I was in high school when I bought my first copy of Men’s Health magazine. I don’t remember who was on the cover or the specific headlines’ content, but I would guess it was a shirtless action star with a too-good-to-be-true body and a series of too-good-to-be-true promises in bold fonts.
Five Meals to Get More Protein
Six Ways to Shred Fat
Seven Steps to Eight-Pack Abs
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had to know it was all a scam. Even as a naive adolescent, there must have been some small set of neurons that made the connection that reading that magazine was not enough to transform me into the man on the cover. And yet.
I continued to buy Men’s Health and magazines like it throughout my adolescence and into college. I subscribed to the magazine off and on for over a decade. Each issue followed the same pattern and yet each issue came with the promise of transformation that would dissipate like vapor as the last page flipped.
The baseline assumption of Men’s Health (and all other bits of health, well-being, and fitness advice) is very simple: there is a correct way to get fit, be healthy, lose weight, live. If you simply follow the instructions you will achieve the goal. A plus B equals C.
Of course, the assumption under that assumption is that you are not currently fit, healthy, or living the life you should be living. In the equation above, A equals you as you are (flawed, out of shape, weak, not perfect, not what you should be). B equals Men’s Health (or your coworker’s diet advice or that influencer’s new thirty-day challenge). C equals the optimized version of yourself that exists in the make-believe realm of should.
The simple promise of that first Men’s Health was so attractive. It was like a manual for living. It provided instructions for working out and dieting. There was a section called “Eat This Not That.” It gave recommendations for new tech products and ideal vacation spots. Never mind that the recommendations changed every month. Or that most of the recommendations were paid for by the highest bidder. Never mind that those action stars didn’t end up looking like they do in their blockbuster films by committing to do crunches but through a combination of Photoshop, crash diets, and fitness as a full-time job.
Gnosticism has been a tempting bogeyman in Christianity from the beginning. From the Greek word for knowledge (gnosis), these loosely related schools of theology were grounded in the idea that there is secret knowledge that leads to righteousness. Put simply: the material world is ruled by evil powers, but there is hidden spiritual knowledge that can lead people out of that fallen material state.
Gnosticism was declared a heresy in the second century, but the impulse toward secret knowledge has endured for two millennia. It still shows up in the Christian church as well as many other ancient and modern religions. In fact, it seems that Gnosticism has become the primary religion of our modern age.
When Descartes famously said, “I think, therefore I am” in the 17th century, he reflected the Enlightenment’s shift from worship of God as the source of truth to worship of the human intellect. The ensuing assumption baked into the fabric of our world since the then is that, given enough time, humans will come to know everything about everything.
Given enough time (and money), doctors will understand everything about every disease. Given enough time (and money, votes, and perhaps a revolution), policy-makers will solve every societal ill. Given enough time (and money and academic freedom), scientists will uncover how everything came to be and how everything operates.
I didn’t know that I was being sold Gnosticism when I bought that first Men’s Health. Now in my thirties, the father of two (soon to be three) children, I recognize how deeply I have been influenced by this deep cultural Gnosticism. At some point, I replaced Men’s Health with parenting books and podcasts but the motivation was the same: there is a correct way to parent and if I read enough books or listen to enough podcasts I will parent correctly. Or put in its simplest form: these parenting books contain the secret knowledge that will lead me to parenting righteousness.
The French philosopher Jacques Ellul spent his career unpacking our technological society as he saw it. One of his primary observations was that our modern age, what Charles Taylor called our secular age, has replaced religious superstition with a focus on technique. Ellul compares our obsession with technique (doing things the right, most efficient way) with magic in the Middle Ages. For Ellul, our techniques and technologies are new superstitions with the same motivation: trying to control what we cannot possibly control. Andy Crouch breaks this idea down beautifully in his book The Life We’re Looking For, comparing the promise of our modern technologies to the promises of ancient alchemists — always trying to use magic to create gold out of the ordinary stuff of human life.
Our modern spells are no longer chanted in Latin by candlelight. Instead, they are printed in bold fonts on glossy paper or polished Instagram feeds.
Seven Steps to Eight-Abs
Five Steps to Rescue America
Three Steps to Save the Church
The One Thing You Can Do To Save The World
Our American Gnosticism is not new. It is not very interesting. It is the logical result of two thousand years of human beings hunting for the answer to life. Its roots go back to the Garden of Eden and that first seductive promise made to our ancestors: “Taste this knowledge and you will be like God.”
This American Gnosticism is not new. It is the water in which we have been swimming for a long time. But to borrow a question from Dr. Phil, one wonders, “How is that working for us?”
Put another way, Jesus said we can always judge a tree by its fruit. What is the fruit of our American Gnosticism?
The fruit of my early reading of Men’s Health is clear. With almost every problem in my life, my first thought is that there is a correct way to handle it. From minor issues of productivity at work to bigger questions of health, parenting, and vocation, the resources to give me the correct knowledge on the subject are legion. Buy that book. Smash that subscribe button. Sign up for the workshop or the class or the newsletter.
Like clockwork, the answer is always just out of reach because knowledge alone cannot save us.
Knowledge will not lead to salvation. The Big Book of AA says that “self-knowledge avails us nothing.” Jesus explicitly said that there is nothing hidden, there is no secret knowledge. Jesus made it plain — there are no techniques that will set us free apart from surrendering to the God who has declared that work complete.
That headline has remained the same for two thousand years. It does not change each month with the whims of science or the investment of advertising sponsors. It does not come with an airbrushed portrait of an ideal man and the subtle promise that enough effort on your part will transform you into enough.
Every day, and sometimes every hour, I have to recommit to my faith in Jesus instead of my faith in my knowledge. Each season of my life presents a different way that I am tempted toward this Gnostic impulse and each failure provides another opportunity to come back to the only knowledge required: “For I decided to know nothing except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” (1 Cor 2:2)
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2 responses to “American Gnostic”
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Congratulations on the soon-to-be-three!
This was an excellent read and great perspective, thanks Connor. I have found myself just as tempted by these things (most recently in some fitness-related categories too) and it’s so hard to shut off the part of my brain that reacts with “Yes! This is it! This is the missing piece of the puzzle.” Something in us is just wired to seek solutions without interrogating their source too closely. I’ve felt that way about job-seeking as well: I’m actively looking for a new job right now and I have to remind myself that no job or career will solve all of my problems or make my life “complete”. Sure, it can be an improvement in certain ways, but it’s not anything like a final answer.
I didn’t realize I was into gnosticism. I defined it as trying to be a good steward of my body. The enemy is tricky isn’t he?