Whereas one of my last topics was an extolling of one of the virtues of religion (the beauty of sacrifice and its transformative effect), this topic is a damning condemnation of one of its real-life vices. I refer to the reality that for so many people, religion--in the words of Marx--is the opiate of the masses.

I mention this after going to mass today at an up-and-coming contemporary Catholic church in Maryland suburbia. The parish has been around for as long as I can remember, but in recent years, it has been undergoing a thorough renovation--from the physical look of the building to the entire approach of its ministry.

In place of its old cross and stain glass windows are now spotlights and huge screens, wired of course to computers that project powerpoint presentations during the homily. In place of (or at least in addition to) the old faithful parishioners wearing their Sunday best are hordes of middle to upper class high school students, wearing pink polo shirts and khakis, high fiving each other as they enter the Church. And in place of a homily (sermon) was a duo powerpoint presentation (the priest and some other random guy).

These things in and of themselves are not big problems for me. I see nothing wrong with integrating the existing Church structure with modern technology, and I think it's great that hordes of young people would consider doing something other than play video games and check myspace on a sunday afternoon. And thank God for a priest who thinks innovatively and creatively and who tries different avenues to spread the Good Word. There is nothing inherently wrong with any one of these individual changes.

What bothers me, however, is the general pattern that they constitute as an aggregate whole. That is, it's clear to me that the Church is doing all it can to attract young followers--to make it fun and exciting to be at Church. To make it popular. To make it cool.

The problem with this in my eyes is twofold. First, there is the usual trade off between quality and quantity, or between breadth and depth. The more people you try to reach out to, usually, the less substantially that you reach any one individual. Related to this, it is very easy to water down a message when your aim is to get people to come to Church. In fact, the message centered around helping people, which is nice, but almost nothing was said about the challenges or sacrifices that each individual needs to SUFFER through in order for true giving (or true love) to happen.

The second problem is more pernicious. That is, it turns religion into exactly what Marx said it was--the opiate of the masses. In this anxiety-ridden, fear-driven postmodern increasingly secular hedonistic world, we are starved for meaning and purpose. True religion can provide that, but usually at the cost of nothing short of complete and utter devotion. In other words, it is no opiate when your religion inspires you to devote your life to helping the poor and disenfranchised.

It is an opiate, however, when you can go to mass on a Sunday and get your weekly serving of meaning. When you can be assured that you are loved and that you have a place in the cosmic order of the universe, and the only thing that's required is that you come once a week. "We'll make it easy for you! We'll have powerpoint slides, and pizza afterwards, and all your buddies will be there!" It becomes, as a recent Economist article (commenting on the midwest mega Churches) put it--Christianity Lite. A cool refreshing palliative to the harsh anxieties of modern life, with a kicker of Eternal Life to ward off that ever present fear of death. An hour a week lost, eternal life gained. Not a bad trade-off.

In fact, religion, when it is served/received in this way, far from challenging the modern hedonistic materialistic way of life, serves actually to perpetuate it (Marx again, in what he refers to as "ideology"). Why feel guilty buying an SUV? I gave 2 dollars to Katrina victims! No need to figure out any existential questions for myself, I got the answers at last week's powerpoint! I'm relieved of the anxiety that modern life presents, AND relieved of the responsibility and guilt that traditional religion lays on me.

I can get high on God. And man it feels so good...

Reminds me of the portrayal of the Catholic chruch in a particular movie by Kevin Smith.... titled Dogma. The churches we'd known growing up had their own sense of that word. Now, as you are eloquently putting it, it's getting to be about a church's self-promotion.

Soon, we'll have hip-hop hymns and the congregation wearing bling.

Okay, maybe not quite that bad... for a while...

They may claim it's to reach out to today's youth, to save them from oblivion or Hades. As far as I am concered, Billy Graham has saved more souls than any single church has. You are right though, it's about getting at least a weekly fix of "good, upstanding citizen teachings" so we can survive another harsh week of kid's middle-fingers, reckless drivers, the unrelenting work-place and all the commercialized sex.

Okay, allow me to play devil's advocate for a bit.

So what if it makes them feel good? Why is that wrong? Why shouldn't religion celebrate things? Why is it wrong for religious people to celebrate their faith as opposed to mourning it?

A few things.

First, I don't believe that I have put the idea of "feeling good" or the idea of "celebration" in opposition to authentic religious experience. I'm referring mostly to the sixth of Gandhi's seven blunders:

That is, I'm not saying religion shouldn't feel good, but rather the authenticity of a religious experience that ONLY feels good is suspect.

Second, there is in fact a particular "feel good" experience that one feels when one sacrifices and yes, even suffers. There is a particular type of celebratory attitude that we take towards anyone who sacrifices his life for a noble cause. Note that for Catholics, the celebration of the Eucharist is nothing less than a celebration of the torture and murder of Jesus. In this sense, there IS celebration, even in sacrifice.

Some may say that this is awfully morbid and depressing. But is it? Is it depressing when someone devotes their life to a cause? Is it depressing that Martin Luther King and Malcolm X continued to spearhead their causes in light of persistent death threats? Is it morbid to be grateful for people who sacrifice their time and energy to make our lives better?

Note that there can be a dangerous tendency towards self-masochism when this concept is taken too far--when the assumption that the only true holy pleasure can be attained through self-inflicted pain (like the assassin in The DaVinci code who whips himself). Psychoanalysis would speak here of jouissance, that is--the strange subconscious pleasure that comes from diverting the energy of the libido (or maybe the "leaking" of the libido that occurs when someone tries to suppress it).

But what I'm talking about is neither a feast of masochism nor a call for the renunciation of pleasure in religious experience, but rather a celebration of true devoted sacrifice--in essence true love--that of course at times can be sobering and challenging, but ultimately humbling and inspiring.