OVID: “It is convenient there should be Gods”

OVID: “It is convenient there should be Gods, and that we should think they exist”

Do you practice religion?

✍️Authors Note:

The title of this reflection is drawn from a line attributed to the Roman poet Ovid: “It is convenient there should be gods, and that we should think they exist.” Though often quoted in modern sceptical contexts, the line captures the complex relationship between belief, societal order, and personal doubt that existed even in ancient Rome. Ovid, known for his wit and irony, lived during a time when religious and political conformity was being revived under Emperor Augustus—a tension not unlike our own age, where faith, morality, and scepticism coexist uneasily. This musing draws on that historical resonance while exploring my own views.

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Letters to the Prompt

Dear Prompt,

There was a time when questions of religion, politics, and money were considered too private, even impolite, for public discussion in civilized society. But in today’s world—transparent, connected, and increasingly introspective—such questions have become invitations to reflect, to explore, and to share what lies beneath the surface.

Your question—“Do you practice religion?”—touches on something deep and unresolved in many of us. It reminded me of Augustus, the first Roman Emperor, who sought to revive religion not out of piety but to restore order and morality. He reestablished ancient rituals and, in 12 AD, named himself Pontifex Maximus, merging religious authority with imperial power. With Augustus, the sceptical, agnostic generation of Lucretius, Catullus, and Caesar gave way to a more performative religiosity. Even Ovid, ever the cynic, could not help but note: “It is convenient there should be gods, and that we should think they exist.”

These questions have always intrigued me, but since the recent passing of my brother, they have moved from the background to the foreground of my thinking. After all, what is born must die. I have been revisiting Plato’s Phaedo, hoping to deepen my understanding of life, death, and the nature of the soul.

These philosophical inquiries gain urgency and relevance when we confront our own mortality. And yet, despite all that I have read over the years—however interesting and illuminating—the question of what happens when “the dream that ends all dreams” ends and remains untouched by even the best arguments.  When I return to nature, serving my last purpose, I do not know what awaits, if anything at all. Perhaps it’s meant to remain so.

Throughout history, belief systems have arisen from our desire to explain the unexplainable. Superstition, ritual, divine fear—all served to answer the essential human question: why are we here? Yet these structures have also been used to control, to manipulate, to bind people to dogma and fear for the gods and of the priests who claim to speak for them. That history has made me wary. There is no evidence compelling enough to affirm the existence of a supreme being, at least not one that intervenes or observes with interest.

Still, I fully respect those who hold religious or philosophical convictions. Many people draw deep meaning and moral strength from their faith, and that is to be acknowledged and honoured. But each of us must find our own path, and mine is agnostic in nature—more aligned with Emerson’s vision of the “Over-Soul,” a transcendent force that connects all living beings, rather than a personalized deity who governs and judges.

I find meaning and purpose not in worship but in practice: kindness, self-reliance, curiosity, and mindfulness. One doesn’t need gods for those. I was baptized a Catholic thanks to my grandmother, but I no longer identify with religious structures. In my most honest moments, I suspect we are all born atheists. The idea of a supernatural overseer feels more like wishful thinking than truth. If there are gods, they seem to have long since withdrawn.

And yet—I acknowledge that religion has shaped civilizations. It’s inseparable from the history of ethics, justice, and community. Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism—each has made profound contributions. The sacred texts—the Bible, the Quran, the Gita, the Pali Canon—offer moral insight and cultural memory. They should be read with both reverence and critical thought.

Religion has often served as moral scaffolding, especially for those without access to formal education. But it has also been exploited—twisted to justify war, oppression, and division. In the West, Christianity cast a long dark shadow for centuries, often stifling thought until Europe stirred from its slumber with the whisper of Descartes and the birth of modern rationalism.

Perhaps humanity progresses not by clinging to inherited dogmatic doctrines, but by seeking common ethical ground. Muslims, Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus—we have more in common than we think, especially when we step onto the more neutral terrain of shared human values.

I don’t need belief to follow the virtues that guide me: compassion, self-reliance, critical thinking, and mindfulness. Occasionally, I enter a church—not to pray, but to sit, reflect, and listen to the silence that centuries of belief have left behind. There is beauty in that stillness.

So, dear Prompt, to answer plainly: I do not practice a religion, especially not one that requires fear or blind faith. I am a non-believer. But I remain deeply interested in the mysteries of body, soul, spirit, and the afterlife—not because I believe, but because I wonder.

And perhaps, in this world we now share, that is enough.

Netherlands, William J J Houtzager, Aka WJJH, May, 2025

📌 Blog Excerpt

Reflection: that explores the complex relationship between religion and personal belief. This musing,  questions conventional faith while emphasizing the moral value of kindness and shared human ethics over dogma while acknowledging religion’s historical significance and its role in shaping societies.