To ask people who publicly and privately profess to adhere to anyone of the great world religions: Do we need religion? May appear to be a very improper question and even a shocking one. But as long as we are sincere, no serious question can be scandalous; if we are rational, no truth should be too holy to be doubted.

The question: Do we need religion? Is not merely a question which can be discussed and put off or dismissed? It is a vital question, a burning question, especially in this age of skepticism, a question which dominates’ our whole life in such a way, that its positive or negative answer might alter our mode of living completely together with our world-view.

A need is an imperative demand for the presence or possession of something. It is the want of something. Thus the question first becomes: Do we want religion? And the straight-forward reply, uttered by nobody, but expressed, in everyone’s actions is: No. For as soon as man is placed before the choice between eternal, spiritual gain and some little, temporary, material profit, his religious principles will be ignored, he will compromise with his conscience, truth will be sacrificed, and his action will show that religion is not wanted. This compromising attitude, which is a betrayal of the truth, is not only found in people who live in a world of worry and care, but equally among those whose profession is the religious life.

Religion which is said to be a search for truth is frequently nothing else but a secret desire for comfort and security. If comfort can be obtained, few there are who will not try, even at the cost of the truth. Can those still maintain that they want religion, if they intentionally turn their back toward the object of their search? It is said that the Bodhisatta in his incalculable series of lives preparing himself for Buddhahood never uttered an untruth, whatever may have been his other actions. For how would he ever have been able to attain that goal, if he would have frustrated his search by the use of means so utterly incongruous with the end in view? When we say that we want religion, that we arereligious, but when our actions belie our words, are we sure about the end? Do we really know what we want?

Religion is one of those words which are kept conveniently vague enough to allow ample liberty to escape its more precise implications. We make of religion a system of dogmas so that we need not think too much, but may blindly believe and be saved. We make of religion a system of rites, so that we may rely upon their efficacy and be saved by them. We make of religion a system of philosophy, so that we may speculate and discuss problems which belong to a different field. We prefer to embrace a readymade religion rather than to make our own, like we follow an old custom or fashion, because we lack the initiative to think out our own problems. Thus if we want religion, it is not so much because we feel the exasperating need of it, but rather because we do not want to be without it. We want religion like we want the pictures with their frames in our room. We do not require them, but we just do not want to look at bare walls, we do not want to be without them.

And so religion has become like a decoration in our life, not a partof it; it has become stereotyped like a picture, and framed also by cramped convention and dead ritualism. Religion, as we want it, is not the religion which grows as an inner necessity, but it is a construction which can be built like a church, a temple or a mosque. A world without religion would mean for many a world without celebrations and processions, like a picture without colour, a poem without rhyme. Few there are who can appreciate the beauty of lines, the strength of rhythm, the essence of religion. Few there are who feel the need of saving the world instead of saving self. Hence we may ‘say of the greater majority that though they call themselves followers of some religion or other, yet they do not want religion, because they attach themselves to the particulars and let the essential go as soon as something more tangible in the shape of immediate profit comes their way.

Why is this so? Because those who think in terms of profit,whether it is monetary gain or spiritual merit, think always in terms of self. Self is sought where self is nearest; and as comfort on earth is nearer than bliss in heaven, God will have to wait a while, till the little self is satisfied. The man in need learns to pray when he cannot help himself. Here indeed lies the origin of religion. Man makes the religion he wants ; and as his wants are rooted in craving, as they are conceived in ignorance and born from fear, so his religion will be rooted in craving, the child of delusion and superstition.

“Mundus vultdecipi,” man wants to be deceived. Like on the market every vendor advertises his goods as the best, so from every pulpit we hear the most fantastic claims of superiority, divine origin or supernatural attainments, the most vague promises of an endless future of bliss, the most contradictory confusion even between those who preach the same gospel. And every seller finds a buyer, for though many have some notion of being exploited and cheated, it is still easier to follow than to lead. The sellers of religion find their buyers because they present their wares in the form which is wanted. Thus religion becomes, as it was defined by one of Sir James Barrie’s characters: “the thing that interests you most.” Religion becomes a hobby according to the interests of the individual. The intellectual finds his philosophic religion in dogmas and speculative theories; the artist finds his religion in the beauty of nature, which he takes as a reflection of God’s goodness and creative power; the man with desires finds his religion in a life of expectation of everlasting happiness in heaven; the simpleton finds his religion in a superstitious protection against his own fears. Thus religion becomes the pursuit of science or art, the pursuit of a desire, or a means of escape. The religion which is wanted is a search with a motive, it is a process of acquisition, a spiritualized selfishness; hence it is a delusion. The religion which man wants, is not the religion we need.

If true religion is a search for truth, we should not begin by posing some truth as the truth, as the ideal to be attained. For if we strive for an ideal attainment, it ceases to be a search. But if there is no search, if the truth is known already, religion becomes superfluous. True religion therefore must be a religion of the open mind, inviting doubt. In the search for truth mind’s attitude should be a readiness to discard what had been considered as truth so far, as soon as truth reveals itself in a higher form. This ready attitude cannot allow any authority either of a doctrine, sacred book or teacher. It is the pure spirit of research, investigation, and adventure. No previously conceived limits can be allowed, for those would narrow the field of research, while truth might not lie within those limits.

One of these limitations is feeling. Feeling or sentiment is entirely subjective; it is the greatest enemy of objective research. Feeling is selfishness and it is on this basis that the differences between religions are grounded. Feeling leads to attachment, but attachment is a hindrance to progress. Attachment to methods, to teachers, to formulas, to rituals, all that creates stagnancy and can never lead to the truth. A way of life has nothing to do with sacredness; it must be natural, not supernatural. But the religions, all made by mancater for his ignorant wants, for his childish fears, exploit his ignorance and weakness, till man finds himself fettered by the bonds he made himself. Thus religion truly means a fetter (ligare- to bind).

But why should man want to be bound? It is the outcome of his lack of understanding, of his undeveloped mind, which as in the child, produces that sense of the need of support. Like the child becomes afraid in the dark or in solitude, so the weaker mind, not guided by understanding but by sentiment, feels uncomfortable if not supported, feels uncanny when facing a new problem. Its natural impulse will be of running away: an escape will be sought, a reliance made. These two feelings are actually the creators of all religious emotions and their consequences. The need of reliance is not only an admission of one’s own impotency and inferiority, but is really an act of greed for more power the desire to escape, to avoid the issue, is also an acknowledgement or defeat, not of greed however, but rather of aversion both deeply rooted in delusion. The will to escape must naturally intensify the desire for support and thus a wish to be bound is merely felt as a safeguard with greater Protection. A natural consequence, so natural that it is almost logical and necessary, is prayer and sacrifice, priest and priestcraft, dogma and belief, salvation and sin, and further all that is connected therewith. It is an almost logical consequence, but if the premises are incorrect, the most logical conclusion must be false. And this false conclusion is organized religion.

Organized religion is the religion man has made according to his wants and desires. But the religion we need is quite different. To find the real one should not wander far into the realms of the unreal, If the truth has not disclosed itself for us, if truth still remains a problem to us, can we ever hope to solve that problem by searching elsewhere? The problem of the need of religion rests in me, and thus in me that problem must be solved. Religions are a search for truth, we said already. But does not a search mean a going about, a striving. intensified action ? Will this activity not lead us away from the problem? Is this very activity perhaps not the reason why religions fail to show the truth?