Why organized religion is the antithesis of faith

religion (noun) : an organized system of beliefs, ceremonies, and rules used to worship a god or a group of gods.

organized (adjective) : arranged into a formal group with leaders and with rules for doing or planning things.

faith (noun) : belief in the existence of god; strong religious feelings or beliefs.

antithesis (noun) : the state of two things that are directly opposite to each other.

Most of us use the words religion and faith pretty interchangeably. If we do differentiate at all it might be to say something along the lines of “faith is what I have; religion is what I believe.” As far as it goes this isn’t a terrible way of looking at the terms. For most people this is enough to separate the two, while at the same time continuing to use them to describe the same facet of their lives. It makes sense. Religious leaders and practitioners routinely swap them back and forth because they see no difference between them. For me, though, there is a world of difference.

Before I write and you read any further I need to explain why I’m going to use some particular examples later on. When I write about religion I’ll be writing about one religion in particular, and one particular flavor of that religion. The religion is Christianity and the denomination is Roman Catholicism. I could have picked any religion just as easily, but because of personal history and years of education this is the one I am most qualified to speak on.

Faith

Faith is an active process that lives within us. I believe that it is some magic inside that makes faith possible. We could not have faith in something else—something outside of ourselves—if there wasn’t a spark in our soul that echoed with what we have chosen or been taught to believe in. Faith is something that we define and make central to our lives. Faith may guide us, but it does not tell us what we absolutely must or must not do. Faith is not a set of rules, but it may inspire us by the example of the object of our faith. Faith is personal. Faith is ours. At the same time, our need to have faith in an outside agency speaks of some element we believe is missing from us. It’s an interesting conundrum.

We may have learned our faith from our parents or family. We may have learned it in a house of worship. Faith may be something we learned by rote and it may be indistinguishable from that of our fellow believers, but at some point we had to internalize it and make it a part of us.

Thomas Aquinas described faith as “[having] to do with things that are not seen…”, while Augustine of Hippo said “[it] is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.” Note what is missing from these descriptions. There is no talk of dogma or church teaching, despite both men being luminaries of the Catholic Church. Of course I suspect they were both thinking of their god as they wrote, and it’s certainly the filter I’m writing through here. To bring in the words of another spiritual leader, Mahatma Gandhi said “faith is not something to grasp, it is a state to grow into.” I would take his words a step further to say that faith is not something to be learned and then never considered further. It should come as no surprise that I believe in the worth and necessity of introspection, including on the topic of faith, and that I am going to view faith as a thing which must grow from within. Faith cannot be forced on us, not and be the real deal. Without thought—without challenge—faith is just a learned belief and of little value. As Ralph Waldo Emerson put it “the faith that stands on authority is not faith.”

Religion

Thomas Aquinas proves to be a rich source of thinking on the subject of religion and religious authority. “Beware of the person on one book,” he said, and “clearly the person who accepts the Church as an infallible guide will believe whatever the Church teaches.” Yet he also said “there is but one Church in which men find salvation, just as outside of the Ark of Noah it was not possible for anyone to be saved.” Obviously he saw some distinction between accepting a single source of authority unquestioningly, unless it was the Catholic Church, in which case it was just fine.

Starting during the latter days of the Western Roman Empire and proceeding through the Middle Ages and Renaissance (and later) the Catholic Church was intent on building its worldly power on the basis of its spiritual authority. To facilitate this goal it pursued several, specific courses of action. Three of these are of particular interest. The Church courted the patronage and support of secular rulers. They could claim the souls of an entire kingdom through its feudal ruler, while the rulers could claim the support of god to maintain the full measure of their power and privilege. Patronage gained them most favored status and allowed them to build wealth. The Church taught obedience to all authority, which benefitted themselves and the ruling classes throughout Europe’s sphere of influence. Finally, the Church insisted that it was the only path to god and salvation¹, thus enshrining its authority in all matters spiritual and insuring that it would have no competition in this realm. Eventually, or course, the Church became a secular power throughout Europe, ranging from properties owned by the local abbey, all the way to Rome itself.

All of this is intended, not to draw away from my central thesis, but to emphasize the nature of organized religion through this example.

In order for religion to be organized it must have established structures, both in belief (dogma) and authority (clergy). Some of these structures were carried over from Judaism, of which Christianity was an offshoot, while others came when the Roman Empire adopted it as the state religion. These structures brought with them hierarchies, bureaucracy, and centers of power and authority. With defined leaders and organized laws of beliefs we also set the stage for heresy—the ultimate example of religion trumping faith.

As we move through the centuries of Christianity’s growth we see the primacy of the Roman Church emerge as it methodically and often violently stamped its authority on Christendom, defined and cast out heresy, and cemented itself as the state religion from the Caucuses to the Atlantic. Throughout this period Europeans were taught “we can only learn to know ourselves and do what we can—namely, surrender our will and fulfill God’s will in us.” (Teresa of Avila), and “if you believe what you like in the gospels, and reject what you don’t like, it is not the gospel you believe, but yourself.” (Augustine of Hippo). Ironically it was the founder of the branch of the Catholic Church which most values knowledge and education, Ignatius of Loyola, who said “we should always be disposed to believe that that which appears white is really black, if the hierarchy of the Church so decides.” If the man who began the Society of Jesus could take such a binary and cynical view it is a stark wonder that the Jesuits ever emerged as the force for learning and teaching that we know today.

While the Reformation changed the players around the game remained the same. Well, I take that partly back. The game changed in so far as one, monolithic church became splintered and numerous secular rulers were able to declare themselves the heads of their various state churches. This, of course, set the stage for every dispute between nations to become religious wars.

Coming back to the topic

If it seems like I abandoned my topic in favor of expounding a history lesson you may be a little right. At the same time, going into the history of Christianity, as an organized religion, serves to emphasize—I hope—how the entire concept of organized religion takes faith and a personal relationship with the divine off of the table. If in faith you can live as your conscience and personal belief dictates, then in religion you must live as you are told, based on the interpretation of professional clergy, who have set their faith and understanding up as superior to yours.

“Religion is about turning untested belief into unshakeable truth through the power of institutions and the passage of time.” Richard Dawkins said that, highlighting that all that it takes for religion to overwhelm all challenges is the strength of its organization and enough time and space to build up inertia. Even more to the point is what John Morley had to say about what happens when religion takes hold: “where it is a duty to worship the sun it is pretty sure to be a crime to examine the laws of heat.” Where faith needs introspection, examination, and challenge to thrive, religion cannot countenance it.

As long as this state persists, as long as an entire professional class of dictatorial intermediaries exists, men and women are not free to believe and act. They—we—are slaves to a tyranny of imposed theos.

So make a choice. Make the choice. Are you a rational, adult human being, capable of making your own decisions and having a personal relationship with the divine? Or are you a follower? A child? Of less worth than others? Less than you believe your creator intended you to be? I would rather believe of myself, and of you, that no creed or dogma is equal to our dignity and worth. We are—all of us—sparks of the divine, and must have the strength to have faith in ourselves.

It’s taken me longer to write this piece than any other in recent years. I’ve used many words and many citations on this topic. I have drawn on my years of parochial education and college electives, as well as my love of history to explore it. I have written and thought and written some more, never quite sure exactly where I was going, not until here at the end. The simple truth is that I do not like organized religion and am even suspicious of faith when it’s someone else talking about it (because they don’t use the word the way I think it should be used). In matters of morality I am a humanist, believing that we don’t need any reason outside of ourselves for correct behavior and respect granted to the dignity of each and every one of us. To claim that goodness flows from some unseen being so much greater than ourselves offends me, because it says to me that other people cannot be good, cannot be worth as much or deserving of as much as are we. Here’s one, last quote for you. “This is God’s world, not Satan’s. Christians are the lawful heirs, not non-Christians.” Well I reject those words by Gary North, and would reject them no matter what deity or cult was named therein. When I speak of faith I am not looking out there, hoping that some mighty being will grant me their fiat. I am speaking of the faith that I have in the divine that rests within me, and within you. I have faith that the godhood within all of us will ultimately lead us to a salvation that has nothing to do with sin, or desert mystery cults, if only we can hear our inner voices and see the truth at the heart of us all.

1. This is not unique to the either early Christianity or the Catholic Church. All religions have built themselves on a power base of the corpse of personal gnosis.