In argument for Religion

Let me begin by saying, I am not religious. I do not ascribe to any organised religion. I grew up in a heavily Christian school and went home to a non-Christian, non-religious family and celebrated a mix of Christian holidays and traditional holidays. And yet, I find there something so very, well, religious about religion. On my worst days, I seek not the comfort of religion but the community it might bring me.

I despise that Christianity was foisted upon me in a missionary school, but it too has become a part of me, whether I like it or not. I recently spent my first Christmas with no Christian influences and felt strangely empty.

The truth is, we are sociable creatures and religion is the deeper way we are bound together. Yes, one could argue culture, but religion is the taproot of culture. I use religion and culture almost interchangeably; the traditions I follow are cultural, but are usually done in respect of old gods whom I do not believe in. The one defining difference I will make for religion and culture is the level at which it is practiced—religion tends to be done at a much smaller level, with the local church being the point for creation of community. Culture is done at a much higher level, providing people across the country with shared experiences but it does not inherently provide community.

Religion and culture are incredibly intertwined. The joke goes, 'Britain has no culture'. This is patently untrue. Britain is, or was, a Christian country (the most recent census finds that Christianity is a plurality, not a majority, in the UK), and the culture that remains strongly favours religion over history. Christmas and Easter are the dominant holidays over other historical days (imagine a Brexit day as the nation's version of Independence day!); universities still name their terms Michaelmas and Lent. And before Christianity became widespread, Britain was Celtic. Some of these celebrations are still seen today, or are being revived—winter and summer solstices, Harvest Moon, et cetera. Both Christian and Celtic lore are rich for the imagination and full of stories to instruct and guide children and adults in how to behave. This is all a very long winded way to say, the fabric of British society has been woven by her relationship with her religions. And the one thing that we can rely on people to do is to put aside their differences and come together for religious holidays, even if they do not believe in the reason for the holiday. But by abandoning the religion in culture, we have lost the units we used to operate in and instead operate at a family level unit.

I crave a community that meets up with a wide range of people of all ages, where we might be able to discuss one specific shared thing but also share our wider lives. I wish for a community that might bring me food if I was ill, who might knock on my door if I missed a meeting or two and ask if I was doing okay. This can't be replicated with individual friends—when I am at my worst, I do not wish to reach out to multiple friends and ask for help, and plenty of friends will have their own ongoing problems. A community would be able to rally those who were able and provide a more coherent strategy.

Certainly, many people do this with other interests—book clubs, sewing groups, car enthusiasts, D&D circles, sports teams just to name a few. But what I've found happens is that when you lose the interest, you lose the group. These groups are formed around one shared interest. That is the beauty of religion. It's not a shared interest, it's a shared way of life. Of course, the downside is that the shared way of life can frequently be exclusionary to many people, leading members to wish to leave. But in an ideal world, the way of life would be loving to everyone and everyone would have a central point to form a community based on a shared belief.

Religion is second only to shared trauma (though plenty of religion has trauma embedded in it via persecution) in bringing people together. For example, people who fight at war often describe their unit as the closest companions they have who understand them in ways even their spouses or children cannot. But I for one would not like to go to war to find a communal bond with a group.

I am not arguing for organised religion, nor am I denying that organised religion has hurt many people. I am one of the people who has been hurt by organised religion. What I am arguing for is a response to the extreme individualism that has been pushed upon us. Individual friends cannot replicate what a community can bring.

In truth, I would not join a church. I do not genuinely believe that I would find the community I am seeking for. But in an age where loneliness is on the rise, perhaps we can look back to see what religion did get right.