By Anjali Nayak
As a liberal teen living in the Bay Area, my perception of religion has been reduced to watching angry Christian zealots protest in front of Planned Parenthoods and incest jokes about the American south. Whether it be ideas, people, or pieces of art, something inherently religious was suddenly deemed inferior compared to a secular worldview. For a long time, I found myself wondering the same questions whenever met with stories of religious fanaticism — why would anyone believe this? Up until a year ago, I put bigotry and a belief in God in the same boat. Thankfully, I have realized that these sweeping generalizations are completely redundant, and a closed mindset on either side of the spectrum equally hinders any potential for self growth or understanding. Organized religion in the present day has made the concept a satirical caricature of its true form. We have strayed away from the questions religion forces humanity to answer, and have completely ignored the concept’s true motives and intentions — to ease the innate anxieties concerning the world around us. Although I was hesitant at first, I found that reading and understanding religious pieces has helped me come to terms with different aspects of both my life and my identity.
Conway the Machine’s album God Doesn’t Make Mistakes perfectly captures the sense of destiny and meaning religion invokes in the lives of average citizens. Although Conway has witnessed numerous struggles (the death of his daughter, the absence of his father, and a life of crime), he has faith that God will navigate him to happiness, no matter how bleak the situation may seem. The rapper’s music depicts a sense of belonging and optimism — life is not just a series of random events, but a carefully orchestrated journey conducted in the hands of God. During the Covid-19 pandemic, I found myself constantly checking the news, only to be met with one devastation after another. In times of distress, nihilism grows more and more acceptable, nearly welcoming: almost vice-like. I’m an atheist, but sometimes I wish that I had enough optimism to believe in God…to feel that everything will work out in the end, no matter how terrible the circumstances might be. Instead, I constantly overanalyze and ruminate over unnecessary, trivial parts of my life. A part of me wishes I could believe in not just myself, but in the world around me, for everything to work out in the end.
“‘Can it be that I have not lived as one ought?’ suddenly came into his head. ‘But how not so, when I’ve done everything as it should be done?’” In Leo Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich, Tolstoy reckons with concepts of meaning and the afterlife. Like many human beings, gnawing in the back of my mind is an ever present fear of death. Reading Ivan Ilyich allowed me to understand the value religion has when questioning concepts such as the unknown and the significance of life. The novel follows the painful, drawn-out death of wealthy Russian government official Ivan Ilyich, who is finally relieved of his suffering after looking death in the eye and coming to terms with his eventual demise. His superficial social milieu is characterized by an avoidance of death — a delusion designed to protect himself from unpleasant realities. It leads only to emptiness, horror, and dissatisfaction. An acceptance of death allows for confidence, peace, and even joy at the moment of death. Above anything else, the novel can be seen as a lesson on making sense of death through living rightly. Questioning the unknown of the afterlife is a cornerstone of religion; Tolstoy reasons that completely ignoring religious concepts concerning death is almost counterproductive. Ivan Illyich asks humans to instead make sense of their existence, not feel that they are in the hands of merciless chaos.
Moreover, Phoebe Bridgers’ song “Chinese Satellite” further extends the themes Tolstoy describes in Ivan Ilyich, but through the lens of an atheist. Throughout the song, Bridgers wallows in nihilism and hopelessness — two attributes of her stubborn atheism. The song alludes to Bridgers going outside and wishing on a Chinese Satellite rather than a star; thus representing her refusal to accept fate and instead choosing a belief in atheism. At times however, she feels that her ideology feeds into her destructive attitude towards life and to others. She struggles to come to terms with her existence, why do anything if we all die at the end? “I want to believe/ Instead I look at the sky and I feel nothing/ You know I hate to be alone/ I want to be wrong.” Deep down, Bridgers yearns for the comfort religion provides — the reassurance that there is the watchful eye of God looking out for her, that a God is deeming her life significant enough to keep her alive and create a destiny. She wishes to see meaning in her own life, but her downfall rests in the lack of belief she has in the afterlife. Bridgers has succumbed to the ultimate nihilistic point of view: if all life ends with death, why do anything? In an interview with Apple Music, Bridgers explains that the song equates to “just realizing that nobody’s going to save me from my life, nobody’s going to wake me up and be like, ‘Hey, just kidding. Actually, it’s really a lot more special than this, and you’re special.”
By no means is religion justification for hate crime or discrimination. But the purpose of religion rests in questions that are essential to the human experience, that deserve to be both discussed and evaluated. To completely write off religion all together is closing a door to potential self discovery and fulfillment. The world is full of unprecedented anxieties; religion is simply another way to cope with the burden of human existence.