This morning, I awoke with a profound clarity of vision that seemed to have taken a lifetime to develop. It is the kind of clarity that comes only after decades of seeking, questioning, and wrestling with the world around me—a world that, for all its beauty and potential, seems shrouded in a collective delusion. Today, I see that delusion for what it is, and I feel compelled to name it and call it out.
From the moment of my birth, I was thrust into a world obsessed with finding meaning in every imaginable way. Everyone I encountered was searching for it, grasping at anything that offered even a fleeting sense of purpose. And yet, the pathways laid before me by the culture I inherited—the promises of fulfilling meaning through success, wealth, religion, or patriotism—all led to the same hollow destination. Time and again, I found myself standing at the edge of yet another facade, another promise of meaning unfulfilled, wondering if the fault was mine or if the world itself was broken. Over time, I came to see that this relentless search was not merely an individual struggle but part of a larger cultural pathology, one that shaped not only personal lives but the collective worldview, leaving so many grasping at illusions of purpose.
Early on, I recognized that religion held a deeper and more significant kind of meaning than did all the other activities that were said to provide it. This list of those is long: competition, material gain, and an inflation of self-importance. I tended to turn to organizations of authority like the Boy Scouts or the military, as they offered a sense of community, but they always turned out to be motivated by something less and more local than what I was instinctively seeking. I remember how taken I was by an international trade fair held on Navy Pier in Chicago around 1958. I loved the atmosphere of the event, though I could not identify what it was that I found so appealing about it.
I was drawn to the monastic life of the Maryknoll fathers and Catholic Christianity, though I was very much scientifically based and had problems with all things supernatural. I simply felt that despite my issues with it, they were closer to meaning than anything else I had seen. These early encounters left me with a growing realization: the systems and institutions I engaged with—even when they failed to meet my needs—were pointing toward something more profound. They were imperfect glimpses of what I would later understand as humanity’s innate drive to make the world sacred, to find value in life beyond the surface-level promises of culture.
My father, whom I loved and respected, was a dedicated and successful "businessman." But I saw what that life did to him and became repulsed by it early on. I did not do well in school, and I now know it was because I disliked the competition and judgmentalism of it. Despite my eagerness to learn, I refrained from making it a game. I found it dulled my curiosity, and I was labeled an "underachiever," which, contrary to the intent of the label, provided justification and success in my efforts to avoid the process. These struggles and tensions, though painful, became the foundation for the vision of Opthē: a way of living and thinking that seeks authentic meaning by discerning what is truly sacred and valuable—a human action that allows genuine meaning to emerge.
I now see that the culture into which I was born, the United States, is the most self-righteous, violent, hegemonic, exploitative, competitive, antisocial, individualistic, destructive, and spiritually bankrupt culture on earth. This is evident in the unchecked militarism, exploitation, and genocide that spans decades and continents, justified by a supposed moral superiority, and in the systemic economic exploitation that prioritizes power, profit, and resources over human and environmental well-being. The culture's fixation on individualism and competition undermines communal care, leaving a trail of social fragmentation and ecological destruction in its wake. It has drawn a number of other states into its orbit, which it refers to as "The West." Its pathology is most apparent in its genuine yet delusional belief that it is the gift of cosmic divinity to the world, ordained with a "manifest destiny" to rule over the earth. This belief, which has driven centuries of conquest, oppression, and environmental degradation, is not just an ideology—it is a system. A comprehensive, self-justifying, and omnipresent system that permeates every dimension of life.
This system is upheld by an expansive propaganda program. It begins in the stories told within families and continues in schools, workplaces, entertainment, and religious institutions. Religion, in particular, is co-opted to reinforce narratives of divine sanction for cultural supremacy, blurring the lines between faith and nationalism. This intertwining manipulates individual agency, convincing people that dissent is betrayal and conformity is virtue. It is woven into the fabric of our economies, governments, and social norms, leaving little room for questioning. Its narratives are so pervasive and constant that escape from them is almost unthinkable. To see the system for what it is requires a radical unmasking—a willingness to question the unquestionable and to step outside the worldview we have been taught to see as natural and inevitable.
For me, that unmasking has been an arduous process, spanning more than 80 years. Others have seen through it more quickly and with greater clarity, but for reasons I am only beginning to understand, my journey has been slower. Perhaps it is because the system’s grip is so strong, or perhaps it is because my role is not simply to see it but to create a way to resist it—to offer an alternative vision of what life can be.
As a theologian, I have sought to design a framework for emerging meaning that is grounded in truth, beauty, and love—a framework that stands in opposition to the pathology of the dominant culture. This work has culminated in Opthē, a model of a religion that rejects the delusions of supernaturalism while embracing the profound human need for connection, transcendence, and purpose. Opthē is not just a critique of what is wrong; it is a vision of what could be. It is an invitation to step outside the system and become resident in a world where meaning emerges not from domination or exploitation but from mutual care, shared values, and a commitment to life itself.
The clarity I feel today compels me to share this vision more urgently. The world does not need another critique of its brokenness; it needs pathways to healing. Religion, reenvisioned as the human work of discerning what is sacred through agape and service to life and the Earth, offers the answer to our search for transcendence and deliverance. It is through this sacred work that meaning emerges—not imposed by divine decree but created by human action, rooted in love and shared values. Opthē offers precisely that: a model of community rooted in truth and love, a framework for discerning and constructing the sacred, and rituals that honor our shared existence while allowing meaning to emerge naturally. It calls us to reconceptualize religion not as a rigid institution but as a living process—a collective effort to co-create meaning here and now, together.
Opthē is my response to the system, my attempt to articulate a way of being that honors the truth of our shared existence while resisting the forces that seek to divide and destroy. It is a small and humble offering, but I believe it carries the seeds of transformation. And so, I invite anyone who resonates with this vision to join me in this work. Let us unmask the delusions that bind us and co-create a future that is worthy of the life we have been given.