Organized religion is a sham and a crutch for weak-minded people

Host: The wind was relentless, howling through the cracks of the old building, rattling the windows and making the dim light flicker in the corner. Shadows stretched long across the room, as if trying to reach out to something that could never be touched. Jack stood by the window, staring out at the rain, deep in thought. Jeeny sat on the worn couch, her eyes fixed on the small coffee table in front of her, the silence between them thick with something unspoken. The world outside felt as chaotic as their conversation was about to become.

Jack: “You really think organized religion is a sham, Jeeny? That it’s all just a crutch for the weak-minded? I mean, religion has guided people for centuries. It’s not that simple. It’s about faith, about something beyond ourselves. It’s about community, and it’s meaningful to millions of people.”

Jeeny: “But that’s the problem, Jack. People use it as a crutch. Organized religion tells you to conform to someone else’s idea of what’s right and wrong, and it forces you to push those beliefs onto everyone around you. It’s not about individual growth or spiritual awakening. It’s about control, about power. People hide behind it because they’re afraid to face their own doubts, their own questions. It becomes this giant structure that keeps people from truly thinking for themselves.”

Jack: “So you’re saying everyone who has faith in something is just weak? That they’re all just hiding from their fears? You know that’s not true. Religion has given people hope, strength, and a sense of purpose in times of darkness. Just because you don’t agree with it doesn’t mean it’s a sham.”

Jeeny: “It’s not about belief itself, Jack. Faith can be personal. It’s organized religion that’s the issue. It’s the system—the people who claim to have the answers and use that power to control others. Religion tells you that your faith is not enough unless you’re part of their community, following their rules. It encourages people to meddle in other people’s lives, to judge others, all under the guise of righteousness.”

Host: The rain starts to pour harder now, the sound of it against the roof a constant drumbeat that fills the room. The tension between them thickens, palpable in the air. Jack’s shoulders tense, his hands clenching into fists as Jeeny’s words hang in the room like a storm waiting to break.

Jack: “But isn’t it the same with any belief system? Whether it’s religion, politics, or even a cause you care about, people want to believe they have the right answers. It’s human nature to want to share your beliefs, to feel like you’re part of something bigger. It’s not always about control. It’s about connection.”

Jeeny: “Connection is one thing, but using religion as a way to control people, to tell them their beliefs are wrong, that’s something else. Religion has been the reason for so many wars, for so much pain, and it’s still happening today. People use it to justify their own intolerance, to feel morally superior. When you tell someone they can’t have their own truth unless it matches yours, that’s not connection. That’s division.”

Jack: “So you’re saying that faith is the problem? That it’s always been used for bad things, that it’s inherently wrong? What about the people who find comfort, purpose, and community in it?”

Jeeny: “I’m not saying faith is wrong, Jack. I’m saying organized religion is. It’s the idea that you have to follow someone else’s path to spirituality. Religion should be a personal journey, not a one-size-fits-all system that tells you how to live, who to love, and what to believe. When it becomes a tool for power, that’s when it becomes dangerous.”

Host: The room feels charged now, the weight of Jeeny’s words pressing down. Jack shifts, taking a deep breath, trying to find a way to respond, but the truth of what she’s saying gnaws at him. The flickering light in the corner seems to grow dimmer, and for a moment, the world outside becomes even more distant, as if everything else has faded away.

Jack: “So what’s the answer, Jeeny? If organized religion is the problem, what do we replace it with? Where do people find their guidance, their meaning?”

Jeeny: “People don’t need a crutch. They need to find their own strength. Faith doesn’t have to come from a church or a doctrine—it can come from within. From your own experiences, your own connection to the world and to others. People can find meaning in art, in relationships, in living with intention. But they have to be willing to look beyond the structures that tell them what to believe.”

Jack: “And if they don’t? What if they need the community? What if they don’t have the strength to find meaning on their own?”

Jeeny: “Then they’re still looking outside themselves for the answers. They’re still afraid to take that leap and trust themselves. Organized religion promises them answers, but the truth is that nobody else has the answers. You have to find your own.”

Host: The wind howls even louder, rattling the window in its frame, but the storm in the room has calmed. The flickering light steadies, casting a soft glow on Jack and Jeeny. Their conversation, though intense, has shifted into something deeper, a reflection on the nature of belief, control, and personal strength. Jack’s eyes soften, and for the first time in a long while, he’s not searching for a response. Instead, he seems to be contemplating the truth of what Jeeny has said.

Jack: “Maybe it’s not about rejecting faith altogether. Maybe it’s about finding the strength to trust yourself, to find your own truth without needing someone to tell you what that is. Maybe we’ve all been looking in the wrong places.”

Jeeny: “Exactly, Jack. It’s not about rejecting faith. It’s about rejecting the need to rely on someone else’s answers. True faith comes from within.”

Host: The rain begins to ease, its rhythm shifting from a loud drumbeat to a soft, steady patter. The world outside is quieting as the conversation fades into a gentle silence between them. Jack and Jeeny sit side by side, each lost in their thoughts, but there’s an unspoken understanding now—an acknowledgment that sometimes, the answers we seek are not found in the structures built by others, but within the strength we find in ourselves.