The Holy Church of the Selfie

Once upon a time, in a world where technology thrived and humility had gone missing, a strange phenomenon began to take over homes. At first, it was subtle. A family would move an old religious icon just a little to the side to make space for a framed vacation photo. Then, the icons disappeared altogether, replaced by selfies—high-resolution, professionally edited, filtered to divine perfection.

Soon, every home had its own Shrine of the Selfie.

In the beginning, people simply admired their own images as they walked by. But admiration turned into rituals. Morning prayers were replaced with morning affirmations:

• “Dear Me, grant me the strength to ignore all haters.”

• “Oh, Glorious Me, may my selfies always get over 100 likes.”

• “Divine Self, protect me from low engagement and bad lighting.”

Families gathered around their “blessed frames” every Sunday to perform the Sacred Scroll, where they’d go through their own Instagram feeds, liking old photos for “extra blessings.”

One particularly devout man, Brother Narcis, developed a new practice: instead of crossing himself before leaving the house, he took a selfie for protection. “If I look flawless,” he said, “no harm shall befall me.”

As time went on, miracles started being attributed to the Selfie Shrines:

• A woman claimed her lips grew bigger overnight after praying to her 2019 duck-face photo.

• A man said he found true love after posting a gym selfie with the caption “No pain, no gain.”

• An influencer reported that their phone battery lasted 12 hours instead of 11, which they called “The Miracle of the Everlasting Screen Time.”

Of course, not everyone was convinced. The elderly shook their heads in despair, muttering, “Back in my day, we prayed to saints, not our own faces!” But their voices were drowned out by the Hymns of the Hashtags.

Then came the final transformation. People no longer bowed before golden icons—they bowed before their own reflection in their phone screens.

The world had changed. Faith was no longer in the heavens. It was in the perfect angle, the perfect filter, and the almighty algorithm.

And so, the Holy Church of the Selfie was born.