When Church Turns Into Coachella: Is That Smoke… or Incense?

 I wish I believed in God — I really do — but I’m not the type to go to church or pray.

Well… unless we’re talking about winning the lottery. Then I suddenly remember how to make the sign of the cross with extra enthusiasm.

I grew up surrounded by religion. My grandparents were super devout — and not just into religion, but also into superstitions deluxe. You name it, they believed it.

Like: “Don’t make the sign of the cross backwards or the devil will come.”

Or: “Cover all the mirrors when someone dies, or their soul might get trapped inside like it’s a paranormal Pokéball.”

To be honest, I believed in a lot of those things when I was little. Some made sense. Others felt straight-up cursed.

But let’s skip the ghost stories for now. I want to talk about technology and religion — and how I was raised to think they were mortal enemies.

Where I come from, the idea was: if you want to be truly pure, like monk-level pure, you don’t touch technology. No phones, no microphones, no smart altars with Bluetooth Jesus™. The holiest people were the monks in the mountains, living in wooden cabins, avoiding both sinners and Wi-Fi.

Sure, I know most religious people today use technology at home — nothing wrong with that.

But when I walk into a church and see flashing LED screens, wireless mics, or some priest live-streaming Mass with a ring light…

I can’t help but feel like the sacred vibe is glitching.

Again, I’m not even religious myself — I don’t go to church. But when I do see one, and it looks more like a concert stage than a spiritual place… I kind of lose respect for it.

There’s something about raw, candle-lit, echoing silence that feels holy. Not surround sound and PowerPoint hymns.