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The
Dilemma of No Faith
By
Bill W.
Copyright
© AA
Grapevine, Inc, April 1961
The
phrase "God As We Understand Him" is perhaps the most important
expression to be found in our whole AA vocabulary. Within
the compass of these five significant words there can be
included every kind and degree of faith, together with the
positive assurance that each of us may choose his own. Scarcely
less valuable to us are those supplemental expressions -
"A Higher Power" and "A Power Greater Than Ourselves." For
all who deny, or seriously doubt a deity, these frame an
open door over whose threshold the unbeliever can take his
first easy step into a reality hitherto unknown to him -
the realm of faith.
In
AA such breakthroughs are everyday events. They are all
the more remarkable when we reflect that a working faith
had once seemed an impossibility of the first magnitude
to perhaps half of our present membership of three hundred
thousand. To all these doubters has come the great discovery
that as soon as they could cast their main dependence upon
a "higher power" - even upon their own AA groups - they
had turned that blind corner which had always kept the open
highway from their view. From this time on - assuming they
tried hard to practice the rest of the AA program with a
relaxed and open mind - an ever deepening and broadening
faith, a veritable gift, had invariably put in its sometimes
unexpected and often mysterious appearance.
We
much regret that these facts of AA life are not understood
by the legion of alcoholics in the world around us. Any
number of them are bedeviled by the dire conviction that
if every they go near AA they will be pressured to conform
to some particular brand of faith or theology. They just
don't realize that faith is never a necessity for AA membership;
that sobriety can be achieved with an easily acceptable
minimum of it; and that our concepts of a higher power and
God as we understand Him afford everyone a nearly unlimited
choice of spiritual belief and action.
How
to transmit this good news is one of our most challenging
problems in communication, for which there may be no fast
or sweeping answer. Perhaps our public information services
could begin to emphasize this all-important aspect of AA
more heavily. And within our own ranks we might well develop
a more sympathetic awareness of the acute plight of these
really isolated and desperate sufferers. In their aid we
can settle for no less than the best possible attitude and
the most ingenious action that we can muster.
We
can also take a fresh look at the problem of "no faith"
as it exists right on our own doorstep. Though three hundred
thousand did recover in the last twenty-five years, maybe
half a million more have walked into our midst, and then
out again. No doubt some were too sick to make even a start.
Others couldn't or wouldn't admit their alcoholism. Still
others couldn't face up to their underlying personality
defects. Numbers departed for still other reasons.
Yet
we can't well content ourselves with the view that all these
recovery failures were entirely the fault of the newcomers
themselves. Perhaps a great many didn't receive the kind
and amount of sponsorship they so sorely needed. We didn't
communicate when we might have done so. So we AA's failed
them. Perhaps more often than we think, we still make no
contact at depth with those suffering the dilemma of no
faith.
Certainly
none are more sensitive to spiritual cocksureness, pride
and aggression than they are. I'm sure this is something
we too often forget. In AA's first years I all but ruined
the whole undertaking with this sort of unconscious arrogance.
God as I understood Him had to be for everybody. Sometimes
my aggression was subtle and sometimes it was crude. But
either way it was damaging - perhaps fatally so - to numbers
of non-believers. Of course this sort of thing isn't confined
to Twelfth Step work. It is very apt to leak out into our
relationships with everybody. Even now, I catch myself chanting
that same old barrier-building refrain, "Do as I do, believe
as I do - or else!"
Here's
a recent example of the high cost of spiritual pride. A
very tough-minded prospect was taken to his first AA meeting.
The first speaker majored on his own drinking pattern. The
prospect seemed impressed. The next two speakers (or maybe
lecturers) each themed their talks on "God as I understand
Him." This could have been good, too, but it certainly wasn't.
The trouble was their attitude, the way they presented their
experience. They did ooze arrogance. In fact, the final
speaker got far overboard on some of his personal theological
convictions. With perfect fidelity, both were repeating
my performance of years before. Quite unspoken, yet implicit
in everything they said, was the same idea - "Folks, listen
to us. We have the only true brand of AA - and you'd better
get it!"
The
new prospect said he'd had it - and he had. His sponsor
protested that this wasn't real AA. But it was too late;
nobody could touch him after that. He also had a first class
alibi for yet another bender. When last heard from, an early
appointment with the undertaker seemed probable.
Fortunately,
such rank aggression in the name of spirituality isn't often
seen nowadays. Yet this sorry and unusual episode can be
turned to good account. We can ask ourselves whether, in
less obvious but nevertheless destructive forms, we are
not more subject to fits of spiritual pride than we had
supposed. If constantly worked at, I'm sure that no kind
of self-survey could be more beneficial. Nothing could more
surely increase our communication with each other and with
God.
Many
years ago a so-called "unbeliever" brought me to see this
very clearly. He was an M.D. and a fine one. I met him and
his wife Mary at the home of a friend in a midwestern city.
It was purely a social evening. Our fellowship of alcoholics
was my sole topic and I pretty much monopolized the conversation.
Nevertheless, the doctor and his lady seemed truly interested
and he asked many questions. But one of them made me suspect
that he was an agnostic, or maybe an atheist.
This
promptly triggered me, and I set out to convert him, then
and there. Deadly serious, I actually bragged about my spectacular
spiritual experience of the year before. The doctor mildly
wondered if that experience might not be something other
than I thought it was. This hit me hard, and I was downright
rude. There had been no real provocation; the doctor was
uniformly courteous, good humored and even respectful. Not
a little wistfully, he said he often wished he had a firm
faith, too. But plainly enough, I had convinced him of nothing.
Three
years later I revisited my midwestern friend. Mary, the
doctor's wife, came by for a call and I learned that he
had died the week before. Much affected, she began to speak
of him.
His
was a noted Boston family, and he'd been Harvard educated.
A brilliant student, he might have gone on to fame in his
profession. He could have enjoyed a wealthy practice and
a social life among old friends. Instead, he had insisted
on being a company doctor in what was a strife-torn industrial
town. When Mary had sometimes asked why they didn't go back
to Boston, he would take her hand and say, "Maybe you are
right, but I can't bring myself to leave. I think the people
at the company really need me."
Mary
then recalled that she had never known her husband to complain
seriously about anything, or to criticize anyone bitterly.
Though he appeared to be perfectly well, the doctor had
slowed down in his last five years. When Mary prodded him
to go out evenings, or tried to get him to the office on
time, he always came up with a plausible and good-natured
excuse. Not until his sudden last illness did she know what
all this while he had carried about a heart condition that
could have done him in at any moment. Except for a single
doctor on his own staff, no one had an inkling. When she
reproached him about this, he simply said, "Well, I could
see no good in causing people to worry about me - especially
you, my dear."
This
was the story of a man of great spiritual worth. The hallmarks
were plain to be seen: humor and patience, gentleness and
courage, humility and dedication, unselfishness and love
- a demonstration I might never come near to making myself.
This was the man I had chided and patronized. This was the
"unbeliever" I had presumed to instruct!
Mary
told us this story more than twenty years ago. Then, for
the first time, it burst in upon me how very dead faith
can be - when minus responsibility. The doctor had an unwavering
belief in his ideals. But he also practiced humility, wisdom
and responsibility. Hence his superb demonstration.
My
own spiritual awakening had given me a built-in faith in
God - a gift indeed. But I had been neither humble nor wise.
Boasting of my faith, I had forgotten my ideals. Pride and
irresponsibility had taken their place. By so cutting off
my own light, I had little to offer my fellow alcoholics.
At last I saw why many had gone away - some of them forever.
Therefore,
faith is more than our greatest gift; its sharing with others
is our greatest responsibility. So may we of AA continually
seek the wisdom and the willingness by which we may well
fulfill that immense trust which the Giver of all perfect
gifts has placed in our hands.
Copyright
© The A.A. Grapevine,
Inc., April 1961
In
practicing our Traditions, The AA Grapevine, Inc. has neither
endorsed nor are they affiliated with Silkworth.net.
The Grapevine®, and AA Grapevine® are registered
trademarks of The AA Grapevine, Inc.
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