You never cease to amaze and delight me.

Unfortunately, I've met few Russians who understand their culture as well as you do.

Rather, this idea of ​​non-resistance to suffering is not so much understood as experienced and accepted on a sensory level in Dostoevsky’s homeland.

Now to the language of the Declaration itself, it holds that rights are "inalienable" and this indeed suggests that they are clear to all men and women by virtue of reason - they are universals regardless of whatever tradition we encounter. — Colo Millz

You see, these ideas are good as a guarantee of protection against outside encroachment on any of these rights. Which turns out to be a huge fake. They claim you can live, and your life is sacred, but only as long as you live by the rules of respect for this very ideology. As soon as you start thinking or speaking outside this liberal paradigm, you're in big trouble.

The problem of modernity, as I see it, is somewhat different. It's that no one is supposedly encroaching on your freedom from everything, but in this aspiration, you can go so deep that the very need to be disappears. I mean to be someone—a father, a mother, a man, a woman.

And everyone sees this problem, or rather, feels it and names it in their own way, seeking salvation in tradition or reason.

The essence of my idea is that freedom from everything has ultimately turned out to be, perhaps, the stupidest of human creations.

However, there's no reason to worry. The lack of tradition will quickly be replaced by those other guys (with plenty of tradition), as I wrote yesterday – "bearded and with tambourines."

It's paradoxical, isn't it? Maybe the problem lies in anthropology? I'm referring to this greedy expansion of meanings.

I can't speak for everyone, but observing my own behavior, I've noticed that as soon as something is revealed to me, I immediately rush to share it. With loved ones or even on this forum. I think I'm not alone in this; otherwise, neither books nor even language would exist.

So, if we look at the situation using my utopian approach, we'll come back to the same thing.

People have had enough time to become smart and create something great, but apparently, the way we live now (including both the good and the bad, the struggle of ideas and the struggle of meanings) is the smartest possible way.

Your post quoting Hazony got me thinking about the context of his ideas. It seems to me that at the core of the conservative approach, like the progressive one, lies the desire to find a universal truth—some moral or political compass that could serve as a guide for all.

Our era of globalization reinforces this desire: in a world where borders are blurring, it seems logical to seek a single system of values ​​that could unite humanity. However, history shows that such attempts often lead to the expansion of some ideas at the expense of others, often through force, as with colonialism or ideological revolutions, or as continues today through the intervention of some states in others.

What if the problem lies in the question itself? What if the search for a single truth is the wrong goal? Instead of a hierarchical model where truth is imposed from above (be it tradition, as in Hazony, or the rational principles of the Enlightenment), one might propose considering a networked view of society.

In this model, meanings, values, and "truths" are formed locally—in communities, families, or even at the individual level. For example, each individual or group can create their own moral compass, which interacts with but is not subordinated to a single center. This would avoid the trap of universalism, preserving diversity and freedom.

My idea may be utopian and requires further refinement, but it suggests abandoning the construction of "pyramids"—whether traditional or rationalistic—and reconsidering the very approach to the formation of moral and political systems. What do you think about this shift in perspective?

A very interesting topic to ponder.

Basically, some empirical data suggests that our ancestors traditionally had a tail. Let's bring it back?

Traditionalism, rationalism, and other -isms, in my opinion, are always yet another attempt to bring order to the absurd. After all, it's much more comfortable to live with the idea that at the core of everything (the world around us) there's something—a purpose, a meaning, a purpose. When you proclaim communism, you discard traditionalism. Don't you think that nothing will fundamentally change? I'm referring to the replacement of one "belief" with another.

It's also worth noting that in recent years, traditionalism has indeed become very popular worldwide. This includes stuffing oneself into medieval costumes, forced celebration of holidays, ethnomusic, and so on. I see the answer in the human desire to find at least some kind of connection (especially something time-tested) in an era of blurring, deconstruction, and denial of everything. Traditionalists simply see the modern disappearance of all identity as an existential challenge for humanity itself.

Traditionalists may be called fools, but very soon, when our advanced societies enter a gradual decline due to our desire to erode all identity and tradition, we will see others rise up—with beards and tambourines—and rule.

Of course. But I'll be watching closely and waiting for you to slip up. :razz:

I was going to say earlier that for me, gratitude feels like an indebtedness to a mystery for this fragile state of good fortune, which could disappear in a nanosecond. — Tom Storm

Sorry, but I remain skeptical about your calling yourself an atheist.

I never got an answer to any of my questions.

Maimonides wrote that to try and explain the World to Come to a person in a body is like describing color to a person who is blind from birth. Likewise, when Rabbi Harold Kushner was once asked if he believed in the survival of the soul, he replied: “Yes, as a matter of faith, but I do not grasp what it means to be only a soul. For when I think of Harold I think of the voice that you are hearing and the person that I see in the mirror. I am not sure who Harold is without this body.”

it looks unambiguous

It's an interesting discrepancy: Etymologically, Latin "fides" means 'trust', but Slavic "vera" (related to Latin "verus") means 'truth'. — baker

I agree, this is truly interesting. Indeed, in Latin, veritas means truth. It turns out that, as a Slav, I understand both the word and the act itself in a very Western way. I'll definitely look into this, thank you. I wonder how this happened; perhaps it has something to do with the different understandings of the Roman and Constantinople churches? A very astute observation.

It's complex and varied, but rarely as central as it is to Christianity, largely because most of the effort is spent on halacha, or the understanding of the law that governs the day to day — Hanover

Thus, as far as I could tell from the cited articles, there is no mention of the life (or any kind of existence) of a separate soul after death, until the resurrection of the entire body. You must understand that I am unfamiliar with this religion and am literally starting from scratch.

The cited texts mention the soul, but they refer to it as something that lives in and alongside the body, emphasizing the soul's formation only during life (as in the example of the rabbi's answer that one should live longer to fulfill more commandments). It is also mentioned that you will be resurrected as the same person you died. Therefore, any formation outside of life is impossible.

Did I understand correctly?

During my university years, Aristotle's Rhetoric was my go-to book. Discussions about virtues literally remind me of it.

Unfortunately, as I mentioned above, today's society is such that pronouncing something like this publicly will invite ridicule and misunderstanding. And you have to be a fairly accomplished rhetorician to explain these values ​​to a contemporary audience through various techniques, appealing to the listeners' personal values, conveying ideas about "kindness," "honesty," and "caring."

Today, I was having a lunch conversation with a colleague of mine, born in 1995, who completely misunderstood my remarks about proper care for parents or simply human cooperation. The conversation went on for a long time, and eventually, of course, he agreed with me, recalling how he himself suffered from Covid alone in an apartment in a city of millions, with no one to give him water, simply because he chose individualism as a virtue (discourse does its job). And then, he agreed, almost in a whisper, hesitantly, so no one would hear. After all, it seemed rather strange, in his opinion.

It was a light conversation about "involvement," and I noticed how contradictory it fit with his ossified individualism, where the core value and highest good is "success at any cost."

Hence my words about how naive it all seems today. Although, of course, you were talking about something quite different, nonetheless, this experience struck me as a colorful example.

While I find your approach easily refutable (with your permission, I won't), I personally find it very relatable.

At the same time, it seems a bit outdated. It seems very sentimental and naive by today's standards. To me, these are very sound ideas, time-tested, but they're unlikely to interest anyone today. Unfortunately.

Could you please review this work of mine, taking into account your views? I would be incredibly interested. https://thephilosophyforum.com/discussion/16096/the-origins-and-evolution-of-anthropological-concepts-in-christianity

Likewise, is it not a fact that it is—at least all else equal—better for human to be strong rather than weak, agile instead of clumsy, intelligent instead of dim witted, courageous instead of cowardly, knowledgeable rather than ignorant, prudent instead of rash, possessing fortitude instead of being weak of will, healthy instead of sick, etc.? — Count Timothy von Icarus

I can give at least one example where it's not necessarily better for a person to be strong: For example, if your community is taken over by another, the strong are more likely to be killed or sent to the quarry than the weak. Similarly, a clever person will overconfidently leap over a chasm and is more likely to die than a clumsy one. Similarly, a "smart" person, relying on their intellectual superiority, will boldly (trusting their knowledge) rush to do what a fool would hesitate to do. Although the concept of "smart" isn't as simple as it seems—perhaps a smart person doesn't trust their knowledge.

Here I would like to conclude that the more universals there are, the more opinions there are, and the more differences there are. Some will say that prostitution is a good thing (especially considering how many rapes are prevented thanks to prostitution), while others will say it's a bad thing (especially considering how many diseases are transmitted).

In my opinion, the aesthetics of ethics lies in our ability to constantly choose different approaches, change our perspectives, and rethink.

It's funny, but I just criticized the idea of ​​the good and then involuntarily proclaimed a new good, which consists in becoming.

In particular, faith is not a lonely, individualistic venture necessarily, but Judaism sees it as communal. — Hanover

I've been thinking about your words for several days now. Unfortunately, my knowledge of Judaism is very superficial, but the facts you cited were already familiar to me.

It never ceases to amaze me how a religion that grew out of Judaism later became so different from it.

This must be a very interesting topic to study. Can you recommend some literature on Judaism for someone raised in the Christian paradigm (something descriptive and more scholarly)?

Each new approach, whether naturalistic or otherwise, adds another voice to the polyphony of ideas, heightening the sense of "splitness." Authors attempting to construct comprehensive systems or substantiate moral and epistemological principles often find that their efforts merely highlight the pluralism of modern thought. And each new work only exacerbates this.

A paradox of modernity, if you will.

And yet, each individual's aspirations seem immaculate. Each of us (probably) wants to make a creative contribution, resolve contradictions, or add clarity. But what emerges is only more questions (upon closer examination).

And here's another thing. Of course, I don't like all the themes here on the forum. "Too simple," "Too dreary," "Too idealized." And I'm certainly not the only one. My themes may also be disliked or oversimplified. What do we do in that case? We simply pass them by, because they don't concern us. But here's the thing: in this passing by, there's no act of "genuine encounter." The theme flies by like a surfer on a wave. There's no contact, no interaction. It feels as if someone held a fish: all that's left is slime on the hand.

And this is already an idea, and I postulate it: something is born only in the act of encounter. If there's no roughness that leaves a trace, then there's no act itself and nothing at all. Non-existence. Nothing. No immersion, no participation. There's nothing further.

It's like a meteor flying past the earth: it burns out beautifully and vanishes just like that, compared to some meteor that hit the earth, which left a mark, forced development, forced the rebuilding of what had been destroyed. The meteor may have brought misfortune, but it "was." And here's my assertion: Being is born in the act of encounter. I call this characteristic "involvement."

And please, break this.

While it's true that theorizing should be constrained by conjecture, we don't know where the next correct idea in abstraction might arise. Without it, we might still be doing calculus on an abacus. — ucarr

I'd like you to grasp the difference. This wasn't an attack on your theoretical ideas, but rather an attempt to highlight the lack of content (in my opinion) in them.

That is, look, X can be expressed in an infinite number of ways in mathematics. This constitutes a certain aesthetics of equality. Many topics, including my own, are about this. I, too, am guilty of re-expressing X, and I consider this special (after all, I made it up).

However, this is called iteration for the sake of iteration. It has no content, and it certainly doesn't compare to Hegel or Einstein. Transcending limits begins when you postulate X = X + 1! And then you write three hundred pages of justification for it. If these truths of yours contained even something like that, I would think twice. If they also contained justification, I would think even more. But these truths contain nothing. And it's not that I'm perfect myself and am teaching here the right way. It's just that when you keep throwing the same judgments around in circles (like water with a spoon in a bathtub), there's no real breakthrough. Throw in some food coloring, salt, or potatoes—now that's some kind of soup. Justify why you can eat it for breakfast—now that's an idea.

Again, please forgive my bluntness. I don't mean to offend your feelings, but I want substance!

And I expect the same criticism directed at me, and I would be very happy to receive it.

Sorry, but I haven't seen a single non-speculative statement here. So far, it looks like a collection of idealistic assertions adorned with the purple of modernity.

"We are homosexual at an early age" – why is that suddenly true?

"AI, becoming humanoid, will soon support the fluidity of all races and genders" – why is that?

"Do I wear my seatbelt?" – when I'm sleeping, no; when I'm driving, yes; when I'm driving and sleeping, I wear my seatbelt.

I'm also a semi-academic philosopher, but I'm still on my way to becoming one. In my opinion, a child can utter a philosophical formula that rivals a master in its content, but academic philosophy is more about rigorous explanation. I believe some philosophers are so engrossed in this that it's unbearable to read. For example, Heidegger is wonderful, but unbearable to read. His ideas are magnificent, but formulate them in three or four paragraphs and something that makes them "philosophical" evaporates.

For me, philosophizing means living within a philosophical paradigm, constantly asking myself questions, constantly critiquing my own ideas, and constantly consulting with people, the participants of this forum, authors of philosophical works, and even AI.

So the very pursuit of philosophy is philosophy itself, but it requires the use of tools for purity of thought. For myself, I define philosophy as "astonishment before the self-evident."

Truth Defined — ucarr

So you've determined the truth. Great. Now what do you do with all this?

It's like an exercise in the aesthetics of symmetry and transformation that remains at the level of abstract contemplation. You wrap basic arithmetic in a poetic veneer, calling it the "dynamism of identity" and the "emergent property of truth," but what's next?

Mathematics already provides us with tools for describing such patterns, and they don't require such a flowery rethinking. In other words, you take a simple mathematical truth (a + b = c means c - b = a) and inflate it into a metaphysical concept without explaining how this expands our understanding of the world. The approach resembles an attempt to reinvent the wheel, but in a decorative form. Where is the breakthrough beyond what is already known?

It's always like this: as soon as you believe in something, a philosopher appears and crumbles it all to dust.

Faith translates into Russian as "VERA."
And it's a very broad concept. It encompasses both a female name and the feeling and concept of a vast number of Russian philosophers and writers who have attempted to understand this word. There's no consensus on this. As a native speaker of Slavic languages, I think you're probably familiar with all of this.

I myself use this word to describe my sense of aspiration toward the transcendental, which is impossible to comprehend, know, or justify.

I like your approach: it reminds me of one of my academic advisors at university. It went like this: I would come to him with my essay, he would read it, scribble it down, and he wouldn't like everything: it wasn't expressed well enough, the evidence wasn't right, there was a retreat into unnecessary explanations. Ultimately, this encouraged me to return to the main concept of the work every time and analyze, recheck, and rewrite. Ultimately, he still didn't like what I brought back. I was at a loss until one day I realized that he liked my concept and my train of thought, he liked the main idea, it was just that my technique was really lacking at the time. Over time, I learned, and our work together was very fruitful. It's the same here. I see that you agree with the concept itself, but my technical execution is often lacking. I see that. Sometimes I generalize too much, sometimes I add more sensuality and emotion than necessary. But wait. I like it! I enjoy it, so why not continue? This isn't a place for defense, but for human dialogue. And your criticism is also appropriate and pleasant, but I couldn’t help but remember my story from the past.

Thanks again, I've studied the links you provided.
When writing the text, I used linguistic differences as an illustration to show that being is not necessarily a fixed entity ("substantia"). I used this chapter as an introduction to the main body of the work, where linguistic differences help us see being as a process, a becoming, a network of interactions.
The linguistic examples are not intended to imply that one language cannot be translated into another or that languages ​​create insurmountable gaps in thinking or worldviews. I am also a supporter of the "weak" Sapir-Whorf theory. Here, the goal was to show how linguistic structures highlight different aspects of being, which allows us to rethink the concept itself. This is not about linguistic barriers, but about philosophical potential.
Your remark about "being" as a gerund reinforces the thesis that even in English, "being" carries a connotation of process, not just essence. And that's wonderful. It's a shame it's been somewhat forgotten.

Great, thank you, I'll check it out first and come back later.

Don't take this as flattery, but reading your comments, as well as , gives me a special vibe. It's an almost mystical feeling of warmth and kindness.

I don’t think you would be considering these questions of how to present God and religion to your children, if you did not recognize potential good value and truth coming from religion. If you believed in your heart that religion was clearly a net bad, you couldn’t have this issue at all. Am I right about that? — Fire Ologist

Of course, you're right. Although I don't like to talk about it, I'm constantly on the razor's edge. I've seen examples of both deep religiosity and atheism within my own family. That's why I really liked Kierkegaard's ideas. I seem to be constantly seeking a balance between these two phenomena, naturally in my striving for God. Thanks to this philosopher, I can now call this feeling faith. Because, as he states, "...faith is not absolute certainty or knowledge..."

Regarding the religious upbringing of children, I tend to agree with you. After all, I'm an adult, and religion hasn't done anything bad to me. This may not be a particularly representative sample, but it's my "pravda."

My children are baptized, of course, but I don't insist on hammering ideas and postulates into their heads; when I bring them to church, I try to give them something to experience on their own.

Thus, I resolved the “preacher’s paradox” for myself – after all, I am inclined to believe that I share responsibility for the future of my children.

So, I took a short pause before giving a thoughtful response. I really enjoyed your post. As far as I understand, you're proposing a more integrated model of faith and knowledge, one where the paradox is resolved through a redefinition of concepts.

We all know that “certain” knowledge is aspirational. We all know that we know nothing certain. So, we should always qualify our “knowledge” claims with “at least that is what I believe to be the case.” All scientific knowledge is subject to future falsification. — Fire Ologist

Here I partially agree. Everything we call knowledge (including in the scientific sense) is ultimately based, to some extent, on belief. None of us possesses absolute knowledge in any field, science, or judgment. We possess knowledge that is sufficiently justified (for us). Knowledge that is sufficiently justified (for us) is everything that a person accepts as true and acts upon (including both rationality and belief). Sufficiently justified knowledge, however, includes both a rational (verifiable) component and an unverifiable component.

I agree with this statement.
Expressed mathematically, this formula would be roughly as follows:

[Sufficiently justified (for the subject) knowledge] minus [Rational knowledge] equals [Faith]

In Russian, there is a special word for "sufficiently justified (for the subject) knowledge" – "pravda." In everyday speech, we say, "This is my pravda"—that is, it is how I reasonably believe, based on rational and irrational judgments, and act in accordance with it. Example: someone who says, "My pravda is that the Egyptians built the pyramids" expresses their reasonably well-founded knowledge, based on archaeological evidence (the rational part) and the decision to stop doubting (faith). This is their "pravda," which motivates them to take action (for example, writing articles or teaching). In Russian, there's also the word "istina" (truth), which is equivalent to "truth" in English. But the concept of "pravda" (truth) is not the same as "truth" (truth), although translators will translate it that way. There are many other cultural features associated with Pravda that I thought you might find interesting, and that are relevant to our discussion.

However, I would like to clarify your answer in another part:

The difference between what religious faith is and what scientific knowledge is has to do with what justification is employed. It’s not a difference that creates this preacher’s paradox. The preacher has to remain logical and provide evidence and make knowledge claims, just like any other person who seeks to communicate with other people and persuade them.

So really, there is no difference in the mind between a religious belief and a scientific belief - these are objects someone knows. They are both knowledge. The difference has to do with what counts as evidence, and the timing of when one judges enough evidence and logic have been gathered and applied, and it is time to assert belief and to act. — Fire Ologist

In the previous text, I distinguished between the concepts of rational knowledge and faith. So, when it comes to religion, the part I called faith is dogmatized and not subject to criticism. When it comes to science, the part of our judgment that I call faith is presupposed, but can be refuted. This resonates with Popper's ideas.

That is, you and I, as educated people with a scientific bent, can debate this or any other topic, but our discussion has the potential to evolve: I can agree with you; you can agree with me; we can come to something new together. But this is completely impossible when it comes to intra-dogmatic discussion.

Returning to our paradox, which you've certainly mitigated with your judgment: the paradox still exists. If dogmas were subject to revision, that would be fine, I'd agree with you, but dogmas are not subject to revision (that's what religion is for). Therefore, I conclude that the paradox remains.

I think cultural context is important here. Where I live, belief in God, or following a religion is very rarely talked about, or raised. There is a general sense of either a soft deism, or soft atheism. With most people never giving it any thought. My approach might have been different were we living in a more religious society. — Punshhh

My situation is a little different from yours. My city is at the intersection of cultures, paradigms, and ideas (Chinese approaches, Russian (Christian) narratives, Islamic beliefs, traditional values, blurred by Western individualism in a society where everyone both cares and doesn't care about each other). This explains the many questions I have.

I'm actually out for a few days. I just wanted to submit my responses. — Leontiskos

It's a shame, everything was going so well.

Actually, I want to thank you for your comments. I wanted to take a break to think things over before replying, but my urge to turn up the heat a little got the better of me…

This topic is very personal and important to me (as I’ve shown above), and I truly appreciate any point of view.

In general I think you need to provide argumentation for your claims, and that too much assertion is occurring. Most of your thesis is being asserted, not argued. For example, the idea that all preachers are trying to make their listeners believe mere ideas is an assertion and not a conclusion. The claim that the preacher is engaged in infecting rather than introducing is another example. — Leontiskos

Well, since you haven't yet reached the point of presenting the truths (you're probably still warming up), it seems entirely reasonable to deepen your criticism.

So, by accusing my topic of unjustified assertions, you've forgotten the interrogative nature of this post. As with all my other posts, by the way. So here, too, I asked, "What do you think of this cut?"—as if scalping the object of study. On the other hand, by calling the sermon "infection," I used a very vivid metaphor that perfectly aligns with my convictions: faith develops within a person, but begins with a seed (which enters from outside). And I emphasize this once again—faith develops within the subject!

I'm passing on my other "unproven assertions" as a sharing of my experience, which I always include a footnote to.

I hope you've warmed up and are ready to continue the dialogue in a positive manner?

I've already realized that your judgments are rooted in emotion, but asserting something false requires the speaker to possess the truth.

The ideas I've presented are a somewhat in-depth discussion of Kierkegaard (as I understand him). However, since you possess the truth, it's my duty to inquire about it. Not in a negative way (that is, through negation), but in a free, positive expression.

So please reveal the truth to us!

This is the dilemma I’m pointing out in my response. We might know him, but deny him, or find ourselves to be blind to him. If we analyse what is being described in the bible. Interesting things are being described in ways which indicate something not normally known about in our day to day lives. So when God arrives, all the creatures of the world lift their heads, turn to him and say his name; — Punshhh

You and I have quite similar ideas, apparently. I can only add to this from Kierkegaard: faith is silent.

I encountered the preacher's paradox in my everyday life. It concerns my children. Should I tell them what I know about religion myself, take them to church, convince them, or leave it up to them, or perhaps avoid religious topics altogether?

I don't know the right way. I don't know anyone who knows. I'm the father. I'm responsible for them (that's my conviction).

I keep trying to agree with this, but I can’t. :wink: — Tom Storm

Excellent! This is a source of fertile discussion.

The argument assumes that fully understanding an idea is a moral prerequisite for sharing it. Isn't it the case that human communication and learning relies precisely on partial understanding and the exchange of ideas that are still fully formed?

I also wonder how you can successfully “infect” another if you don’t have the germ of an idea in the first place (forgive the pun).

As I said earlier, much education and exchange of ideas happens precisely this way; through the sharing of incompletely understood notions.

Morality itself seems a good example. Most of us learn to do and not to do certain things without having a fully articulated sense of right and wrong, and without being properly explained why a given thing is right or is wrong. The lessons aren’t any less useful simply because they’re incompletely understood by our parents or teachers.

I hold any number of beliefs and views that I don’t fully understand, but that doesn’t make them any less useful. — Tom Storm

It's all logical; this rhetorical technique is called "reduction to absurdity." The point is: remember the example of the father and son with the stolen bicycle? Responsibility. That's the point! Teach me whatever you want, I'm willing to do it, but compensate me for all the risks of negative consequences of following your teaching.

The exchange of ideas between people is something entirely different: for example, between you and me. It's the engine of progress. But there's a different nuance: we exchange premises (often with a note of subjectivity) and don't insist on the truth of our ideas or judgments. Although, of course, there are people who completely understand this world and do nothing but share their truth with everyone and know how everyone should live (but we also consider such behavior unethical, don't we?)

I think the idea that the preacher testifies is essentially correct. How does Moses preach in a fundamental way? By the light of his face, which reflects the light of God. He covers it to protect those who are dazed by it, but the covering still attests to Moses' stature. — Leontiskos

As an example, I'll give a few hypothetical judgments:

1. The Sistine Chapel ceiling is beautiful because I've seen it.
2. The Sistine Chapel ceiling is beautiful because I imagine it.
3. The Sistine Chapel ceiling is beautiful because everyone says so.
4. The Sistine Chapel ceiling is beautiful because Michelangelo worked on it.
5. The Sistine Chapel ceiling is beautiful because it encompasses diverse themes, has a harmonious color palette, and is thought-provoking.

Question: Which of these judgments conveys the speaker's belief that the Sistine Chapel ceiling is beautiful, or proves it? The answer is neither. In reality, a representative of a non-Christian religion, for example, could enter the chapel and not like the ceiling at all. Language is incapable of exhaustively expressing subjective experience: "What cannot be spoken of, one must remain silent about." Preaching (especially expansive preaching) is about instilling an idea, igniting an inner fire so that the listener can then find confirmation or experience it for themselves.

And here a paradox arises: infecting another person with an idea you don't fully understand yourself, or are naively convinced of, without sharing the responsibility for following it, seems unethical. This lies in the content of the opening message of this thread.

So long as the recipient understands that the conveyance of faith is only a shadow and a sign, there is no danger. — Leontiskos

If they understand it, they probably don't believe it.

This is a wonderful answer (I'm just emotional right now), and frankly, I expected something like this when I started this thread. Give me a couple of days to think about everything you've written. Thank you so much.

It really doesn't help if the first thing people imagine upon hearing "authoritarian" is Stalin or Mao or Hitler. — baker

As I noted above, you're confusing authoritarianism with totalitarianism.

And here's the thing: it seems that for people within the Western metadiscourse paradigm, authoritarianism and totalitarianism are synonymous. They both connote something "vile" and "contrary" to the values ​​of liberalism.

I'm not talking about you now, since I have no idea who you are, where you're from, or what your views are. But you've given me an interesting thought. Thank you.

Perhaps we would recognise God, this presumes that we have already formed an image, or idea of God. Something that we have developed a faith in. But what if this image doesn’t match the God before us? Does our strength of faith carry us past this doubt, until we can accept God? — Punshhh

Here's the thing: by creating any image of God in our heads, we're trying to fit something into our heads that's incomprehensible, a priori. This is convenient for us, since it corresponds to our ways of knowing everything. But in this case, we're dealing with something that's impossible to fit into our heads, to know, or to create an image of. Feeling, experiencing, and sensing—I think it's possible.

And perhaps people are a bit confused here: after all, red is impossible to describe, but it can be imagined. God, however, is impossible to imagine, describe, or comprehend.

I'm inclined to believe that if we meet Him, we'll certainly recognize Him.

No, rather, the point is that I've met many people who call themselves believers who don't possess even the slightest degree of the ethicality that permeates every one of your answers.

The average person, unable to justify ethics other than through religious imperatives, is nowhere near as honest. But you, calling yourself an atheist, therefore have reasonable ethical foundations. Now I'll ask you to provide them, as they are very valuable to me.