Intro


“Believe so you may understand.” — Augustine of Hippo.
Hey guys — I’m glad you’re here. This is The Way of the Fool, and today we’re going to talk about something we all wrestle with when it comes to Religion: faith.
What is faith?
Where should we place it?
And how can we tell the difference between the kind of faith that brings us closer to God… and the kind that leads us blindly into error?
In this episode, I want to explore faith not as submission, and not as naïve trust in authority — but as something alive. A kind of inner strength. A trust in the divine, and in the highest part of ourselves. One that grows through reflection, discernment, and inner work.
So let’s step back, take a breath, and ask: what does real faith look like — and where do you place yours?

Section 1: The Nature of Faith

Back in 1873, in his work Literature and Dogma, Matthew Arnold said the following:
“Faith is neither the submission of the reason, nor the acceptance, simply and absolutely upon testimony, of what reason cannot reach. Faith is: the being able to cleave to a power of goodness appealing to our higher self, not to our lower and apparent self.”
Let’s try to break down what he meant — starting with the word itself. As I’ve mentioned before, I like to begin with etymology, because while meanings can shift over time, the origin of a word often tells us why it exists in the first place.
The word faith comes from the Latin root fidere, meaning “to trust,” which in turn comes from the Proto-Indo-European root bheidh, meaning “to trust, confide, persuade.” This same root also underlies the Greek word for faith, pistis (πίστις), which in classical and biblical usage implies trust, belief, conviction, and fidelity. In the New Testament, pistis denotes not only belief in God but faithfulness to Him — a relational trust that implies loyalty, confidence, and commitment. It appears throughout the Gospels and early Christian writings.
This kind of faith — as trust, confidence, or reliance — is essential when it comes to Religion, which deals with realities that transcend our senses. And because of that, it lacks empirical evidence to back it up. But that doesn’t mean anything goes. Blind faith — the kind that refuses to ask questions or examine itself — may lead you further away from God, not closer.
The Buddha, in the Kalama Sutta, warned against following teachings blindly. He told his disciples: “Observe, reflect, test what you’re told. Accept only what agrees with reason, promotes good, and brings benefit to all.”
On a similar note, Pope St. John Paul II, in Fides et Ratio, wrote:
“Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth.”
In this way, reason and faith — two seemingly antagonistic entities — become two necessary and complementary tools in the quest for the highest truth.
So, if faith isn’t about blind acceptance, and it shouldn’t be in conflict with reason, then what?
Philosopher Immanuel Kant offers an important insight here. At the end of his Critique of Pure Reason, he famously writes:
“I had to deny knowledge in order to make room for faith.”
What he meant is this: reason alone cannot grasp ultimate realities like God, the soul, or the afterlife — because these lie beyond the limits of what can be empirically known. But even if we cannot know these things in the scientific sense, we must still be able to believe in them in order to live a moral life. For Kant, faith is not irrational — it is supra-rational. It begins where reason ends, but it does not contradict it. It completes it.
Augustine of Hippo said: Crede ut intelligas — “Believe so you may understand.” For him, faith is the starting point for the true understanding of divine truths. Later in life, he expanded on this, saying that once one achieves a deeper understanding, one is capable of believing more deeply.
Faith and reason should not compete with each other, but rather complement each other. Faith without reason becomes superstition, and reason without faith tends to lose its grounding. Without a metaphysical or spiritual anchor, reason tends towards mechanistic materialism — a worldview where everything is reduced to matter and motion. And mechanistic materialism, when taken to its logical end, leads to nihilism: the belief that life has no inherent meaning, purpose, or value.

Section 2: Where Do You Place Your Faith?

The critical questions are: Where should you place your faith? What should you trust? Who should you rely on?
If you place your faith in human beings, you are at their mercy. They may be good, well-intentioned individuals, genuinely concerned with your spiritual well-being — or they may convince you to cause great harm. Priests, gurus, and rabbis are like you: divine at the core, but human nevertheless.
Should you place faith in scripture? Remember, all holy texts were written down by humans. On top of that, most of the time you are reading a translation — or listening to the interpretation of a fallible individual (as we all are).
Should you place it in dogma? Certainly not. At best, religious concepts may serve as useful working theories. The good ones lead to a good life. But the wrong ones could lead to great harm — to others and to yourself. Nothing should be considered definite, infallible knowledge. At all times, we must remain aware that the limits of human understanding apply to every human being. If what we seek is ultimate truth, then the word dogma should be out of our vocabulary.
So, if no external source is entirely reliable, where should we place our faith? Who should we trust? Where should we place our confidence?
Here is where Arnold’s view and mine begin to drift — at least to a certain degree. In Arnold’s view, we should place our faith not in a personal creator, but in an impersonal moral force — in his own words,
“a power not ourselves that makes for righteousness.”
A force that represents the highest moral good we are capable of.
Moreover, Arnold wanted religion to be grounded in reason, conscience, and observable morality — rather than in dogma. So far, so good. However, Arnold also sought to preserve religion by stripping it of all metaphysical speculation. He believed metaphysical theology to be unintelligible and fruitless.
I agree that we should avoid dogma like the plague. But as Kant pointed out, reason and experience — or “observable morality” — are simply not enough. I agree that God is immanent — a moral force present within the human condition — but not limited to it.
In the words of W. Somerset Maugham:
“A god that can be understood is no God. Who can explain the infinite with words?”
God is immanent — deep within, at the core of our being, we are divine sparks with a direct connection with Him. Indeed, the source of our righteousness. But God necessarily transcends us and our understanding.
Your faith must ultimately rest in God and your inner self. The shortest route to God is within. However, to effectively reach within yourself, you must first cultivate your inner intuition — engage in study, contemplation, prayer, and meditation — while always keeping in mind your own fallibility. Place your trust in God, seeking His guidance as you connect with your inner self to discover who you truly are.
Faith must come from the integration of spiritual teachings with personal experience and critical reflection. Unlike blind faith, it must integrate reason and discernment. At the same time, having faith implies the acknowledgment of our ignorance and limitations. Trust is needed when you lack complete information; when you fully understand a process, faith becomes unnecessary — you simply act based on knowledge.

Section 3: Discernment and Divine Guidance

External sources may serve as guides, but they are neither perfect nor infallible. They can offer wisdom and direction, but your faith should be placed in God, not in any worldly authority. You may choose to have a priest, rabbi, guru, or teacher as a spiritual mentor — but you shouldn’t follow anyone blindly. Always remember: divine truth cannot be outsourced.
Discernment is a skill — and like any skill, it must be trained. Cultivate it through study, prayer, contemplation, meditation, and quiet reflection on sacred texts. Approach these practices with humility and an open heart. If you do this sincerely, you can begin to hear the voice that matters most.
As Jesus said:
“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” — John 10:27
That voice is not loud. It doesn’t shout. It speaks through conscience, through stillness, through sudden clarity or deep peace. To follow that voice — to truly listen — you must trust in the divine spark within you, and work to align it with the will of God. This requires humility, patience, and a sincere willingness to be wrong.
Have faith that with your effort and His guidance, God will help you remember your true nature and guide you toward the right path. If you practice a particular religion, then practice it with open eyes and a discerning heart. Examine everything you are told, and ask: Does this align with the highest good? Does this resonate with what I know to be true in the core of my being?
Remember: you are divine, and profound wisdom resides within you — but you are also human. Be aware of your limitations, and be ready to correct your course when necessary.
Be humble.
Mistakes are inevitable, but you can minimize them by seeking alignment between your cultivated intuition and your highest reasoning.
Faith that is guided by divine wisdom and illuminated by reason can lift us toward our highest potential. When you combine spiritual insight, critical reflection, and openness to God’s voice, your faith becomes not blind, but clear-eyed — not rigid, but alive.

Outro

Hey, thanks for tuning in.
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Remember, I’m just a fool on a journey, trying to separate the wheat from the chaff.
If you are too, welcome. Let’s walk together.