Why the Buffet Approach to Religion Has Led Me to a Richer Life

Dave asked me address this, so here goes!

If, like me, you have vivid memories of the 80s and 90s, back when the Earth's crust was still cooling, you probably remember the explosion of all-you-can-eat buffets. While these were certainly big in the Midwest, I'm willing to bet that other regions of the country were also virtually pockmarked by outposts of Ponderosa, Sirloin Stockade, Sizzler, Shoney's, and Old Country Buffet. Back when we were much more dazzled by quantity than by quality, such spots represented the ultimate in freewheeling dining variety.

Eating at a buffet could be legitimately exciting! Though it is almost repulsive to think of in the era of COVID, families could pull up to Old Shoney's Ponderosa, pay a flat fee, and then turn their children loose to rummage around under heat lamps and flimsy sneeze guards, filling up on chicken nuggets, pizza, steak, tacos, burgers, or whatever type of food they would eat without complaint that particular week. My own family spent many an evening having dinner at a buffet. As the sole vegetarian in my family, I appreciated being left in peace to enjoy meals that mostly consisted of dinner rolls, fruit, and every flavor of frozen yogurt mixed together. In turn, my brothers and step-brothers could chow down on steak or ribs or fried chicken, and it wouldn't bother me in the slightest.

I never gave much thought to all of those buffet evenings, those creative dinner choices, where I cobbled together something satisfying and - I thought - reasonably healthy. But they might have imprinted on me nonetheless, because I realize now that the buffet approach also readily describes my approach to religion.

I'm hard to categorize.

One of my strongest religious influences has always been my Quaker heritage. Growing up as a member of the Religious Society of Friends, to which my family had belonged for hundreds of years, gave me both a unique religious identity and the perfect springboard to a life of communication with God. So I'm Christian, right? Quakers are, after all, Christians.

Unfortunately, I have never been able to claim that in good conscience. While it seems deeply and unshakably true to me that God exists, and that He communicates with every single person if we are only still enough to hear His voice, I've never quite absorbed the idea that Jesus Christ was the son of God. Rather, to me he seems to have been an extraordinary prophet and teacher - but a human one.

Yet I still identify firmly as Quaker! This is mostly thanks to my sense of Quakerism as an ethnic identity, along with my deep respect for our testimony of nonviolence and our determination to see that of God in everyone.

The Quaker church in which I grew up emphasized the personal relationship with God much more strongly than the intricacies of Scripture, and we didn't discuss the idea of the Trinity. That won't be the case in all congregations, but it was in mine. Along with my inability to believe in the divinity of Jesus, that focus on communication with God in order to receive His leadings for my life led me down some unusual paths in my search for greater spiritual growth.

I also had a little help from a very curious, accepting, and open-minded family. By my early twenties, I had added a unique side dish to my main course of Quakerism. I started to investigate Spiritualism, another unusual metaphysical movement that left a strong mark in my region of East Central Indiana. My mother and grandmother were interested in it, too, along with all kinds of other New Age, woo-woo stuff. And practically right in my backyard was one of the pre-eminent Spiritualist centers in America. I had to know more.

This movement was at its peak in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and if you've heard of it, you're probably thinking of its hallmark ritual: the seance. In this practice, much parodied and instantly recognizable, an emotional group sat at a table, in a darkened room, as an elaborately costumed medium asked for the spirits of the people's loved ones to visit and communicate. Almost invariably, they would - usually through knocks, gusts of wind that blew out candles, and the like.

It seemed miraculous. And, at first, the process astounded the world, finding a notable proponent in British literary great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. But seances and Spiritualism in general were marred by fraud. Unscrupulous mediums staged and even faked their replies from the “Other Side” in masterful feats of theater. But some mediums did not seem to be faking, especially as time went on and tricks both common and elaborate were exposed.

Learning about all of this, I was intrigued by how open the Spiritualist center was about its controversial past, even taking pains to acknowledge and explain the fraud committed on its grounds. But I didn't think that was all that was there. And frankly, it wasn't a big leap to wonder whether, if we could learn to communicate with God, as I already believed, we could also learn to communicate with spirits of people who have passed on.

I think it just might be possible! And I enjoy learning about how it might be done.

The last strange little side on my buffet-style spirituality plate is my belief in reincarnation. I'm not out to convince anybody else, but I simply have no other way to explain experiences I have had, or witnessed in others, where vivid scenes like memories are intertwined with verifiable facts not known at the time.

While espousing such a belief in 2023 America marks me as capital-W Weird, reincarnation is a quotidian element of religion and life, in general, for many Eastern religions and, thus, for millions of people. I think it's a fascinating idea, and I draw comfort from the idea that maybe we just keep on going, being given chances to learn and grow and develop new perspectives that lead our souls to greater wisdom, even enlightenment, before we are finally one with God.

So I'm a … *checks notes* non-Christian Quaker Spiritualist who believes in reincarnation. Sure! We're a dime a dozen, right?

Then what on Earth am I doing running a company called God of the Desert Books? Or, for that matter, a Substack called

Goddess of the Desert Books

? I'm so glad you asked.

The simple answer is that this strange combination of religious motifs and traditions has led me to a wonderful conclusion: I believe it's all the same God. We’re all worshipping the same God. I believe the religions of different cultures around the world are simply different lenses through which to view Him and His works - which I also believe are one and the same.

Your God is my God is Muslims' God is an amalgam of all the Hindu gods and goddesses. God is simply The Divine - all of it. As long as your God stands for love, He is my God, too - although, honestly, I've always envisioned God as a sort of genderless dragon/flamingo hybrid, made out of blue light.

I mean, don't we all?

And as for Goddess of the Desert? The name has nothing to do with paganism, or with actually worshipping a goddess. Nor is it meant as a cutesy his-and-hers parallel. For me, the name Goddess of the Desert is a synonym for “the spirit of prevailing optimism.” A goddess of the desert would be someone who can take the most arid, hostile environment, seemingly devoid of resources, and turn it into the unlikeliest lush ecosystem.

But it doesn't take a literal goddess. And I don't mean to invoke one! We all have the ability to work that miracle. We can all look around ourselves, at the war, disease, economic uncertainty, and political shenaniganry dominating headlines, and choose joy instead of despair. We can all choose to make the best of what we have to work with. We can all choose to be inspired by the good in life more than we're wounded by the bad; we can all focus more on what's right than on what's wrong. And frankly, I think we should. That's the indomitable spirit I wanted to capture with the name Goddess of the Desert.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make one more trip to the buffet! I think I still have some room for some American Indian religious practices, or maybe a little Wicca. They both look amazing.