John Green: Hi! I'm John Green, and welcome to the final episode of Crash Course: Religions!

By the way, I'm wearing my Lifelong Learner shirt because I am a lifelong learner and you can be one too, by watching Crash Course or by getting this shirt, available now at Complexity.store. 

So, I want to save most of my reflections for the end, but I want to start today with a question ww asked at the very beginning of this series: 

What makes religion... religion?

Like, imagine a child born to a virgin, destined to save the world. A struggle between good and evil. A mysterious, powerful energy connecting everything. And mystics who devote their lives to understanding that force—even if it means brown robes and celibacy. 

Am I talking about Christianity? Buddhism? Daoism? 

Well, to answer that, we need to go to galaxy far, far away...

[Star Wars theme]

[Theme music]

In 2001, over 70,000 people on Australia's national census identified their religion as "Jedi".

And so did about 1 1/2% of New Zealand's population.

And in England and Wales, Jediism was the 4th most reported religion on the census that year, thanks to 390,000 people who said the Force was within them. 

It started with a chain email that claimed if at least 10,000 people identified as "Jedi" on the census, the Australian government would have to officially recognise it as a religion. 

But if you think all of those Jedis were just committing to the bit, well: "You must unlearn what you have learned." 

Well, Stan, is that a lightsabre? [Picks it up, clicks it on] Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! I'm living the dream! I'm a Jedi! 

Stan, I want to say thank you for letting me live my Jedi dream on the last day of the Crash Course: Religions shoot. 

So, I know it's tempting to think of "religion" as fundamentally separate from pop culture, like two items in your closet that just do not match. This shirt with those pants? Absolutely not!

But religion and pop culture aren't separate. And they never really have been.

In antiquity, religious culture circulated through dances, and songs, and stories that could be thought of as "secular." 

Like, it's fair to think of Homer's Iliad as "religious," since it's full of gods and supernatural heroes. But to ancient Greek audiences, it was their Showtime — full of murder, revenge, and sex.

All the elements of good TV. 

Greetings, young people. So, television was kind of like TikTok, except some so-called TV shows were an hour long. They were like 75 TikToks stitched together. And get this, there were even more ads than there are on TikTok. 

It was a crazy time that went from like 1953 all the way up until the third to last episode of Game of Thrones, at which point TV ceased to exist. 

And to this day, supposedly "secular" stories borrow religious elements.

I mean,, George Lucas himself, the creator of "Star Wars," admits to drawing from existing religions in his worldbuilding.

He said that he wanted the film to "awaken a certain kind of spirituality in young people... so that they would begin to ask questions about the mystery."

The point is, we find religious influences in movies, and music, and fashion, and memes, and art, and sports, and TV shows. 

And some of those representations are obviously better than others. 

Like, the 1984 movie "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" pushes racist ideas about Hinduism and India in general, portraying it as a place where monkey brains are on the menu and worshippers of the goddess Kali conduct human sacrifices. 

Which, for the record: they're not. And they don't. All that belongs in a museum's... trash can. 

Compare that to the reaction many Muslim viewers had to the TV show "Ms. Marvel," about a Pakistani-American Muslim girl with superpowers. 

It shows the main character, Kamala, saying the Arabic prayer "bismillah" before taking her driving test, performing a pre-prayer cleansing ritual called wudu, and speaking a mix of Urdu and English with her family  

The response to these details was largely positive, but some Muslim viewers didn't see Kamala as religious enough, especially because she doesn’t wear a hijab.

Even when a form of media portrays an "accurate" version of a religion, it can never represent or speak for all of its followers, with their wildly diverse beliefs and practices.

And it's not just religion that influences pop culture. Pop culture influences religion right back.

Like, contemporary pagans have been known to draw inspiration from "The Lord of the Rings" to inform their own religious practice. 

Or take the Rapture — that sudden yeeting-off-the-planet of Christians at the end of time. It's a fairly new — and somewhat fringe — belief, originating in the early 19th century and held mostly by conservative American Evangelicals since the Cold War. 

But Rapture ideology really took off with the rise of prophecy fiction, a genre of popular novels and movies about the apocalyptic end times from a Christian perspective. 

Especially the "Left Behind" novels published in the mid 90s the the early aughts — a series that got so popular, they made some movies. 

Not necessarily good movies, but movies. 

And pop culture can also inspire whole new religions.

Like, since the 1950s, there's been a surge of UFO religions — and no, we're not going to call them UAP religions now. They're diverse movements that involve belief in mysterious aerial objects, extraterrestrial beings, or visits to other planets. 

Often, they're influenced by theosophical movements that date back to the late 19th century, which emphasise supernatural phenomena and psychic powers. 

But UFO religions have also been inspired by the boom of alien sci-fi that consumed pop culture starting in the mid 20th century. 

Like, the idea of reptilian alien invaders disguised as humans infiltrating the government has made its way into the thinking of religious groups like Heaven's Gate.

And it makes sense that a belief in UFOs or extraterrestrial life overlaps with religion, right? The possibility of mysterious beings in the sky taps into profound existential questions like, "Are we alone?" and "What does it mean to be human?"

These are questions that religions can help offer answers for— helping people wrap their heads around uncertainties and made sense of the world around them. 

And when you think about it that way, it makes sense that Jediism has filled that purpose for some people, too. 

After the release of the first Star Wars movie in 1977, fans from all over the world connected with each other through snail mail, zines, and — eventually — the Internet, debating the nature of the Force and wider religious themes in the series. 

And from the start, Star Wars fans found parallels between the Jedi perspective and Daoism, or Buddhism, or Christianity. 

Some immersed themselves in Jedi identity through role-playing games and online forums. 

And for others, lightsabre practice morphed into religious practice. 

Do I get to do it again? I get to do it again. [John making lightsabre noises] The force is strong with this one. 

Alright, I hope that wasn't offensive to members of the Temple of the Jedi Order, "an international church of Jediism" whose members take an oath to uphold Jedi teachings and cultivate understandings of the Force.

I wasn't trying to appropriate, I was trying to, like, honor. 

The Temple has clergy; three tenets of focus, knowledge, and wisdom; and — at least in the United States — legal recognition as a tax-exempt charity, just like a Baptist church or a Buddhist temple. 

And like any religion, there's debate! 

Some think of Jediism as a fusion of new ideas and older religious traditions. But others are canon purists, who take the Star Wars movies as the only gospel.

[Cellphone vibrates]

Alright, for old time's sake. Hey, bud. How's it going?

Devil's Advocate: I'm ready to convert, Johnny boy. 

John: I think you'd be more of a Sith Lord, but, you know what? If this is the framework that helps you build a foundation from which to view the world, then I support it. May the Force be with you. 

Devil's Advocate: And also with you. 

John: [Hanging up] You know it's funny, I thought I was teaching him. But maybe he was teaching m— hold on... Oh! He just sent me an AI-generated photo of the Pope with a lightsabre. I don't think he understands Jediism... or, for that matter, Catholicism. 

But, wherever you go from here, Devil's Advocate — Godspeed, my friend. Godspeed. 

Sociologists call Jediism and other pop culture-inspired movements hyperreal religions — "hyperreal" because they blur the line between simulated reality, like a fictional piece of media, and... real reality. 

Practitioners act on the desire to experience the simulated reality in daily life — basically, making it real. 

Practitioners of Jediism attempt to make Jedi real by becoming Jedi. 

Practitioners of Matrixism, or "the path of the one," look to the Matrix movies as core texts, maintaining that reality is more multilayered than it appears, and a messianic figure is destined to save the world  

These movements blend pop culture and the everyday, shaping practitioners' experience of reality. 

But where do the boundaries around hyperreal religions lie?

Like, you could argue Disney World is a hyperreal fantasy brought into physical existence. How many trips on the spinning cups does it take before you're engaging in a religious experience?

Is singing Taylor Swift lyrics with 50,000 other fans at a concert a form of prayer? 

When does cosplaying as your favourite anime character become not just participation in a subculture, but something more?

As always,  the lines here are fuzzy. 

With the rise of mass media, social media, and virtual reality, the way religion is created and practiced is changing and will continue to change.

Religions are emerging from pop culture — from the work of novelists, filmmakers, influencers, and more. 

And all of this lays bare the truth that religions just aren't separate from the rest of culture. The stories we tell, the ideas we absorb, the meanings we make — they’re all woven into the same fabric. 

I started this Crash Course on religions by asking what a religion is. And of course, after 24 episodes, I... still don't have an answer. Bit I would offer that this feeling of uncertainty actually is an answer. 

In this series, we've really grasped at that "ultimate concern" we mentioned in our first episode.

We've found that religions can be responses to the uncertainties we all wrestle with, the sense of belonging we all crave. And they can act as a kind of trellis for the vines of curiosity to wrap themselves around as we search the universe for meaning. 

But I think it's also important to consider the harm that religion has caused. In my faith tradition, there are four accountings of the life of Jesus called the "Gospels." And "gospel" means "good news". 

But of course, religiously motivated actions and movements aren't always good news — my own religion has been responsible for tremendous suffering and death, from crusades to inquisitions. 

It has caused a lot of spiritual trauma in the people it professed to help. It has created outsiders of the already marginalised. 

And yet it has also been a source of consolation and inspiration for billions of humans. 

Religion can provide us with an ethical framework that challenges us to be more inclusive, more expansive, more empathetic. 

It can also cause great harm by centralising power and claiming divine authority to wield that power. 

There is strength in an ultimate concern, and there is danger in it. I find hope in the stories we've learned in this series, and I also find much to lament. 

Religion, like the rest of us, contains multitudes. 

From all of us here at Crash Course, thanks for watching. 

This series was filmed at our studio in Indianapolis, Indiana, and was made with with the help of all these nice people. If you want to help keep Crash Course free for everyone forever, you can join our community on Patreon.