One way to break the world of blogs down is to separate it into spectators versus players. In other words, some blogs talk mostly about the writer’s actual experiences in life, be they in business, family life, school, hobbies, religion, science, sports, whatever. Other blogs are based on observation, like a sports writer talking about football or baseball. Sports writers talk about sports, but they don’t actually play them. And many blog writers – myself included – talk mostly about stuff that we’re interested in but don’t really do. There probably isn’t a clear distinction; the direct participants make general observations, and the observers (including myself) sometimes talk about our own experiences. But in general, I think that you could classify blogs as mostly observing versus actually doing.

And as to which is more interesting to read, well – that depends on your own tastes. Direct experiences may be really interesting if you are involved in the area; a blog written by biochemists discussing their research would certainly be of great interest to other biochemists. Likewise, people raising kids probably enjoy reading about the experiences of other people raising kids (and may benefit from it, may get a good idea here and there). Same for playing softball, homebrewing beer, tending a backyard garden, maintaining a home computer, etc.

As to observations, that’s a tougher sell. Punditry can be a tough field. Not everyone can come up with sharp insights and present them in a timely and interesting fashion. Being a bit of a current affairs analyst and a political observer myself (and not a participant; I have no interest in going door-to-door or handing out literature at a bus-stop for Hilary or Barack or some cheesy local candidate), I can’t help but envy the immensely popular and often insightful Tom Friedman. But not so much Ariana Huffington; no real envy there on my part.

For better or for worse I’m going to keep on writing as I’m able about politics, religion, science, current trends, economics, and whatever else I have thoughts on. This is even though I have very little actual experience in these fields. I’d talk more about my actual life and job, but it’s all pretty boring. So I’ll continue throwing out random thoughts from my perch as an interested observer.

I have an observation or two today about religion. (I used to be involved in religion, but now I’m not.) The first observation is about the general role of writings and scripture in religion. I wanted to take note of what an under-appreciated subject that is! I came across a quick discussion about it recently, and it turned a lightbulb or two on inside my mind. It’s the kind of thing that a handful of religious studies professors and sociologists discuss now and then, but it doesn’t make its way out into the realm of popular thought. And that’s a shame. Religious people would benefit from some “meta-think” about their religion. (Especially since this is often discouraged by their religious establishment – i.e., don’t question us, or you’ll go to hell).

I’m not ready to say very much about books, writings and religion, but I do want to make the point that they do not necessarily go together. Having grown up in the Catholic faith, that notion comes as a bit of a surprise to me. But if you look at history, there were religions that didn’t depend on things being written down. Also there still are religions that don’t depend on “sacred scripture” to the degree that Christianity, Judaism and Islam do. For instance, Buddhism and Hinduism don’t really have “core canons”, although there are plenty of ancient writings that you can consult about them (e.g., the Upanishads or the teachings of the Buddha). And even the “people of the book” (Christians, Jews and Moslems) make somewhat different uses of their sacred books.

In general, the idea of writing down religious stories and laws helps to standardize things and to promote common understandings behind the religion. As such, this makes it possible for power structures to form. These powers-that-be control the sacred writings and spell out how they are to be interpreted. There are pros and cons to that, depending on what you think about heresy. Another dimension to the question of scripture is the historical one, regarding the availability of paper, the development of the printing press, and the number of people able to read. Given the rise of literacy, writings became somewhat of an evangelistic tool (although relatively few people join or convert to a religion solely because of what they’ve read about it; despite C.S. Lewis, it’s usually direct experience that clinches it). Writings also allow high levels of abstract thinking about religion, which was necessary in response to the rise of intellectualism after the Middle Ages.

But on the other side of the coin, too much dependence upon writings can choke off the experiential side of religion, which was prominent way back in the days when religion was mostly an oral tradition. In Latin America, Catholic Christianity is today being challenged by Pentecostalists who pledge fealty to the Bible but who otherwise throw out the writings and provide their followers with a lot of emotional experience. The bishops can condemn this as a dangerous heresy, but it seems to meet the needs of a growing number of people.

That leads me to another big thought about religion, another idea that should be more popular than it is. That thought is called the “rational choice theory”, which has been promoted by an academic writer named Rodney Stark. According to this theory, most people don’t choose to become or remain involved with a particular religion because of doctrine (although the more educated crowd, e.g. the Episcopalian – Quaker – Unitiarian Obama supporters, sometimes do). They get involved because it’s a good economic decision.

I like this theory because it gets down to money. The reality is that money is never beside the point when it comes to religion. If you just want to just go to church on Sunday, maybe you could get away with that on the cheap. But most people get involved with religion for more than a weekly ceremony. They want a bundle of services including help educating and socializing their children, and otherwise tending to their needs be it sickness, old age, unemployment, psychological problems, etc. They also want community, a feeling of belonging. They also want to “give back”, to volunteer their energies in a meaningful way (i.e., this is another service that has economic value).

And after that, they want some transcendence, the affirmation of a “philosophic ontology” whereby the Universe was created by an all-powerful God who cares about us, with some catches (and that’s where the scripture and writings come in). Transcendence comes easy when you are in the middle of a large assembly of people all chanting together the sacred ontology. The fears of doubt are easy to ignore when hundreds or thousands of others are within a stone’s throw of you affirming that it must all be true. That also has economic value – it’s something that people are willing to pay for, through “time, talent and treasure” (as the church fundraisers say).

That’s what you get for your money. Actually, the “rational choice” equation does not just cover collection plate money, although some “suggested love offerings” are pretty steep these days, like $50 a week. Under the rational choice theory, it’s a combination of your voluntary time helping the church and the congregation together with your financial support. E.g., you serve on the picnic committee or teach Sunday school or drive the elderly to and from services or help a young couple find a good pre-school for their first child. Under the rational choice theory, the local churches that demand the most commitment often do much better than those that don’t demand much from their members. That’s because the most demanding churches also offer the most in terms of practical benefits. Perhaps that’s why the more fundamentalist churches are now beating out the mainline Protestant churches.

The rational choice theory is very interesting, especially since it’s not about something far, far away. It’s about something that happens in most every town and city. So I’m disappointed that we don’t see more popular magazine articles and TV shows and best-seller books about this. I’m sure that a lot of ministers and church-goers wouldn’t be too thrilled about it, but controversy can be a good thing. It would certainly be an interesting way to think about Barack Obama’s affiliation with Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago.

And finally – even though I’m just an observer with regard to religion, I would take the plunge and get involved again if I could just find the right community. But thus far, I just haven’t found a place that is worth the price to me. I hope that I eventually do, however. Maybe one day I will be a “player” once again.