The Red Pill Blues

Transitioning from unshakable belief to total skepticism, and from firm convictions to practical realism, I am a millennial who swallowed the red pill, only to discover a longing for an “Unsee” button. As a millennial grappling with an identity crisis, I spent most of my adult years torn between defining myself exclusively through the lens of my faith at one end of the spectrum, and striving to be a global citizen without the constraints of labels at the other end. After two years of research, dialogue, and critical analysis, paired with the media’s relentless efforts to expose the dark and often violent aspects of various religious texts (and history), I find myself confronted with a faltering faith. The shift from faith to skepticism, whether perceived as enlightenment or ingratitude, is a tantalizing process that requires a thorough reevaluation — and often, an overhaul — of one’s worldview. In a nutshell, it weakens our primary coping mechanism for handling the really bad lemons that life throws our way every once in a while.

For the devout, loss of faith usually unfolds gradually, starting with a subtle persistent thought in the rational part of the brain, that acts as a Trojan horse of doubt. This thought can be philosophical in nature (e.g., why did God stop sending messengers in modern times when we need Him the most? Why did God create suffering?), or it can be theological (e.g. why are there contradictions and scientific discrepancies in holy books that are supposedly sent by an all-knowing creator?). It may range from benign curiosity to pointed skepticism, giving rise to a multitude of contentious “Really?!” questions that often seem unanswerable. The thought transpires into doubt, and as doubt grows, individuals may begin to question and critically analyze their beliefs, playing the devil’s advocate while holding nothing back. And while some choose to remain devout, many others witness the gradual dissolution of their once-blind conviction through a series of seemingly trivial questions and concerns. As they delve deeper into various aspects of religion, such as theology, history, philosophy, and morality, they encounter numerous red flags that ultimately lead to the acceptance of a narrative in which religions are (likely) man-made. This is the moment when faith slips away, much like death by a thousand cuts.

Volumes could be written on the challenges and future predicaments awaiting those who have recently lost their faith without finding a persuasive alternative, but I’ll keep it brief. It’s crucial to acknowledge first that hundreds of millions of happy, fulfilled, morally responsible people with no faith, already exist in developed countries, so the issue lies in the process of losing faith, not in the absence thereof. Similar to any significant loss humans face, navigating the grieving process of losing your faith and religious identity is difficult, chaotic, and emotionally taxing. For instance, your current grieving process as you know it, must undergo a dramatic shift in narratives now that the promise of heavenly reunions with loved ones in the afterlife is uncertain. You see, the very notion of an afterlife reunion, the idea that a departed cherished one is basking in the spiritual abundance of heaven, is what grounds religious people when they experience such profound loss. Losing this coping mechanism is deeply unsettling, leaving you feeling ungrounded and vulnerable for a time. Then, you may start to feel estranged from your loved ones, especially when they expect to exchange mutual reassurances in matters of faith, or when their actions remind you that religious decrees and allegiances often trump family bonds and connections. Estrangement evolves into some kind of longing, and once you distance yourself from those you love, everything turns gray — for a while though, and certainly not forever.

At the end of the day, as we choke down the red pill, is its harsh awakening a necessary burden, or are we just masochists in search of our next existential crisis?