From Essays After Montaigne
Of simple, lesse-curious, and least-instructed spirits are made good Christians; who simply believe through reverence and obedience, and are kept in awe of the lawes. In the meane vigor of spirits, and slender capacitie is engendered the error of opinions. They follow the apparance of the first sense, and have some title to interpret it foolishnesse and sottishnesse, that we are confirmed in ancient waies respecting us that are nothing therein instructed by study. The best, most-settled, and clearest-seeing spirits make another sort of well-beleevers, who by long and religious investigation, penetrate a more profound and find out a more abstruse light in scriptures, and discover the mysterious and divine secrets of our ecclesiastical policie. And therefore see we some of them that have reached unto this last ranke, by the second, with wonderfull fruit and confirmation, as unto the furthest bounds of Christian intelligence, and enjoy their victorie with comfort, thanksgiving, reformation of manners, and great modesty. In which ranke my purpose is not to place these others who to purge themselves from the suspicion of their forepassed errors, and the better to assure us of them, become extreme, indiscreet, and unjust in the conduct of our cause, and tax and taint the same with infinite reproaches of violence. The simple peasants are honest men, so are philosophers (or as our time nameth them, strong and cleare natures), enriched with a large instruction of profitable sciences. The mongrell sort of husbandmen, who have disdained the first forme of ignorance of letters, and could never reach unto the other (as they that sit betweene two stooles, of which besides so many others I am one) are dangerous, peevish, foolish, and importunate, and they which trouble the world most.
At nearly 2:00 in the morning, I was awake, desperately trying to distract myself from the searing pain in my infected ear (both painful and disgusting) that took over the whole of my consciousness whenever I lay my head down to rest. Bored and fidgety, I got up and switched a couple of times through the hundreds of channels that Time Warner Digital now offers. Aside from being shocked (maybe even offended) at the number of times the dark room was filled with the pinkish golden glow of exposed flesh--from trashy Cinemax movies to the Robin Byrd Show to Insomniac to EX-treme Dating (whatever that is)--I found little to keep me distracted. Anyone who still doesn't believe that the Internet provides entertainment (or diversion or comfort or whatever you want to call it) far superior to that offered by television need only compare Sarah's description of a late-night bus ride home in northern England and the Preacher's meditation on The Believer to New York television after midnight on a weeknight to see that the day when the Internet would eclipse television has come and gone. And even if the glow of exposed flesh is what you want, it seems undeniable that the Internet proves more useful there as well.
Sarah's entry took me away from my hot, congested apartment (and my hot, congested ear) to the deep, dark expanse of the English countryside (which, though I haven't been there, I believe to be the ancestral spawning ground that, like a salmon, I'm meant to return to). It was the finest kind of diversion, and all the more effective for being set at the hour of the night during which I read it. And the Preacher's entry got me thinking about whether I belong to the simple few who can believe in God, the sophisticated few who can understand God, or the vast multitude who can do neither. He writes:
I am an unbeliever at heart, you see. I can't help myself... I just cannot bring myself to believe what I cannot see.
The Preacher seems to be placing himself squarely in that middle group of people who can't believe because they can't understand, the group to which I likely belong as well. But appearances can be deceiving. Despite his profession of unbelief, he behaves as if he believes, thinking about God, working toward God, and helping others to do the same. What could motivate that behavior but a belief in believing? There's something telling him that he should behave as though he believes, that belief is important to work toward. That must be faith, the strongest of beliefs because it's a belief without empirical basis, and it suggests that he really does understand. Suddenly, it seems more appropriate to place him among the sophisticated few. Like the Preacher, I'm unable to believe if I cannot understand, but, unlike him, I cannot behave as though I believe if I don't. Framed that way, it may sound as though I'm more honest or less hypocritical than the Preacher, but I can assure you that no good comes of this failure of mine. I suffer from my inability to gain any comfort through faith.
Alternatively, Buddhism--at least the Mahayana variant--is different from Western religions in that it doesn't require faith. It's empirical, obviating the need for a fundamental dogma. It suggests (and demands that its followers either verify or disprove for themselves) all is emptiness and, given that, attachment is the cause of all suffering. It doesn't start with any requirements of its followers or transcendent norms. It offers the means to stop suffering, without judgment. It distinguishes not between right and wrong, but between that which will cause suffering and that which will not. For this reason, it's probably better described as metaphysics than as a religion.
Because of my difficulties with faith, Mahayana Buddhism is more attractive to me than Western religions. There's a deep, intuitive appeal to its precepts for me, and I've been able to use them to address my own suffering in some cases. But I still must verify those precepts for myself if I'm to put an end to my suffering; I must fully engage in the deep, meditative practice of mindfulness if I expect to be free of suffering. This became clear to me when, not having dedicated any time or effort to meditation in more than a year, I sought to dismiss the persistent pain in my ear as an artifact of my mental processes empty of any inherent reality. I was unable to develop the mindfulness necessary for that kind of recognition. Faith isn't necessary to Buddhism, but commitment is. That may seem like a semantic difference, but it's important. For the simple few, it's possible to fully participate in Christianity through faith without understanding, but it's not possible to fully participate in Buddhism without understanding.
7:25:26 AM 
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