I’m no longer part of organized religion, if I retain an openness to views that aren’t naive realism, reductionist materialism, and simplistic scientism.
To my mind, the world is stranger than we can imagine. It’s easy to realize that truth by trying to wrap one’s mind around modern physics (Matt Strassler, Waves in an Impossible Sea). It’s even more challenging in that we now know quantum physics also applies to the macro level; hence, quantum biology. The way we typically perceive reality is not how reality operates, and as a culture we have yet to come to terms with this (A Paradigm Shift of Paradigm Shifts).
To get to my main point, there is a common distinction made between religion and spirituality, with the two sometimes overlapping in practice. For example, within Christianity, direct experience (anamnesis, revelation, visions, holy spirit, etc) was prioritized and privileged in certain traditions: Paulinism, Gnosticism (or what later got called that by heresiologists), certain strains of Catholicism (mysticism, quietism), certain strains of Protestantism (Pentecostalism, Pietism), Anabaptism, Quakerism, etc.
Experience, though, is a tricky thing. But it’s all we got — there is no escaping it. Even science, ultimately, is just about making sense of experience.
As for religion, I was raised in the Unity Church that is on the far end of the experiential side of the spectrum. Based on a supposed direct relationship to reality, one of the tenets of Unity theology is that every claim should be tested in one’s own mind and life. Nothing is to be taken on blind faith alone! Unity is what’s called New Thought; a mix of 19th century evangelicalism, Swedenborgianism, and Mesmerism.
It attracts many new agey types and so its adherents tend to be open to Eastern spirituality, philosophy, worldview, and practice. The Eastern is more resonant to Unity thought by far than to mainline Christianity and to other conventional varieties of Abrahamic monotheism. For one, Unity focuses on mind, thought, and awareness. The divine is often spoken of in terms of the Mind of God. It’s a short step from there to Buddha Mind or Buddha-nature.
There are a few reasons why I’m thinking on this. I just wrote about why the death of the body, though grief-inducing, can be less disturbing than death of mind, self, and personality as caused by dementia, brain damage, trauma, drug abuse, etc. That led me to bring up some related things about differences in response, what causes grief or not, what disturbs or not, and why.
I find myself often turning to other kinds of cultures, mentalities, and worldviews. I have a particular interest in non-WEIRD dividualism, animism, bundle theory of mind, and 4/5E cognition (embodied, embedded, enacted, & extended; + ecological). Buddhists ascribe to bundle theory of mind, as opposed to ego theory of mind. Animists have a similar model of psychology. As such, both of them don’t necessarily and entirely share the biases and concerns of WEIRDos with their inheritance from Christianity.
Maybe that’s why the development of modern Western thought on religion was challenged by these other examples (Kwame Anthony Appiah, Captive Gods: Religion and the Rise of Social Science).
These traditions or cultures were not always judged to be ‘religions’ because they didn’t conform to the conventions of monotheism and and ego theory of mind, such as a belief in an unchanging immortal soul. It’s true these non-WEIRD traditions emphasize experience, what could be called ‘spirituality’ or else something else entirely. But it’s not a matter of an experiential focus in a general sense, rather how it’s experienced and how that experience is understood, along with what kind of identity and reality it expresses.
Daniel Everett asserts the animistic Piraha, for instance, don’t have religion; certainly not in the way we understand it. He has good reason for his argument, in having lived among them.
They lack authority figures and hierarchy, commandments and rules of conduct, formal practices of rituals and worship, theology and cosmology, mythological and folkloric narratives (e.g., an origin story), belief in souls and an afterlife, faith in supernatural beings or forces, etc. Like Buddhists, the Piraha are agnostics and atheists in the strict sense, specifically weak atheists (passive lack of belief in god, but no active disbelief in god). They simply don’t even think about deities, unless a missionary comes around, but even then it has no relevance to them.
Most important, the Piraha are non-believers overall, since belief isn’t an issue. They simply go by what they immediately experience, which does occasionally include what modern Westerners would deem ‘supernatural’. As a case in point, one time Everett heard the Piraha all yelling down by the river. When he arrived, they were pointing to the other side. They all claimed to see a spirit.
Apparently, it was immediately real to their senses and shared perception, whatever it was that they were ‘seeing’. Still, they have no belief about spirits and so wouldn’t have placed a doctrinal interpretation over their direct experience. It’s all purely what they knew firsthand, if Everett couldn’t see anything at all.
The Piraha only accept what they personally experience or what someone they personally know has personally experienced. In fact, with the Piraha language, it’s impossible to make a statement about reality without specifically attributing it to the experiential source of the claim.
This is why Everett, as a Christian missionary, failed to convert the Piraha. He was forced to admit that he had never met Jesus and so, to the Piraha, his Christianity was moot. They have no use for ‘religion’ proper. And a textual scripture meant nothing to them. Or rather less than nothing, as his apologetical blathering just irritated them. Finally, one member of the tribe told him that, though they liked him as a person, he needed to shut up about Jesus or go away. He decided to shut up.
That’s how Everett lost his faith. The experiential atheism of the Piraha was more compelling, not to mention more satisfying. They showed him the emptiness of his ‘religion’ as a reified abstraction.
Buddhism might be a more interesting example for the reason it’s been in dialogue with monotheism for millennia.
The two traditions were already mixing it up in the Mediterranean world at least by early Christianity. Some Christians at the time praised Buddhists for what was perceived as strong morality or principled behavior, although we should clarify that Buddhist compassion is a way of relating, not a dogma. The initial faith of Augustine, Manichaeanism, was a mix of Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Christianity, and Buddhism. Also, Muslims and Buddhists have been dialoguing for centuries in Southeast Asia (not to mention Islam may have partly formed out of Shiva worship, which means there was already and Eastern element within it).
Some sects of Buddhism are clearly religions in the way modern Westerners understand their own faiths-based institutions and practices. Think of the Tibetan Buddhists with theological, symbolic, and ritualistic complexity rivaling Hinduism and Catholicism. But that isn’t the case for all Buddhism.
At its most bare bones, Zen Buddhists don’t always accept a religious identity. It’s Buddhism mixed with Taoism, or possibly having its deepest roots in Taoism (David Hinton). Zen is a philosophy and practice that can be used by those of any religion or lack of religion. Buddha Mind is not something to be believed in like God, nor is it in competition with God — it has nothing to say about theism at all.
The whole point is to experience Buddha Mind and prove it, to understand and be changed by it. Unlike Christianity, Buddhism is operating on an articulated psychology as its foundation.
This talk of what may or may not be a religion is, obviously, a contentious issue. And many people respond to it with defensiveness, as saying something isn’t a religion can sound dismissive to those who place immense psychic energy in the category. Some argue that to say Zen isn’t a religion is a Western bias. Then again, maybe the problem is the insistence that all of the world has to conform to Western language, categories, and ideology.
On the AskHistorians subreddit, someone asked if Zen is a religion. Yes, historically, it’s part of the Buddhist tradition. Still, that doesn’t really answer the question. Historians have no education and training to understand religion, much less to interrogate religious studies. The entire concept of ‘religion’ is a modern Western construct, specifically one that arose in response to Western religion having entered a period of crisis and critique. That’s the point Appiah makes and he demonstrates how complex a topic it is.
This kind of intellectual complexity appeals to my sensibility, as someone who is extremely high on the personality trait ‘openness to experience’. In being a radical skeptic and experiential realist, I tend to hold my views lightly and warily. I’m always ready to be challenged and ever prepared to change my mind.
This came up as I read Appiah’s book, Captive Gods. It’s a historical survey and ideological analysis, tracing the lines of influence over the centuries.
Appiah’s careful inquiry brought to light so many cultural biases about the socially constructed category of ‘religion’. It might go beyond if this or that tradition is a religion. The very way of thinking about the phenomenon might be all wrong, misleading, or unhelpful. Worse still, since the modern idea of ‘religion’ has been forced upon Christianity, it’s caused us to lose contact with what Christianity originally meant as a charismatic and ecstatic practice (Stephen J. Patterson, The Forgotten Creed).
As others have noted, until the Axial Age, there wasn’t even a notion that was vaguely akin to ‘religion’. But Appiah argues that religion, in the way we understand it now, wasn’t formulated and used until early modernity. Previous conceptual terms can’t be treated as synonyms because the context of meaning was radically different. We make those differences disappear by projecting modern religious studies onto the past.
Into late feudalism, there was no space between Catholicism and the rest of society, between religiosity and everyday life. It seeped into everything. To be Catholic was immersive, not something that happened in a church or cathedral on Sundays.
Even animism is a WEIRD conception placed upon non-WEIRD experience. Animists, as such, don’t need a separate category for their worldview as they know nothing else. It’s absolute and all-encompassing. The world feels dynamically alive to them and so they couldn’t imagine a society like ours that experiences the world as a corpse and a husk, as inert and mute matter.
It makes me think how paltry, how shrunken down is modern humanity’s sense of self and reality. Even our ‘spirituality’ seems tame, weak, and crippled.
The emergence of religion as a conceptual category isn’t only an intellectual accretion. It represents a shift and rupture in the modern psyche. That is what allows us to speak of a separate spirituality. This likely relates to why ‘religion’ has become a political tool and weapon. MAGA evangelicalism represents an extreme endpoint of this fracture. Such religious identity no longer has anything to do with what Christianity meant before. A large number of MAGA evangelicals don’t even attend church. For them, it’s solely a politicized identity.
The religious right worries about the decline of religion. But maybe it’s precisely that we speak of ‘religion’ at all is itself a factor behind the change. It creates a gap in our psyche and society that inevitably grows into a chasm.