“Are you religious?” It’s a deceptively simple question, often dropped casually at dinner parties, in dorm lounges, or on first dates. But the answer—if it’s to be a truthful one—is rarely simple. What does it even mean to be “religious”? Or “spiritual”? These two words often show up as if they’re on opposing teams, sparring for dominance in how we define and express faith. But maybe they’re not enemies. Maybe they’re more like estranged siblings—divided not by nature, but by misunderstanding.

In this post, I want to unpack the tension between religion and spirituality. Not just to draw neat boundaries between them, but to explore how each can shape and inform a person’s journey toward meaning, transcendence, or the divine. If we look deeper—past the labels and into lived experiences—we might discover that the distinction between them isn’t about contradiction, but about emphasis.

With that, I offer a few of my reflections on this subject—mere glimpses, perhaps, into a much deeper current. Each deserves more thought, and maybe even a plunge into the depths they hint at.

Defining the Terms: Religion and Spirituality

You’ve probably heard it before: “I’m not religious. I’m spiritual.” It’s a phrase that’s become almost cliché in modern conversations about faith—but have you ever paused to ask, what do they actually mean by that? Is it a quiet rejection of organized religion? A distancing from institutions and creeds? Or is it a way of suggesting they’ve ascended to some higher level—cleared the “level one boss” of church pews and catechisms, and now roam freely on level two, guided by intuition and incense? It’s a phrase that invites questions—so ask them.

Let’s suppose someone asks you, “Are you religious?” Depending on your context, this could sound like a theological inquiry or a cultural litmus test. Some might hear, “Do you go to church?” Others might hear, “Do you believe in something beyond yourself?” And still others might hear a veiled, “Are you judgmental or superstitious?”

Generally speaking, religion refers to formalized systems: practices like baptism, communion, daily prayer routines, or church attendance. It’s embodied in institutions and communal rituals. Spirituality, on the other hand, usually points to an individual’s personal relationship with the divine—a heart open to mystery, transformation, and perhaps, transcendence.

These categories aren’t mutually exclusive. One can be both religious and spiritual. But the emphasis shifts. For some, religion is a vessel—an ancient ship still seaworthy, though weathered—that carries them toward spiritual depth. For others, religion feels more like the SS Botany Bay in Star Trek, a relic from another era still drifting in space.

And interestingly, when someone asks if you’re “religious,” it often says more about them than about you. Are they wary of institutions? Curious about your worldview? Searching for common ground? The way they frame the question hints at their own spiritual geography.

Theology Hiding in Language

When someone says, “I have a personal relationship with Jesus,” that statement doesn’t just describe a feeling—it encodes an entire theological worldview. In Evangelical Protestantism, for example, this phrase is central. But if you shift traditions—say, to Buddhism, Hinduism, or certain New Age paths—“relationship with the divine” might mean something entirely different, such as realizing the divine within oneself.

Imagine two people sitting under the same stars. One sees a creator above, personal and knowable. The other sees a spark of divinity within themselves, a light to be uncovered. Both are spiritual—but their maps of the sacred are drawn very differently.

That’s why language matters. Spirituality, for some, means transcendence beyond ego; for others, it’s communion with a loving God. In both cases, though, the desire is the same: connection, transformation, meaning.

Jesus and the Pharisees: A Tale of Two Religions

Let’s dive into Scripture. Jesus often critiqued the Pharisees—not for their rituals themselves, but for their motivations. They prayed loudly in public, gave tithes for show, fasted to be admired. In Matthew 23, Jesus says, “Woe to you, teachers of the law… you clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.”

They were religious, yes. But not in the way Jesus honored. He praised the one who prayed in secret, who gave quietly, who lived humbly.

Here’s the tension: religion without spirituality can become performative. It’s ritual emptied of meaning—like Data from Star Trek: TNG trying to understand humor by reading a joke book. Something vital is missing. On the other hand, spirituality without religion can lack grounding. A personal relationship with God is vital, but without some form of shared tradition or moral framework, it can float untethered.

This is where the concept of orthopraxy (right practice) comes in. Jesus emphasized care for the poor, love for enemies, and forgiveness—concrete actions, not just beliefs. Orthodoxy (right belief) matters, but without orthopraxy, it’s like having a lightsaber with no crystal inside: all form, no function.

The Role of Ritual: Memory and Meaning

Some might argue, “But isn’t ritual just empty repetition?” It can be. But it doesn’t have to be.

Think of rituals as sacramental memory devices—embodied theology. Baptism, for instance, symbolizes death and rebirth. Communion recalls sacrifice and sustains community. These aren’t just symbolic; they reorient us psychologically and spiritually.

In The Matrix, Neo’s encounter with the Oracle isn’t powerful just because of her words—it’s the ritual of stepping into her kitchen, smelling the cookies, hearing the spoon bend, that shapes the moment. Rituals make the invisible visible. They give structure to our chaos.

In this light, religion—at its best—is not a cage but a compass. It offers rhythms that train the soul, like kata in martial arts. Repetition with meaning builds muscle memory, both of the body and the spirit.

Why the Distinction Still Matters

Let’s return to that question: “Are you religious?” A better question might be: “How do you relate to the divine?”

Understanding the difference between religion and spirituality helps us communicate across worldviews. A Christian speaking about the indwelling of the Holy Spirit will mean something quite different than a Buddhist talking about enlightenment. But both may be trying to articulate an experience of awakening or transformation.

Avoiding assumptions allows for richer dialogue. It keeps us from dismissing someone as “just religious” or “only spiritual.” It opens the door for curiosity—one of the rarest and most powerful virtues in a time of hot takes and tribal thinking.

Let’s return to that question: “Are you religious?” A better question might be: “How do you relate to the divine?”

Understanding the difference between religion and spirituality helps us communicate across worldviews. A Christian speaking about the indwelling of the Holy Spirit will mean something quite different than a Buddhist talking about enlightenment. But both may be trying to articulate an experience of awakening or transformation.

Avoiding assumptions allows for richer dialogue. It keeps us from dismissing someone as “just religious” or “only spiritual.” It opens the door for curiosity—one of the rarest and most powerful virtues in a time of hot takes and tribal thinking.

And sometimes, that curiosity is the beginning of something much bigger. Like a dusty map found in an attic, a question—however clumsy—might be an invitation to adventure. It’s not about knowing all the right words; it’s about being willing to follow the path into the unknown, believing there’s something worth finding beneath the surface.

Final Thoughts: Toward an Integrated Faith

We don’t need to choose between religion and spirituality as if they’re Pokémon teams. Maybe it’s time to reframe the conversation. What if rituals are meant to support spirituality? What if spiritual depth needs containers to hold its power?

In The Lord of the Rings, Frodo’s journey is both a heroic quest and a deeply spiritual transformation. The Fellowship—the organized group, the “religion,” if you will—gives him the structure to walk the path. But the heart of his growth is in his suffering, sacrifice, and inner change. That’s the spirituality.

So, whether you identify as religious, spiritual, both, or neither, the better question may be: Is your life aligned with love, truth, and humility? If so, you may be closer to the heart of things than any label can capture.

Let’s keep asking, seeking, and knocking—not with certainty, but with openness.

And maybe next time someone asks, “Are you religious?” you can smile and say, “That’s a great question. Let me tell you a story…”

Excerpt

Is “spiritual but not religious” a deeper path—or just different language? This post explores the tension between ritual and relationship, belief and practice, asking what we really mean when we talk about faith. From Jesus to The Goonies, we dive into what lies beneath the surface of sacred identity.

Colophon

Careful readers may have noticed a nod to The Goonies—a reminder that sometimes, the real treasure is found by those who, like the Goonies or like spiritual seekers, dare to go into the tunnels, follow the map, and believe there’s more beneath the surface than meets the eye. (And no, we didn’t forget the giant red octopus. He’s just swimming under the surface, waiting for the spiritually attuned.)