I haven’t been able to stop thinking about a recent New York Times opinion piece, “The Empty Religions of Instagram,” by Leigh Stein, which reveals a simmering frustration with influencers such Glennon Doyle, likening them to the televangelists of the 1980s. Stein’s framing of these Instagram celebrities in terms of a certain type of religious leader is so apt. She describes them as a “new kind of clergy: personal growth influencers.'' She writes, “manifesting abundance” is the new prosperity gospel.
As you may guess, having read this newsletter and knowing that my whole thing is meaning making, what has stuck with me about the essay is not just the observation of how influencers have become the new religious leaders but the emptiness and longing Stein describes her generation experiencing.
Stein does something that too few writers on religion do. She doesn’t just quote a Pew Forum study on religion and millennials to prove institutional religion’s decline in this culture, she challenges it from her own experience of longing:
“Twenty-two percent of millennials are not affiliated with a specific religion. We are known as religious ‘nones.’ The Pew Research Center found that the number of nones in the population as a whole increased nine percentage points from 2009 to 2019. The main reasons that nones are unaffiliated are that they question religious teachings, or they don’t like the church’s stance on social issues.
But are we truly nonreligious, or are our belief systems too bespoke to appear on a list of major religions in a Pew phone survey?”
And then, the most accurate description I’ve ever read of the spiritual proclivities of the Millennials in my life: “Our new belief system is a blend of left-wing political orthodoxy, intersectional feminism, self-optimization, therapy, wellness, astrology and Dolly Parton.”
Personally, the so-called new belief system doesn’t sound too far off from my own faith. I recently reminded someone when they described my denomination as “liberal” because of its focus on social justice and the flourishing of all of creation, that that’s kind of the point of Christianity. I would even include the astrology bit (I’ve had my tarot cards read) and St. Dolly Parton, as she is known in our home. And I say this as an old kind of clergy, not that I’m objectively old or have been clergy for long (I got ordained since my last newsletter!), but as someone interested in much more than influencing personal growth — though I do think that matters too.
In other words, to the followers of bespoke religion, I say, Excellent! Now practice this belief system in a community that will simultaneously hold you accountable as well as question the belief system with you. Develop spiritual disciplines that continue to deepen your relationship with this belief system.
While I know that institutional religion still has something to offer, especially when it comes to modeling how to practice a faith, I think those of us who count ourselves among the declining population of adherents to an institutional religion, need to take seriously the reasons why our traditions are being rejected. Not for our own institutional longevity but for how it can transform us and make us more authentically what we claim to be.
Stein’s mother, for whom the author expresses such love and admiration and describes as one of those women on whose shoulders most religions rest, shares this wisdom about Insta-evangelists: “They might inspire you to live your best life but not make the best use of your life.”
Yes, that’s exactly it, and exactly the resonant wisdom we should all expect from a 72-year-old psychotherapist and lay minister at her church who spends her free time volunteering. Don’t just manifest a well-decorated home or a great job for yourself. Be like St. Dolly (and Stein’s mother) and practice making good, holy use of your life.
Table Talk
(In which we discuss food, glorious food.)
Last week I led a discussion on some of the spiritual lessons of bread baking that compelled me to revive my sourdough starter. One of the attendees made this wonderful observation that a sourdough starter, despite all its strange and funky aroma and texture, once added to flour and water and salt transforms it into a bread that reveals through scent and taste the labor and land that helped the wheat to grow. Which of course reminded me of an idea I picked up somewhere about how a priest in my tradition reveals what is already holy in bread and wine.
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Take what you will from a Wikipedia page, as culinary history is always a bit murky, but the entry for hot cross buns is fairly comprehensive in its pondering of the origin and traditions of these yeasted sweet rolls.
I’ve quite naturally gravitated toward food in my effort to hand onto my kid a life of ritual and tradition (and to reclaim them for myself and my husband). So, while I didn’t grow up with many food traditions for religious observances outside of Christmas and Easter, as an adult, I’ve relished the traditions of Episcopalians and Anglicans of pancakes and bacon on Shrove Tuesday (Mardi Gras) and hot cross buns on Good Friday. I’ll be starting my buns on Thursday to bake on Friday. My hope is that someday, my kid eventually recognizes the spicy and yeasty smell as a sign of three most holy days in the Christian tradition.
One thing I love about the cross pollination and evolution that happens with old traditions of religion-as-culture is you can end up with a recipe for hot cross buns by Great British Bakeoff Winner Nadiya Hussain, who is Muslim!
Signals
(Signs among noise)
This morning, my husband told me about the Hood Internet’s latest mashup project. We listened to 1998 this morning and were individually transported back to our senior year’s of high school, about a thousand miles apart.
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I’ve been reading my friend Elizabeth Felicetti’s newsletter A Desert Owl Among Ruins, named after the owl in Psalm 102: 6. If I have a spirit animal, it is an owl (a story to tell another time), and so I’ve very much found a kindred spirit in Elizabeth’s writing.
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In preparing for a big writing project I’m about to embark on, I am revisiting Home Cooking by Laurie Colwin, whose food writing was just as all food writing ought to be. Here is a paragraph so you know what I’m talking about:
“Dinner alone is one of life’s pleasures. Certainly cooking for oneself reveals man at his weirdest. People lie when you ask them what they eat when they are alone. A salad, they tell you. But when you persist, they confess to peanut butter and bacon sandwiches deep fried and eaten with hot sauce, or spaghetti with butter and grape jam.”
If you haven’t read this book and food is a spiritual experience for you, please purchase it right this very minute. (True fact: When I’m alone I DO eat peanut butter and bacon on toast!)
Talk to Me
(What is discussion without others?)
How would you describe your belief system? Does Stein’s description match yours?
What food traditions did you grow up with? Have you reclaimed any as in your adult life? What do they mean to you?
Thank you for reading! God Talk is an occasional newsletter about seeking and making meaning in the modern world. God is in the name but belief is not required for reading. If you enjoy this news newsletter or know someone you think would, please subscribe and share.