BY LAKIYAH HAMER

PART I: The Inferno Of Doubt; Or, Good Girls Make It To Heaven

At the age of six, I began practicing Seventh Day Adventism because of my newly adopted mom. A denomination known for observing the Sabbath on Saturday and emphasizing the imminent second coming of Jesus, Seventh Day Adventism brought into my life steadily increasing expectations from adults and peers, to which I couldn’t help but succumb. By second grade, I was enrolled in our church’s private school, spending six days a week there learning and worshipping. Due to my love of singing, I initially enjoyed the required weekly participation in the school’s choir, later joining the church choir and youth group. Singing opening hymns for weekly service and special music the occasional outreach events. 

At the same time, I disdained public speaking. The eyes of so many people made me nervous; it was just easier to sing because I was never really alone.  Still, I spoke in front of the congregation for opening remarks or scriptures for the day’s service when profusely asked. Believe me—I tried to say no. While I had no problem participating or volunteering, I preferred activities that fitted me more. Many times I’d wanted to say no, but some members implied that declining participation in proposed activities was akin to rejecting God. So I proceeded to suck it up and read the children’s story during service on occasion, publicly read scriptures, lead a couple prayers and even once gave a mini sermon for one year’s Youth day. Which isn’t as pleasant to look back on as it could’ve been. 

For clarity, a Seventh-day Adventist Youth Day is a highly anticipated event. The day’s worship service is tailored specifically for youth, featuring speakers, musicians, and interactive programs that focus on building faith, amidst real-life challenges. Throughout the service, there are opportunities for youth to participate, and it’s not uncommon for some to be baptized and publicly commit their lives to God. Finally, after Sabbath hours (i.e., after sunset), the celebration concludes with a “social,” a relaxed gathering where everyone can enjoy a potluck, play games, and strengthen friendships. These socials provide a chance for youth and families to unwind, connect, and build a sense of community beyond the formal church setting.

Another year, my church teachers and elders suggested I get baptized on that year’s Youth Day along with my older sister. Symbolizing a person’s commitment to their faith, baptism marks a transformative moment of spiritual rebirth and a promise of belonging to the community—to yourself, to God, and to all your spiritual peers. I was uneasy about this commitment. At 11, I knew how serious it was to be baptised, and also knew that I wasn’t ready for it. Already, I constantly felt like I was wearing shoes I couldn’t fit. Nonetheless, pressure from teachers and “mentors” influenced my participation in the ceremony—not out of true spiritual enlightenment, but out of a desire not to disappoint. Despite my inner reluctance, I then continued participating in church activities and extracurricular outreach programs as per usual. I was there almost every day of the week for years, practically an official member. Why would a servant of God turn down surviving Him? How could I not jump at the opportunity? 

Then, in 2020, COVID-19 disrupted church and all life activities. Early into the lockdown, my mother passed. This profoundly affected my life, in so many ways that I can’t even explain it in a couple sentences. But time passed and my church reopened, I then realized I no longer had to attend church unless I truly wanted to. My mom wasn’t there, waking me up and telling me to get ready so she can drive us there anymore. It was up to me now. So, originally to avoid sympathy and unwanted pep talks from everyone, I didn’t go and told myself I would eventually. 

As time went on, thoughts about what my mom would have wanted for me started to linger in my mind. I’d be out having fun and then think about how, if my mom was still alive, I wouldn’t even be there, how she probably wouldn’t even fully approve of it. Soon, I began to grapple with figuring out who and what I lived for. I started acknowledging that my mom’s teachings and standards were guidelines, but that overall, I could choose overall what I wanted for myself and how I wanted to live. I began questioning my religious motivations: did I feel a genuine connection with God, worshipping Him whole heartedly? Or did I feel fear of Him, fear of hell? I questioned the relationship between good and evil and the ideas of repentance, salvation and damnation. 

As I navigated this moral and ethical dilemma, I found help in a television show that explores philosophical and ethical questions through comedy: The Good Place. The Good Place didn’t allow for the belief of most Christian denominations: that God’s grace, offered through Jesus Christ, is the primary path to salvation, and that through aith in Christ, one should naturally begin to live a more ethical life. Instead, the series explained Heaven and Hell as a place all people have a chance of getting into despite their personal beliefs.  

The show follows four humans who initially believe they have been sent to the Good Place, through a cosmic point system that evaluates every action a person takes during their lifetime. Assigning positive or negative values based on the action’s impact on the universe, this system determines whether individuals are sent to “The Good Place” or “The Bad Place” after death. In a nod to Jean Paul-Sartre’s play No Exit, which explores the existentialist concept that human relationships can be a form of psychological torture, the four later discover that “The Good Place” is actually a hell of their own making. 

After this, the show’s narrative evolves significantly over its four seasons, culminating in a profound exploration of redemption and moral growth for its four central characters: Eleanor Shellstrop (Kristen Bell), who attempts to hide her past misdeeds and become a better person; Chidi Anagonye (William Jackson Harper), a moral philosophy professor who becomes her guide in navigating the complexities of ethics and morality; Tahani Al-Jamil (Jameela Jamil) and Jason Mendoza (Manny Jacinto), both of whom also grapple with their identities in the afterlife. Throughout the series, these characters delve into the challenges of living an ethical life in a modern world where even simple actions can have unintended negative consequences. 

In the first episode, Michael, a demon pretending to be an architect and manager of this neighborhood-esque afterlife, explains the essence of this system to Eleanor:   

“You are all simply put, good people, but how do we know that you were good? How are we sure? During your time on earth, every one of your actions had a positive or a negative value…Every sandwich you ate, every time you bought a magazine, every single thing you did had an effect that rippled out over time… When your time on earth has ended, we calculate the total value of your life using our perfectly accurate measuring system. Only the people with the very highest scores, the true cream of the crop , come here to the good place. What happens to everyone else you ask? Don’t worry about it.” (Michael, The Good Place, Episode 1) 

Eventually, however, the show critiques the traditional binary moral judgments of this “point system.” Instead, it suggests that people should be given opportunities to improve and redeem themselves. In highlighting the importance of intent and context in moral evaluations, the show’s numerous comedic and philosophical dilemmas suggest that everyone, though inherently good, needs guidance to make better choices. It also advocates the idea that individuals possess the capacity for growth and redemption over time, echoing various philosophical theories regarding personal development. 

“The Good Place,” then, offered an accessible way to explore, and critique, traditional systems of moral judgment. Watching  it offered an alternative perspective I had been craving, a perspective that would form the basis of my exploration of what it means to be a good person. The show’s exploration of ethics and the afterlife resonated with my own observations about the flaws in the system I once believed in. After my completion of the show, though, I was left with the question: what constitutes a “good life” that would merit entry into this hypothetical afterlife? Is it possible in current society? 

My search for an answer led me to explore ethical behavior, considering various cultural and philosophical perspectives on morality and the afterlife. This led me to form my own developing framework of what I think will get me into The Good Place.

PART II: The Purgatory of Philosophy; or, Understanding Humans And Their Actions

For most people, evaluating right and wrong depends on one of two approaches to moral principles. Relative moral principles suggest that ethical judgments can vary based on cultural norms and specific situations, like veganism or abortion. Meanwhile, absolute moral principles assert that certain actions are inherently right or wrong, regardless of context: as the “golden rule,” the scripture verse I have lived by since it was taught to me, says, “Do unto others as you would like them to do unto you” (Matthew 7:12)

To understand Christianity’s contentions about being a good person, and gaining entry into heaven, it’s important to note the role virtue ethics plays in moral philosophy. Focusing on the character and virtues of individuals, rather than solely on their actions, virtue ethics emphasizes the development of moral identity and good character traits. In this framework, voluntary actions alone are praiseworthy or blameworthy. In practice, this means the capacity to look at a situation, acknowledge what about it may be ‘right’ or “wrong,” and then decide what type of person one wants to be, what type of actions one can support, in that situation. Virtue is also defined as a middle ground between extremes of excess and deficiency, though this can vary from person to person. For example, one person’s standards, minimums or extremes may be lower or higher than another person’s, making it possible for them and everyone to enact equal levels of good deeds in various and personally fitting ways. 

Kant’s Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals provides another absolutist framework. Kant founded morality on the categorical imperative, which states that one should act only according to rules that could become universal laws. Moral actions therefore stem from duty and respect for the moral law. In emphasizing the importance of rational, autonomous decision-making in ethics, this imperative encourages individuals to act based on reason and “good will”: “A good will is not good because of what it affects or accomplishes … it is good through its willing alone- that is, good in itself.” Hence, Kantian “rule followers,” i.e. absolutists, adhere strictly to establish moral guidelines.

Such judgment, however, gains complexity through Plato’s idea that “to know the good is to do the good.” Plato implies that wrongdoing stems from ignorance rather than malice, and that that knowledge and virtue are intrinsically linked. But not all individuals have access to this knowledge, let alone the freedom to act upon it: the modern world has been structured systematically to keep certain groups of people from reaching certain levels of knowledge and worldly awareness. Indeed, the phrase “no ethical consumption under capitalism” suggests that in a capitalist system, where profit is prioritized, it’s nearly impossible to make purchasing decisions that don’t contribute to some form of exploitation or harm, whether it’s to workers, the environment, or communities. In this context, even well-intentioned choices can contribute to unfair labor practices or environmental degradation. 

Jonathan Dancy’s Theory of Moral Particularism challenges absolutist judgment of a person’s moral decisions. Dancy argues that moral judgment should be made on a case-by-case basis; taking all specific details in context into account, Darcy argues, involves “the selection of appropriate responses to subtly different situations.” In other words, Dancy’s perspective suggests that the environs and length of a person’s life might unfairly influence their moral evaluation. If modern individuals are constantly accumulating “negative points,” to use the language of The Good Place, their ethical imbalance is due to systemic issues beyond their control. Because of these systemic influences, one’s choices on a day to day basis can become extremely limited, further complicating the moral evaluation of their actions. 

Meanwhile, Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics centers on eudaimonia, or happiness, as the ultimate goal of human existence. This relativist perspective suggests that individuals often prioritize their own well-being and desires in their pursuit of the highest good. Unlike Kant’s “rule follower,” the Aristotelian “happiness maker” operates under a utilitarian ideology, justifying actions based on their potential to create happiness. Indeed, Aristotle’s idea of eudaimonia goes beyond fleeting pleasure, towards a desire to fulfill our potential and contribute to communal well-being. As he formally puts it, “Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence.” In practical terms, this means that ethical choices aren’t just about following rules, but about cultivating habits and actions that lead to a flourishing life for ourselves and those around us.  

In his influential book, The Most Good You Can Do: How Effective Altruism Is Changing Ideas About Living Ethically, Singer further explores utilitarian reasoning, through the concept of effective altruism. This is based on the idea that we should use our resources to do the most good possible. Introducing readers to people who have restructured their lives according to these principles, the book demonstrates how living altruistically can lead to greater personal fulfillment. His argument calls for readers to support organizations that can prove they will do more overall good with their money or time than other options that benefit less people in the long run. Ultimately, then, effective altruism means maximizing the good we can do by focusing on measurable, high-impact interventions, often driven by utilitarian reasoning. 

Singer builds his arguments on secular grounds, without consideration of any religious authority or divine command. Instead, he relies on reason and evidence to determine what actions will do the most good, making his ideas accessible regardless of one’s religious background. This sets his work apart from moral systems that are grounded in spiritual or religious traditions, highlighting a distinctively modern, pragmatic approach to ethics. 

All these approaches have strengths and limitations. Absolutist approaches, like Kantian ethics, provide a strong emphasis on duty, universal principles, and respect for the inherent dignity of all individuals, ensuring fairness and consistency in moral judgments. However, its rigidity can sometimes disregard the nuances of specific situations and the importance of emotions. On the other hand, relativist approaches, like Aristotelian ethics, emphasize the cultivation of virtue and the pursuit of a flourishing life, promoting personal growth and community well-being. Still, their reliance on individual character can be subjective and may not provide clear guidance in complex moral dilemmas. Moreover, an explicitly non-religious approach like Singer’s can end up prioritizing short-term, quantifiable outcomes over actual systemic change. “Effective altruism” neglects personal attachments, or broader ethical considerations like economic and environmental effects, arguably reducing morality to cold calculation.  

How do we integrate these diverse philosophical perspectives to balance personal well-being with a broader ethical consciousness? Might a more nuanced synthesis of ethical considerations, taking into account the complexities of free will, systemic influences, and individual circumstances, and even more intricate moral frameworks, achieve a spiritual status worthy of “The Good Place”?

PART III: A Paradise of Authenticity; or, Do Unto Others As You Would Have Them Do Unto You

Achieving a status worthy of “The Good Place” requires a moral groundwork appropriate to ethical living in the modern world. With thoughtful nuance, it would first recognize that individual circumstances, systemic influences, and human behavior all play crucial roles in determining one’s ethical standing. As such, it might underscore how  voluntary actions alone deserve praise or blame, aligning with philosophical concepts of free will and moral responsibility. This perspective suggests that individuals should be held accountable for their conscious choices rather than circumstances beyond their control. In other words, not all bad deeds are equal; taking into account the entire situation, we often find genuine ill will responsible for some “bad deeds,” since  what looks like a moral failing might actually be the result of circumstances outside someone’s control—systemic pressures, lack of resources, or other external factors. Recognizing this complexity allows us to respond with greater empathy and fairness, distinguishing between actions rooted in genuine ill will and those shaped by factors beyond an individual’s reach. 

At the same time, it’s important to consider that the line between voluntary and involuntary actions can sometimes be too blurry. What is considered “reasonable” or “just” can differ across societies, cultural contexts, members of communities, and even within one’s self; also, maintaining consistency in one’s morals, while adapting to changing circumstances and new information, can be challenging. When it comes to justice and fairness, it’s clear that having a consistent moral compass is no easy feat. In that light, classical philosophical ideas about the importance of fairness must apply to ethical behavior today. Furthermore, it’s helpful to recognize that some traditional religious frameworks have long emphasized the need for a steady sense of justice and right and wrong. Even if you’re coming from a secular viewpoint, there’s value in acknowledging that these religious traditions have contributed important ideas about why fairness matters, and why it’s not enough to just follow rules or check boxes. 

Rather than simply following rules, then, perhaps moral behavior involves an active commitment to promoting justice in one’s interactions with others.  A more inclusive and positive approach to morality would encourage individuals to focus on actively doing good to others, rather than just avoiding perceived wrongdoing. When we fixate on labeling certain actions as “sins,” it can hinder a proactive and constructive approach to ethical living. It also arguably diminishes “ordinary” good deeds in comparison to grander gestures. In other words diminishes the importance of everyday acts of kindness in comparison to larger, more visible good deeds. Instead, imagine a spectrum of good actions when considering what makes someone a good person, ranging from simple acts of kindness to significant philanthropic endeavors. Within this spectrum, all genuine acts of good, no matter how big or small, hold equal value. These positive actions may manifest differently based on individual lives, capabilities, opportunities, and goals, but genuine goodness on any level should always be valued and never be diminished.

This framework’s mindful balance of personal desires with the happiness of others reflects a mature understanding of human interconnectivity. In understanding external influences, and promoting a holistic view of “good deeds,” we might find a potential path on which to journey through the practical considerations of modern life. In other words, mindfulness, in this context, isn’t just about personal well-being. It’s about being genuinely attentive to how our actions affect others and the world around us. By staying present and aware of both our own motivations and the needs of those around us, we’re better equipped to strike a balance between self-interest and the greater good.  

My journey on this path has meant departing from the conventional path I once envisioned. Initially, I believed that adhering to a strict, unsecular life was the key to spiritual fulfillment, but I began to question the attainability and even the authenticity of such a life. This led me to critically examine long-held beliefs about God, religion, and the principles I had been taught. Eventually, I learned to release the fear of divine retribution or societal expectations and ceased striving for an unattainable image of perfection. Instead, I recalled Matthew 6:1: “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them; if you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.” 

As time passed after my mother’s death, I came to the realization that her religious pressure was gone. I love her; I know she only meant well for me and that she would love me, even now– despite her beliefs, but now was the time to finally live more authentically. Her teachings will forever guide me and I will always think about whether I’m making her proud. Although this epiphany made me understand that my own truth mattered more than fulfilling my mother’s or anyone else’s expectations. I recognized that genuine acts of kindness and service are performed with pure intentions, devoid of any expectation of reward or fear of punishment.   

My goal now is to live authentically, honoring my personal desires while carefully considering the needs, dreams, and aspirations of my family, friends, and partner. It is about finding my place in the world and becoming the person I wish to see more of: someone who cares deeply for others, regardless of their background, a dedicated philanthropist, a supporter of the arts, and an advocate for social justice. This personal standard, born from reflection and introspection, represents my path towards eudaimonia, a sense of contentment and completeness that nourishes my soul. 

In the finale of ‘The Good Place’, the main characters each find their own sense of peace and decide to walk through a “Last Door,” marking the end of their journey in the afterlife. This moment beautifully captures the true fulfillment that comes from embracing the impermanence of existence. Likewise, perhaps we may each embrace life’s fleeting nature, and find our own path on an ever-evolving journey of spiritual discovery. With hope, we might then strive for a better version of ourselves, while finding solace and purpose in the interconnectedness of all humanity.

Works Cited 

Michael Schur, The Good Place,  Fremulon, 3 Arts Entertainment and Universal Television 2016. 

Singer, Peter. The Most Good You Can Do: How Effective Altruism Is Changing Ideas About Living Ethically. Yale University Press, 2015. 

Kant, Immanuel. Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals. 1785. 

Dancy, J. (1993). Moral Reasons. Blackwell Publishers.   

Dancy, J. (2004). Ethics Without Principles. Oxford University Press. 

Aristotle. “Nicomachean Ethics.” Translated by Terence Irwin, Hackett Publishing Company, 1999.