Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism are all describing something, probably exactly the same thing (more on that later), but differently. And given my post earlier on the relativity of truth, why am I favouring one truth? An atheist friend of mine was fond of saying, “What are the chances that the religion in which you were raised is the right one?” In answer, it might not be the right one, but it’s right. Said another way; the chances are 100% that my religion is right if they all are. As a wise man once said (sorry I can’t recall who), “There are many paths up the mountain of truth”. To me it’s like saying English is “right”. I can describe a cow in English and someone else can describe it in Urdu, but my description isn’t “right”, it’s simply the language I’m using to describe that thing. English is the language I’ve spoken from birth, it’s the language spoken around me, and so it makes sense that I’d use it to describe the cow. Similarly, Christianity is the religion I was baptised into, it’s the holidays I celebrate, it was the basis of much of the culture of the society in which I live. It makes sense that I would use this set of words, symbols, rituals, and concepts to describe this super-reality (let’s call it for what it is, God).

It wouldn’t make sense for me to all of a sudden decide to start speaking Urdu. And unless I move to a Buddhist country, it wouldn’t make any sense to become Buddhist… unless of course I felt there was some deficiency in Christianity, something that it lacked that Buddhism offered, which is actually something I thought until I studied the richness and variation of the Christian tradition.

And just like a language, a religion is intrinsically linked with culture, which I realise for some might not be a positive, but for me it’s been a great joy in rediscovering elements of my heritage only accessible by religion (which is part of the impetus behind this blog). Our holidays, our concept of justice, the food we eat, the words we use are all an interplay between each of us individually, the society in which we live and our God. It is a great consolation to me (and hopefully will be to you to) to experience all of these elements more fully by embracing my spiritual tradition. In Lent, I now have a “built-in” yearly cycle of reflection in which I didn’t partake as an Atheist, in Christmas I have a spiritual connection that opposes the rampant materialism and sappy sentimentality that belies the secular tradition, in Sunday I have a weekly Pascal feast that brings together my family with real joy and celebration. But it’s not just the annual, weekly or daily traditions — it’s the connection to my relationship with my family, with you and with my God that they represent.