Before we start, an apology. The next two paragraphs are going to sound a little sciencey:

MDMA (chemistry class name: 3,4-methylenedioxy-methamphetamine) is a synthetic drug that alters mood and perception by increasing the activity of neurotransmitters like serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine in the brain. It is often associated with recreational use at parties and raves due to its euphoric, stimulant, and empathogenic effects. However, MDMA has also been researched for potential therapeutic uses, particularly in the treatment of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Unfortunately, the Food and Drug Administration’s Psychopharmacologic Drugs Advisory Committee recently voted against recommending the approval of MDMA-assisted therapy for the treatment of PTSD. For many people, this decision was deeply unwelcome.

OK, now we’re done with the science stuff and we can move forward. Among the many people who were surprised and disappointed by the committee’s decision were researchers and therapists who have been documenting the highly effective healing uses of MDMA in therapeutic settings. MDMA specifically, and psychedelic medicine in general, have emerged as potentially lifesaving for a lot of people for whom conventional therapy and medication are ineffective.

I know what you’re thinking: When did he become a dirty hippie? And I get it. Any talk of psychedelics naturally calls to mind images of scruffy teenagers in Haight-Ashbury in 1968 wearing atrocious clothing and acting in an annoyingly groovy way. I hate those ridiculous flower children too, like all good Americans.

But the support for MDMA-assisted therapy is pretty broad based. It includes former Texas Gov. Rick Perry, who has become an emphatic and articulate supporter of psychedelic medicine. There’s a huge amount of research that supports the idea that these compounds can really heal people in serious trouble — in addition, of course, to inspiring a lot of really awful music. As side effects go, it could be a lot worse.

So here’s the story I wanted to tell you: Last weekend, after the news came of the FDA advisory group’s decision, I was having a cup of coffee with a recent acquaintance of mine in an extremely hip Brooklyn coffee shop. We spent a lot of time talking about the decision — my friend is part of an advocacy group that supports psychedelic use and research — and shared our frustrations with the decision and our mutual enthusiasm for MDMA and psychedelic medicine. And then, as coffee chitchats go, we went on to other topics. I told my new friend about my decision to go back to school to get a Master of Divinity degree and to, eventually, I hope, become an ordained minister in the Episcopal Church.

Again, I know what you’re thinking: When did he become a religious nut? And I get it. A cursory reading of my past work does not create the portrait of a spiritual person eager to serve others. Guilty as charged. And yet: The great thing about my faith is that it allows for — even encourages — this kind of almost too-late conversion. I am taking full advantage of the Mulligan Rule of Christianity.

What surprised me, though, was when my coffee companion nodded sagely and related that he, too, has begun reconnecting with his Roman Catholic faith. He shared some of his recent reading, talked about the church that he’s found nearby that he’s become attached to, and reflected that this renewed faith came not from family pressure or habit but from a sense that something was missing from his life and maybe faith could help him find it. My friend, by the way, turned 30 this year. So, yes, one data point doesn’t make a trend, but it’s encouraging nonetheless, right? Young people returning to church is a sign that maybe we’re going to be OK.

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But here’s what I really wanted to tell you: For the first half of our conversation, we talked about psychedelic drugs — illegal psychedelic drugs, if you want to get technical — and used normal voices at normal volume. But when we started talking about God and Jesus and the role of faith in our lives, we both instinctively leaned forward and lowered our voices. Like maybe this was something we needed to keep private. Like maybe this was a topic that would disturb the people at the next table. In other words, in a Brooklyn coffee shop it goes: Drugs? OK! Jesus? Keep your voice down.

So when people ask me why I want to go back to school at my age and become an ordained Episcopal priest, that’s going to be my answer. To stop leaning forward. To stop lowering my voice.

Rob Long is a television writer and producer, including as a screenwriter and executive producer on Cheers, and he is the co-founder of Ricochet.com.