Why Religion Will Save the Future

I spoke to a journalist yesterday about the failings of modern movements. They burn hot—then they burn out. There’s no sense of meaning or even identity beyond the cause. And, above all, they suffer from endless infighting.

And what was remarkable in the conversation is that we both saw religion as one of the most promising solutions. From an anthropological perspective, religion is not primarily about beliefs. It is, rather, a social technology. An innovative formula for maintaining cooperation among many humans across space and time. And, as a technology, it is arguably the most powerful force in history.

Why?

There are at least 4 ways that religion solves the most challenging problems in human sociality.

The first is shared space. Human beings evolved to bond with people who live with us in a physical space. Our feelings of trust, camaraderie, and intimacy all stem from this physical closeness. Religion, through history, has been the primary way that human beings share the same physical space.

The second is shared practices. From prayer to baptism, religion has provided some of the most important group activities in human history. These shared practices run the gamut. Some are practical, even boring. The list of rules in Deuteronomy, or the various food restrictions across faiths, are examples. Others have deep meaning. The once-in-a-lifetime journey to Mecca for Muslims, or the act of being “born again” for evangelicals. These shared practices don’t just create connection. They inspire a willingness to sacrifice for the greater good of the faith.

The third is shared stories. We have all had the experience of meeting someone whose favorite movie or novel is the same as ours. The instant sense of kinship is uncanny, particularly when it’s someone we’ve never met, and who’s quite different from us. Religion performs this same function, but at scale. The billions of Christians on Earth are all moved by Jesus’s resurrection and sacrifice. That binds Christians together in ways that movements cannot even imagine.

The fourth factor, though, is in my opinion the most important one, and perhaps an extension of the last: a shared utopia. Liberation from suffering is the challenge of all sentient beings. But it is an impossible challenge. As the old Buddhist prayer reminds us, we are of the nature to grow old, to grow sick, and to die. Meaning in the face of this impossible challenge comes from big dreams: that our stories and spirits will not be forgotten; that our children will live better lives than we did; and that the arc of the universe will bend toward justice. If there is something special about humanity—and I’m not sure there is—it is that we can dream.

And here’s the remarkable thing: when enough people dream, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. In Christ’s time, a world where Jews and Gentiles broke bread together was impossible. In Mary Wollstonecraft’s time, the idea of women’s rights seemed farcical. And, as recently as 20 years ago, hope for gay rights seemed laughable. And yet here we are today, in a world where all three of these issues, and so many more, have experienced transformative change.

But in all of these movements, religion was part of what gave people the audacity to dream. I don’t know if religion can survive its modern crisis. I don’t know if activists will learn to harness its power for change. I do, however, know this: if we are serious about change, we should look harder at faith.