
Dear Readers,
What is the best business model in the world? The one that creates dependencies.
The newspaper that wants to be read every morning at the breakfast table. The cigarettes that are smoked during breaks throughout work. The painkillers that help to get things done.
Much money is made, especially with any form of physical dependency — approximately 360 billion dollars alone with illicit drugs, worldwide, every year.
But perhaps the strongest dependencies can be established with religion.
The business model of religion is simple. Something is promised (eternal life, purpose, health) if one behaves religiously. The monk who receives a warm meal and, in return, prays for the salvation of the cook. The Catholic priest who gets his salary from the parishioners and, in return, forgives sins (of course, he is the only one able to). The Roman Catholic Church that for centuries expanded its secular power on the grounds that it was God's representative on earth.
Religion, like any business, is a give and take.
But with at least one unique feature.
A reason why the business model of religion and churches works so well is that while it's pretty clear what you have to give (money, prayer, obedience), the benefit is difficult to measure (how to measure the vague prospect of eternal life?). As a result, almost everything people want to believe in can be sold to them.
I know what I'm talking about. I was brought up religious. Raised Roman Catholic.
Here, on my vacation, in the middle of Italy, I was reminded of how dependent I was. In the bar, where I have an espresso every morning, there is an advertisement for a pilgrimage to Medjugorje (quite a luxurious one).
About 30 million people have come to Medjugorje in present-day Bosnia-Herzegovina over the last 40 years. I have been among those. I went to Medjugorje twice in my youth.
Since 1981, that place has become a popular Catholic pilgrimage site where a purported series of apparitions of Mary, mother of Jesus, to six local children took and (still take) place.
There is a lot to learn when you start reading about the phenomenon „Medjugorje“: that religion can be used for political purposes (shortly before the first apparition, Yugoslavian President Josip Broz Tito died, which led to an anti-communist backlash, also with the help of religious movements); that religion can be used for internal power struggles (in Medjugorje were and are Franciscans; in August 1980, the then new bishop of that region had announced that the Franciscans had to give up several parishes); but mostly, that religion can be used to make a lot of money (over a thousand hotel and hostel beds are available for pilgrims to the town, and with approximately one million visitors annually, the municipality of Medjugorje has the most overnight stays in Bosnia-Herzegovina).
Many people make a good living from the pilgrims in Medjugorje - including the alleged seers and their relatives. They own restaurants and hotels in the town. They run travel agencies. They live in wall-enclosed villas and own real estate, for example in the USA.
Barely more than a village in 1981, Medjugorje has since grown to become one big hotel, with restaurants and religious shops being the main commercial activity. Back then, in the 1980‘s I was part of that business. I didn‘t notice. I was absorbed in religion. I believed to be close to God at this place, closer than anywhere else. I thought that I was part of a bigger plan. And indeed, I was. But it was just a business plan, I guess.
Onwards,
Johannes Eber
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