“Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.”

–Mark Twain

Some people travel the world with a camera, and others with those U-shaped neck cushions that you always see strapped to a bag but never actually see in use.

I travel the world with neither. My best travel companion is a set of questions.

These questions serve as a framework to help me better understand the location I am in and who I am sitting across from.

One of those questions is the earliest question I remember asking myself:

Do you believe in God? 

I’ve asked this to over a hundred people across a couple dozen countries and the answers I hear are extremely interesting, but not for the reason you think. 

A polarizing question asked across varied cultures should invoke a wide range of responses. And it did, about 10% of the time. The other 90% responded with the same phrase, nearly down to the word:

“I’m not religious, I’m spiritual.”

When I would ask them to tell me more, I’d hear something along the lines of: 

“I believe in a higher power. Energies and spirits seem more real than unreal. What I don’t agree with is religious dogmas, or labeling the higher power like ‘God’. Most religions are teaching the same lesson in different ways.”

This pattern of dialogue never struck me as unusual. How could it?

I used to answer the question in the same exact way. 

***

If your phone stopped working right now, would you trust yourself to take it apart and solve the problem? Probably not. You would take it to a professional. 

That’s what we do when we have a problem or question far outside our realm of expertise, we seek help. 

Yet, when it comes to answering the question of a divine authority, the modern mind (particularly popular amongst my generation and younger) believes that she will single-handedly be able to solve the problem that has utterly befuddled the greatest minds in history.

Could she? Perhaps. 

If you believe in the divinity of man and that we were created in likeness and image of God (which I do), then it’s not illogical to arrive at the conclusion that you could connect to the source without an organized religion acting as the middle-man.

It’s also not impossible to summit Everest without sherpas and oxygen tanks, but you would either have to be a prolific mountaineer willing to risk your life or be incredibly stupid (and prideful) to try.

Assuming that the majority of people are not theological mountaineering sages, how does one come to believe they are able to conquer the tallest of mountains alone?

Personally, that belief was born firstly out of ignorance (an empty mind is fertile ground) and later influenced by modern thought trends spewing ideas such as a perfect equality among all religions.

If I would’ve studied any religion seriously, then it would’ve been impossible to convince me that all religions are teaching the same lesson; and therefore, that the Truth is subjective.

Lacking knowledge of any singular faith, I found it didn’t take many books, podcasts, and YouTube videos comparing the similarities of religions before I heard myself smartly lecturing my friends that all religions really were the same, with their differences accounted for by varying cultural perspectives. 

What a hip thought. So modern, so sleek. It signified a position of higher moral ground, one which allowed me to see past petty differences and find the common ground between all. 

By unifying major religions, I made the question of God into something of a spiritual Chipotle. 

“I don’t like long boring services with a chanting choir.”

No problem! Substitute that outdated type of Christianity for this megachurch where the pastor shreds an electric guitar while preaching the gospel (a modern and brief interpretation of it, of course). 

“And if I don’t agree with monogamy?”

You’ll find the Quran stating that you can have up to four wives, as long as you treat each of them fairly. But four is a lot! May I suggest you start with two? 

“What about the idea of God being a male? That never sat well with me.”

I’m glad you mentioned that! Many others your age have the same concern. Take a look at Eastern religions like Hinduism and Buddhism. There, you’ll find that several of their gods are formless. They can manifest themselves as male, female, and even non-binary!

Through this righteously selective pattern of thinking, I constructed a personal religion tailored to my modern preferences without the obedience and sacrifices required by organized religions. How perfectly convenient and foolish.

As if Odysseus could reap the rewards of the Siren’s song without tying himself to the mast! I wanted to have the cake and eat the cake, and never lift a finger to bake the damn thing.

This is how I came to say:

“I’m not religious, but I’m definitely spiritual.”

***

How can the generation that preaches individuality (be who you want to be, follow your passion, just do you) be the same generation that is the most similar to one another?

It’s ironic; If everyone is different no one is.

It’s not rebellious to dye your hair and get your nipple pierced if the other ten people in the alternative vegan fusion bakery have done the same thing.

But you don’t realize that until you see the bakery from the outside. You need to step out. I’m talking from experience here.

No, my hair was never dyed, there was never a piece of metal sticking through my nipple, and you’d have to kill me before forcing me inside of a vegan establishment of any sort. However, I did sport a mullet, pierce an ear, and believe that my parents’ ideas about God were hilariously archaic.

They didn’t understand that there was unity in diversity; that all religions were telling the same story in different ways. How could they? They weren’t as smart as me. They came from the Dark Ages, pre-internet, when you had to make a trip to the public library if you wanted to learn!

What I didn’t realize was that the difference between being smart and wise is the difference between someone who says they swim and a dolphin. 

On this worldwide phenomenon of “unity in diversity”, a hieromonk named Father Seraphim Rose wrote:

“On the surface this idea appears attractive because it seems to give everyone a fair shake. On a deeper level, however, it can be seen how the very concept of unity in diversity, as it is applied nowadays, actually destroys diversity. If an adherent to a religion, for example, believes that all other religions are equal to his own, he can no longer truly hold to that religion; he can no longer be who he is. Instead, while perhaps holding to some outward cultural artifacts, he becomes essentially a blank–a blank waiting to be filled by some new revelation. He has become as blank as everyone else who has been infected with the same modern mentality. Thus there is no true unity or diversity, only sameness based on blankness.”

(Orthodoxy and the Religion of the Future, 1975)

Father Seraphim Rose rejected Christianity in his youth for atheism and later went on to study Eastern philosophies under Alan Watts at Berkeley. Eventually, he found Orthodoxy and committed to an ascetic life. 

It was his writing that motivated me to take a closer look at the “I’m not religious, I’m spiritual” statement. 

This phrase is a symptom of a mass-mind that has been conditioned to feed itself with data and stimulation rather than Truth. Without a foundation of Truth, the mass-mind sways like a rootless tree with every gust of modern thought pushing it towards whatever it deems appropriate for that day.

Of course, the process is deceivingly more subtle than this.

It won't tell you your religion is false. It will tell you all religions are equal. 

It won’t tell you not to have kids. It will tell you’d be selfish to bring children into this world.

It won’t tell you not to be feminine. It will tell you that there are higher goals for a woman than raising children. 

It won’t tell you not to be masculine. It will tell you that women prefer sensitive, amiable men.

It won’t tell you not to rediscover your childhood curiosities. It will tell you to follow your passions; The same passions that it programmed you to want through steady exposure to media, music, and celebrities. 

You may disagree, and believe that you are aware of negative influences around you and constantly filtering against them. That they have no effect on you.

That’s fine.

Just remember that everyone else reading this had the same exact thought.

***

This essay wasn’t about whether or not God exists, or which religion is closest to the Truth. Neither my mind nor pen are sharp enough to pierce the skin of such Goliathan topics. 

I can, however, ask a good question. That’s what this whole essay is about.

Who would be victorious if the majority possessed a single, predictable mind, easily influenced and increasingly unable to decipher objective Truth from their own?