One: The Sacred Circus

A Broader Definition of Religion

It happens sometimes that we get so tangled up in the words we use that we can't see the thing itself anymore. Take "religion." We've stretched it, shrunk it, twisted it, and boxed it up so many times that when someone says "I'm not religious," I can't help but wonder what exactly they think they're not.

Here's what I propose: Religion is the fundamentally human activity of worshiping what is sacred. That's it. No membership cards required, no special buildings necessary, and absolutely no theological degree prerequisites.

By this definition, to be human is to be religious. I know this might ruffle some feathers—particularly those belonging to my atheist friends who take considerable pride in their non-religiosity. Sorry about that. But I promise this isn't a trap or a semantic trick to drag you into church. It's an invitation to notice something we're all doing anyway.

The Worship We Don't See

The most powerful religion is the one you don't know you're practicing. Just ask a fish about water.

Some of us explicitly know what we worship. We call it God or the Universe or the Flying Spaghetti Monster (may His noodly appendage touch you). We build temples and write books and argue about the specifics.

Others worship without realizing it. We dedicate our lives to things we hold sacred without using that vocabulary. We sacrifice for them, organize our lives around them, draw meaning from them, and defend them fiercely when threatened.

My neighbor Harold worships golf. I don't mean he enjoys it or finds it relaxing. His entire existence revolves around those eighteen holes. He rises before dawn with the devotion of a monk to practice his swing. He has special clothes, special tools, speaks a specialized language, and participates in ritualized gatherings with fellow devotees. He makes financial sacrifices to support his practice and measures the passage of time by tournaments rather than calendar dates.

Harold might be horrified if I called golf his religion. Yet his relationship with golf checks more traditional "religious behavior" boxes than many who warm church pews on Christmas and Easter.

The Sacred Marketplace

Our contemporary world offers an all-you-can-worship buffet:

• Science and rationalism

• Career and professional achievement

• Political ideologies

• Physical fitness and bodily perfection

• Celebrity and influencer culture

• Sports teams

• Romantic love

• Being accepted or being unique

• Nature

• Personal identity

• Technology

Any of these can become the central organizing principle around which a life revolves—approached with reverence, devotion, and sacrifice. Each provides meaning, purpose, and community, becoming the lens through which everything else is interpreted.

This isn't a criticism, by the way. We need sacred things. Without them, we're just waiting around to die, occasionally eating sandwiches.

The Congregation of One

Religions need not be communal. While shared worship certainly has unique social power, the solo practitioner is no less religious.

The hermit in his cave, the lone scientist pursuing truth, the solitary artist serving beauty—these are all religious vocations in their dedication to something held sacred. The mythology of the solo genius pursuing their vision against all odds is itself a kind of religious narrative.

Of course, even "religions of one" typically draw from and contribute to larger cultural and social currents. No worship happens in a vacuum. Even when we think we're inventing our own religion from scratch, we're usually remixing elements from the shared symbolic universe we inhabit.

Why This Definition Matters

You might reasonably ask: If everything can be religion, doesn't the term become meaningless?

On the contrary, I'd argue it becomes more meaningful.

This perspective invites us to recognize the religious nature of our commitments, whether they happen in cathedrals or stadiums, laboratories or social media platforms. It asks us to notice how we structure our lives around sacred values and to examine whether those values deserve the devotion we give them.

It also helps explain why certain conflicts in society feel so intractable. When environmentalists clash with industrialists, or progressives with conservatives, or Apple users with Android enthusiasts, they're not just disagreeing about facts or policies. They're defending The Sacred—they're having religious disputes.

Understanding this doesn't automatically resolve these conflicts, but it might help us approach them with more tact. Religious differences require different handling than mere differences of opinion.

The Benefits of Noticing

Becoming aware of your own religious behavior offers several advantages:

1. Self-knowledge: Recognizing what you truly worship helps you understand your own values and choices.

2. Intentionality: Once aware, you can decide if your de facto religion actually serves you and others well.

3. Compassion: Seeing the religious dimension of human behavior explains why people react so strongly when their sacred values are threatened.

4. Integration: You might discover contradictions between your stated beliefs and your lived religion that need reconciling.

5. Freedom: Perhaps most importantly, awareness creates the possibility of choice.

The Dangers of Worship

Whether we’re aware of it or not—when something is sacred to us, we're more likely to defend it beyond all reason, sacrifice for it beyond what seems sensible, and completely organize our lives around it.

This capacity gives human life much of its meaning and beauty. It's also responsible for our most spectacular atrocities.

The person who doesn't know they're being religious is particularly vulnerable. They can't examine or moderate their devotion because they don't recognize it for what it is. They may mock "religious fanaticism" while engaging in their own variety of it.

Conclusion: The Great Perhaps

So what's sacred to you? What organizing principles guide your decisions? What would you defend beyond reason? What gives your life meaning? What communities form around shared devotion to these things?

Answer these questions honestly, and you'll discover your religion, whether or not it comes with a traditional label.

This expanded definition doesn't diminish traditionally recognized religions. If anything, it highlights the profound psychological insight embedded in their practices and the universal human needs they address.

The question isn't whether you worship, but what—and whether that which you hold sacred deserves the central place you've given it in your life.

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