(IN FACT, THE WHOLE “REASON” I “am” “religious” in the first place is only due to a direct perception [some might say delusion] that the Universe is, in some essential and indescribable sense, alive and conscious. I can’t help seeing that, feeling a part of it, and celebrating.)
(Also, as much as I love science, I’m more fascinated by rituals and customs, folkways, manners, stories, legends, myths, folklore. I see religion as structured spirituality, and its practice one of many attentive arts of living. And I like the perspective of participating in something bigger, older and more continuous than I am. I guess that’s one reason why some people play music or build stuff or deeply study anything.
(But it’s not for everyone, and what a boring world it would otherwise be. It seems to me that the only reason to lead a religious life — or any life at all — is because It calls to you in some way. If it doesn’t, move along. There really is plenty more to see, and plenty more ways to see it.)
(I say these things because I have many friends in the worlds of science, secularity and reason whose daily experience of “religion” is as the pounding blow of an ideological and headbusting sledgehammer. This is quite different from my own experience, or those of most “religious” people I know, whose “reasons” for so being are either similar to mine or only different within a companionable degree. While I certainly understand (and largely condone) disdain toward joyless Bible-thumping lumps who want everyone to conform to their own prejudiced and small idea of existence, I like to think there are many more of “us” than of the noisy haters for whom “God” is no more than a coward’s rationalization. Quiet people don’t dominate public discourse, so it’s hard to tell.)
(Which is a pity.)
(Anyway, I seem to feel as compelled to defend religion-as-a-valid-ordering-principle as some of my friends who invalidate it. I don’t know why — I have no interest in whether other people lead religious lives, only happy ones — but I feel uncomfortable seeing something-dear-to-me tarred with a broad brush when a little one will do. After all, I don’t like the Noisy Haters any more than you do. Perhaps less. Because I really, REALLY don’t want to be mistaken for one. And neither do my friends.)
Do you understand?