Saturday, March 23, 2013
Spiritual But Not Religious
As this is my first blog post in an eternity, I have a bizarre desire to write on a perspective I actually have very mixed feelings on. Recently, an article in the NY Times was published by a Jewish Rabbi, assessing the topic of spirituality and religiosity. According to the article, almost 1 in 5 Americans identify themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” In other words, they have some feeling, some intuition of something greater, but feel allergic to institutions.
I think I must have this allergy.
In fact, I am certain I developed this allergy at a very young age. Perhaps it's like peanuts and eggs, where it is argued whether early introduction creates tolerance or an allergic reaction. The jury is still out on that.
The rabbi goes on in the article to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of being religious. The idea of being part of a religious institution involves submitting your will to others, especially those you disagree with. According to the rabbi, institutions can be slow, plodding, dictatorial. They can both enable and shield wrongdoers. I have experienced and seen this on a broad level as well as on a very personal level.
Yet the rabbi argues that it is only through the lens of a community organized by religious institution that we can effect change and mobilization on spiritual matters. I have also experienced and seen this. There is something profoundly, well, spiritual about a meeting. It involves individuals trying together to sort out priorities, to listen and learn from one another, to make a difference.
I uphold this completely! Individuals coming together for a common good is powerful! What do you do, though, when the premise does not allow for discussion? Or if there is discussion, it is only to point out your wrongdoing, to gently and lovingly correct your missteps. Does "listening and learning", as he says, only work within strict parameters in religion? I have a feeling that as a reformed Jew, he probably does in fact encourage healthy debate. Nothing negative, I'm sure, as that would squash any positive spirit about a religious meeting. With more traditionally static institutions, though, what avenue for listening and learning should instead be traversed? Is it impossible in very large institutions? Should we merely accept that change can only be very, ponderously slow? That may be reasonable, as anything large and structured is generally slow to change.
Peering a bit further, however, what if it is assumed that dynamism in thought might actually corrode at the strength of the institution to enact positive change? I have a feeling that by "submitting your will to others", this rabbi did not mean to never hope for something different. What light can be shed on this seeming dilemma?
He says, spirituality is an emotion. Religion is an obligation. Spirituality soothes. Religion mobilizes. Spirituality is satisfied with itself. Religion is dissatisfied with the world.
What do you do when this dissatisfaction with the world is not in line with your own dissatisfaction? And how does one balance dissatisfaction with the institution over its potential for good and improvement?
His last statement is beautiful. If only all religious institutions could espouse this viewpoint: Being religious does not mean you have to agree with all the positions and practices of your own group; I don’t even hold with everything done in my own synagogue, and I’m the Rabbi. But it does mean testing yourself in the arena of others.
I do not want to pose my own feelings too much on this issue, rather would like to hear your thoughts on this topic. I mostly have questions I would like answered! Haha, or help in answering, as I don't think there really is one solid answer. I will ask one particular question that is most important to me, then hope that you will expound on your own feelings on everything, not just this question. How does one reconcile these two: accepting that you won't be able to agree with the institution on everything, while at the same time not sacrificing those who are marginalized or put to spiritual isolation?
Have at it, brainiacs of most brilliant introspection!!! ;)
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Here is the article, if you want to read the full length version.
http://ideas.time.com/2013/03/21/viewpoint-the-problem-with-being-spiritual-but-not-religious/?iid=op-article-mostpop1
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Great question Olympe! I enjoyed your thoughts very much. A few examples came to my mind- one from the Book of Mormon where individuals were marginalized and prohibited from participating in the religious institution because of socio-economic status, but it could have been for any reason- what a social justice NIGHTMARE! The other, is a story of someone who was asking questions that I hope, address yours…:)
ReplyDeletehttp://www.marquette.edu/maqom/box.pdf
THE APOCALYPSE OF ABRAHAM
In this story, I see Abraham responding to the genuine spirituality within him, which consequently led him to rebel against all the institutions of his day…guess he had your same allergy :) He follows this very interesting, logical thread. His father is worshipping a wooded statue that he made himself. Well, the fire is more powerful than the wood, so shouldn’t we worship fire? But water is stronger than fire, and earth stronger than them all. BUT without the sun none of it would matter- so we should worship the sun. But then, how did the sun get there?
He began his spiritual search for the source, the most powerful thing that is stronger than all the other things. According to Abraham, when he sincerely began looking for THAT being, It found him. Abraham’s God declared Himself as the creator of all. And ironically, the first thing He did was teach Abraham how to sacrifice and worship Him according to His designs. I see in this both the ‘submission to another’s will’ and a form of religious institution.
The point: What about shifting the question to Abraham’s broader context of worship? What if we ask 'Can I fully worship God in the way He wants me to, within this institution? And is everyone seeking this deity afforded the same privilege in this institution?' I think that if these questions are the focus, individuals can navigate personal disagreements with the institution from God’s requirements of worship, and social justice issues of marginalized individuals who also seek to worship Him can be effectively championed.
Katt's two questions, "Can I fully worship God in the way He wants me to, within this institution? And is everyone seeking this deity afforded the same privilege in this institution?'" can simply be answered "no" for all religions other than those of just one member. I can't hardly think of any organization, religious or not, that doesn't infringe on an individual rights in order to operate communally (for good or bad). Speaking specifically to religion, though, the very concept of Hell (a punishment and deterrent for "immoral" behavior) insures to me that the institution can never overcome the abuse of guilt and discrimination.
ReplyDeleteNow to Steph's question: I think your question would be better asked differently: How can we settle the ache in our soul of wanting to be loved when those we love and the things we love make us feel unlovable? I haven't found an answer to satisfy the question for myself but hope someday I might.
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ReplyDeleteI absolutely loved this article, and your very insightful and sincere comments, Olympe. Thank you for contributing on this issue – it’s one that I hope we will still be discussing months from now. In a way, it is an eminently 21st century question. I’ve been trying to craft a response for a while now – so many thoughts whizzing around my head. Hopefully something I say will contribute.
ReplyDeleteThough the issue is complex and multi-faceted, and I don’t feel I have strong answers to most of your questions, Olympe, I couldn’t help but feel that a key part of the answer comes down to this question: how can I worship and associate in a positive manner with those I don’t agree with?
The Christian concept of communion is useful here. To commune means to share one's intimate thoughts or feelings with someone, especially when the exchange is on a spiritual level. Basically, I see Olympe’s question this way: “how can we have communion – true communion – with those whom we may strongly disagree with on key issues?”
Or, perhaps more poignantly, how can I commune with someone who’s views and beliefs are hurtful to me?
Not an easy question. So, of course, the answer isn’t easy either.
Finding it isn’t so hard though. All we need to do is think through what any human’s natural reaction would be to the prospect of having to interact with someone who’s beliefs and worldview are potentially hurtful and strongly opposed to her own. It’s simple: she would rather not.
Then, we need only recognize that our natural reactions are to be mistrusted. In every situation, seek to replace a reaction with a deliberate action. (For more on acting vs reacting, see my blog post at emotionsandphotons).
In this case, instead of disengaging, the answer is to engage. Too often, we excommunicate those who worship and live differently than us in our hearts. That results in a gaping chasm of disconnection that can divide and cripple families, communities, even whole nations.
Instead of excommunicating each other, let’s seek communion with each other.
The greatest spiritual teacher (and founder of a religion) has taught us how, of course: love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who persecute you.
The greatest spiritual teacher of our age said much the same: “it is easy enough to be friendly to one's friends. But to befriend the one who regards himself as your enemy is the quintessence of true religion. The other is mere business.”
So my answer to Olympe’s institution allergy is this: put up with the hayfever, girl, and engage with love. Faced with the choice of either retreating from or engaging with an institution you don’t always see eye-to-eye with, I agree with the Rabbi: join in. You’re not going to change everyone’s heart, and institutions will always be frustrating, stifling, and slow. But you will change someone’s heart. And you will be there to extend the invitation of communion to those who feel marginalized.
In the end, though, we don’t participate in religious institutions to change others. We do it to commune with others, to share that spiritual connection despite our differences. It requires love and acceptance on all sides. I fully acknowledge that this often isn’t the case, that exclusion, fear, and dislike are often the norm. But that isn’t going to change if withdraw and only associate with those who live, think, and act like us.
Gandhi said, “when confronted with an enemy, conquer him with love.” That’s what religious institutions are for: to bring us together, so we can learn to overcome our differences with love. The agony is that we deal with reality, not a world of ideals. But all that’s needed for evil to triumph is for good men and women to do nothing, right?
Religious institutions ought to the ideal place to interact with others in love and seek to understand one another – to commune. If it isn’t so today, it’s up to us to strive to make it so. To throw in a final Gandhi quote: be the change you want to see in the world.
I disagree with the KKK, but would not think the proper response would not be partake in their meetings and such. While, I think the spirit of your comment was to suggest that we don't shun, violently attack, or humiliate those we disagree with, I do think my extreme example points to the fact that it is not always the higher path to take communion with those we disagree with. I think human reactions are not always to be disregarded.
ReplyDeleteReally, John? The KKK? That's not even a religious institution :P
DeleteI also disagree with the KKK, am not affiliated with their organization, and have no plans to associate with them, let alone commune with them. I think my comment took as a starting point the assumption that you're debating on whether or not to engage with a religious institution with which you have some connection, and that holds some value to you. I certainly never meant to imply that all groups and institutions are worth engaging with. Rather, the message was, "when in doubt, don't disengage from a religious institution just because there's something about it that bothers you." :)
Fine. Replace KKK with Westboro Baptist Church. They have a faith that falls within Christian belief standards (besides their extreme activism, most Christians agree with them that homosexuals are going to hell) . I would never encourage anyone, especially a gay person to engage with them. Extreme example? Yes but it illustrates the point of the merits of a religious institution can be voided by their hate (especially if it teaches you self hate).
DeleteLet's be forward and state that here we're talking about being gay and being mormon. The LDS faith has brought great things to this world. I've known several people who've found happiness and contentment through their faith. Do these great merits continue to stand up when, as I believe, so many of the leaders teach hate and intolerance. Take Elder Packer's recent comments at conference, "that virtue, in excess, becomes vice, and that tolerance in particular can become a trap." Really? Well then I'll take Packer's advice and won't tolerate the love and good words he and his religious institution spreads as I know it's just a trap of hate.
Awesome responses, everyone! Very insightful, introspective.
ReplyDeleteKatt - what an interesting response to the questions posed. I like especially how in the story of the Apocalypse of Abraham he began his quest by challenging the status quo. This challenge was, in fact, approved of by God, or a greater spirituality, if you will. The thing I really liked was how the source found him, it came back to this greater presence, greater essence. In the soul-searching and battling one undergoes while grappling with this issue of spirituality and religiosity, I absolutely think it comes down to this idea. In my mind, this greater essence is LOVE. I have been reminded of this in my fiercest battles. The times I hate the institution the most, when I feel like I'm kicking against the glass walls - those are the times I feel this love the most. And so I am validated, I am certain of this love, am certain my "fighting with the man" is not only okay, but important - in ways even that I still don't fully understand.
Which brings me to the comments of Russ and Cincinnatus. First, Russ, I think your re-phrasing of my question is accurate to the point of making me feel vulnerable. Russ says, "How can we settle the ache in our soul of wanting to be loved when those we love and the things we love make us feel unlovable? I haven't found an answer to satisfy the question for myself but hope someday I might."
It all comes down to love. I believe this. I believe, as Katt discussed, that the ultimate idea of what institutions are founded around is this love. I have never been willingly part of an institution that does not state love as its ultimate motivator and end-all.
As Cincinnatus says, differences we have with others who also commune with us should be overcome with love. It all comes back to love. It starts with wanting to be loved and wanting to love. So in principle this is perfect and true.
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ReplyDeleteHow far do you go, though, in separating the "love" and the "institution"? What if you find this love in communion with others, yet 90% of the institution is hurtful and marginalizing? At what point is your spirituality healthier without the institution? I love the idea of communing with others with a common purpose and heart, with the same goal of love, taking love, spreading love, understanding love. When is difference in perspective just that, as opposed to being an actual retraction or withholding of love? Even if done with the best-meaning intentions, it is still impossible to say you truly love someone while only accepting a part of them, a facet of them. You cannot love if you are trying to force someone into a mould, no matter how fervently you believe it is a good mould. Then you are just loving the reflection of yourself that you see in them.
Being the change we want to see is possibly the answer, the only one I see, at least. It's also the most difficult thing to do, especially when the change you are hoping and moving toward seems impossibly distant. In the book, The Rebellious Life of Rosa Parks, she never once believed she would see the change she was fighting for in her lifetime. Changing hearts is harder than changing institutions - but it's also why institutions don't change quickly at all. As much as we'd like to say you can still commune with love while chafing a little under the institution of religion, it is the very imperfection and lack of love that creates the walls and the chains that bind the institution. Institutions are made imperfect by this lack of love, right? It's not the greater being or God-figure that would create it imperfect. Which is why so many choose to be spiritual only. Sure there is an apathy among many, but ultimately I think this is why.
I am torn. My spiritual health seems to benefit from distancing myself from what I know are incorrect constructs. At the same time, I feel an obligation and drive to keep one foot in, to be the change. If religious institutions are like a box, and they are placed over an assembled "crowd" of spirits, it is a simple fact that along each edge, some will be shorn off, injured and pushed out by the mere shape of the institution. Is this necessary, does this HAVE to be this way? If so, how do you reconcile the hurt and loss of good, loving spirits?
Well, Gandhi, let's see how far we can take this.
I have had 2 experiences with this recently, and honestly I haven't gone through the process of extracting much meaning from it. First, I have a new roommate (long story how this happened) but he is 21, two asian immigrant parents, Dad is a dentist, MC Hammer is his next door neighbor. He used his privilege to access drugs and landed himself in rehab at 18. His brain is a bit fried from acid, just a bit, enough to make him react to everything about 1 or 2 seconds later than everyone else. He freaked out when he found out that I'm Mormon and almost backed out of the lease. A couple days later when he realized I'm pretty harmless he apologized and said he wished he had been raised in some kind of religion to help him "access the deeper parts of himself." He said he used drugs to unlock those feelings and then he paused, "You can recover from religion, but you can't recover from acid."
ReplyDeleteA couple weeks ago, my boyfriend and I had one of his friends over for dinner. She is recently married and moved to DC for his job. She asked me if I missed going to church. I struggled to explain my very complicated feelings, but she interjected; Raised as a devout atheist she was beginning to have doubts. I told her the thing I miss most about going to church is a group of people who share the common goal of becoming better people. It's rare to find a group of people like that. There are places for people who want to improve their physique, or improve their career, or their musical abilities, etc. but so far church is the only place I've been where people are really trying to improve themselves as a whole. The caveat is that church often fails miserably and one's concept of improvement can be offensive and alienating to others. So do I have a solution? Nope. I suffer from the same allergy, but I do miss sneezing sometimes.
Pete,
DeleteI absolutely loved this comment. Your experiences perfectly illustrate the conundrum of religiosity and religious institutions. If only we could truly seek to better ourselves (and make real measurable progress towards doing so, rather than just talk about it) and "access the deeper parts of ourselves" without any need for an institution. I feel like, in the perfect society (call it Zion, or a Marxist utopia, or whatever you like), there are precious few institutions. There are no major problems there because everyone "gets it." I get the feeling that there are no poor in Zion not because there is a very effective progressive taxation system with an efficient social safety net administered by a well-run government, but because people work to get themselves out of poverty, and everyone looks around themselves, sees who needs help, and comes up with a great way of helping out - without intruding on their agency, being smothering or condescending, etc. If only we could get there without institutions.
I'm not sure we can. Which is why I still hold that they have relevance. You're absolutely right with your caveat though, that church often fails miserably in what it claims to be doing - and worse, it VERY often makes those who participate smug, condescending, arrogant, and offensive, thinking they can justify all that because they participate in a religious institution while others do not (or maybe they do, but in an inferior one).
Do I have a solution? Nope. Institutions draw lines around groups of people, define "ins" and "outs" and can be more harmful than helpful. If only we could derive benefit from communing with one another in an institution dedicated to bettering ourselves and accessing truth - but without allowing the walls of the institution to separate ourselves from others. Now THAT is a tough one.
I have been digesting this discussion, and enjoying the thought-provoking topic for some time now. I recently read an essay by Ralph Waldo Emmerson, his address to the 1838 class of Harvard Divinity School, that I feel speaks strongly to Olympe's and Russ' distrust and dislike of religious institutions. He emphasizes the ultimate imperative of spirituality over religiosity. Yet his response to Olympe's question of whether to engage with religious institutions, is unambiguous: engage.
ReplyDeleteI've been toying with the idea of writing a post based on the essay, which still amazes me the second and third times I've read it. But I don't know if that would be appropriate, or beneficial. In any case, I strongly urge you all to read it. The full text can be found online:
http://www.emersoncentral.com/divaddr.htm
The key point for the purposes of our debate, in my view, is Emerson's concept of the "priestly office". According to Emerson, it is the priest's duty to "convert life into truth"; to teach others to trust in and reach for the good and the true within themselves; "all men have sublime thoughts...all men value the few real hours of life... We mark with light in the memory the few interviews we have had, in the dreary years of routine and sin, with souls that made our souls wiser; that spoke what we thought; that told us what we knew; that gave us leave to be what we inly were. Discharge to men the priestly office and, present or absent, you shall be followed by their love as by an angel."
The ultimate goal of religion ought to be this: the unlocking of the infinite divine goodness and potential within each human soul. This requires each of us to discharge, towards each other, the priestly office. I wish it could happen outside of and without the need for religious institutions. But I don't believe it can. Our tendency is for our eyes to drift downward, towards earth, not to be lifted upwards to heaven. Without an institution to institutionalize the priestly office, it would remain unfilled, undischarged. Like Pete said, he has never encountered, outside of church, a place for people who want to become better people.
Now, this doesn't mean I think religious institutions do a good job of discharging the priestly office, or facilitating our efforts to fulfill this role for each other. On the contrary, I think they do a rather rotten job of it. But I don't see an alternative. And just because they suck at it doesn't mean there's no hope. I believe in human progress as I believe in the human spirit. And I think we can make of our religious institutions places where we are reminded of how divine we really are. But it won't happen all on its own.
So what should we do? "Let the breath of new life be breathed by you through the forms already existing. For if once they are alive, you shall find they shall become plastic and new. The remedy to their deformity is first, soul, and second, soul, and evermore, soul. A whole popedom of forms one pulsation of virtue can uplift and vivify."