Conclusion
No essay can capture the subtlety and elusiveness of something as difficult and evolving as the decision to join, persist in, or leave a religion. Additionally, because I am a philosopher, I have expressed myself here in an intellectual manner, which might give the wrong impression about the role played in my decision by logic. That wrong impression might tempt the ardent among the Friends to try to poke holes in what I have suggested here, not realizing that these written thoughts are themselves just a fragmented representation of the full scope of what has been happening inside me, just as it would be for anyone undertaking such a large change in their lives.
I have been very critical here, no, extremely critical, but I want to reiterate that while I no longer believe that the Baháʼí Faith is completely true, I also do not believe it is completely false. And to be clear: I do not believe a religion needs to be completely true in order to be true, but it does matter greatly how it relates to truth. The problem with the Baháʼí Writings is that they want to be completely true. Worse, the Faith has been built, scripturally and sociologically, in such a fashion that, at least for the foreseeable future, genuinely reckoning with its limitations and incompleteness will be extremely difficult. And I do not mean just acknowledging the many fallibilities of the Baháʼís. The Friends always acknowledge these, but after a while doing so just becomes a way to hand-wave away the Faith’s fallibility; it also contributes to the shame-driven pursuit of self-perfection.
If there is a way out from this trap, I would hazard to predict that it must lie in the Writing’s own concept of progressive revelation, which impressed me deeply when I first encountered it in 2009 and still impresses me to this day. The concept presents all religion as a mix of perennial and historical elements, the latter being revisable under the inspiration or guidance of prophetic figures. The interesting thing, though, is that the perennial is also revisable, not in its essence, but in the exegetical frameworks and religious structures we craft to understand and channel it. This could mean that the Writings are revisable, although not literally; that option is foreclosed, and frankly, probably wisely so, as being able to actually alter the canon would lead to strife. I mean the exegetical spirit the Baháʼís bring to the Writings can be revised, which would be in many respects tantamount to revising the scriptures. The idea I have here is how many Christians and Muslims accept the limitations and incompleteness of their scriptures, but they still believe that components of these texts, as well the traditions and mythologies surrounding them, remain truthful. So, I am not suggesting that Baháʼís will one day start philosophizing about the Writings, but that they might engage more sincerely with what is actually vital and important in their scriptures, and might make hard decisions about what to prioritize.
I acknowledge that progressive revelation presents a cyclical view of religions, according to which they age and decay, until they are superseded by a new prophetic intervention. From this standpoint, religions like Christianity and Islam are undead zombies, precisely because they have needed to either ratchet up their commitment to the inerrancy of their scriptures, or commit to the arduous task of reconfiguring their exegetical frameworks so as to meet the needs and realities of a maturing planet. So, like many other things in the Faith, progressive revelation could end up harming Baháʼís, for the moment they might begin to think that they need to change their engagement with the Writings, they might also begin to feel anxiety that the religion is entering its death arc. Nevertheless, I know firsthand that thinkers like Benjamin Schewel have been developing robust understandings of progressive revelation, which gives me hope that the concept may end up empowering future believers to apply their reason to the Writings beyond the scope of implementation, and make the Faith flourish.
I have toyed with many scenarios that might compel a more realistic and healthier reinterpretation either in this vein or in a different way. Perhaps the Most Great Peace will come about and it will not be Baháʼí, but Christian, or Buddhist, or secular, or something else as-yet unimaginable; perhaps it may not come, at least not within the timespan prophesied in the scriptures; perhaps it is realized to be not even the kind of thing that ever should truly come, or that it is already here, and has always been here, within and around us. Or perhaps the Faith will succeed in achieving entry by troops, only to then be confronted with the challenges of success, as a tremendous plurality of personalities and cultures enter the community, and with them, radically different needs and understandings, such that the Baháʼís will have no choice but to re-examine the spirit of their exegesis or risk falling into factions like the other religions. Or perhaps we will see the rise of a post-humanity or appearance of an extraterrestrial intelligences that forces Baháʼís to choose between dogmatism or pragmatism. It could be something like these scenarios, or something else entirely.
Once more, I need to be careful about nuances here. It would be wrong of me to insist that, when and if such a revision comes to the Faith, that the Baháʼís will necessarily agree with me on all the points I have raised here and will begin to reinterpret the Writings in a way consistent with my desires. According to the way in which I am beginning to understand God, it might even be good if they do not do this. The God I believe in only wants them to sincerely and truthfully engage their selves, their souls and their scriptures, and to cease with the shame, the self-avoidance, the obsessive focus on action, the motivated reasoning. If a sincere engagement leads them to conclusions far beyond what I can foresee or agree with, then it will be as God wills it.
To close, I want to note that there are many things about the Baháʼí framework that I still find impressive, sympathize with or agree with, either wholesale or in degrees, too many to get into here. And I will always be grateful to the Faith for many things, such as my friends among the Friends, and that the Faith gave me an internal structure, a discipline, especially in the difficult years between when I joined in 2009 and when I walked the Camino de Santiago in 2014. Indeed, I still occasionally perform the short obligatory prayer — I performed it while writing the first draft of this essay! — and I will say “Ya Bahá’u’l Abhá” to myself when there is good news or something exciting, and moreover, I have no intention to ever stop these little legacies of my time as a Baháʼí.
Another example: I will also always be grateful to the Faith for the way in which it helped me detach from the clashing cultural and political narratives of today, to take an eagle’s eye view on everything happening right now. Because of the Baháʼí framework, I can see that there is really just a lot of fear, egotism and misshapen thinking masking itself as the Right, the Left, legal and philosophical frameworks, and more. If, as many suspect, history will one day look back at this period as an inflection point, then I cannot overstate the value of the Faith’s gift to me in terms of having greater precision and clarity of vision.
Finally, it bears repeating that so much of what is at stake here is perception and interpretation. With that in mind, and after everything is said and done, this much I feel in my bones to be true: I have changed, and I am not only permitted by the divine to change, but doing so is an expression of whatever mysterious purpose lies behind and within all of existence. And I do not believe that I have come to some new belief; rather, I feel as though I have come to grasp what I have always believed to be true since childhood and in the deepest parts of myself.
“Does not wisdom call out? Does not understanding raise her voice? At the highest point along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand; beside the gate leading into the city, at the entrance, she cries aloud: […] ‘The Lord brought me forth as the first of his works, before his deeds of old; I was formed long ages ago, at the very beginning, when the world came to be. […] I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence, rejoicing in his whole world and delighting in mankind. Now then, my children, listen to me; blessed are those who keep my ways.Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not disregard it.Blessed are those who listen to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway.For those who find me find life and receive favor from the Lord.But those who fail to find me harm themselves; all who hate me love death.’” — Proverbs 8
“Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.” — Augustine of Hippo, Confessions Book 10, Chapter 27
Spiritual Journalism 