Religion and the Brain

If there are two concepts that seem like parallel lines that will never meet, they would have to be religion and neuroscience. One relies on unquestioning faith while the other is a scientific endeavor that attempts to understand how the brain works. What could these two possibly have to do with each other, and can they ever be reconciled? Behavioral neuroscientists have begun exploring these very questions, and are coming up with some very interesting insights.

People are often said to "lose themselves" in prayer. Scientists have found that the inferior parietal lobule (IPL) of the brain, responsible for, among other things, generating a sense of self vs others, produces less activity than usual when people pray. If this sounds like science fiction, I don't blame you: How could a scientist possibly know what's going on inside a person's brain? The answer lies in a technique called functional magnetic resonance imaging, or fMRI, that measures changes in blood flow associated with brain activity. In addition to the "quietening" of the IPL, fMRI studies have also shown increased activity, when people pray, in areas of the frontal lobe of the brain that are responsible for traits like attention. Similar regions would also show increased activity when people do other activities that involve paying attention, or being in focus.

I’ve always had an on-again, off-again relationship with God. Like most people, I remember about his/her existence only when things go wrong, or if I need anything that I cannot achieve by myself. As soon as said task is accomplished, I promptly forget about him (or her) again, until next time.

Studies have found that people who feel they lack control over their lives are more susceptible to finding patterns where patterns don't exist. In one episode of the excellent National Geographic series Brain Games, the scientist who authored this study conducted an experiment: She asked two sets of people what they saw in images of static. The first set was in a relaxed state of mind, having successfully performed a puzzle task earlier. The second group was put under anxiety-inducing conditions by introducing an unreasonable time limit for the puzzle. The second set of people tended to be much more willing to "see" patterns in static images that had no pattern to be discerned whatsoever. This could possibly explain why I, for instance, tend to look for solace in a higher power only when I'm in distress.

It is essential to note, however, that simplistic inferences from studies such as this and the fMRI scans have to be taken with a generous pinch of salt. First, how does one even begin to define as complex a construct as prayer? Prayer means different things to different people, and all the various types of prayer — chanting, meditating, surrender, praise — would presumably have varied effects on the brain. In addition, most of the "prayer studies" are done on people who are already of a religious bent. How would prayer manifest itself neurologically in a person who does not believe as fervently, or not at all?

Meditation studies, on the other hand, are a little more streamlined, and are also helped by the fact that meditation is a simpler and more 'experimentable' construct than prayer. Studies on people practising transcendental meditation (TM) every day have shown that they have lower levels of hormones associated with stress, such as cortisol. Similar to simple relaxation, practicing TM led to lower respiration rates and heart rates, and better blood flow to the brain. Interestingly, you don't have to be a long-term meditator to reap its effects. People who have been through a five-week meditation course have shown improved attention and self-regulation, and similar reductions in stress hormones and improvements in heart rate. However, spending 20 minutes a day closing your eyes and meditating is not as straightforward as popping a pill, and just might not be everyone's cup of tea. Perhaps anything that relaxes you and takes your mind off your worries, be it a game of chess or a walk in the park with your toddler, would have similar effects.

All these effects on the brain are not surprising when you look at it in terms of practice, or exercise. When you train certain regions of the brain, they've been found to get "stronger." The most famous example of this effect is probably the London taxi driver study, which compared taxi drivers, who need to navigate different routes each day, with bus drivers, whose routes are more fixed. MRI scans revealed a greater volume in parts of the hippocampus of the brain that are involved in complex spatial navigation in the taxi drivers compared to the bus drivers. Interestingly, the more experienced a taxi driver was, the more pronounced the effect. Why should training our brains to be calmer be any different?

As a young child, I used to pray with utmost devotion. I almost miss that innocence now. Conversely, when I was slightly older, I remember being a little afraid of being alone in the room where all the idols were kept. Fear of the unknown, perhaps? One of the most common fears that children seem to have is that of the dark. The fear of the unknown is something that children carry into adulthood, albeit to a lesser degree.

Of course, only the more fortunate among us even have the luxury of philosophizing about God. As someone said, “when a man is too busy thinking about where his next meal is going to come from, the last thing on his mind would be about the existence of God, or other such lofty matters."

Speaking of lofty matters, I became the parent to a baby girl two years ago. We pray together each day, more because I love seeing her face light up at the sight of the colorful idols than anything else. Someday, she will grow up and have her own ideas about these things. Until then, though, I’m going to hold her tiny hand each day, and pray with her, and look on in awe at the sheer joy on her face.

At the end of the day, if our daughter chooses acceptance over judgement, inclusion over exclusion, and compassion and empathy over everything else, none of the other things — faith included — would matter.