If I Were to Choose a Religion

I do not practice a religion. It’s not for me. The fact that most of my experience with religion has been attempts from adherents to convince me or even force me to believe that theirs is the one true one has not bolstered its case. But let’s just say that I have never been interested, and will never join a religion. One of the few things I am confident in saying I will never do.

However, if I was going to choose one…

I’d want it to be old. Real old. So old that no person knows exactly how or when it began. I’d want to practice a religion that predates what’s been written about it. I’d want a religion that we did not create. I’d want one that created us.

If I were to follow the word of a sacred text so I can know how things are supposed to be, I’d want one that is still being written. A text that knows I am here. I’d want this text to be the direct word of divinity, untranslated by human needs and wants, or the limitations of language. One that I could witness in its original form, any time I want.

The sacred text of this religion would not be in any book. It would be in an old-growth forest. It would be on a mountain slope. It would be in any place on earth that has been left alone long enough for the text to become legible. The text is nature, because only nature can tell us how things are supposed to be. Because nature IS how things are supposed to be.

This religion only has one rule, as immutable as the rising sun: Balance. Harmony. That is the one natural law from which all others derive. Nowhere in my sacred text is dominion over the world given to human beings. What was given to humans was a chance. We were given a place in the world— what a gift— and it began with balance, and it will end with balance. Whether we follow the natural law or not, it will be enforced, eventually. Maybe that’s what “fate” means in this religion.

I would never be a priest. Just a permanent acolyte. If I were a priest of this religion, though, I might suggest to my community that the time they spend asking gods what to do might be better spent helping nature enforce its single law. Helping it achieve balance. I like to think that the more we help nature, the more it will help us. Maybe that’s what “prayer” means in this religion. Again, not a priest.

What is most enticing about this religion is that any of us can experience divinity, right now, with our own senses. We need simply to stand before a giant sequoia tree, one that has stood in its place since before prophets and messiahs were even born. Why, when trees and oceans and sunsets exist, why would anyone prefer to place divinity somewhere unknowable, able to be experienced only upon death? Why must religion separate divinity from life? I don’t think it controversial to say that life is the most divine thing there is. Not even just human life! Have you SEEN a giant sequoia? Or the Grand Canyon? Or any dog?

I’m just saying, MY religion would leave undeniable evidence of the primacy of its single law everywhere we care to look, and it would look pretty damn good doing it.

I have good news. You can join this religion. You, too, can reach the unending state of bliss and harmony that rewards its most loyal followers. Joining requires no conversion, no tests, and very little proselytizing. This religion will even forgive you if you choose one of the other religions, because you’re actually already part of this one. Indeed, to experience this religion fully, you need only answer one question. Think carefully, and answer honestly, and the moment you have answered it, you will know if you qualify.

What is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?