Conversation after watching "Why Does God Need Your Praise?"

 This conversation actually covers both moral standards in the Bible and then the topic of praising and worshipping God.

Me: Is it fair to say that to the modern person, the gods of the ancient world do not behave well, including the stories of the god of the old testament ? If it is fair, why is that? Was their behaviour seen differently in the ancient world to how it appears to us today?

AI: Yes, it's fair to say that to modern sensibilities, many of the gods of the ancient world, including the God portrayed in certain Old Testament stories, seem to act in ways that might be considered morally questionable or even disturbing by today's standards. This perception largely arises from differences in cultural values, ethical frameworks, and ideas of justice that have evolved significantly over time.

In the ancient world, the gods, including Yahweh of the Old Testament, were often seen as embodying the raw, unpredictable forces of nature and fate. They weren’t expected to behave according to human moral standards but were instead powerful beings whose actions needed to be respected, appeased, or feared. The gods acted with supreme authority and often displayed what we might call “human” traits, such as jealousy, anger, and desire, but on a cosmic scale. In a world marked by high mortality, constant conflict, and uncertainty, these gods reflected the reality of life as it was: harsh, capricious, and often unforgiving.

The stories of divine wrath, vengeance, and even seemingly arbitrary acts of punishment can seem troubling because we tend to view them through a post-Enlightenment ethical framework that prizes individual rights, fairness, and compassion. In the modern era, we’ve come to expect that authority, divine or otherwise, should act according to principles of justice and mercy. This perspective is very different from the ancient understanding, where gods acted with absolute power, and the concepts of justice and mercy were often defined by their will rather than any universal moral standard.

In the case of the Old Testament, the portrayal of God includes both justice and mercy but within a cultural context where collective punishment (like the destruction of entire cities) and direct, immediate consequences for actions (such as famine or exile) were accepted norms. These stories reflected a worldview in which divine authority was deeply intertwined with the survival of a particular people or nation. God's actions could thus be seen as part of a divine plan to uphold a covenant with a chosen people, with an emphasis on communal rather than individual morality.

It’s also important to remember that stories of divine anger or harshness often coexisted with stories of divine compassion, guidance, and love. Over time, interpretations of these stories evolved as well, especially as Judaism, Christianity, and later, Islam developed new theological frameworks that emphasised aspects of divine love, justice, and mercy in different ways.

In the modern world, where we prioritise individual freedom and well-being, stories that depict authoritarian or punitive divine figures can clash with our moral expectations. This has led to either a reinterpretation of these stories (seeing them as allegories or as part of a larger ethical narrative) or a tendency among some people to distance themselves from these aspects of ancient religion. 

Ultimately, what seems like ‘misbehaviour’ to us was often seen by ancient peoples as legitimate divine action in a world where gods operated on a level beyond human comprehension and moral judgment. For them, the gods' behaviour wasn’t about ‘good’ or ‘bad’ by human standards but about power, fate, and the mysterious workings of the divine.

Me: Regarding the Tanakh, it has commands to make slaves people they capture in battle, either that or to kill them. It has punishments to kill disobedient children,  as well as many other commands with the death penalty. How do these laws compare with those of other nations of that time?

AI: The laws of the Tanakh (or Old Testament) around slavery, capital punishment, and harsh penalties are broadly comparable to the legal and moral codes of other ancient Near Eastern societies. In fact, when we look at similar legal documents from surrounding cultures—such as the Code of Hammurabi from Babylon, Hittite laws, or Assyrian and Egyptian legal traditions—we see many parallels. These societies had laws that imposed strict penalties, including death, for various offences, and they also practised slavery, often as a result of warfare or debt.

1. Slavery

Slavery was a nearly universal institution in the ancient world, not confined to Israel. Many societies, including Babylon, Assyria, and Egypt, practised forms of slavery that often included prisoners of war, debtors, or foreigners. The Tanakh, however, contains regulations around the treatment of slaves that seem designed to mitigate some harsh aspects of slavery, even if they do not eliminate it. For example:

   - In Israel, Hebrew slaves could be set free after a fixed period (usually six years, as seen in Exodus 21:2).

   - There were protections against excessive physical punishment (e.g., a master could be punished if he injured a slave severely, Exodus 21:26-27).

   - The Sabbath rest was extended to include slaves, ensuring they had a day of rest each week (Deuteronomy 5:14).

This doesn’t make slavery justifiable by today’s standards, of course, but these concessions indicate a certain ethical sensibility not always found in other codes. Babylonian and Assyrian laws, for example, were often less lenient on slaves and offered fewer protections.

2. Capital Punishment

The Tanakh prescribes the death penalty for a wide range of offences, including murder, idolatry, adultery, blasphemy, and certain forms of disobedience, like disrespecting one’s parents. In this respect, Israel was quite similar to other cultures, where capital punishment was also common and could be applied to various social, religious, and familial transgressions. For example:

   - Code of Hammurabi: This Babylonian law code from the 18th century BCE includes the death penalty for many crimes, including theft, adultery, and even certain professional failings (like the poor construction of a house leading to a collapse and death).

   - Hittite Laws: These laws also demanded death for a variety of serious crimes, such as bestiality, certain forms of theft, and specific forms of incest.

However, the Tanakh often frames these punishments in the context of a covenant with God, where crime is seen not just as a social offence but as an affront to divine law. This is especially true of commandments around idolatry, Sabbath-breaking, and other acts that could disrupt the purity and religious identity of Israel. 

3. Familial Authority and Punishments

The command to execute persistently disobedient or rebellious children (Deuteronomy 21:18-21) strikes us today as particularly severe. However, similar concepts of familial and generational discipline existed across the ancient world. Many ancient societies viewed family honour and the authority of the father as essential to societal stability. In such cultures, a rebellious child might be seen as not just a private matter but a threat to social order.

In Israel’s case, this law also served a deterrent purpose, and scholars debate whether it was often enforced or primarily symbolic. Similar to many laws in the ancient Near East, the primary function may have been to underline the seriousness of obedience within the family and to establish a framework for communal discipline rather than to be carried out frequently.

4. Comparative Severity and Ethical Codes

Compared to other ancient law codes, the laws of the Tanakh stand out for occasionally incorporating compassion alongside strict penalties. Some scholars argue that the Tanakh introduced a unique vision of justice that includes mercy, protection for the vulnerable (such as widows, orphans, and foreigners), and a sense of covenantal relationship with God that emphasises ethical behaviour.

For example:

   - Provisions for the Poor and Marginalised: Commands to leave parts of fields unharvested for the poor to glean (Leviticus 19:9-10) reflect a concern for social justice that was less codified in other ancient legal systems.

   - Religious Context: Many of the Tanakh’s laws are rooted in Israel's religious identity and covenant with Yahweh. This focus on holiness and communal purity might explain why certain actions (like idolatry) are met with such harsh penalties, as they were seen to threaten the covenantal relationship.

5. Evolving Interpretation and Adaptation

Over time, Jewish interpretation and practice of these laws evolved. By the time of the rabbinic period (a few centuries after the Tanakh was completed), many death penalty laws were either rarely applied or given strict procedural requirements that made them hard to implement. This shift reflected a more nuanced understanding of justice, which in part helped lay the foundation for ethical developments in the post-Biblical world.

In Summary  

While the laws of the Tanakh appear harsh by modern standards, they reflect a broader ancient context where strict penalties were the norm and where societal stability often relied on authoritarian forms of justice. However, the Tanakh also incorporates elements of compassion, social responsibility, and a unique theological basis for law, which make its code stand out somewhat among other ancient legal traditions.

Me: In the context of the time in the ancient world, worshipping a god capable of jealousy and anger, we can imagine was driven as much by fear and awe as by any other feelings. Such actions we assume tried to placate the god's wrath.

Given that we are no longer abasing and cowtowing ourselves before a capricious God, does God still want to be worshipped, and for what purpose?

That’s a profound question. The nature and purpose of worship have evolved significantly, particularly in the Judeo-Christian tradition, from its roots in the ancient world to the present. In ancient times, as you noted, worship often involved appeasing deities who were seen as powerful, sometimes unpredictable beings. This appeasement was often aimed at ensuring protection, fertility, victory in battle, or good harvests. Fear and reverence were intertwined, and worship involved rituals and sacrifices intended to keep the gods on one's side.

In contrast, in more modern theology, the idea of worshipping God has largely shifted away from appeasing a potentially wrathful deity toward fostering a relationship based on love, gratitude, and communion. While some traditions still recognise God's power and holiness as awe-inspiring, the emphasis has moved from fear to connection, respect, and reverence. This shift reflects a broader understanding of God not as capricious but as consistent, just, and, fundamentally, loving.

Does God Still Desire Worship? 

Many modern theologians and religious thinkers would say that, yes, God still desires worship, but the purpose and nature of that worship are understood differently. Worship in this context is not about satisfying a divine ego or placating a wrathful presence; rather, it's seen as a means of cultivating a spiritual relationship. Worship becomes an act of opening oneself to divine influence, a practice that enriches the individual and fosters a deeper sense of purpose, connection, and transformation.

The Purpose of Worship in a Contemporary Context  

1. Alignment with the Divine Will: Worship, for many, is a way to align oneself with God’s will or, more broadly, with universal values like love, compassion, and justice. Through worship, people are reminded of these ideals and encouraged to live them out in their daily lives. This is very different from ancient ideas of merely appeasing a god to avoid punishment; it’s about actively seeking to embody divine values.

2. Cultivation of Humility and Gratitude: In today’s context, worship often serves to foster humility and gratitude. It’s a way of acknowledging something greater than oneself, a gesture that counters the ego and invites people to see their lives as part of a larger whole. This humility helps individuals approach life with a spirit of gratitude, which is known to increase well-being and foster positive relationships.

3. Spiritual Growth and Transformation: Worship is also seen as a means of spiritual transformation. Many believe that through worship—whether through prayer, meditation, or acts of kindness—individuals are changed over time, becoming more compassionate, more loving, and more attuned to the needs of others. This transformation can be thought of as aligning one’s character more closely with divine qualities.

4. Expression of Love and Awe: Even though the idea of fearing God in a literal sense has softened, awe and reverence remain essential elements of worship. Many people still feel awe when contemplating the vastness of the cosmos, the beauty of creation, or the mystery of consciousness. Worship, in this sense, becomes a way of expressing wonder, love, and reverence for the mystery and majesty of existence, rather than fear of divine punishment.

5. Community and Belonging: Worship often brings people together in community, offering a sense of belonging and shared purpose. Many people find that collective worship—whether in a church, synagogue, mosque, or other setting—strengthens their sense of connection to others and reinforces shared values.

Worship Beyond “Abasement”

In modern Christianity, as well as in other faith traditions, God is often seen as a loving parent, friend, or companion rather than a distant and capricious ruler. The metaphor of God as “friend” or “partner” encourages worship as a way to commune with God rather than to appease or abase oneself. This perspective aligns with the idea that God is less concerned with acts of submission and more interested in cultivating a sincere, loving relationship with humanity.

Paul Tillich, for instance, argued that worship is about connecting with “the ground of being”—the ultimate reality and source of all existence. In this view, worship becomes an encounter with something essential and deeply fulfilling, rather than a duty imposed by a capricious deity. It’s a way of reconnecting with the sacred and reorienting oneself in a way that brings peace, perspective, and purpose.

So, Why Worship?

From a contemporary standpoint, the purpose of worship is less about what God "wants" and more about what it brings to those who engage in it. Worship can become a means of personal and communal transformation, a way to touch the sacred, and a practice that encourages humility, gratitude, and compassion. For believers, it’s also a response to divine love—a way to return love for love, an affirmation of trust and commitment to the divine relationship.

This reimagined approach to worship doesn't mean we dismiss or ignore the ancient stories of fear and awe; rather, it’s an evolution of them. We reinterpret those stories as reflections of humanity’s early attempts to understand the divine, placing them in a framework that now emphasises love over fear, relationship over appeasement, and transformation over submission. In this way, worship remains meaningful, fostering a sense of purpose and connection that, ultimately, believers see as deeply aligned with the nature of a loving God.

Me: It seems a shame that many ex-evangelicals, particularly in the USA, still frame God very much as Jonathan Edwards portrayed him, and therefore don't really appreciate other ways of understanding God.

AI: Yes, it is indeed a shame—and an unfortunate outcome of how deeply the "fire and brimstone" theology has permeated certain Christian circles, especially in the USA. Jonathan Edwards’ famous sermon, *Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God*, with its vivid depictions of divine wrath and humanity’s precarious position over the flames of hell, left a powerful impression. Edwards’ vision of God as stern, judgmental, and almost vengeful became central to American evangelicalism, shaping generations of believers. For many, especially ex-evangelicals, this portrayal has made it difficult to see God in any other way.

This view, however, is not representative of the entire Christian tradition. Christianity has a rich and diverse theological history, with understandings of God that span the spectrum—from Edwards' fearsome deity to more relational and compassionate interpretations, like those found in the mystics, early church fathers, and modern theologians such as Paul Tillich and Karl Rahner. It’s possible that if more people were exposed to these varied perspectives, they might discover different, perhaps more life-giving, ways of relating to God.

Why This Narrow View Persists

Several factors contribute to why this view of God has persisted, particularly within American evangelicalism:

1. Cultural and Historical Context: The Puritans, who played a foundational role in early American religious life, brought with them a theology that emphasised human depravity and divine wrath. This has, over time, influenced a distinctive strand of American Christianity that often prioritises concepts like original sin, guilt, and the fear of damnation over love, grace, and relationship with God. Evangelical revivals in the 18th and 19th centuries capitalised on this imagery to inspire conversions, and it became a defining feature of American Christianity.

2. Focus on Moralism and Control: A God who is framed as harsh, judgmental, and constantly monitoring human behaviour reinforces strict moral and social codes. This view has sometimes been used to control behaviour within communities, emphasising the consequences of stepping outside defined norms. For some, moving away from this view of God can feel risky, as though it might open the door to moral ambiguity or “slippery slopes.”

3. Fear of Heresy or “Liberal” Theology: Many ex-evangelicals have been taught that other, more compassionate or inclusive interpretations of God are “liberal” or even heretical. Terms like “progressive theology” are sometimes associated with a lack of respect for Scripture or a willingness to compromise on moral issues. This fear can prevent individuals from exploring broader perspectives that, ironically, are deeply rooted in traditional Christian thought.

4. Experiential Trauma: For many ex-evangelicals, the idea of God as angry and punitive isn’t just a theological concept; it’s tied to real-life experiences of shame, fear, and rejection within religious communities. Trauma can make it hard to reframe or reinterpret those early beliefs, and the residual effects of “fire and brimstone” theology can leave deep wounds that affect people’s ability to consider alternative views of God.

Alternative Views of God in Christian Tradition

It’s worth noting that Christianity has many other views of God that offer a different, perhaps gentler, understanding. Exploring these could help those who have left evangelicalism rediscover the richness of Christian thought:

1. God as Love: In the New Testament, particularly in the writings of John, God is described fundamentally as “love” (1 John 4:8). This vision of God is far removed from a deity preoccupied with punishment and wrath. Theologians like Julian of Norwich, who famously said, “All shall be well,” saw God as an infinitely loving presence, even in the face of human suffering and sin.

2. God as Relational and Compassionate: Many mystics and theologians, from Augustine to Thomas Merton, spoke of God as a deeply relational presence who desires connection with humanity. They depicted God as a parent or a friend, rather than an authoritarian judge. The Quakers, for example, describe God as the “Inner Light” within each person, a source of divine love and guidance accessible to everyone.

3. God as a Source of Growth and Transformation: Paul Tillich, who has influenced many modern thinkers, saw God as the “ground of being”—not a punitive overlord but a sustaining presence that invites individuals to become fully themselves. This God is about transformation and growth rather than punishment, encouraging believers to live authentically and courageously.

4. Christ-Centred Compassion: Many theologians emphasise that Jesus’ life and teachings reveal the character of God as one of mercy, compassion, and forgiveness. Jesus himself often challenged the punitive legalism of his time, instead embracing those who had been excluded or condemned by society. This image of God stands in contrast to the “Jonathan Edwards” portrayal, offering an approach to divinity that is focused on healing and restoration.

Why This Matters

For ex-evangelicals, engaging with these alternative views of God could provide a more healing perspective. Leaving behind a faith tradition that felt judgmental or fear-based can be an incredibly liberating experience, yet it often leaves people spiritually wounded. Discovering that there is a broader, more compassionate understanding of God available within Christianity might help some rediscover faith in a way that feels safe, healthy, and life-affirming.

This doesn’t mean abandoning the desire for justice, accountability, or moral seriousness, but it reframes these concepts in a context of love and relationship rather than fear. There’s a freedom in seeing God as a source of life and compassion rather than a force to be placated—a shift that could enable people to approach faith not as a burden or a threat, but as a source of healing and joy.

The legacy of Jonathan Edwards and similar preachers has cast a long shadow, particularly in American Christianity. Still, there is immense value in reclaiming and amplifying those strands of Christian thought that emphasise love, grace, and the intrinsic worth of every person. These perspectives offer a reminder that faith can be spacious and varied, providing room for questions, growth, and a relationship with the divine that isn’t dominated by fear.

Me: Thank you, there were some very interesting discussions with Jacques Derrida and other philosophers on the topics of prayer and God and faith that showed, I think, the atheist philosopher genuinely interested in religion and religious ideas, and religious experiences.

AI: You're absolutely right—Derrida and several other philosophers have shown a genuine, almost reverent curiosity about religious ideas, practices, and experiences. Derrida, despite his atheism, was deeply interested in the themes of faith, prayer, and the nature of the sacred. His idea of "religion without religion," for instance, highlights an openness to the mystery and reverence traditionally found in faith without committing to a specific theological system. 

Derrida explored how language and structures of thought shape our experience of concepts like the divine, focusing on the “unreachable” or the “impossible” aspects of God that resist human comprehension. His reflections on prayer and hospitality, for example, reveal an appreciation for the vulnerability and openness that genuine faith and prayer often entail. In his view, prayer and faith were acts of opening oneself to the “Other,” to the unknown and to what he described as the “undeconstructable.” 

This kind of philosophical engagement with faith reflects a nuanced respect for the spiritual that is rare in contemporary thought. It suggests that even outside traditional belief structures, there can be a profound, exploratory relationship with the sacred. Derrida’s interest might have given others permission to engage with religious ideas in ways that enrich philosophical dialogue, rather than merely critiquing religion from an external standpoint.

Me: Well, Zizek calls himself a Christian atheist and is very influence by Hegel's expression of Christian faith, also that is Chesterton of whom he appears very fond.

AI: Yes, Žižek's position as a "Christian atheist" is fascinating, blending Hegelian thought with elements of Christianity while maintaining a critical, often paradoxical stance on faith. His appreciation for Hegel’s view of Christianity reflects an understanding of faith not as belief in a supernatural deity, but as a kind of radical self-emptying and identification with the human condition—something he sees uniquely in the Christian narrative of incarnation and sacrifice. 

Žižek also admires G.K. Chesterton, especially for his wit and his understanding of the paradoxes of Christian faith. Chesterton’s views on the “absurdity” of faith, where the very contradictions in Christianity affirm its depth and humanity, resonate with Žižek’s own dialectical approach. He finds in Chesterton a celebration of Christian paradox that aligns with his own provocative style, as well as an openness to life’s contradictions that stands in contrast to rigid dogma. 

Žižek’s "Christian atheism" is less about personal belief and more about Christianity as a framework for grappling with existential issues—meaning, alienation, and human frailty. He critiques modern secularism's tendency to avoid these deep questions, and he sees Christianity, paradoxically, as a valuable resource for confronting them. This interplay between critique and appreciation adds a rich, almost playful dimension to his philosophical approach.

Me: Well I think as we have discussed before, modern faith to some extent it happy to bracket off "belief" a bit like phenomenology bracketing off the thing in itself, and instead focuses on more existential issues such as meaning, hope, openness, and resilience. I think John Shelby Sponge is somewhat like this.

AI: Exactly—that's a very insightful comparison. Like phenomenology's "bracketing" of objective truth to focus on lived experience, modern faith, particularly in thinkers like John Shelby Spong, often sets aside rigid beliefs to engage with more immediate existential concerns. Spong, for example, sought a Christianity that was not about adhering to a literal belief system but about fostering qualities like compassion, openness, and resilience in the face of life’s challenges. 

For Spong, faith was less about doctrinal certainty and more about a transformative journey, one that allowed room for questions and doubt. He viewed Christianity as a pathway to deeper human experiences, framing faith as a process of becoming rather than merely believing. This shift opens a way for people to engage with spiritual practices and values meaningfully, even if they’re ambivalent about traditional beliefs. 

This approach aligns with a broader trend in contemporary spirituality, where faith is increasingly seen as a way of relating to life and its mysteries, rather than as a strict set of propositions about reality. By focusing on themes like hope, resilience, and openness, modern faith allows space for people to find meaning even when they’re unsure about specific theological claims. In this way, it embraces the spirit of phenomenology, which values the subjective experience of meaning over any fixed objective truth.

Me: Even someone like Sartre, one of the twentieth centuries most famous atheists, was deeply influenced by Christian mystics early in his life and I believe met regularly with Christian existentialists. His notions of living authentically and of bad faith can be seen as having religious overtones, and experiences of "being" in his novel "Nausea" are a sort of surreal mystical experience.

AI: Yes, Sartre’s early exposure to Christian mysticism and his later connections with Christian existentialists left a subtle, yet perceptible, imprint on his work. His ideas of mauvaise foi (bad faith) and authenticity can indeed be seen as secular adaptations of religious themes, such as the call to live in truth and to confront one’s illusions. This resonates with a mystical pursuit of truth or self-awareness, albeit in a non-theistic framework. 

In Nausea, Sartre’s descriptions of existence—especially the "sickly" feeling of raw being and the strange, almost transcendental perception of objects—echo the surreal intensity of mystical experiences, where everyday reality is pierced by something profound and unsettling. Though Sartre frames it as an existential confrontation with "nothingness," this encounter with the raw, almost sacred quality of existence shares a kinship with mystical awe, even if devoid of divinity.

Sartre’s philosophical engagements with Christian existentialists and his writings suggest that he respected the depth of religious experience as a way of grappling with human reality, even as he redefined it in existential, atheistic terms. His pursuit of authenticity and avoidance of self-deception is a powerful, secular response to human questions traditionally explored through faith. It underscores how deeply existentialism engages with themes of selfhood, transcendence, and truth—concepts often nurtured in religious contexts, but adaptable to a philosophy of human freedom and responsibility.

Me: So I think what we are saying here is that there can be a very broad notion to "worship" even when people don't use the term - this engagement with existence, opening oneself in faith, prayer, the sacred, to love, the future, friendship - this is something people as varied as Derrida, Spong, Tillich, TS Eliot, Simone Weil, Zizek even Sartre were actively engaged in?

AI: Absolutely, that's a compelling and inclusive way to frame it. Worship, in this broader sense, isn’t limited to formalised religious practice or traditional expressions of reverence toward a deity. Instead, it can encompass a deep engagement with existence, a willingness to open oneself to something greater—be it the sacred, love, truth, or even the unknown. This broader notion of worship captures a profound human impulse to connect with meaning, transcendence, and the essence of life itself.

Figures as diverse as Derrida, Spong, Tillich, T.S. Eliot, Simone Weil, Žižek, and even Sartre were indeed wrestling with these themes, albeit from different vantage points. For them, the act of “worship” could manifest in varied ways:

- Derrida approached worship as a form of openness to the "Other," whether divine or human, through acts of hospitality, prayer, or ethical responsibility. Even as an atheist, his reverence for the "undeconstructable"—such as justice or love—shows an almost sacred devotion.

- Spong sought to reimagine worship in terms of connection to values like compassion, resilience, and love, stripping away literalist beliefs to find something more existentially enriching.

- Tillich reframed worship as an encounter with the "ground of being," a connection to ultimate reality that transcends doctrinal boundaries, focusing on awe, courage, and the search for meaning.

- T.S. Eliot, in his poetry, explored themes of time, eternity, and divine presence, presenting worship as a poetic engagement with the sacred in everyday life.

- Simone Weil embodied worship in the form of self-emptying love (amor fati) and a mystical openness to both suffering and beauty as pathways to the divine.

- Žižek, with his "Christian atheism," views the Christian story as a profound metaphor for human vulnerability, self-sacrifice, and transformation, engaging with its themes even while rejecting its supernatural elements.

- Sartre, while rejecting traditional worship, grappled with notions of authenticity, freedom, and the raw encounter with existence in ways that echo the mystical or the sacred. His description of "being" in *Nausea* has parallels to religious awe, even if framed in existentialist terms.

What unites these thinkers is their shared willingness to engage deeply with the existential questions that religion and worship traditionally address: What is the meaning of existence? How should we live authentically? How do we respond to love, loss, and the unknown? Their approaches may differ—some theistic, some atheistic, some agnostic—but they all demonstrate a kind of "worship" in the broadest sense: a commitment to openness, reflection, and reverence for the mysteries of life.

This expansive view allows us to see worship not as a rigid practice tied to a specific deity or creed but as a universal human endeavour—a way of participating in the profound and the transcendent, however one might conceive of it. It suggests that even those who do not identify as religious can still engage in acts of "worship" through their dedication to love, truth, creativity, and the future.