Some truths are defended best by being lived.

Benjamin Franklin rarely seemed concerned with defending his scientific observations. If an experiment accurately described the natural world, there was little reason to argue. Others would repeat it. The same results would emerge. Reality itself would settle the question.

The lightning itself would defend him. That posture contains an enduring spiritual wisdom.

Not every truth is established in the same way. Some questions invite endless debate because they concern realities that cannot be tested.

Here’s a question: Was Jesus God? For two thousand years, brilliant theologians have answered that question differently, each offering careful arguments in support of their conclusions. The conversation is valuable, but it simply cannot produce the kind of certainty that a repeatable experiment can.

Other truths belong to an entirely different category.

Here’s another question: Does forgiveness change a human life? That question can’t be answered by argument alone. It asks to be tested.

So go ahead and test it. Attempt to establish a forgiving state of mind consistently for a year. Release old resentments before they become permanent residents. Refuse to rehearse yesterday’s injuries. Notice what happens to your relationships, your body, your sleep and your capacity for joy.

Observe the results. A carefully run experiment will always speak for itself.

Benjamin Franklin trusted repeated experiments because they revealed dependable truths. Jesus pointed to something remarkably similar: “By their fruits you shall know them.”

Not by their eloquence. Not by their certainty. By their fruit.

A healthy apple tree never argues that it is an apple tree. It simply bears apples. Healthy spiritual practices possess that same confidence. They do not require constant defense because they continually produce recognizable fruit.

Compassion deepens relationships. Forgiveness lightens the heart. Generosity enlarges the circle. Gratitude changes perception. These are not merely beliefs to be defended. They are practices to be tested.

Science extends an invitation: Repeat the experiment. Spiritual practice extends another: Live this way for a while.

Neither demands unquestioning acceptance. Both invite honest participation, and even doubt. Perhaps that is why the most enduring truths often make the least noise. They simply continue bearing fruit.

The fruit is the proof.

That is one of the reasons why I feel that an exploration of the various dharmas (or universal truths) within world religions is ultimately scientific in nature. The dharma is provable. There’s already science out there that shows how we experience health advantages from exhibiting kindness and compassion on purpose. Forgiveness has demonstrable benefits to not only our health, but to everything ranging from the enlargement of our networks of support in the community to the unfolding of the politics we involve ourselves in.

There is so much about religion that cannot be proven. So many metaphysical claims that must remain as mysteries. We will never know the mind of God. We will never interpret scripture with complete certainty. We will always be limited in that way. But we can test the dharmas within them for ourselves.

We can take a look at spiritual advice that applies to our relationships with others, with ourselves, with God, with the Earth, and test it. We can examine the “experiments” of others and see how they went about it just as scientists do when they seek to repeat the experiments of other scientists.

No true spirituality is afraid of this testing. It wants you to test it. It wants you to ask questions. It wants you to doubt. Because that is the process through which all true discoveries are made. By trying them. By testing them. By reviewing the work of our peers and suggesting where the gaps in their methodology might exist, and then seeking on our own to close those gaps.

God is not seeking for us to just blindly follow. It wants us to experiment radically and lovingly. It wants us to grow and to learn and to fall and to run and to break things and build them. It wants us to get messy and then learn how to clean it up. There is literally no other directive in all of world scripture, but to seek to know things by their fruit.

And then, become an orchard.

Wil Darcangelo, M.Div, is an ordained Unitarian Universalist minister of the First Church of Lancaster at the Bulfinch Meetinghouse in Massachusetts, progressive theologian and essayist on optimistic spirituality in the Information Age. Follow him on Substack, Facebook, Instagram, TicTok, and YouTube.