.

The second plus of dropping the details is that it's diplomatic. The fewer details that someone insists on, the easier it is to potentially reach a common ground, and the less hardheaded they appear to be. Yet once more this quality has an inherent flaw. If the details of a real thing can easily be viewed differently by different people, then that thing suspiciously resembles subjective thoughts: preferences, wishes, fantasies. Wording is crucial. To say that a detail can be whatever you like or however you see it is to undercut the objectivity of the thing the detail applies to. If the details of a thing can be poured into people's minds, and the details expand to fill each mind's unique shape, then that thing must not have much of a shape of its own. It's worth remembering that these "details" aren't mere interpretations of a thing but its fundamental attributes.

Admittedly, this result can be dodged with enough imagination. Retreating into paradoxes and mysticism has a long tradition. Religious followers could opt to make themselves very slippery indeed. They may bluntly claim the equal accuracy of many contradictory details. (They may need to do this anyway after they've been forced to harmonize incompatible doctrines.) The key is to propose that a thing is so special that contradictions are united in it: it's too huge or beyond understanding or many-sided. Its form of "realness" is unlike normal realness. It doesn't obey the usual rules. It can't be analyzed or translated into language. This time around, the inherent flaw is so blatant that it hardly needs stating: this level of specialness amounts to the demand to remove the thing from the dangerous realm of logic and debate. The advice to give up on asking a particular question, i.e. not get hung up on the details, mutates into the more drastic advice to give up on the entire mode of thought that the question sprang out of. 

In effect, the suggestion is to compartmentalize the beliefs and apply a lower standard. The scary aspect of this suggestion isn't its strangeness; it's the complete ordinariness of it. Like the brain's cerebral cortex coexisting with the amygdala, the deliberative frame of mind coexists with competing frames of mind that operate along different lines. It consumes more conscious attention and develops at a slower rate. Extracting, collecting, and judging details is harder than accepting a detail-free statement at face value. It's also more intuitive for some personalities than others. These challenges highlight the preciousness of plain details in the search for objective reality. The alternative can't compete: a pile of superficial and/or ambiguous decrees made by authorities who cannot be contested.

The final plus of the advice to drop the details is that it might be a sign of the faint level of loyalty that the religious follower has. And that would be the happiest outcome—from my perspective. If a follower treats their "belief" as nothing more than a creation of their native culture, then of course the details aren't of vital importance to them. (Anthropologists and historians know that putting belief at the center of religious practice isn't a universal or constant social norm anyway.) They may openly state that they pick out the bits that give them inspiration or reassurance and discard the rest. Or they may value their belief purely as raw material for drawing analogies. Given that it doesn't rule them or impair their comprehension, some may cheerily consider themselves quite "secular" otherwise...perhaps to the point of declaring "I'm an atheistic ______ ." Whether they're idly repeating words that mean nothing to them, or undergoing empty rituals to feel connected to their traditions, we de-converted tend to let them be. They might even concede that they too would want the beliefs to firmly stand upon bold details—but only if they were trying to equate the beliefs with realty in the first place!

no, personal gain is not the main point

Soon after finishing the previous post, I found myself easily anticipating one of the reactions it could provoke. Clearly I'm able to slide right into that well-worn supernatural mindset like a pair of old loafers. The reaction I imagine comes out sounding like, "Pfft. I can see what happened to you. You think that you became disillusioned, but you really were discouraged. You weren't showered with blessings and floating on a cloud, so then you retaliated by throwing your arms up and storming out. God didn't march to the beat of your drum. The cost of living a virtuous life wasn't adequately paying off, so you cut your losses. Mysterious doctrines weren't presented to you in an obvious manner that you could test through experiments. What a shame that religion wasn't simple and easy enough to fit your egocentric demands."

This reaction shows something about how religious followers approach belief: it's a matter of character  not analysis (in fact, they may advise someone to stop thinking so hard and "choose to just believe"). They're eager to shift blame from the content of the belief to the vices of the unbeliever. They're content to assume that personal gain drives people to dismiss their beliefs. 

Moreover, the flaw of greediness fits their ingrained preconceptions about everybody outside their group. Of course, they say to themselves, it's only natural for someone who's not living by the light of truth to view beliefs as a means instead of an end. Reasoning too much about the beliefs' outcomes is nothing more than fixating on what someone can get by having the beliefs. It indicates that someone is on the wrong track entirely. That's the secret of how anyone who once said they believed could go on to fail to be convinced by the beliefs' accuracy.

Unfortunately, in addition to oddly shaming the de-converted for the error of taking their beliefs' claims too seriously, this reaction misses the main point. The aim of contrasting the list of grandiose claims to the claims' tight restrictions isn't to whine about how little the claims amount to in practical terms. It's to thoroughly establish the pattern of the restrictions: each one is verrrrrrrry similar to the kinds of restrictions that would be necessary for beliefs that spring out of cognitive biases and communal/ritual reinforcement. True, the restricted claims are still about overlaps between reality and the supernatural realm...but the overlaps are so curiously subtle that someone might reasonably suppose that the overlaps aren't there at all. Or the overlaps are dependent on the lenient mindset of the believer or on the thoughts and actions of other people who conform to the beliefs—thereby making the beliefs real through human rather than divine intervention. 

The actual observed fulfillments of the amazing claims fall short because they don't provide objective signs of the supernatural, not because they're minor ("thank you for a close parking space, ruler of the cosmos"). A supernatural realm of wondrous claims that merely touches ordinary life in ordinary ways is hard to distinguish from, well, ordinary religions that have been created by humanity for millennia. Some have placed greater emphasis on what the religion supposedly does for you, and some have placed greater emphasis on what you must do without expecting a lot in return. Neither strategy successfully stands up to scrutiny.

restrictions may apply to 15 claims

Every once in a while I'm abruptly reminded—accidentally—of the vast differences between my materialistic naturalism and the supernatural beliefs followed by many people I know...and by me too in the past. Of course, the size of this gulf doesn't imply that I crossed it with one stupendous leap. My long journey was a sequence of one small step after another. The change was so gradual that at the end it took some additional self-evaluation to simply realize where I'd come to.

It's rare for most religious followers to closely examine us de-converted people (and listen to what we plainly say). They're much more apt to think of total outsiders as their opponents. As they see it, their beliefs are unbeatable. Anyone with a thorough understanding would be convinced. Logically then, in the case of anyone who isn't convinced, the conclusion is that their understanding is faulty or incomplete. Total outsiders are opposed because they don't grasp the full truth and the whole story. They would be followers too if only the message were communicated in the right terms and then they surrendered to its charms. 

Just by existing, de-converted insiders derail this line of reasoning. We decline to follow the beliefs that we were regularly taught for years and years. We not only learned but practiced the beliefs within a community, so our view is neither second-hand nor shallow. We were committed, yet we dropped that commitment after it didn't survive further consideration and self-honesty. Greater familiarity wasn't enough to keep us content. It contributed to our ultimate disbelief! We saw up-close that restrictions may apply to the numerous claims that we heard (sometimes via artistic forms). A brisk and incomplete list of the restrictions will emphasize that, while no single restriction to a claim could be convincing enough to overturn someone's core mentality, the sheer number piles up too high to be ignored forever. 

• Claim: God will never abandon you. Restriction may apply: Not only may you never see any concrete sign that God continues to be a personal companion of yours, there may not have been any concrete sign that it ever was.
• Claim: Make bold petitions to God and whatever you ask will be given to you. Restriction may apply: Your request might be ridiculous or premature, so it will be rejected for good reason. Or it might not fit into the grand unknown plan of the universe; after all, every mortal has "their proper time" to succumb to death. No matter what, you'll be left guessing about what God's reaction to the request actually was.  
• Claim: Your beliefs will give you joy in the midst of life's troubles. Restriction may apply: For the joy to reliably trigger, you might need to spend an extended time training your brain to reflexively obsess about an almighty being, whose smile you can't see, or perhaps the reward of an afterlife, which you cannot see for yourself beforehand.
• Claim: Jesus was an idealized version of you. Restriction may apply: Anyone who lived at that time and place, and raised in a highly different culture, didn't significantly resemble you in behavior, appearance, or general outlook.
• Claim: God's activity in human affairs will be obvious to you. Restriction may apply: Seeing God's caring intervention everywhere you look will depend on the mental lens that you view events through. By approaching every situation with high expectations, the smallest clue that might be construed as God's fingerprint can be magnified into solid evidence.
• Claim: God will heal the sick. Restriction may apply: Sicknesses that are vulnerable to skilled physicians will be healed by their hard work. Of course, God can still have been assumed to play an unseen role in that...somehow.   
• Claim: God controls everything. Restriction may apply: Tragedies with no apparent meaningfulness will happen. Societies will be governed by oppressors. Religious organizations will be led by people who can be motivated in petty ways. 
• Claim: There is one set of religious beliefs that's genuine. Restriction may apply: Religious beliefs have multiplied into a bewildering variety of sets, and subsets, and subsets of subsets. Each one contains one or more details in contradiction with the others and there's no objective method to decide among the group.
• Claim: The single firm foundation for ethics is the unchanging commands of God. Restriction may apply: The moral stances of the commands might seem outdated. Specific examples might require contorted interpretations that attempt to explain the intended moral for the modern age. Alternatively, the multiple commands might be exchanged for the simplistic sentiment, "Maybe just try caring about someone else for a change, huh? If you do that then feel free to pretend these other commands are unimportant relics and make up the rest for yourself. Always let your conscience by your guide."
• Claim: Every wrongdoing is forgivable thanks to the unearned mercy of God. Restriction may apply: Forgiveness is granted through the arduous task of being a bona fide follower, rather than a mere pretender who parrots the right words. This task demands the giving of time, money, and effort. Sincerity is a prerequisite. Obedience is not sufficient; you must love your spirit lord.   
• Claim: God will provide inner strength to do right instead of wrong. Restriction may apply: Inner strength is something you must laboriously cultivate by thinking regretfully about your past evil actions (confessing helps with that), growing accustomed to strictly policing your spontaneous thoughts, and choosing a new duller lifestyle that prevents common temptations. As with followers of any ideology, the human flair for compartmentalization might lead to the outcome that someone has extreme inner strength for some repulsive evils and yet they have zero resistance to their favorite evils.
• Claim: Official religious documents are accurate and as trustworthy as God. Restriction may apply: Careful and impartial investigation of the universe might appear to strongly disagree with official religious documents. The disagreement can be overlooked as long as the corresponding parts of the documents are classified as metaphorical and poetic. Fortunately, if the documents descended from legends, the original writers probably would've readily admitted that they couldn't know for sure whether the legends had been embellished in countless retellings. In addition, the original decision to decide what documents became official might have been a difficult struggle between competing followers, some of whom would've said that the documents that didn't become official were more accurate.  
• Claim: Divine guidance will be provided when someone earnestly seeks it. Restriction may apply: The process of seeking might be a demanding one of prolonged prayer sessions and fasting. The guidance received might be minimal or a nonverbal feeling of "peace" about a tricky decision. Experienced followers will warn that divine guidance should be compared with other sources such as the aforementioned official religious documents, or someone's peers and authorities. As with every claim, the fulfillment of it might come from one or more people who are being moved around like uninformed pawns on God's massive four-dimensional chessboard.
  
• Claim: God's presence is sensed directly during times of mass singing or praying or times of quiet contemplative solitude. Restriction may apply: The ease of sensing God's presence might vary depending on the follower's imagination, suggestibility, personality, mood, skill of visualization, and the level of distraction in their environment. It might be necessary to brush aside the fact that people can enter similar emotional states in nonreligious circumstances. Consistently getting the best results might require associating the psychological state to symbolic external cues, in the manner that Pavlov documented.
• Claim: The part of people that provides a sense of identity and makes decisions is a nonphysical soul that persists after the body stops functioning. Restriction may apply: No satisfying answer will be offered to the classic philosophical question of how to strictly define the boundaries and interactions between the nonphysical and physical domains. Meanwhile, experts of all areas except theology manage perfectly well without the concept of a soul. (A more interesting tactic would be to reject this claim and argue the doctrine that the whole bodies of the faithful dead will be resurrected/restored prior to entering heaven in the unspecified future.)

I'm aware that none of this is revolutionary news. And it's most clearly applicable to my former culture of typical U. S. evangelical Protestantism, a religious category that's losing relevance daily through its own efforts (albeit not without the political equivalent of a kicking and screaming tantrum). Nevertheless, I have faith in the worthwhileness of a passing reminder about exactly why the "sales pitch" wore thin for many of us and still occasionally grates on us now.