No matter how delightful the concoction, I’ve always found its name vaguely distasteful. Some say it refers to Queen Mary I of England who was known for her violent persecution of Protestants. Others say it is just a cheeky reference to the color of the drink. I sense from it (especially when you consider its non - alcoholic counterpart, the Virgin Mary) a mild irreverence for Christianity. It’s funny, sure, but also sort of irreverent…
I’m no proponent of church (or for that matter any temple, mosque or synagogue), but I’m no fan of deriding religion either. In fact, I find organized religion fascinating - from a marketing perspective. Seems to me that the need for something like it is a hallmark of humanity and I am curious about why organized religion “sells.” (I apologize if this is way too simplistic or mundane or offensive to some, but I had to start formulating my thoughts on this somehow.)
So, I believe, organized religion tries - and usually haplessly fails on the whole - to satisfy a few very basic human needs:
Our need for congregation. Simply getting together with other people regularly, for the sense of community, being part of a social group, hanging out with likeminded others, call it what you will. When I was little, my parents held traditional celebrations of a couple of religious festivals, and the aura of purity and cohesion during those times at home was lovely. But we also satisfy this need at places of non-worship, such as the cofffee shop down the street, where for instance, some of us to the left might congregate and then complain about those to the right.
Our need for devotion. We need an earnest, almost mindless attachment in our lives, whether it is to a person/s, pet, cause, or a hobby. Really, art could be a great substitute for organized religion. Unfortunately, the focus on artistic passion is in dire need the world over.
Our need for hope. What guarantee do I have that I will be or keep being happy? None whatsoever. So maybe I should pray to someone/something outside myself in order to truly believe that it is all going to be okay. But perhaps I could also find that within myself somehow, and I could also perhaps learn to enjoy (or at the very least, accept) the present moment a little more. (So could I have that Bloody Mary now please?) 
Our need for harmony. I believe we have a need to feel that we are one with the universe. I went to a Christian private school, and singing hymns was a part of our daily morning routine. We called it assembly, and raising our voices together in praise of ‘Him’ was one of my favorite parts of the day. I realized, when I was a teeanger, that the feeling I got waving a lighter around with thousands of other people at a Europe concert satisfied (albeit in a slightly different way) that same need for harmony.
Our need for distinction. All of us want to feel like there is a difference between us and them, to see ourselves as one of those who know the difference between right and wrong. I am a Christian/Hindu/Muslim/Jew/atheist… religious affiliations and non-affiliations are great identity-generators.
Our need for indignation. We unfortunately have some misguided need to enhance ourselves (and those we associate with) and derogate those we feel are not like us (i.e. those we don’t or can’t associate with). Organized religion satisfies the need for an ego-boost particularly well. Consider this however: I tune in to preachers on the radio on and off. Besides giving me fodder for thought, it also allows me my self-righteous indulgence of the day. How am I different from the rest of the world? “Well, don’t you see, I can see right through those manipulative sermons. Oh, the poor suckers who fall for that stuff every week…” One might say some of us are religiously irreligious.
Our need for rituals. There’s something very gratifying about doing something familiar regularly, whether it is eating a bagel every day, taking your dog to the park every Sunday morning, or praying every night. We are creatures of habit, and again, organized religion happens to step in and satisfy this craving exceedingly well.
Our need for tradition. This one is close to but not quite the one above. Tradition makes us feel like we have a legacy, that we are of historical value, and so we must do things a certain way. For instance, I can’t imagine being married in a purple outfit, no matter how much I like the colour or how anti-establishment I’m feeling. Ah, tradition, good old tradition.
Our need for escape. It is a harsh reality sometimes, and we all need a break from it on and off. So some might escape with alcohol or drugs, others with exercise or food, and yet others with religion.
Our need for mentorship. So we are all a little lazy and would like someone to help us with our homework, in this case with something that should be as personal as spiritual deliberation. It’s not just that though; it really is nice to be able to trust someone we look up to in guiding us in the “right” direction. However, should we not pay a little more attention to the credentials, intentions, and wisdom of who we trust? (I’m thinking of the likes of Ted Haggard and Raj Thackeray, ugh.)
Our need for awe. This one I find particularly interesting. When you look at a beautiful cathedral for instance, you might see how it is designed to inspire a feeling of awe. It juxtaposes a tiny little you against a massive and beautiful monument often times associated with some sort of “creator”. Awe has two components: a sense of utter humility mixed with a paradoxical sense of upliftment. I think it is a very addictive emotion. I realized this more so in Los Angeles - there are tons of newagey religious outfits around (the L.Ron Hubbard building on Sunset Boulevard is huge and straight out of a sci-fi movie), and yet the worship of celebrities is way more pervasive than any other in the city. The awe generated by nature (think of the Grand Canyon, a magnificent sunset, or a really pretty tree) could be a great substitute for that created by religion or Paris Hilton. Sad thing is, it is nature (catastrophes like hurricanes/floods and natural diseases like the plague/cancer) that religions are created to “explain” and superstitions come about to “control”.
The point is this: we could satisy all these needs in ways other than religion, if we just bothered ourselves with a little curiosity, observation, engagement, and introspection. But therein lies the irony, doesn’t it? The garden-variety of most religions drastically curbs introspection, ceremoniously puts blinders on people, and systematically detracts from our innate curiosity about ourselves, our worlds, and how deeply personal spirituality should be. Simply obey, do not question, practise rituals, live your life just so, be afraid, feel guilt, look down covertly if not overtly on other religions, proselytize, fight wars for your beliefs. This is how religion usually manifests itself today, when in reality, it should be classified under philosophy, and each religious text just be considered somebody else’s point of view - one that you are free to agree or disagree with, so long as you are discerning and careful to avoid a herd-like mentality.
Let’s say cheers to that.
PS: Just in case you were misled here by the title of this entry, then I hope this recipe will leave you a little less disappointed!
1/2 fresh lime juice
1 tsp wasabi, 1 tsp hot pepper sauce, or both if you are brave
6 cups low-salt tomato/veggie juice
3 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
3/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups vodka
Combine lime juice and wasabi with a whisk, until wasabi dissolves. Pour into a pitcher, and add juice, Worcestershire sauce, hot pepper sauce and salt. Chill. Stir in vodka and serve over ice, with a stalk of celery or pickled asparagus. Sprinkle on some crushed pepper. Serves 8. Enjoy.
