BY SOFO ARCHON
When I was a teenager, I had a teacher who taught religion class. She was a devout Christian and deeply believed in the teachings of Jesus. She often quoted passages from the New Testament about love and the importance of spreading kindness, and frequently spoke of humanity’s urgent need to unite and work together for a brighter future, emphasizing that our alienation from one another lay at the root of the troubling times we face.
When she taught Christianity, she was overflowing with joy. Her job, however, was not just to teach Christianity but also to cover the world’s major religions, including Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism—subjects she clearly did not enjoy. Whenever she taught traditions other than Christianity, she was dismissive of them. In her view, Christianity was the ideologically superior faith, and she discouraged us from studying other religions in any depth. She went so far as to try to persuade us that all religions apart from Christianity were not to be taken seriously. She even claimed they were evil and resorted to fear-mongering tactics to keep us away from them.
For instance, she would tell us that those who did not abide by Christian dogma would end up in hell—a belief common among fundamentalist Christians. Yet no matter how hard she tried, I couldn’t be convinced, unlike many of my classmates. Was it because I was raised by non-religious parents, or was there something terribly wrong with me? I wasn’t sure. One thing was certain: none of her claims about the superiority of Christianity made any sense to me.
As a child, I had a curious mind and an inquiring spirit. The problem was that I also had a loud mouth and often voiced my opinions, even when they contradicted authority. I remember one day presenting to my teacher what I believed were solid arguments against dogmatic religion. Instead of responding with counterarguments, she told me I was not mature enough to understand the essence of Christianity, adding that reason could never grasp it since it was faith-based. I didn’t see this as a legitimate answer, so I continued pressing my case. To my surprise, her face turned red, she began yelling, and she eventually expelled me from class because, as she later explained, she felt offended by my “anti-Christian” attitude.
That day, I wondered: Is this the same person who had just taught us about the power of love and unity? How could she preach such lofty ideals while acting in exactly the opposite way? I was utterly perplexed, and it wasn’t until years later that I realized this kind of contradiction is far more common than I had once imagined.
Since then, I have had the opportunity to learn about people from a wide range of religious traditions. One striking pattern I have noticed is that those who most fervently believe in religious dogma often behave paradoxically. On one hand, they preach love, compassion, and unity—the core teachings of nearly every religion. On the other hand, they frequently act in ways that are hateful, competitive, and inhumane, especially toward those who do not share their beliefs. In other words, they are often the least likely to practice what they preach.
But why is this so? What could explain this curious psychological phenomenon? To my understanding, it is an almost inevitable outcome of becoming attached to any ideology, religious or otherwise. When you accept a particular ideology as the sole truth and place so much faith in it that you support and follow it unquestioningly—even when facts contradict your beliefs—your capacity to think reasonably and act responsibly diminishes. In that fanatical, blinded state of mind, you identify so strongly with the belief system that any opposition feels like a personal threat. You come to believe that when your ideology is attacked, you yourself are under attack. As a psychological defense mechanism, you then become willing to do almost anything to protect both your ideology and, by extension, yourself.
When existential fear is coupled with irrationality, the result can be nothing but destructive and nonsensical. Consider, for example, the suicide attacks carried out by Jihadists, who blow themselves up, injuring and killing countless people in the name of God. Reflect, too, on the historical practice of Sati in India, where Hindu widows were often forced to immolate themselves on their husband’s funeral pyre, believing this would prove their devotion and virtue to God and society. Or think of the witch hunts of Early Modern Europe, when tens of thousands of women were tortured, burned, or hanged by so-called Christians who believed they were servants of the Devil. In all these cases, fanatic religious believers sincerely thought that through such violent actions, they were serving God and contributing to the betterment of humanity.
In the case of my religion school teacher, her behavior toward me was obviously not as destructive as the examples mentioned above, but it was essentially of the same nature. Her firm belief that her religious ideology represented absolute truth prevented her from engaging in any constructive dialogue about Christianity. To protect her beliefs from criticism, she discouraged students from raising arguments—and when they did, she attempted to silence them, either by claiming they had no understanding of the subject or, in extreme cases, by expelling them from class. Regardless of how harshly she behaved, in her mind she was acting in the best interest of her students, convinced that she was genuinely motivated by “love.” Trapped in her dogmatic worldview, she could neither recognize the extent of her cognitive dissonance nor fully grasp the consequences of her actions.
These examples show that it is unwise to judge a person’s ethics solely by their words, beliefs, or ideals. Instead, we should focus on their actions and draw conclusions about their character from them. No matter how eloquently someone speaks of God, love, or compassion, it is ultimately their behavior that matters. I once read a quote that struck a chord in my heart: “Oftentimes, the nicest people you meet are covered in tattoos, and oftentimes the most judgmental people you meet go to church on Sundays.” How true that statement is! Often, those whom society labels as “bad” have the warmest hearts, while those who seem to embody the cultural ideal of a “good” person are frequently the most egotistical and judgmental.
People tend to quickly label others and judge them based on their prejudices. “They are non-believers; therefore, they must be immoral, evil individuals,” I’ve heard theists say about atheists. I’ve also heard atheists speak in a similar way about theists: “They believe in God; therefore, they must be ignorant morons.” To me, it doesn’t matter whether you call yourself an atheist, Christian, Muslim, Capitalist, Communist, Libertarian, Conservative, or anything else—what matters is how the ideology you hold in dear faith shapes your thought patterns and, in turn, your daily behavior. Does it improve your quality of life and the well-being of the world you live in? If so, that’s fine. If not, you would be wise to reconsider it.
The sad truth, however, is that the more attached someone becomes to an ideology, the harder it is to objectively assess the consequences of their dogmatic beliefs. Personally, I have chosen not to identify with any particular religious, philosophical, political, or other ideology. This choice does not stem from a lack of interest in knowledge—on the contrary, I am deeply enthusiastic about cultivating a comprehensive, multi-dimensional understanding of reality.
I find that adhering to a single ideology only limits one’s perspective on life. Reality is multi-faceted, and attachment to a specific set of beliefs narrows our attention to a small fragment, causing us to overlook the bigger picture. The more open we are to diverse opinions and perspectives, the more we can grow in intelligence and deepen our understanding. So why would I want to confine my mind to any single ideology? Of course, by being “open,” I don’t mean blindly accepting what others present as truth. I mean being willing to consider ideas different from your own while applying critical thinking to reach your own conclusions.
Although I enjoy studying and learning from all kinds of traditions and schools of thought, I don’t accept anything on faith alone. I always apply my reasoning, retaining only the ideas that resonate with me and help me lead a better life, while discarding those that do not contribute to my well-being, regardless of the ideology from which they come. For example, I have discovered pearls of wisdom in all the major religious scriptures, but I have also encountered disturbing or nonsensical teachings that I would never embrace or practice merely because they are considered holy by certain religious groups.
In addition, aware that actions speak louder than words, I don’t try to impose my opinions on others. Instead, I focus on leading by example, knowing that this is the only way I can genuinely influence those around me. I make a conscious effort to be mindful of my actions and take responsibility for their consequences. I am careful not to conform to unconscious belief systems, and whenever others attempt to mold my life into a predetermined form, I resist in order to preserve my freedom.
Sometimes I imagine a world where people don’t judge each other based on superficial differences, but instead celebrate everyone’s uniqueness. A world where people don’t fight to prove themselves right and others wrong, but instead exchange ideas peacefully to learn and grow in wisdom. A world where people are willing to reconsider their beliefs and ask new questions, rather than remain trapped in ideological prisons. A world where people are unafraid to stand up against oppression and seek greater freedom, instead of following a predetermined path imposed by authority.
Imagine such a world—wouldn’t it be far more beautiful?
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