There, but for the grace of Zach Braff...

My Sociology professor is really cool and has the
super-intense gaze of a young, bald Christopher Lloyd.

I'm taking a short break from slogging my way through “Elementary Forms of Religious Life” by Emile Durkheim, required reading for my Sociology of Religion course, to write a brief and possibly boring post.

Along with the usual winter-weepies and weather-necessitated solitude, this season has also made way for Act II of my philosophical awakening with a) the previously-mentioned Sociology of Religion class, b) a plethora of time for reading literary classics and c) my own curiosity-fueled exploration of new-age-y religion.

While primarily for the sake of gaining insight into the way the people around me think and live, I have also been doing a little bit of introspective experimentation for my own enjoyment.*

*Translation: I joined a Jedi temple and you aren't allowed to make fun of me.

Along with the Buddha/Jedi idea of a collective consciousness (or "Force") and a general respect for nature, the Sagan-esque tendency to worship the hard sciences also comes naturally to me. [For anyone interested, here's the link to the Jedi temple.]

(Other things that I consider "exploring religion" include:

• Talking to a Hare Krishna on my college campus and skimming the very brightly colored book he gave me,
• downloading an app that generates a daily passage from the Qu'ran for my consideration,
• "favorite"-ing a bunch of homemade Wicca stuff on Etsy but not buying it, and
• doing more extensive character development for my Level 3 Druid D&D character.)  

Thus far, Durkheim and I have a lot in common, especially considering that he's an old, French-speaking Jew from 1912 and I'm an aimless 20-year-old geek in a different millennium. (You should hear about what Alexander Hamilton and I have in common - it's eerie!)

According to Durkheim, “God,” like reality, is a collaborative social construction that each religion perceives differently - I'm on board with this. One interesting thing Durkheim writes is that no religion is false. This is based not only on the necessity of religion to society/perception of reality but also on the Thomas Theorem – the idea that if somebody believes something to be true, it is true in its consequences.

Studying the sociology and psychology of religion has been nice because I find solace in knowing how things work. (i.e. neurons, inguinal hernias, mitosis, peeing in space.)

Earlier today I heard a lecture on mythology and legend and the way that stories supplement religion. Any avid reader/daydreamer like me definitely appreciates the zen of a well-told story. The benefit of knowing the sociological purpose of mythology is that I can then objectively select my own stories against which to measure the human experience, since I know the function that they need to fulfill. Of course, I’ve already been doing that, but now I don’t have to feel misguided or shallow for finding my religion in ordinary things, primarily pop culture.

I’m only human. I like to read things that sound pretty and are generally sense-making and cause me to feel feel-y things and the Bible just doesn't do that for me. (The Bible specifically because I was raised United Methodist. And am consequently still kind of afraid to not capitalize "Bible.")

The increasing multitude of resources from which we can find guidance in pop culture gives me hope for the future of philosophy and art rather than a feeling of contempt for the post-modern entertainment world.

Not to say that there isn't a limit.

That being said, here are some excerpts and a little wisdom from one of my personal essential religious guidebooks:

“I think one of the most universal human experiences is feeling alone.”

“I've been thinking a lot lately about taking chances, and how it's really just about overcoming your fears. Because the truth is, every time you take a big risk in your life, no matter how it ends up, you're always glad you took it.”

“Maybe the mistake we make is thinking our parents will change. And maybe they did a better job than we give them credit for. And maybe there, amid all the crap they dumped on us, are some things worth keeping. Like a passion for something you never knew you had. Or the ability to constantly surround yourself with people who love you.”

“And who's to say this isn't what happens? Who can tell me that my fantasies won't come true?”

These are some of Zach Braff’s voiceovers from Scrubs, the series that narrowly defeated Futurama for the title of Most Surprisingly-Emotionally-Evocative TV Comedy. There’s a particular episode that hits home with me – “My Catalyst,” an episode that features Michael J. Fox as a brilliant doctor (Dr. Kevin Casey) with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

The cruel beauty of OCD is that it’s impossible to hide, and the mostly light-hearted episode wraps up with J.D. finding this powerful, intelligent, compassionate man in the surgery prep area unable to stop washing his hands, and realizing that all of Dr. Kevin Casey’s successes are possible because he faces his flaws head-on – he has no other choice. Once you’ve done that – once you’ve stared all of the ugliness of your imperfect human soul in the eye and accepted that it’s a part of you – then and only then can you hope to make forward motion. Some people are lucky enough to have curses that are easily hidden, but that can be a double-edged sword - the conflict is then also easier to ignore, and that rarely accomplishes anything but misery.

Dr. Kevin Casey: Everyone's got their own burdens, J.D., and I'm not gonna be one of those people that dumps mine on somebody else. Now whatta you need?

I firmly believe that anyone’s life can be beautiful in its consequences – that is, the "ugly" parts of you can create something beautiful, and thus become beautiful by doing so. (My mutated version of the Thomas Theorem.) The following is the line at the end of “Catalyst” that anchored itself in my mind when I heard it:

I think owning your burdens is half the battle.

Who cares where I choose to find the meaning of human existence? Whether I find my religion in Star Wars, Shel Silverstein, Simon & Garfunkel, Fullmetal Alchemist, John Hughes movies, or an XKCD web comic, the final question is: what will I do with it? How does it change me? Does it really matter that I learn to live meaningfully from an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer instead of from Buddha?
If you ask me, it’s not the source that defines the sentiment – the victory is that the lessons are learned at all.