People love to disagree. I was reading a message board the other day. Everybody was arguing about whether it’s right to sterilize the pigeons in Hollywood. Apparently officials are going to put birth control pills in bird feeders. According to at least one anonymous poster, pigeons might one day end up on the endangered species list because of this policy. Environmentalists will wear buttons admonishing us to save the pigeons. I’ll probably be one of those button wearers.

Anyway, everyone was arguing about pigeon ova in that grammatically incoherent Internet language filled with acronyms, emoticons and misspellings. And they were all having just the most fantastic time. They must have been – they’d been going at it for hours.

And why not? Disagreeing is tons of fun. It’s a lot more fun than agreeing, that’s for sure. Can you imagine having a weeklong conversation in which everybody agrees about pigeons?

Sam: “Those pigeons are kind of a nuisance.”

Ben: “They sure are. And they’re gray.”

Jon: “Yep. They fly too.”

Rachel: “Uh-huh. Did you know they’re actually rock doves?”

Jon: “I didn’t, but I’ll go along with that.”

Ben: “Me too. Did I mention that they’re gray?”

Sam: “You sure did.”

Ben: “Gosh, you’re right.”

And so on. Not very exciting. But suggest putting pigeons on the pill and everybody just goes nuts.

Considering how much we enjoy arguing about things as silly as pigeon reproduction, it’s no surprise that we like arguing about things that are actually important even more. Things like politics and religion.

There are a lot of Christians in just this country. According to a 2001 American Religious Identification Survey, the approximate number is 159 million. That’s just in America, mind you; we’re completely ignoring the rest of the world, you know, like we usually do. But out of those 159 million Christians, I don’t think even two individuals agree on everything about their own religion.

The vast, fractured array that is American Christendom is made up of Catholics, Baptists, Methodists, Mormons, Episcopalians, Pentecostals, and many more. Churches might fall into broad categories such as fundamentalist or conservative or liberal. Each different church has a different set of beliefs and rituals. They disagree on what gets people to heaven, the significance of baptism, the divinity of Christ and nature of God, and all kinds of other issues.

Most of the differences are relatively small. For example, a Pentecostal might say Baptists are too somber, while a Baptist might say Pentecostals are too energetic. Neither would want to trade churches, but neither is questioning the other’s salvation either. Bigger differences create larger gaps in understanding. Many Christians label Mormonism a cult, and some conservative Christians do not think Catholics are Christians at all.

There’s not anything inherently wrong with all this disagreement, though I would argue that calling someone else a cult member isn’t particularly constructive. I would also argue that Christians, and I’m including myself here, sometimes let all this dissent overshadow the very basic truths that all Christians do agree on.

In Paul’s first epistle to the Corinthians, in what some archbishop labeled the first chapter, Paul wrote about division within the church. “Each of you says, ‘I belong to Paul,’ or ‘I belong to Apollos,’ or ‘I belong to Cephas,’ or ‘I belong to Christ.’ Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?” How’s that for some withering sarcasm?

What Paul’s saying is, while we may identify ourselves with particular denominations, just as the Corinthians identified themselves with particular apostles, we shouldn’t ever let that obfuscate our allegiance to Christ. Because, after all, this is what makes us Christian. We follow Christ, his teachings and his example.

Baptists follow Christ. Lutherans follow Christ. Catholics, Mormons, Seventh-Day Adventists follow Christ. We are all Christians.

A couple verses earlier, Paul wrote, “Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you should be in agreement and that there should be no divisions among you, but that you should be united in the same mind and the same purpose.”

He was being idealistic, obviously. Paul was far too smart to think that all Christians everywhere would always agree on everything. The world would be a pretty boring place if we all agreed on everything. But maybe we should stop arguing every once in while and remember that we’re all trying to follow the same path.

That path, by the way, is probably not so complex as we sometimes make it out to be. It could perhaps even be followed by people who don’t describe themselves as Christian.

In Mark 28, a scribe asked Jesus, “Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answered that the first is to love your God with all your heart and the second is to love your neighbor as yourself. “You’re right,” said the scribe. “This is much more important than all whole burnt-offerings and sacrifices.”

It’s probably more important than all the differences in denominations and rituals and politics and biblical interpretations too. It might even be more important than pigeon reproduction.

But, hey, maybe you disagree. Want to argue about it?

Justin Fowler is a student at University College of Bangor. He may be reached at justin.fowler@verizon.net. Voices is a weekly commentary by Maine people who explore issues affecting spirituality and religious life.