Speaking of religion
22/10/25 02:00
Yesterday I wrote an essay about original sin that I did not post in this journal, but posted on my Substack. I have imposed deadlines on myself and my writing for Substack, publishing a prayer each Sunday, an essay each Tuesday, and a poem each Thursday. I started the Substack as an alternative to this journal, and I intended to give up the practice of daily essays and introduce a new website. That is still my plan. The new website has been delayed because I am waiting for a book to be published, which is an adventure in itself. I’m a novice at book publication and so don’t know quite what to expect. I’ve been told that the print and e-book versions of the book will be available online and in bookstores before Christmas. So I have moved back my deadline for the new website from the original date of September 1 to January 1, 2026. The deadlines are all artificial and self-imposed, so I feel free to change them at will. I guess we’ll know when those who read these essays from my website go online and discover the new website.
Lately, I have been posting the same essay in my journal as the one I put on Substack, but yesterday’s essay on IKEA and tariffs somehow didn’t seem to fit the more environmental focus of my Substack. Then, as I rolled my bicycle out for my morning ride, it started raining, and I didn’t feel like riding in the rain, so I came back to my desk and wrote an essay about alienation from Creation as original sin and published it on Substack. The result surprised me. When I checked Substack in the evening, the essay had generated comments. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. People like to talk about religion and religious doctrines more than I anticipate, which is strange because I have been a pastor for more than four decades and have built my career from talking about and teaching Christian faith.
I am not, however, blind to the reality that fewer people are participating in churches. Attendance at church services has fallen pretty consistently over the span of my career. The congregations I served had stable worship participation when I served them, but each experienced a drop in attendance after my term of service. In my retirement, I am often at gatherings of people outside of the church, and I hear a lot of comments about people who are intentionally choosing a life without the regular practices of the Christian community. For a couple of decades, I have encountered people who describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” I am still not sure what they mean, but it seems to involve a kind of self-selected combination of religious practices, combined with a largely private belief system. Those who identify as “spiritual but not religious” often are unaware of how much they have in common with others who claim the same title. Their practices frequently focus on self-actualization. When asked how they practice their spirituality, they often cite hiking, meditation, yoga, self-help seminars, and retreats.
I have also encountered many people whom I describe as “religious but not spiritual.” These individuals participate in religious institutions, but their participation is often limited to attending church without making a commitment. They describe themselves by saying that they are “not joiners.” They might make small donations, but do not make an annual plan of giving and resist the fundraising efforts of their chosen churches. They prefer entertaining churches, often selecting a church because they like the beat of the music, have theater seating, and impressive sound systems. Church services seem to be performances with an on-stage cast and an audience.
The labels, however, fall short of recognizing some basic things we all share in common. Several 19th and 20th-century scholars have written extensively about religion and religious thinking as being inherent in human existence. In other words, being human means being spiritual according to some definitions. The German sociologist Max Weber wrote about the “Protestant Ethic” and its connection to capitalism. He also explored many religious themes and doctrines without using religious language. A century after his death, his ideas frequently crop up in conversation without him being credited. Weber wrote about the nature of God, about the role of suffering in human life, and the quest to discover one’s true identity. As a theology student reading Weber, I used the language of Christian doctrine to describe his ideas. Ontology is the study of the nature of God. Theodicy is the concept that suffering can be redemptive. Soteriology is a fancy word for salvation or the quest for the ultimate meaning of life.
After the response I received to a rather hastily written essay on sin yesterday, essays on ontology, theodicy, and soteriology might be interesting follow-up ideas. All three can be used to speak about the climate crisis and our relationship with creation.
Although they do not use the word theodicy, there are a lot of environmental scholars who have written extensively about the suffering that is the result of human abuse of the natural world. Human-caused global warming contributes to intense storms, wildfires, and flooding. Climate refugees are forced to move and suffer the consequences of overconsumption and pollution. There are grave injustices caused by ignoring environmental protections. Climate scientists have written of the “long dark” period we have entered as humans in which the survival of the species is no longer assured. Humans have already contributed to unprecedented species extinction and loss of diversity. We may have set in motion conditions that will lead to the extinction of humans as well. I could easily write an essay on environmental theodicy.
However, as was the case when I was a working preacher, I am much more interested in hope than in judgment and condemnation. An essay on ecological soteriology is in order. I believe that rediscovering our connections with the natural order is key to finding our way through the current crisis and discovering new ways to live on this planet.
Perhaps, however, I would do well to learn from Weber and speak of these things without using the theological jargon. After all, I have readers who describe themselves as spiritual but not religious. And I find conversation with them to be fascinating and illuminating.
Lately, I have been posting the same essay in my journal as the one I put on Substack, but yesterday’s essay on IKEA and tariffs somehow didn’t seem to fit the more environmental focus of my Substack. Then, as I rolled my bicycle out for my morning ride, it started raining, and I didn’t feel like riding in the rain, so I came back to my desk and wrote an essay about alienation from Creation as original sin and published it on Substack. The result surprised me. When I checked Substack in the evening, the essay had generated comments. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. People like to talk about religion and religious doctrines more than I anticipate, which is strange because I have been a pastor for more than four decades and have built my career from talking about and teaching Christian faith.
I am not, however, blind to the reality that fewer people are participating in churches. Attendance at church services has fallen pretty consistently over the span of my career. The congregations I served had stable worship participation when I served them, but each experienced a drop in attendance after my term of service. In my retirement, I am often at gatherings of people outside of the church, and I hear a lot of comments about people who are intentionally choosing a life without the regular practices of the Christian community. For a couple of decades, I have encountered people who describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” I am still not sure what they mean, but it seems to involve a kind of self-selected combination of religious practices, combined with a largely private belief system. Those who identify as “spiritual but not religious” often are unaware of how much they have in common with others who claim the same title. Their practices frequently focus on self-actualization. When asked how they practice their spirituality, they often cite hiking, meditation, yoga, self-help seminars, and retreats.
I have also encountered many people whom I describe as “religious but not spiritual.” These individuals participate in religious institutions, but their participation is often limited to attending church without making a commitment. They describe themselves by saying that they are “not joiners.” They might make small donations, but do not make an annual plan of giving and resist the fundraising efforts of their chosen churches. They prefer entertaining churches, often selecting a church because they like the beat of the music, have theater seating, and impressive sound systems. Church services seem to be performances with an on-stage cast and an audience.
The labels, however, fall short of recognizing some basic things we all share in common. Several 19th and 20th-century scholars have written extensively about religion and religious thinking as being inherent in human existence. In other words, being human means being spiritual according to some definitions. The German sociologist Max Weber wrote about the “Protestant Ethic” and its connection to capitalism. He also explored many religious themes and doctrines without using religious language. A century after his death, his ideas frequently crop up in conversation without him being credited. Weber wrote about the nature of God, about the role of suffering in human life, and the quest to discover one’s true identity. As a theology student reading Weber, I used the language of Christian doctrine to describe his ideas. Ontology is the study of the nature of God. Theodicy is the concept that suffering can be redemptive. Soteriology is a fancy word for salvation or the quest for the ultimate meaning of life.
After the response I received to a rather hastily written essay on sin yesterday, essays on ontology, theodicy, and soteriology might be interesting follow-up ideas. All three can be used to speak about the climate crisis and our relationship with creation.
Although they do not use the word theodicy, there are a lot of environmental scholars who have written extensively about the suffering that is the result of human abuse of the natural world. Human-caused global warming contributes to intense storms, wildfires, and flooding. Climate refugees are forced to move and suffer the consequences of overconsumption and pollution. There are grave injustices caused by ignoring environmental protections. Climate scientists have written of the “long dark” period we have entered as humans in which the survival of the species is no longer assured. Humans have already contributed to unprecedented species extinction and loss of diversity. We may have set in motion conditions that will lead to the extinction of humans as well. I could easily write an essay on environmental theodicy.
However, as was the case when I was a working preacher, I am much more interested in hope than in judgment and condemnation. An essay on ecological soteriology is in order. I believe that rediscovering our connections with the natural order is key to finding our way through the current crisis and discovering new ways to live on this planet.
Perhaps, however, I would do well to learn from Weber and speak of these things without using the theological jargon. After all, I have readers who describe themselves as spiritual but not religious. And I find conversation with them to be fascinating and illuminating.
