America’s nonreligious population is growing and diverse, and they have a strong aversion to organized religion. Mike Dulak was born Catholic in Southern California, but by his adolescence, he was skipping Mass and driving directly to the beach to play guitar, watch the waves, and take in the sunrise. “And it felt more spiritual than any time I set foot in a church,” he said.
Nothing has changed that opinion in the decades since. “Most religions are there to control people and get money from them,” said Dulak, now 76, of Rocheport, Missouri. He also cited sex abuse scandals in Catholic and Southern Baptist churches. “I can’t buy into that,” he said.
Dulak is not alone in his refusal to be a part of a religious flock. He’s a “none” – not that kind of nun, mind you. When pollsters ask, “What is your religion?” they check “none.”
Nones reshape American religion, challenging its traditional landscape
The decades-long emergence of the nones — a heterogeneous, difficult-to-categorize group — is one of the most discussed occurrences in American religion. They are altering the religious landscape of America as we know it.
In U.S. religion today, “the most important story without a shadow of a doubt is the unbelievable rise in the share of Americans who are nonreligious,” said Ryan Burge, a political science professor at Eastern Illinois University and author of “The Nones,” a book on the phenomenon.
According to The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research, 30% of U.S. people profess no religious affiliation, representing a sizable proportion of the population.
According to other significant surveys, the number of nones has been continuously increasing for as long as three decades.
They are atheists, agnostics, and those who believe in “nothing in particular.” Many people are “spiritual but not religious,” while others are neither or both. They are divided by class, gender, age, race, and ethnicity.
While the nones’ diversity divides them into numerous subgroups, they all have one thing in common: They truly are. I dislike being organized. Religion.
Unpacking the stories of America’s nonreligious
Neither do its leaders. Neither its politics nor its social attitudes. According to the AP-NORC survey, the vast majority of nones agree.
They are, however, more than just a statistic. They are actual people with unique perspectives on religion and nonbelief, as well as the meaning of life.
They’re secular homeschoolers in Arkansas’ Ozark Mountains, and Pittsburghers battling addiction. They’re a mandolin maker in a little Missouri town, a former evangelical turned off by that strain of American Christianity. Also, they’re college kids who were turned off by their childhood churches.
Church “was not very good for me,” said Emma Komoroski, a University of Missouri freshman who left her childhood Catholicism in her mid-teens. “I’m a lesbian. So that was kind of like, oh, I didn’t really fit, and people don’t like me.”
People like Alric Jones, who claimed negative experiences with organized religion ranging from judgmental churches in his hometown to a ministry that continued to seek money from his devout late wife — even after Jones lost his job and income due to an injury — are among the nones.
“They should have come to us and said, ‘Is there something we can do to help you?’” said Jones, 71, of central Michigan. “They kept sending us letters saying, ‘Why aren’t you sending us money?’”
Although he doesn’t believe in organized religion, he believes in God and basic ethical precepts. “People should be treated equally as long as they treat other people equally. That’s my spirituality if you want to call it that.”
These days, if a visiting relative wants to attend church, he’ll go along, “but I’m not prone to listening to anybody telling me this is the way it should be,” Jones said.
One in six U.S. adults embracing the ‘nothing in particular’ path
One in every six adults in the United States, including Jones and Dulak, is “nothing in particular.” They outnumber atheists and agnostics combined (7% each).
“All the media attention is on atheists and agnostics when most nones are not atheist or agnostic,” Burge said.
Many people believe in a variety of spiritual beliefs, including God, prayer, and heaven, as well as karma, reincarnation, astrology, and energy in crystals.
“They are definitely not as turned off to religion as atheists and agnostics are,” Burge said. “They practice their own type of spirituality, many of them.”
Nature continues to inspire Dulak.
“It just feels so good to be next to something so timeless,” he said, sitting in his yard in the Missouri River town he now calls home.
He finds a similar sense of fulfillment in his two-story workshop, where he creates the latest of thousands of mandolins he has made over the years, allowing people to “share the joy of music.”
“It feels spiritually good,” Dulak said. “It’s not a religion.”
Nones on the rise as Christianity declines
According to Burge, the number of nones is increasing as the Christian population shrinks, particularly among “mainline” or moderate to liberal Protestants.
“This is not just some academic exercise for me,” said Burge, who pastors a dwindling American Baptist church in Mt. Vernon, Illinois. It’s “what I’ve seen every single Sunday of my life for the last 16 years.”
According to statistics, nones are well-represented among all age groups, but especially among young adults. Nearly four out of every ten people under the age of 30 are atheists – nearly as many as claim to be Christians.
In interviews on the University of Missouri campus, the pattern was clear. Several pupils stated that they were not religious.
Mia Vogel like “the foundations of a lot of religions — just love everybody, accept everybody.” However, she considers herself to be more spiritual.
“I’m pretty into astrology. I’ve got my crystals charging up in my window right now,” she said. “Honestly, I’ll bet half of it is a total placebo. But I just like the idea that things in life can be explained by greater forces.”
Spiritual revival in the shadows
The Twelve Step sobriety program, pioneered by Alcoholics Anonymous and copied by other recovery groups, embodies the “spiritual but not religious” mentality. Participants pray to a “power greater than ourselves” — the God of their own interpretation — but they share no creed.
“No matter what denomination, religions have been wracked by scandals,” said the Rev. Jay Geisler, an Episcopal priest and spiritual advisor at the Pittsburgh Recovery Center, an addiction treatment facility.
In contrast, he claims that “there’s actually a spiritual revival in the basements of many of the churches,” where recovery groups frequently assemble.
According to Geisler, the God of their understanding is “GUS,” which stands for Guy UpStairs. Or “SAM,” for Sure Ain’t Me.
“Nobody’s fighting in those rooms, they’re not saying, ‘You’re wrong about God,’” Geisler said. The focus is on “how your life is changed.”
Participants lately at the facility mirrored those sentiments. They agreed to tell their stories on the condition that only their first names be published, in keeping with the Twelve Step tradition of anonymity.
“I grew up Methodist, but I don’t follow any religion,” said John, 32. “I don’t believe in a big, bearded dude in the sky.” But after surviving overdoses, he knows that “something has been watching over me.”
Some identified as Christian, but instead of evangelizing, they supported each other’s independent paths.
“I don’t push my belief on anybody,” said Linda, 57. “The pain bonds us.”
Finding freedom beyond religion
Those interviewed stated that their newfound group is critical to their recovery — and that a lack of connection contributed to their initial addiction.
Scholars are concerned that when people withdraw from congregations and other social groupings, they may lose sources of communal support.
In interviews, however, none claimed they were delighted to leave religion behind, especially in toxic environments, and find fellowship elsewhere.
Jones acknowledged that church connections can be advantageous — but not for him.
“When you need references and you need other things, those people are there to support you,” he said. “But again, what are you willing to sacrifice of your own beliefs to develop that kind of relationship?”
Marjorie Logman, 75, of Aurora, Illinois, now feels at home in her multigenerational apartment complex. She misses the evangelical circles in which she was once active.
“The farther away I get, the freer I feel,” she said, criticizing churches for prioritizing money over caring for people. She recalled seeing church leaders tell people with depression their problem was a sin or demonic possession — piling guilt upon unaddressed mental illness.
Logman said that while she was recovering from an accident in a nursing home in 2010, her husband was home alone in despair and died before she could return home. Her pastor, she claimed, refused to see him since he wasn’t interested in church.
She now identifies as agnostic. “I’m not throwing in the towel on everything,” she said. “I still believe in a higher consciousness.”
Inspiring secular homeschooling communities
Nones are discovering communities even far from urban centers. Adria Cays and Ashley Miller, who live in surrounding communities in northwest Arkansas, assisted in the formation of a group for parents who homeschool their children according to secular beliefs.
Even in the Ozarks’ predominantly Christian region, they discovered “people like us who were approaching education and just raising their children from a more secular view,” said Miller, 35.
The hiking experiences of the women’s families are frequently documented on Instagram. While they do not regard their adventures as spiritual, they hope to instill a sense of wonder and purpose in their children.
“We really want them to have a deep connection to nature,” said Cays, 43.
Added Miller: “We are part of something bigger, and that is the Earth. There is meaning just in being.”
