The leap of faith isn't that easy
The leap of faith
Here, I mainly want to write about the leap, as defined by Kierkegaard. Long story short, maybe it's true that I took some kind of leap. To begin with this kind of classification, I'll provide the definition first:
"The leap is the category of decision."
"...the transition from reliability to certainty is a leap, or the transition from the quantitative to the qualitative is a leap."
In order to clear things up, the phrase "the category of decision" refers to the "realm of decision", a realm that is not continuous, but one that has a decisive cut-off. The shift from reliability to certainty simply refers to moving away from logical reasoning (which only offers a reliable system/probability) towards a certain decision. This is also the case with the transition from the quantitative to the qualitative; it is a shift from something that we endlessly calculate, to something that we decide on the basis of quality (the nature of the decision itself) instead of quantity.
Referring to my previous post, I used this definition:
...to perform a leap of faith is to suspend rationality, it is to claim knowledge or believe things that go beyond the limits of rationality, it is to believe things on faith.
Back then, I claimed that "faith in Buddhism does not suspend rationality, does not claim knowledge or believe in things that go beyond the limits of rationality," a statement that I no longer agree with today. And here's why.
The unthinkable and the doubts
I've mentioned the Acinteyya Sutta (AN 4.77) in Let the future take care of itself, and it obviously includes things that are unthinkable. To take the discourse further, there's another term related to acinteyya, namely atakkāvacarā, 'unattainable by reasoning' or 'beyond the scope of logic', often used to describe Nibbāna. The acinteyyas specifically include the domain of the Buddhas, the domain of one in absorption (jhāna), the results of deeds (kamma-vipāka), and speculation about the world. So, how does the nature of acinteyya necessitate the leap? The moment I accept that the things mentioned are acinteyya, I simply must have faith that these things are indeed beyond thought. Thus, I enter the category of decision, the transition to certainty. Furthermore, regarding Nibbāna, while it is certainly attainable, the tradition stands that reasoning alone isn't enough. Given this limitation, how can I really be sure that Nibbāna exists? Hence, the leap is needed.
Someone might argue that Buddhism is a philosophy, not a religion, yet I'll simply answer that it is obviously both. I arrived at this conclusion because Theravāda Buddhism, even the so-called Early Buddhism, possesses a concept of faith, namely saddhā (faith, confidence), which stands in contrast to vicikicchā (skeptical doubt). I've discussed saddhā and vicikicchā earlier in Iman (Saddhā) dari Sudut Pandang Theravāda. The most interesting point to highlight is that vicikicchā is considered a hindrance, that is a heap of unwholesomeness (akusalarāsi), as explained in the Āvaraṇa Sutta (AN 5.51). In addition, the Cetokhila Sutta (MN 16) explicitly details that those who doubt the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Saṅgha are uncertain, undecided, and lacking confidence. The discourse emphasizes that by possessing these doubts, one suffers from mental barrenness or hard-heartedness (cetokhila), making it impossible for one to achieve growth, improvement, or maturity in the teaching and training. Connecting this to the category of decision, the Saṅgārava Sutta (SN 46.55) clearly states that vicikicchā muddles the mind, making it impossible to truly know or see what is good for yourself, good for another, or good for both:
Seyyathāpi, brāhmaṇa, udapatto āvilo luḷito kalalībhūto andhakāre nikkhitto.
Suppose there was a bowl of water that was cloudy, murky, and muddy, hidden in the darkness.
Tattha cakkhumā puriso sakaṁ mukhanimittaṁ paccavekkhamāno yathābhūtaṁ na jāneyya na passeyya.
Even a person with clear eyes checking their own reflection wouldn’t truly know it or see it.
Evameva kho, brāhmaṇa, yasmiṁ samaye vicikicchāpariyuṭṭhitena cetasā viharati vicikicchāparetena, uppannāya ca vicikicchāya nissaraṇaṁ yathābhūtaṁ nappajānāti, attatthampi tasmiṁ samaye yathābhūtaṁ na jānāti na passati, paratthampi tasmiṁ samaye yathābhūtaṁ na jānāti na passati, ubhayatthampi tasmiṁ samaye yathābhūtaṁ na jānāti na passati; dīgharattaṁ sajjhāyakatāpi mantā nappaṭibhanti, pageva asajjhāyakatā.
In the same way, there’s a time when your heart is overcome and mired in doubt and you don’t truly understand the escape from doubt that has arisen. At that time you don’t truly know or see what is good for yourself, good for another, or good for both. Even hymns that are long-rehearsed don’t spring to mind, let alone those that are not rehearsed.
In retrospect, to practice Theravāda Buddhism in the first place, one needs to take the leap, regarding the acinteyya and the atakkāvacarā.
The island vs the raft
Despite the similarities in the mechanism of the leap (suspending pure reasoning to reach a decision), the nature and the goal of faith in these two traditions differ significantly. This is where the paths diverge.
For Kierkegaard, the leap into the absurd is, in many ways, the destination—the island—itself. Faith is the highest passion; it is a state of perpetual tension where one believes by virtue of the absurd. This is exemplified by the figure of Abraham in Fear and Trembling. When commanded to sacrifice his son, Isaac, Abraham could not justify the act through reason or universal ethics (it was, after all, murder). Yet, he made the leap. He suspended the ethical to embrace the religious paradox, believing against all logic that he would somehow receive Isaac back in this life. One does not leap to eventually "understand" or "verify" God through logic later on; one leaps to exist in that relationship with the Divine, embracing the paradox.
In Theravāda Buddhism, however, faith (saddhā) is provisional. It is instrumental. It is not a place to dwell in forever, but a vehicle to cross a flood. As famously illustrated in the Parable of the Raft (MN 22), the Dhamma is for crossing over, not for holding on to. A more precise narrative on this process is found in the Cūḷahatthipadopama Sutta (MN 27) regarding the elephant tracker. A woodsman might see a large footprint in the forest, but a wise tracker does not immediately conclude, "This is the great elephant." Instead, he follows the tracks (the leap) and observes other signs, such as scratch marks and broken branches, until he finally sees the elephant himself. Only then does he come to the conclusion, "This is indeed the great elephant." The footprint provides the necessary confidence (saddhā) to initiate the search, but it is not the final proof. This brings to mind the concept of Preserving the Truth (saccānurakkhanā), as expounded in the Caṅkī Sutta (MN 95). The leap of faith is not an assertion of absolute knowledge ("Only this is true, anything else is wrong"), but an act of safeguarding the possibility of truth by acting on it. However, preservation is merely the container for the investigation; the discourse outlines the precise trajectory toward the actual Discovery of Truth (saccānubodha). It starts with faith (saddhā), which compels one to approach (upasaṅkamana) and pay respect (payirupāsanā). This openness allows one to lend an ear (sotāvadhāna) and hear the Dhamma (dhammassavana), then remember (dhammadhāraṇā) it. Then comes the crucial intellectual pivot: examining the meaning (atthaṁ upaparikkhati) until the teachings gain reflective acceptance (dhammanijjhānakkhanti). This is where the leap turns into traction. Acceptance breeds enthusiasm (chanda), enthusiasm ignites zeal (ussāha), zeal leads to weighing (tulanā), and weighing culminates in striving (padhāna). It is only through this causal chain, powered by the initial fuel of faith, that one breaks through the shell of speculation and realizes the ultimate truth with one's own body.
One takes the leap of faith, trusting the Buddha’s awakening and the possibility of Nibbāna, not to float in the air of uncertainty forever, but to eventually land on the solid ground of direct knowledge (yathābhūtañāṇadassana). Once the practitioner sees the truth for themselves (ehipassiko), faith transforms into verified confidence. The leap is no longer needed because the gap has been bridged. In this sense, while Kierkegaard leaps to embrace the mystery, a Buddhist leaps to eventually dissolve it into clarity.
The analysis paralysis
However, to say "just take the leap" is to oversimplify the modern practitioner's predicament. The water in the bowl, to use the Saṅgārava Sutta analogy, is not only muddied by our own internal doubts (vicikicchā), but also by the turbidity of the tradition itself. This results in a state of analysis paralysis: a situation where the sheer volume of conflicting data and interpretations leads to overthinking, causing the practitioner to freeze rather than act. The moment one decides to "trust the Buddha," the immediate question arises: Which Buddha? Is it the Buddha of the Commentaries (Aṭṭhakathā) and Abhidhamma, as upheld by Classical Theravāda? Or is it the Buddha of the Early Buddhist Texts (EBT), stripped of the so-called later scholastic additions?
On one side, the Traditionalists maintain that the Commentaries (Aṭṭhakathā) and the Treatises (particularly Buddhaghosa’s Visuddhimagga) are indispensable for understanding the Suttas. They advocate for a "deep" interpretation of Jhāna, absorption states where sensory perception and bodily awareness completely cease. On the other side, the EBT proponents argue that these commentarial explanations often contradict the original discourses. They propose "Sutta Jhāna," a state of heightened awareness where the body is still felt and the mind is still capable of evaluation (vitakka-vicāra).
This confusion is further amplified by the paradox within the tradition itself, most notably in the Kālāma Sutta (AN 3.65), also known as the Kesamutti Sutta. Often hailed as the charter of free inquiry, the Buddha advises not to go by oral tradition (anussava), by lineage (paramparā), or by acceptance of a view after reflection (diṭṭhinijjhānakkhanti). For a modern rationalist, this is empowering. Yet, it creates a recursive loop of doubt: we are relying on a scripture that tells us not to rely on scriptures. By using the Kālāma Sutta to deconstruct the tradition, one inadvertently saws off the branch on which one sits. If we doubt the transmission of the Commentaries, what guarantee do we have for the Kālāma Sutta itself? The confusion deepens when one dives into the minutiae. Even within the orthodox tradition, there are cracks. As noted in a detailed discussion on
And then comes the darkest vicikicchā of all: if some texts are indeed inauthentic, as suggested by EBT scholars, why did the Great Elders lie? Why did the preservers of Truth fabricate the Abhidhamma or the Jātaka tales? As discussed in
The balance
The Visuddhimagga warns:
"One strong in faith (saddhā) but weak in wisdom (paññā) has uncritical and groundless confidence. One strong in wisdom but weak in faith errs on the side of cunning and is as hard to cure as one whose sickness is caused by a medicine. When the two are balanced, one has confidence only where there is ground for it." (Vism.129)
While later treatises emphasize this symmetrical balance to prevent blind faith or intellectual cunning, the Early Texts offer a distinct structural hierarchy where wisdom is the governing faculty.
First, the Paṭhamapubbārāma Sutta (SN 48.45) explicitly declares that if a mendicant develops just one faculty, the faculty of wisdom, then the others are automatically stabilized.
"When a noble disciple has wisdom, the faith, energy, mindfulness, and immersion that follow along with that become stabilized." (SN 48.45)
This supremacy is vividly reinforced in the Sāla Sutta (SN 48.51), where the Buddha compares wisdom (paññā) to a lion, the king of beasts, superior in strength, speed, and courage. Wisdom is not merely a partner to faith; it is the king. However, this does not render faith obsolete. The Āpaṇa Sutta (SN 48.50) frames the relationship as a causal progression. Faith is the prerequisite. In this discourse, the Buddha explains that for a faithful noble disciple, energy (viriya) naturally follows, leading to mindfulness (sati), immersion (samādhi), and finally wisdom (paññā). Without the initial spark of faith, the chain of awakening never begins.
Finally, the Mallaka Sutta (SN 48.52) integrates these points with a structural analogy. The Buddha compares wisdom to a roof peak (kūṭa) and faith to the rafters (gopānasī).
"As long as the roof peak is not lifted into place, the rafters are not stable or fixed. But when the roof peak is lifted into place, the rafters become stable and fixed." (SN 48.52)
This implies that until one attains the wisdom of a noble disciple, one's faith is inherently unstable. We cannot wait for "perfect, stable faith" before we begin the practice, because stability is the result of the practice, not the prerequisite.
The modern problem, the "analysis paralysis," is the futile attempt to stabilize the rafters without lifting the roof peak, while also refusing to start the engine that drives the investigation. We try to argue and debate our way into certainty. But the Suttas are clear: saddhā starts the engine, and paññā locks the roof. In this context, taking the leap is the act of lifting the rafters before the structure is fully secure. It is an act of working with provisional, unstable faith, trusting that the rigorous investigation will eventually lead to the arising of noble knowledge. Once that wisdom arises, the leap ends, and the unshakable stability of the sotāpanna begins (see Perumpamaan kereta, pronomina persona pertama, dan pintasan spiritual). The leap is the risky construction process; wisdom is the final lock that holds the roof in place.
The resolution
Ultimately, this is the clarification I owe to my past self. I have come to realize that the leap is not a rejection of the intellect, but a courageous admission of its biological limits. It turns out, Kierkegaard wasn’t merely being poetic; he was describing a biological imperative. Modern research in evolutionary psychology suggests that we are
The leap, therefore, is not a defect; it is an adaptation, as described in Manusia dan Evolusi. I am no longer afraid to admit that I walk by faith (saddhā). It is not the faith that closes its eyes to the world as an escape, but the faith that opens them to examine the tracks left by the Wise. The map may be contested, and the jungle may be dense, but standing still offers no way out. The only way is to move, to leap, and to see. And it is this very act of seeing that eventually dissolves the doubt entirely. In the Theravāda Buddhist map of liberation, the final abandonment of skeptical doubt (vicikicchā) is not achieved by endless debating, but by the direct realization characteristic of a
“Saddhāya tarati oghaṁ, appamādena aṇṇavaṁ;
“By faith you cross the flood, and by diligence (mindfulness) the deluge.
Vīriyena dukkhamacceti, paññāya parisujjhatī”ti.
By energy you get past suffering, and you’re purified by wisdom.” (SN 10.12)
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