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The Benchmarks of Spirituality: Spirituality vis-a-vis Religion
This section in the series The Benchmarks of Spirituality examines the relationship between spirituality and religion. This is a relationship which can certainly be devoid of antagonism, if approached in the proper manner, and through mutual respect and recognition build a healthier existence for both parties.
Chapter 1
Spirituality vis-a-vis Religion
by Paul Chidwick
History has a way of repeating itself, and the history of religious formations is no exception. It seems to be symptomatic of any religious group that at some point of time there will be those who become dissatisfied, disillusioned, or just plain bored. As a result, there is a slow but sure exodus of the faithful to pursue other goals. These goals may be an affiliation with another religious group, some new experimental form of religious expression, or it may take the form of a self-centred lifestyle directed towards either an individual and relativistic set of values or a concentration on material well-being. Whatever happens, the process is fairly constant - dissatisfaction, departure, and finally a defiant attempt to find something else to replace the past.
There is nothing new about this process. It has probably been recorded hundreds of times during the course of religious formations. But if it is true that this cyclical process is endemic in the development of religions, then it would seem valid to ask why this should continue to take place?
The most obvious reason is that there are always people who become lazy, self-centred, and too caught up with self-aggrandizement that the constraints and demands of religious beliefs and practices become too onerous, and the easiest way out is to find some convenient excuse for departure. This cop-out mentality is not new, nor will it ever go away. But it is highly doubtful that this would account for the dramatic twists and turns of religious development over the centuries. There have to be other dynamics at work to effect such changes.
It is probably true to say that the emergence of new forms of religious expression hardly ever take place in a vacuum. Nor did they happen because some individual suddenly “got religion”. True, there have been self-styled fanatics suffering from a Messiah complex who have tried to reform the world. But they have not stood the test of time, and hardly even their own time.
Most new forms of religious expression have emerged from an existing religious body. A very obvious case in point is Christianity. Its so-called founder was a Jew who observed Jewish practises and was familiar with its moral and theological precepts. There were times when he spoke and acted in a way that caused a degree of controversy with local religious authorities, but there was nothing novel about this. There were plenty of divisive parties within the ranks of Judaism. Jesus was no exception. And it is hard to find any of his words or actions that completely defied the precepts of Jewish teaching. The Sermon on the Mount, the Summary of the Law, the Golden Rule, all these had their counterparts in the Hebrew writings. In the area of moral behaviour where some Jewish authorities took exception, such as healing on the Sabbath day or suggesting that there was no correlation between sin and suffering, these were not flagrant departures from the norm. At best it was simply the provision of greater latitude in the interpretation of the rules. Nothing particularly novel or outrageous here.
From the evidence it would seem that this founder of Christianity didn’t really found anything. He emerged and stood within a religious framework which he respected and observed. He gave no ultimatum to his followers to exercise their dissatisfaction and depart. Nor did he defiantly attempt to establish a new religion with a new set of rules and beliefs.
Diarmuid O’Murchu, in his book “Religion in Exile”states it this way: “Did Jesus want to create a new religion in his name, in the name of the cause for which he lived and died? Probably not! It is Christians who invented Christianity (more accurately Christendom) and not Jesus. Jesus called people into the fullness of life. The evidence for the view that Jesus was about a reform of Judaism is at best speculative, and there is nothing in the gospels to suggest that Jesus wanted to replace it with a better type of religion.” (p.124) Nevertheless, it happened. Why?
Some will say that he claimed to be more than he was. If he did, then it would certainly account for the growing antagonism and final rift with Judaism. But there are others who would question this presumption. Who was it that really made such claims? How much of what Jesus actually said about himself was embellished with additional interpretations by those who followed afterwards? And as the years of theological reflection went by, so there arose a massive amount of creedal statements that finally became the foundation stones of a new religious body. That may very well be what happened, but even if we never completely understand the events surrounding that moment in history, the question still remains - why did it all start in the first place?
It may sound somewhat preposterous, but is it possible that the founder of Christianity was actually Judaism itself? Was there something about Judaism at that time that set the stage for a religion like Christianity to emerge?
There is no doubt that 1st Century Judaism was fighting for survival. Both politically and economically it was being threatened by the Roman Empire. Any kind of divisiveness within its ranks would make matters even worse. To become liberal in its proclamation of the faith would be a sign of weakness, and be a kind of Achilles heel for the enemy. It was necessary to be firm and unwavering.
One of the immediate results of such a dilemma is to develop a survival mentality and begin looking at one’s expression of religion as an end in itself. It closes the doors on creativity and growth. It places innovative thinking in chains. It become arrogantly suspicious of anything that might disturb the status quo.
Unfortunately, the human spirit can not abide imprisonment. The need for self-expression is a constant factor in the human condition. The spirit of human kind has always exercised a kind of health dissatisfaction with anything that might be conceived as the last word. And if the expression of that dissatisfaction is not allowed to be heard, it is only a matter of time before someone with charismatic charm gives it a name and another religion is born. I am not at all sure Jesus did that, but there were enough charismatic figures around to take up the cause.
And so the process went on. The Holy Catholic Church set the stage for the Reformation. Political hardliners gave Anglicanism an opportunity to be born. Ecclesiastical fundamentalists in the Presbyterian and Methodist Churches provided for the formation of the United Church. And each time it was more a matter of survival mentality that prompted disillusionment, departure and a defiant move to establish something new. It would seem that whenever a religious body digs in and begins to look at itself as an end rather that as a means - as the last word rather than a springboard for new truth - then someone will inevitably emerge to give that need for expression a home.
The thesis underlying what has been said so far is that the prevailing interest in spirituality vis-a-vis religion is not a new phenomenon. It is a process or activity which has continually manifested itself at various points in the history of religious development. Sometimes the activity has had dramatic repercussions in the formation of specific religions, while at other times its influence has hardly been noticed. This may be due to the nature of the spiritual activity, its relevance to the growth of the human spirit, or the motivations and context in which the activity was manifested. There are many factors which can lead to the effectiveness or ineffectiveness of spiritual activity. But the fact remains that spiritual activity, as it has been defined, is a constant ongoing process.
And where does that bring us today? It is an obvious fact that membership in most of the mainline religious bodies is declining. The signs of disillusionment and departure are clearly evident. But there are other movements afoot. There is a definite increase in membership among the more fundamentalist religious bodies. There are also a growing number of voices within the mainline churches calling for a return to a more traditional proclamation of the faith. There are those who are strongly resisting any change in liturgical development and religious practice. The trenches for the faithful are being prepared.
At the same time there is a growing interest in what is being called ‘spirituality’. It is a term which is being used frequently to describe that aspect of life which previously would have been called religious. It is not uncommon to hear people say that although they are not ‘religious’ they will claim to have a ‘spiritual’ dimension to their life. What this normally means is that while people will not claim to have any formal and active affiliation with a particular faith community, they are prepared to recognize certain values and beliefs which in their mind would constitute their spiritual life.
In fact, there is increasing evidence that spirituality is becoming a very popular subject. As mentioned previously, conferences on spirituality are very well attended. The literature is burgeoning. Whereas in the past people would be very reluctant to publically declare their religious interests, there is no hesitation to speak openly about their interest in spirituality. It seems to be a subject that meets a particular need but does not categorize a person with a particular set of values and beliefs. It is a safe and open affiliation without constraints and boundaries.
But what is happening? Is this the beginning of a new religion? Are we witnessing the old cycle of disillusionment, departure, and defiance? Will the seeds of dissatisfaction give rise to the formation of a new religious group?
This could easily happen. As people lay aside their religious roots in the past, it will only be a matter of time before people want to flesh out this term ‘spirituality’ and the seeds of some new creedal formula will be planted. It will only take a while before the more erudite and eloquent members of the movement become the charismatic figures that will shape the new religion.
In June 1998 the first Canadian Conference on Spirituality in the Workplace took place in Toronto. One of the theme speakers Martin Rutte, an international consultant on the subject, made the comment that for anyone becoming involved in this emerging management field of spirituality in the workplace, it was important to be complete with their own religion. He was speaking about the childlike tendency to throw out the baby with the bathwater just because there were some flaws in one’s religious structure. By being complete one recognizes the importance of a belief and value system and how it has contributed towards the growth and well-being of individuals and society. As for the specifics of a particular system there may very well be differences of opinion, but it is important to be at peace with some kind of religious foundation.
I believe Martin Rutte was very conscious of the dangers of a divorce between spiritual activity and religion. This was a very significant thought because if spiritual activity does not inform a religious base then it will create one of its own - and behold, the birth of another religion, along with the disappearance of further spiritual activity. It has happened before. It can happen again. But does it need to happen?
Is it possible that this process can be stopped? Can this movement that is exploring ‘spirituality’ still be incorporated within the religious framework, and be allowed expression without the creation of a new religious body? If so, how will this take place?
It would seem that there are definite responsibilities on both sides of the fence. Both the institutional bodies and those advocating new religious expressions have a part to play in breaking the cycle. And the first step would be to clarify how we are using the term ‘spirituality’.
There have been some attempts to define the term ‘spirituality’, but there is little sign of consensus. The term seems to cover so much territory that it defies description. What is becoming clear is that people are better able to describe what it is not than what it is. It is not the formation of new creedal statements. It is not the development of a new moral code. It is not the establishment of a new incorporated institution with set terms of reference for membership and special rites of initiation. These are exactly the things it is not.
It is fascinating that people can get so interested in a subject that can not be described. And this would lead one to wonder if the term ‘spirituality’ can be described. Or what may be even more important, should we even try to describe the term ‘spirituality?
In the minds of some people the term ‘spirituality’ is used as a replacement for the term ‘religion’. And there is a very grave danger in this way of thinking. The term ‘spirituality’ is not a passive, concrete, static thing with boundaries and rules that can be measured, described and evaluated. This is what we call a religion. Spirituality is more like an activity or a process. It does not have a shape, a past, or a tradition. There are no boundaries. It’s uniqueness lies in the absence of these things. And I wonder at times that if we ever get to the point of being able to neatly describe ‘spirituality’ we may find that we have in fact created another ‘religion’.
But why do people get caught in this trap? I think it is partly due to the way people conceive and use these terms. The term ‘spirituality’ is more often thought of as a noun than as a verb. Nouns are objects that can be described. Verbs are activities that are constantly in motion and subject to change. The problem about thinking of spirituality as a noun is that it is placed on the same level as the noun religion. The result is that the two terms are looked upon as separate objects counterpoised to each other. Spirituality becomes just a substitute term for religion.
If, on the other hand, we think of ‘spirituality’ as a verb, denoting some kind of activity or process, it not longer stands in juxtaposition to the term religion. In fact, it becomes possible to work out some kind of relationship between the two terms. It no longer becomes a matter of either/or but both/and.
If we were to try and apply this principle to the development of religious formations described earlier, we may be able to discover a way of holding these two terms together and avoid the continual creation of new religions. Let us take another look at the way Christianity evolved. There was a religion in place, but it had become entrenched in a survival mode. It would not allow the spirit of discovery, enlargement, or change to be a part of its organizational structure. What Jesus did was to reach out beyond the structure and invite people to explore a wider truth about their purpose and mission in life. His teaching was meant to evoke an attitudinal change to the way people thought about their structure. This was summed up in those very powerful words: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have not come to abolish but to fulfill.” (Matthew 5:17) The term ‘fulfilment’ was his way of describing a particular kind of spiritual activity.
What we have here is a religious structure that can be measured, described and evaluated - the noun - and a kind of activity emanating from within the structure called spirituality - the verb. As long as these two things can develop a working relationship there is the possibility of growth and the avoidance of a schism. But the religion has to be open to these new voices and be prepared for possible change. There is no denying that such a relationship can be very painful, but the possibility of reuniting at a later time may be even more painful.
Jean Vanier, in his book “Becoming Human” expresses the process in this way: “And so empires of ideas, as well as empires of wealth and power, come and go. To live well is to observe in today’s apparent order the tiny anomalies that are the seeds of change, the harbingers of the order of tomorrow. This means living in a state of a certain insecurity, in anguish and loneliness, which, at its best, can push us towards the new. Too much security and the refusal to evolve, to embrace change, leads to a kind of death. Too much insecurity, however, can also mean death. To be human is to create sufficient order so that we can move on into insecurity and seeming disorder, In this way, we discover the new.” (p.13) And again, he says “All spiritual writers speak of the pain and brokenness we experience as we move from the security of certitudes through the uncertainty to wisdom. Wisdom implies a certain poverty in the heart and spirit. It is this inner poverty and humility that opens the heart to a new joy, a new freedom, a new meeting with God” (p.127).
Similarly, Bishop Terence Finlay, during his 1998 Charge to the Diocese of Toronto said: “Are we, as an institution, simply clinging to the past for the sake of preservation, like some heritage association? Or can we honestly and fairly evaluate what is the best of our tradition that we must hold on to, let go of our specious idols and open ourselves to a wider vision? Perhaps we will discover even more profound insights as the spirit drags us into the future.” (The Anglican Vol.42. No.1 1999 p.4) Bishop Finlay was urging the church to respect the structure while at the same time being open to a kind of spirituality that could give rise to new insights and future growth.
But we may very well ask: What is the best of our traditions? And what are the specious idols? If we were to try and list the traditions and idols we might find that a tradition for one is an idol for another. It is probably true to say that most religious controversies have centred around the attempt to define these terms. It becomes a matter of determining what is orthodox and what is heretical. This process has not had a great deal of success, especially since what is termed heretical in one generation becomes orthodox in the next. And it would seem that the failure of the process lies more in the attitude of those pursuing the truth than in the nature of the truth being pursued.
Part of the answer to this dilemma lies in Bishop Finlay’s words to “open ourselves to a wider vision”. I would take this to mean the need to be tolerant of new religious expressions and practices, the need to be more accommodating, the need to be more patient and understanding, the need to treat our own traditional beliefs with a greater degree of humility, the need to recognize the limitations of our own understanding of the truth. This kind of attitude was reflected in the words of the elder Gamaliel when the Jewish Council was considering what to do with the outrageous teaching of Peter and the apostles. He said to the Council: “Let them alone; because if this plan or this understanding is of human origin, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrown them - in that case you may even be found fighting against God!” (Acts 5:38ff) Don’t get stuck in your traditions. Be patient and have an open mind. Have a little more trust that what is good and true will prevail. Give some room for the spirit of God to flourish.
These are marvellous thoughts. And we would avoid a great deal of unnecessary debate and antagonism if we could develop such an attitude of mind. But those who are intent upon preserving what has proven to be valuable and true in the past will inevitably raise a fear about being so amenable. Could this lead to religious anarchy? Is it possible that by being so tolerant people will only trust their own personal belief systems? Does this spell the end of corporate beliefs and values?
This is a valid concern and one that needs to be addressed seriously. We know that human nature is such that if there are no social boundaries to behaviour it is possible that our own self-interest could dominate all that we say and do. This is certainly true with respect to the normal upbringing of a child. Principles, rules, and regulations are essential for social harmony. Just because at some point we become adults this does not mean that we are sufficiently mature to always do and believe the right thing. Human nature requires some kind of social order.
The same is true with respect to our spiritual development. If the will of God is simply what I claim it to be, without any reference to how the will of God has been determined in the past, then my arrogance will land me in a state of spiritual anarchy. Somehow the traditions of the past have to be given sufficient respect and credence so that we can be assured of some foundation from which to build a more mature spiritual life. What has to be maintained is an attitude of mutual respect and recognition for the unique roles played by religion and spiritual activity.
We have touched on what may be considered some of the benchmarks of spirituality, but before we begin to outline them in more detail we need to consider in the next section the relationship between spirituality and philosophical enquiry.
Paul Chidwick is the Editor of OMNI.
Posted by editor on September 30, 2003 10:52 AM