Significance of the Name "Pracheta" The name "Pracheta" is derived from two Sanskrit words: "pra" meaning "before" and "chetas" meaning "mind" or "consciousness." Thus, Pracheta can be translated as "forethinker" or "one who has foresight." This name signifies a person who possesses a forward-thinking mind, someone who anticipates and plans for the future. In the context of Hindu mythology and philosophy, such a trait is highly valued as it implies wisdom, prudence, and a deep understanding of the consequences of one's actions. Role in Hindu Religion Pracheta, the father of Valmiki, holds a significant yet subtle role in Hindu religion. Valmiki, often referred to as the Adi Kavi (the first poet), is the revered author of the epic Ramayana. Although Pracheta himself is not a central figure in Hindu mythology, his role as the progenitor of Valmiki ties him to the vast narrative of Hindu religious and philosophical thought. The foresight implied by his name suggests that he may have possessed qualities that he passed down to his son, Valmiki, who later became an enlightened sage and a master storyteller. Pracheta’s foresight can be symbolically linked to the prophetic nature of Valmiki’s poetry, which foresees the moral and ethical dilemmas of humanity and offers profound lessons through the story of Lord Rama. According to legend, Valmiki was a notorious highwayman before his transformation into a sage. His encounter with the divine sage Narada marked a turning point in his life. Narada's teachings and the mantra "Mara" (meaning "kill" in Sanskrit) led Valmiki into deep meditation. As he repeated "Mara," it gradually transformed into "Rama" (the name of the divine prince in the Ramayana). This shift in his consciousness symbolised the metamorphosis from a life of sin to one of spiritual awakening. This narrative underscores the power of transformation and the eternal resonance of divine names, illustrating how even the most sinful can attain enlightenment and contribute to the spiritual heritage of humanity. Parallels with Prometheus Prometheus, a figure from Greek mythology, shares a strikingly similar epithet to Pracheta. Prometheus's name is derived from the Greek "promētheus," meaning "forethought." Like Pracheta, Prometheus is celebrated for his forward-thinking and his contributions to humanity.  In Hindu philosophy, the concept of foresight is intertwined with dharma (righteousness) and karma (action and its consequences). Pracheta, as the forethinker, represents the ideal of living a life guided by wisdom and prudence, ensuring that one's actions align with the greater cosmic order. Similarly, in Greek philosophy, Prometheus is best known for his defiance of Zeus by stealing fire from the gods and giving it to mankind, an act that symbolises the transmission of knowledge and the overcoming of ignorance to  progress toward a more enlightened state of being. Interestingly, the son of Pracheta was given the name Agni at birth, meaning fire, and only later became known as Valmiki. It is worth noting that both Prometheus and Pracheta are associated with the gift of fire to humanity. The discovery of fire was a pivotal moment in human evolution, profoundly impacting brain development and cognitive abilities. Cooking food made it easier to digest and increased its nutritional value, allowing for more efficient energy use. This dietary shift contributed to a smaller gut, freeing up metabolic energy that supported larger brain growth. The enhanced brain size and function facilitated advanced cognitive abilities, social behaviours, and tool-making skills, setting the stage for the complex societies we have today. Fire not only provided warmth and protection but also fuelled the evolutionary leap that shaped human intelligence and societal progress.

Advent: The Struggle and Beauty of Waiting This Advent season holds new meaning for our family. Right now, McKenna and I are in the hospital, praying and waiting for the hopeful arrival of our second daughter after McKenna’s water broke early. It’s not the kind of waiting we would have chosen, but it’s the kind we’ve been given. While sitting in the hospital chapel earlier this week, praying for McKenna, our daughter, and our little family, I noticed the Advent candles lit on the altar. Their glow caught my attention, and I was reminded that Advent is a season of waiting. Those candles represent hope, faith, joy, and peace—all the things we cling to when waiting feels heavy. In that quiet moment, I found a new perspective: this season of waiting isn’t without purpose. Advent is all about waiting—waiting for light in the darkness, waiting for hope in the midst of fear, waiting for promises to be fulfilled. For centuries, God’s people longed for the Savior, enduring pain, silence, and uncertainty as they trusted that God’s timing would not fail. Waiting isn’t easy. It’s uncomfortable, it’s uncertain, and it often feels like it stretches you beyond what you can handle. McKenna and I are living in that tension right now. We are waiting and praying for weeks to pass, for our little girl to grow stronger, and for the day we finally get to meet her. The waiting feels fragile, and some moments are heavier than others. But this is where Advent gives us hope. It reminds us that waiting is not wasted. In the waiting, God is present. In the waiting, He is preparing us for the joy that is to come. It’s in the waiting that we grow, even when it’s painful, because we learn to trust Him more deeply. Mary understood this kind of waiting. She carried the Savior of the world with fear, pain, and anticipation. She knew the struggle of waiting for a promise to unfold, and she also knew the overwhelming joy of its fulfillment. At Hard Faith, we believe in telling stories that face the brokenness of this world honestly, while pointing to the hope that never fails. Advent is a story like that. It’s a season that reminds us that our struggles, our fears, and even our pain have meaning because they’re held by a God who is faithful. This season, as McKenna and I wait for the birth of our second daughter, we’re leaning into that truth. We’re holding onto the promise that even in the tension, God is at work. And as we wait, we’re reminded that the joy of what’s to come will make every moment of uncertainty worth it. Wherever you are this Advent season—whether you’re waiting with hope, waiting with pain, or waiting with questions—may you know that God is with you. Emmanuel means “God with us,” and that promise is true no matter how long the waiting feels. Please keep us in your prayers during this season. Pray for McKenna’s strength, for our daughter’s health, and for peace as we trust God with the days and weeks ahead. Telling stories that liberate, Spencer Folmar

In a lecture delivered in Sydney, Dr. Jordan Peterson tries to answer the frequently asked question about his faith. At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be a wrong answer to this question — you will probably know, what you believe in… Nevertheless, as a believer, I disagree with his answer. To understand this criticism, we must first gain clarity about the concept of the Christian faith.Faith — an Attempt at a Personal Explanation Do I believe or do I just imagine? The question of my faith often brought me to the point of despair. Testing my faith for vitality in the way of a pulse measurement never led to good results. Faith cannot be measured nor derived. You cannot force faith. I realized only recently that the difficulties I had in answering the question, have their root cause in my lack of understanding of what faith constitutes. What do I mean when I speak of faith? A look at the lexicon reveals that the Middle High German origin of the word believe is the word gelouben. Among other things, the word pledge is a direct derivation of this old verb. So the meaning seems to be associated with a bond that one enters actively and deliberately. But what do we bind ourselves to and, above all, why?The Two Sides of Faith John 20, 29 — Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed. Unfortunately, my life does not consist of a series of experiences of God. But experiences have to be experienced. They exist only for the moment. The memory of an experience is not the same as the experience itself. For the faith, this means that even the most intense experience of God’s closeness fades in memory and the doubt whether it is nothing but wishful thinking, can gain the upper hand. The experience of God is central to my faith. However, it cannot fully describe it. I want to hold on to this experience, but I’m no more able to do this than Mary Magdalene could hold on to Jesus: John 20, 17 — Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father A little side note: Is it enough for you to know that a loved person (in and of itself) exists or would you like to see him or her more often? One of my best friends asked me more than once the question of what distinguishes the Bible from any other exciting, good book. He did not doubt that the Bible has to tell us a lot and is the source of countless valuable ethical rules. But there are some good books of this kind out there. In the pursuit of understanding my faith, an answer has emerged. The ethical guidelines of the Bible give us orientation in the seemingly God-forsaken world when we lack the experience of God. However, the center of the biblical texts is God. Without God, the rules are no longer valuable, but worthless in the deepest sense. Without God, the Bible is indeed replaceable by any other ethical book. The Bible is not a founding work of an ideology. Their texts are not universally valid but must be reconsidered for each situation individually. Deriving a direct guide to action for all possible situations from the rules of the Bible in a kind of mental exercise is not feasible for the believer. Rather, the believer hopes that in the concrete situation, a sentence of the Bible will have a concrete meaning and thus contributes to decision- making. So the believer hopes for God’s (holy) spirit and not that his life will be regulated by the words of a book. The Bible is not God’s Word, but it can become God’s Word. When we read the Bible, we open the door for God. That’s why the bible demands to be studied. From us Christians, it demands that we take it more seriously than any other book — also and especially if we do not experience God’s nearness. That’s our part of the faith. The meaning of the word faith is thus divided into two parts. On the one hand, it is justified trust, which comes from the experience of the nearness of God. On the other hand, faith also means the naivety that small children bring to their parents — whom they absolutize, as we should do only with God: If Dad says so, then it is true! We have God’s promise that this childlike trust will not be in vain.You Will Seek Me and Find Me Jeremiah 29, 13 — when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you True faith does not come out of us but into us. A Believer is called the one who experienced this and has made a conscious decision for God. Seeking God, if we do not see him, trusting in God, if he does not seem to be there, reading the Bible, even though we doubt that it has to tell us more then certain psychological findings — that is the active part of the faith. But without the experience of the nearness of God, this so important part will soon degenerate into pure superstition and preoccupation with ourselves. The experience of God — the passive part of faith — is the foundation and goal of the active part. This answers the initial question of the why of the faith. I believe because I have experienced God’s closeness. But faith itself includes my response to God: Lord, I vow to you loyalty! This includes the realization that the times of absence of experiences are not times of unbelief. I have learned that neither side of faith is viable alone in the long term. Only in this duality does faith become truly sustainable. Markus 9, 24 — I believe; help my unbelief! The final answer which I gave my friend on his question about the Bible, is the following: Imagine that we Christians were right.The Freedom of Faith For centuries, the Church has misunderstood and abused faith. The notion of achievement that exists in every society, has been extended to the faith. "I can earn God’s love" was the fundamental precept. In the Middle Ages, you could even be freed from all your sins by paying money. God was the almighty judge, who then let himself be appeased if one did what the church leaders wanted. The relationship between God and man was that of a judge to a defendant. Does a mother love one of her children more if he follows her well-intentioned advice more than the other? Or does she just suffer more because the naughty child will have a harder time in life? Martin Luther has recognized that the relationship between God and man is a love affair. I recognize two things. For one thing, I faintly realize that I can’t come to God. I cannot earn his recognition. Secondly, I recognize thankfully that God loves me. He comes to me. Opening the door for him and letting him enter is the only requirement to be fulfilled. Luke 15, 20 — But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. The unmodern word sin is a relational word. Sin is everything that separates two who live in a relationship. The Easter message is God’s promise that, no matter how much we hurt him, how much he suffers from us, he will always be there for us. The forgiveness of all sins through the crucified Jesus is nothing less than the greatest declaration of love in the world. The lover cannot come any closer to the loved one without pushing him. This promise of God is the foundation for the liberation of the believer. It frees him from the idea of achievement. The believer does not have to earn God's love through good deeds. And he does not pose as a saint above others. Completely freed from the fear: What will the great judge say at the end? the believer can devote himself entirely to life in the world. In the struggle for truth, he is therefore not blocked by thoughts of the consequences, this or that decision will have for him eventually. With the knowledge that wrong decisions, sins, are already forgiven, he can use his full potential to make as many right ones as possible. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letter to Eberhard Bethge, 21.7.1944 One must abandon every attempt to make something of oneself, whether it be a saint, a converted sinner, a churchman (the priestly type, so-called!) a righteous man or an unrighteous one, a sick man or a healthy one. This is what I mean by worldliness — taking life in one’s stride, with all its duties and problems, its successes and failures, its experiences and helplessness. It is in such a life that we throw ourselves utterly in the arms of God and participate in his sufferings in the world…Experiences of God It is intentional that I have not written anything about my experiences of God at any point in the text. Experiences are very subjective. I can not even say if, that which my brain makes out of the nerve signal from my eyes when they see the color red, is the same thing that any other human brain makes out of it. How much more difficult is it to convey a God experience? My experiences of God are not a template for others. I can not claim: This is what experiencing God looks like and nothing else. Nevertheless, I don’t want to remain completely silent on the matter. There is a basic trust in God, which is not of the same nature, as the active faith described above. It should be clear from the context that basic trust does not mean, that it is permanently there in the same intensity. And then there are situations in which I have a sort of perspective that conveys a clarity which is neither rational nor otherwise justifiable. I then know what is right and wrong. It is important to note that the distinction between right and wrong is different from the distinction between good and bad in that it is contextual in the narrowest sense. To prevent greater suffering, it may be right to kill a human being. Yet no one would speak here of a good deed! The struggle of the Hitler assassins around Dietrich Bonhoeffer with the fifth commandment is cited here as an example.Peterson’s Statements Let us go back to Peterson’s lecture in Sydney. In the beginning, he pointed out the problems involved in asking the question about one’s personal belief. What is the intention behind asking: Do you believe in God? Moreover, what are the implications of the statement: I do believe! Some people, Peterson criticized, would state I do believe and actually mean I am good. Then he arrives at a point, where he states, that it is almost impossible for a man to say the words: I do believe. By citing Nietzsche: …there was only one Christ, and he died at the cross. he eventually follows the wrong route of the philosopher and the medieval church. They believed that you have to earn God's approval by doing good. As a Christian, I disagree! I say I do believe and I know very well, that this does not mean I am thoroughly good (in the sense that everything I do is good). In fact, both statements cannot be said simultaneously. To say it with Martin Luther: Martin Luther, The Freedom of the Christian Good righteous works never make a good righteous person, but a good righteous person does good righteous works. Bad works never make a bad person, but a bad person does bad works. Close to the end of the lecture, Peterson explains the benefits of confessing to faith. From a psychologist’s perspective there seem to be some good arguments for the lifestyle of a believer. But again, I have to disagree! We can not convince ourselves to believe. We don’t come to God —God comes to us. This does not mean that we are completely left out of the process. It is our task to actively decide in favor of the coming God. However, we do not make that decision based on weighing alternatives. The only reason for the faith — and that distinguishes the believer from one who follows ethical guidelines — is God.The Wrong Direction — Again I grew up in the GDR and was brought up as an atheist. The teachers in my school tried to explain faith and how we will overcome it: “In the past, people could not explain the physical world and have assigned gods to the inexplicable phenomena. So, e. g. the god Thor was the reason for lightning and thunder. But mankind grew up. These days we have science. Some people — the Christians — still struggle with the world and need to imagine their god. But science and socialism will make heaven on earth possible so that no one has to imagine a God any longer.” Here we see the same wrong direction (man imagines God) as in the essence of Peterson’s explanations. Surely, he does not make a statement about the pure existence of God. But, at the end of the day, to him, it doesn’t seem to make any difference whether God exists or not. You just have to live your life as if he did exist.The Most Dangerous God — Me Peterson’s statements are in opposition to the Christian faith. I do not become a Christian by performing good deeds and thus approaching a Christian ideal (however it is defined - and whoever it defines!). Rather, I acknowledge God, allow him into my life and can then hope that he will guide me and tell me how I should act. And I am well aware of my mistakes. The highest wisdom at which a Christian can arrive is to know that he is (and will be) a sinner. There is a wonderful German poem by Wolfgang Borchert. This is the best translation into English I have found: I’d be a light in stormy night for boats and cods and smelties – but I’m a skiff against the odds myself in difficulties! The efforts to become better than we are, to burn the dead wood, are admirable. But, in the long run, this endeavor far exceeds our power. To say it with Paul: 2. Corinthians 12, 9 — But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. In other words, it is not our power, our conviction or dedication that will bring god to our life. On the contrary, we should realize that the divine word comes into us and not out of us. This can only happen if we do not see our own convictions and actions as the decisive factor, but instead seek God again and again. Ask Him and trust in Him. We must become weak so that He can work strongly in us. Peterson says that the statement of the believer must have strong implications in his life. As a Christian, I say that the statement “I believe” will have strong implications if it is said honestly and with the whole soul.  Peterson rightly points out that we have to take responsibility. Not society or anyone in particular is to blame for our misery — at least not in the first place. And trying to get better should be the goal for all of us. Still, this won’t bring us any closer to God. There is no way, in which we can come to the lord. Establishing the connection is his part. On the other hand, turning ourselves into gods (which for this part means that you are sure you know what is good and bad) is one of the most dangerous things for ourselves and society. It is as destructive as absolutizing an ideology. No one is to absolutize but God alone! This is a fundamental part of the first commandment. It is highly probable that the reason for most of the suffering in history is that people tried to be God. In fact, from a biblical perspective, it is the reason we do not live in paradise. The original sin of Adam and Eve will be the topic of a whole article. It is possible, that Peterson’s thoughts are much closer to mine than it appears. Human communication is a complicated and more than ambiguous issue. In the pursuit of truth, however, I have to assume the worst interpretation of his words. Nevertheless, I do not doubt the good intentions in his statement: I try to live as if God exists. And those who agree with it may argue, that this is all we can do. Otherwise, we are fully helpless. But involving God in the sentence includes a dangerous solution to our helplessness. Reformulated, the statement reads as: I know what is right or wrong! I do not need God for this. (And I am a little afraid he really exists.) And here it is again — the original sin. And it is even worse. Adam and Eve still believed in God. They still listened to God. But, the statement "as if God exists" does not even care about God. The question of the faith is thus reduced to a purely philosophical question about the existence of a transcendent being (and the possible consequences). Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Akt und Sein, postdoctoral thesis 1929 God does not exist — in and for itself! God is a personal counterpart for every single person. As a Christian, I believe in the living Jesus. I believe that a word of the bible — a book thousands of years old — can come to life in a concrete situation. So, the question Do you believe? is not a question about the personal opinion on an undecidable issue. In the first place, it means Did you experience the personal God?Peterson’s Daemon I do not know if Socrates’ famous Daimonion is the same as the inner voice of which Peterson speaks. However, I know the latter very well. As an almost objective observer, my inner voice looks underneath the surface of my words. It confronts me with the real reasons for my actions. It is a part, if not the center of myself. On the other hand, the Holy Ghost is the way God communicates with us. Thus it is no part of us and should strongly be distinguished from the inner voice. And it is far from being permanently present. Not for nothing, is the Holy Ghost compared to the wind. I felt the need to make an explicit distinction between these two terms in order to clarify once again the difference between Peterson's idea of faith (which essentially comes out of us) and the Christian belief in the living God.My Answer My answer to the question of faith is momentous. I feel like someone walking through a forest in the twilight during a thunderstorm. Now and then there is a flash and I recognize my surroundings in a clear light. Most of the time, however, I have to choose between two different interpretations of my impressions of the world around me. Is this an attacker who is standing right in front of me or someone who, like me, is largely helpless in this storm? These two views represent two sides of myself. One driven by fear and anger and one that recognizes the other person as a child of God — just as I am. In this way, Shoulder Angel and Shoulder Devil (in the Bible: Diabolus — the Slanderer) are playing their game with me and I have to decide whom I believe, over and over again. I have experienced how much my life gets mixed up when I let myself be guided by fear and anger. And I have experienced the peace that settles in me when I look at others with a loving eye. I want to recognize my fellow humans as often as possible in the latter way. Due to my inner resistances, this is extremely exhausting. In the long term, it only seems possible when I experience the nearness of God. That’s why I pray: I believe; help my unbelief!

Christianity’s greatest achievement is the conception of God. Its second greatest is the conception of the devil. While other religions have deities that personify various vices, most of them are portrayed as amoral, and few have gone to the extent that Christianity has to encapsulate the heart of evil in a single, malevolent figure — Satan. Rather than a mere philosophical description of sin, this tradition had decided that giving a face to evil is more effective and profound. And they are right. The figure of Satan has inspired countless works of imaginative genius, each a thesis on the nature of evil. In Milton, Satan is a complex and charismatic character who puts forth so convincing an argument against the regime of Heaven that one might begin to wonder if he is actually a misunderstood hero. In Dante, Satan is frozen in the deepest pit of Hell and possesses three faces that represent an unholy trinity. He is incapacitated by his thorough corruption, a monstrous king of Hell. The conceptualization of the devil is an achievement because it gave us something real to fight against. Satan has captured the imaginations of countless civilizations, weaving cautionary tales, philosophical treatises, and superstitious rituals. These interpretations are vivid and enduring, contributing to the personified archetype of evil, and they ultimately serve to render the abstract concept of sin in a concrete way that we can grapple with. But we must not fall into the trap of thinking Satan is an external force from which we are separate and on whom we can lay the blame for the sins of the world. Rather, the devil is within us, for we are our worst enemy. Christians understand this to a certain degree, given their insistence on the corruption of the human heart and our need for God to free us from it. (They still debate, though, on the doctrine of original sin). There is an awareness that the root of evil is within the human heart, despite the temptation to attribute it to an outside being. The enemy without is almost always the manifestation of the enemy within. Likewise, Christ is not an external savior in whom we have no part, but he is in us, representative of the redeeming power of the soul that walks in righteousness.   William Blake observed that depictions of Satan, such as in Milton, are often more creative, engrossing, and passionate than descriptions of God, which are often strangely limited, monotonous, and even stifled. He suggested it is because what we call “evil” and “hell” find their roots in the creative and chaotic aspect of the human psyche. Satan in Hebrew means “accuser” or “adversary.” He is the spirit that stands before the Ideal and points out our failings and corruptions. He is the prosecutor against our souls. And aren’t we already familiar with this spirit? It is the voice in our heads that judges, criticizes, and deprecates us. It has a finger constantly pointing out the ways we fall short. It defines us by our shortcomings, that hinders us from rising above ourselves by shackling us to our sins. Sometimes it is helpful, but often it is corrupted and full of lies. The Accuser lives in our psyche. And he has a purpose. He questions our preconceptions of what we think to be true. He urges the shadow to rear its head and demand our attention. He is the trickster who introduces chaos into the established order, keeping us on our toes. He is the serpent in the garden. He is necessary. But of course, while the agent of chaos is necessary, it would be a mistake to put him on the throne. To do so would be to invite Noah’s Flood. The voice of the Critic requires us to find a higher truth to which we must be subject. The shadow of chaos invites us to integrate it into paradise. To cast him out of the garden would be to create demons.   Onto Satan we have hauled all our darkest aspects. The twisted desires we suppress, the guilt of our impulses, the temptations of our lowest selves. Just as we consolidate the highest good we can conceptualize into the figure of God, so we put together the worst imaginable things into the creature of Satan. From him all evil flows, and to him all the fruits of evil return. We painted a picture of him, pointed at him, and named him the Enemy. He is the scapegoat. And somehow, despite our conjured hatred of him, despite how foreign we may try to make him seem, a part of us can’t help but find affinity with him. As those terrible eyes and twisted horns stare back at us, we sometimes get the sense, if we take the time to notice, that we are not gazing upon a foreign creature — but into a mirror.