Such a confusing question: What is the religious? Our readings tried to define religion. From this, we should be able to define the religious as that which advocates religion, but I do not believe it is so simple. The dictionary gives us the option of using the word religious as either a noun or an adjective. Seminary is a religious school, a noun. I am a religious person, an adjective. When we study things religious, do we study the adjective or the noun? Perhaps the adjective is too subjective. What does it mean, after all, to "be religious"? Is this to be intimately tied to something religious or only loosely tied? Such a curious question.

I like the method St. Augustine used in his book On Christian Doctrine to understand the religious implications of biblical discourse. First, he said one must "discover those things which are to be understood" and then to discover "a way of teaching what we have learned" (p. 117). In a sense, he is methodically moving from the noun to the adjective. Perhaps this is the best way to make the religious discovery.

First, according to St. Augustine, one must discover that which needs to be understood. We wish to understand what the religious is. I would like to acknowledge, but not consider, the adage that religion is the opiate of the masses. This implies a conspiratorial means of mass control. That societies the world over through time have understood the spiritual aspect of life offers a non-conspiracy aspect of religion and things religious. The Vatican did not invent religion as a means of mass control. However, I do not mean to say that religion has never been purposely used as a means of mass control; I only mean to say that religion's purpose is not conspiratorial.

The concepts of truth, righteousness, forthrightness, goodness, morality, etc. were, perhaps, born of the need of a group of people to exist for a period together in order to achieve survival. Human nature seems to desire goodness, but keeps acting on "badness." The rules of goodness, by necessity, need to be very convincing in a way that supersedes all desires of acting "bad." The devil, so to speak, sits on our shoulder whispering endlessly and convincingly in our ear: I want that, I need that, I covet that... St. Augustine acknowledges the devil in the ear and tries to explain how biblical language is used to overcome the wiles of the devil. However, this battle does not belong or originate with Christianity. Geertz explores the religious and sacred rules of nativist or primitive religions. He explains that the most primitive (simple) of religions understand that there is a constant battle between what is good (for the survival of the group) and what is bad. Religion, Durkheim tells us, belongs to the group and not the individual. Many are heard to say that they are spiritual but not religious. Spiritual implies something within the individual. The spirituality of many individuals may cause horrific conflict, such as the conflict between religions--and those differences are actually rather limited as there are limited religions. The source of religion may be very practical, but it does not preclude that humanity manifests spirituality. Although vague, William James alludes to this in his treatise The Varieties of Religious Experience.

Since I have really hardly even begun to study religion or the religious, I am having a difficult time outside of my own situation to objectively consider this question. My own experiences with religion, and that which I understand as the religious, still interferes with some of my attempts as research. I take for granted the lessons of my youth. I accept that I am drawn like a magnet to religious discourse of all types. At the same time, however, I question why I am so drawn. What is it about that which is holy or sacred? Why do I want so much to explore beyond my acceptance? In questioning what the religious is, I realize I must treat my own understanding of the religious and the sacred as part of my research. How does one step out of one's mind in order to investigate that mind?

What is religious, to me, is what offers purpose and a sense of peace within. Yet, there is so much about religion that does not offer a sense of peace; rather, there is much that creates restlessness and a sense of confusion. I know that no matter where I am and no matter what is going on around me, I have at hand, thanks to a religious catechism, a means of prayer. With prayer, I can offer my troubled mind to God, who will not necessarily cure what ails me, but will help calm my mind so that I can more clearly find my own cure. Whether God actually exists in the way we understand existence is irrelevant. I have at my disposal a reassuring system of beliefs that enable me to cope with life. Those beliefs, I suppose, are religious. Too many times to count, life has simply miraculously happened in an unexplainable way that led me in a certain direction. That unexplainable way that "things happen" can be considered religious. The sanctuary of a church, with its sense of peace, coolness, and stillness, along with a church's peculiar smell envelopes me with a sense of peace and purpose. Touching the Book of Common Prayer, opening the Book, and reading the service or the psalms slows my heart and my mind in a way that reading other books does not. The music, herald bells, colors, artifacts of the altar, and the pageantry all appeal to that sense within offering calmness and reassurance, creating in me a sense of thankfulness for each day.

What is religious to me is that which tells me what is good and right, if not for me, then for my actions and interactions with others. I could begin with the church offering. Oddly, I have never felt stingy in giving my last dollar bill to the church. As an offering, not an expectation, it is easy to let go and that letting go feels good. I say this knowing that I know where my next dollar is coming from and this scares me. Would I feel the same if I did not know where the next dollar bill was coming from. Giving food to the homeless feels good. Teaching my children to annually clean out their toy stash and to give their toys to "the poor children" felt good. I knew that my children would have more and so the act may not have been truly altruistic, but I also knew that my children would learn to freely let go of material goods in order to help others. None of us has ever been truly tested. To be tested, to feel my world collapse around me, scares me. What is religious is what I hope grounds me whenever that time does come. I hope my understanding of what is religious tells me who to cope with the seemingly bad times.

What is religious to me is knowing that there is purpose in life. When my eldest daughter was still a baby, I remember a news story about a young girl, maybe three or four-years old, who was kidnapped and murdered. It struck me that this was incongruent with my understanding of faith, especially the role of a guardian angel. After that, I made sure that I taught my daughters to say their guardian angel prayer at night. I also formed a new understanding of the meaning of that guardian. That angel's purpose was not to protect from harm so much as to provide a means of a sense of protection and a guiding light to a heavenly savior. Faith, that odd sense of strong belief, rational or not, provides religious grounding that places me in contact with the realities of life. It offers a perspective that makes life worthwhile.

What is religious is often manifested by interaction with what is sacred. Our second question was to explore what is sacred. Sacredness belongs to that which should remain undefiled by human coarseness and callousness. Marriage is sacred. Two people make a seemingly impossible pact with God to endure a life together for creating a family. That created family is sacred. The trust inherent in the act of creating and maintaining marriage and family is sacred. When trust is broken, so is the marriage and, quite often, so is the family. The earth is sacred because it is mother to all life. The church is sacred because it holds the faith and spirituality of a people. Faith is sacred because it acts as a covenant between us and our sense of holiness and goodness found in religion.

These are my thoughts, on the most basic level. I put away the readings in order to write this because I found the readings distracting. First, I needed to express my own thoughts. I recognize my emic tendency while attempting to analyze that which I find so fascinating. I place my thoughts here on paper in order to acknowledge them. Next, I should question how I would recognize what is religious and what is sacred--or what is not religious or sacred.

When I first entered the PhD program at Georgia State University, I was alone and on my own for the first time in close to thirty years. I know from life experience that I can find solace and comfort in a church so I found a church home. In this new church home, I found on a random bulletin board a document that reached out and grabbed me. I quickly determined that I would work with this document. The first chance I got I analyzed the document. At the end of forty pages I had discovered much, but the end of my paper did not bring me any closer to the answer of why this document so pulled me. I set it aside to gain perspective. Briefly, it is called the Ministers' Manifesto. It was written by a group of ministers in Atlanta in 1957 in the wake of Brown v. Board of Education. The document was written for and published in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution as a wake-up call to Atlantan Christians to accept their duty to not only obey the law of the land, but also to acknowledge the error of using biblical reference to justify segregation and slavery. The paper I wrote for this will be presented at NCA in Chicago on Sunday morning at 8:00. I really need feedback on this because, as I have written here, I know I am not finished with it yet. Sadly, I do not yet know why I am not finished with it yet. I know that in a strange way, this document is different.

I am also intrigued by the use of the National Cathedral as an ecumenical home of religion in the United States. I have written one paper about the Obama inaugural prayer service that has also left me bereft of answer in the role of the National Cathedral both religiously and politically. The service itself left me feeling that something sacred has been defiled or desacrilized. Dr. Darsey is still working on some feedback on the paper and I am looking forward to hearing how to improve my analysis. Again, I have only scratched the surface and need help peeling back the layers of understanding why I feel this way. Surely, I am not the only one.

These two examples reflect both the religious and the sacred in public discourse. They are easily recognized examples. Neither is subtle, however, the inaugural prayer service is deceiving. Even the name of the Washington National Cathedral is deceiving in leading people to believe it may be part of the government.

I long to learn how to analyze these discursive events. Both are on my agenda as dissertation topics. I look forward to a lively discussion at Penn State. I look forward to seeing and hearing my colleagues in the field goes about addressing the religious and the sacred in rhetorical discourse.