A truly glittering Sunday event.

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This text is very much written in the infantile spirit of our times.

Its headline:

"In search of the sacred."

Its sub-text asks in that conspiratorial manner:

Is there something transcendental in psychoactive substances? And is that why they are banned today, because they could provide insights into something higher? An essay.

Yes, yes, one is inclined to answer.

But wait.

Someone has made up their own world view. That's what we like to do these days.

If only we would humbly accept our drop of LSD on the wafers every Sunday during church services, then everything would surely be fine again and we could see the curse of dividing the world into ‘me’ and ‘all other objects’ lifted.

Oh, how cruel this ‘separation’ is, this pain (!) of having to be sober all the time. But if instead (oh, delight!) we were so inspired by the mass that we realised that ‘we are all one’ and, on the basis of this ‘transcendent experience’, did everything right from then on, made excellent life decisions, THAT would be something!

Please imagine this in concrete terms:

People come to church on Sunday morning.
The pastor distributes the wafers. Now the whole thing needs a while to take effect. Half an hour to an hour, for instance. Whereas before everyone was still able to follow a protocol, now the whole thing starts to become ‘fun’.

Everyone turns in on themselves, some start cackling, laughing their heads off

at the internal cosmic joke they've just been given, others start crying and tearing their hair out, snot and water running down their chins. Or one or the other happens to them in turn. They all tell each other the truth unvarnished, believe it or not, it happens!

The next ones are under the spell of being impressed by the detail that catches their eye.

This could be the hair of the person sitting next to them or simply a wall covered in interesting scratches. Others are amazed by the wonderful lights and patterns, enhanced and reflected by the colourful church windows. Others feel nauseous or simply fall to the ground unhindered because they have lost all sense of their material existence and feel dizzy. They hit their heads with bumps, but don't even realise it.

Some open the church door and wander through the neighbourhood in amazement when no one holds them back.

Those who have this ‘holy’ experience, but resist it,

look around and feel it's too much: they find what is happening grotesque, experience a cut off from their seemingly insane fellow human beings and want nothing more than for this state to end as quickly as possible.

Still others lie stretched out on the pews and keep their transcendence completely behind closed eyes.

Or does the pastor keep the flock together by quickly changing the altar

into a DJ booth and playing music? What about the children who have come with their parents? Or granny and grandpa? Do they all get the same dose?

To be on the safe side, a few first aiders hang around at the entrance and have to watch the hustle and bustle soberly, just in case. No?

In fact, this ‘holy mass’ should be held on a Saturday so that people have enough time to sleep off such being high and get rid of the powerful drug hangover and the feeling of complete emptiness for the rest of the weekend.

Then the author has simply skipped over two thousand years of Christianity as if it were nothing (and instead went off farther back in time). And that's the spirit of the current. Seen too many films? Confused your own ecstasy with the fact that the while is something completely different to the after?