Starting your own religion, I’m told, just takes patience. You may have to die before it gets off the ground, but if it’s a religion you’re starting you get to make the rules. Well, until somebody else starts interpreting what you wrote. I grew up thinking a religion had to be ancient to be real. There’s a certain comfort in untestablity—you can’t verify the facts, so you accept them. It took many years before it dawned on me that new religions rely on the same premises as old: someone has received the truth (at last!) and is willing to share it with the world. Followers emerge—true believers. And then they begin to change things. “The founder meant this,” they argue, and really they’re starting their own sub-branch of the religion.
Not everyone is convinced by this ancient religion paradigm. Zarathustra, for example, set out to create his own religion, according to tradition. Jesus, it seems, was trying to reform Judaism. The process never stops. A couple of weeks ago in New York City I saw an adherent of a New Religious Movement. This one had started in the 1930s. The man appeared a little older than me, so his life may well have overlapped with that of the founder, or they might’ve missed each other by a decade or two. Already, however, the religion had grown into its own entity, and it doesn’t seem to worry adherents that the truth was being revealed, for the first time, maybe in their lifetime. You have to start somewhere.
So, if I were to start a new religion, what would it be? For a variety of reasons I think I’d call it Moby. The connection with Melville is palpable, but that wouldn’t be the reason for the name. (Religions must have a sense of mystery, otherwise they can be analyzed until they look illogical.) Like Unitarian Universalists, I think the religion would be more about what you value than what you believe. Belief can be shifting sands. New information can lead to new results—this is one of the weaknesses of religions developed when the earth was still the center of the universe. Heaven is now outer space and Hell is earth’s iron core. Moby would avoid such a doctrinal morass by not having doctrine. It would need rituals and ceremonies, of course—no matter what Mr. Spock wannabes say, we need emotional engagement and ritual has the goods. All of this requires patience, because who has the time to develop a new religion when there are only two days in a weekend?