The Religiosity of “Religulous”

Bill Maher’s excoriation of organized religion, “Religulous” (first part of the word religion, second part of ridiculous) does not fit easily into any comedic or cinematic category. It is at once scathingly funny, spot on, and disturbingly wide of the mark.

There are some lines worthy of a first-rate philosopher in Maher’s jeremiad. He says, for example, “The only appropriate attitude for man to have about the big questions is not the arrogant certitude that’s the hallmark of religions, but doubt.”

But every once in a while, Maher’s ego jumps up and grabs the viewer by the throat. “How can I be so sure [that no one can have insight into what happens after death]? Because I don’t know, and you don’t possess mental powers that I don’t.”

In between these two poles is a documentary that challenges the believer to question their belief systems. “Faith means making a virtue out of not thinking,” Maher rightly says. Of course by faith, he means the blind adherence to belief, not trust in somebody or something.

Even so, one comes away from the film feeling like one has been shown the gruesome facts of what’s in sausage and how it’s made, but then told that your hunger is unreal. ‘Get over it’ is all Maher has to offer after he’s ripped the skins off organized religion.

Religions are dead, but the spiritual hunger in people has never been greater, in part because religions no longer satisfy the religious impulse in human beings. However reason simply cannot fill the emptiness and erase the alienation that is the human condition.

Besides, religions, as irrational as their beliefs are, are rationally conceived systems of thought, devised by a few smart people to salve the hunger and control the minds of the many.

But that doesn’t mean that the rightful province of reason--the materialistic and mundane dimension of life--is capable of satisfying spiritual hunger.

In short, just because the drivel that relieves the hunger is illusory, it does not mean that hunger itself is illusory.

Therefore we have to draw a clear distinction between organized religion, and the religious impulse. There’s an old joke that neatly sums up the dilemma. A man searches for the truth for thirty years. When he finally finds it, the devil comes along and says, “Here, let me help you organize it.”

The religious impulse reflects a deep urge in human beings for wholeness, harmony, justice, and transcendence. In this sense, an avowed secularist like Bill Maher belies some religious traits, because clearly, he is driven by revulsion at the unnecessary division and destructiveness of man.

Maher also exhibits a devotion to honesty, courageously revealing himself to the viewer. Sitting with his mother and sister, he talks about his confusion growing up Catholic and Jewish. Sitting in an Amsterdam prostitution window, he talks about how he seriously considered suicide his first year in college.

Fortunately, Maher’s religious feeling (as opposed to his implacable antipathy toward organized religions) is subtle. But it still comes through in the film. This is obviously a person who cares passionately about humanity, and despite his overblown reverence for reason, this quality alone makes him religious, in the true sense of the word.

Maher also has some feeling for the historical Jesus, although he jokes that Christ (the Catholic and Christian caricature of Jesus in the Bible) is as much of a fairytale as Santa Claus. “Religious books are often as sacred and holy as Harry Potter,” he says.

Accompanied by a voiceover by George W. Bush, interspersed with brief scenes of Christian, Jewish, and Islamic ceremonial fervor, Maher ends the documentary blasting the viewer’s mind and heart with one atomic bomb and mushroom cloud after another.

The effect, ironically, is to echo the scolding of religions. Undeniably, the world is darkness and madness; and equally undeniably, religions are the source of much of it.

But given the choice between the divisive irrationality of religions, and the cold rationality of reason, it’s no wonder that so many people have given up on humanity, and by extension, themselves.

One need neither accept the irrationality of belief systems, nor make reason the highest principle. In fact, questioning both is the only way one can be religious, without a religion.

Martin LeFevre is a contemplative, and non-academic religious and political philosopher. He has been publishing in North America, Latin America, Africa, and Europe (and now New Zealand) for 20 years. Email: martinlefevre@sbcglobal.net . The author welcomes comments.

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