Bishop Geoffrey Robinson
discerning "the signs of the times" (Pope John XXIII, 1963)
Many people today draw a sharp distinction
between the spiritual and the religious, with the spiritual seen as good and
the religious as bad. If there is to be
dialogue between the spiritual and the religious, we need to start with the
meaning of the very word “spiritual”. Already
in the past the word had many meanings
[1]
and there are a number of definitions of the
term in the literature today, usually involving some form of conscious rising
above our ordinary lives and our ordinary selves towards some higher goal. Implicit in many of these definitions can be
the idea that a person who does not consciously seek to rise does not really have
a spirituality.
In this paper, however, shall write of that
spirituality that everyone possesses, whether they consciously wish to or not,
for I shall speak of five quests that are inherent in our very humanity, such
that no human being can avoid them. To
be seeking the spiritual is not in itself to be part of an elite, but simply to
be part of the human race.
I shall, therefore, present five different
ways to approach the idea of spirituality. In each case I shall start from the thoughts and feelings of people of
today rather than from any religious teaching. I shall then attempt to bring the five approaches into one. Only after this shall I try to relate the two
ideas of the spiritual and the religious.
First Approach: Seeking
Purpose and Meaning
There are certain fundamental questions about life that all people
are constantly asking themselves: Who am
I? Where do I come from? Where am I going? What is the purpose and meaning of my
existence?
Whether people are consciously aware of these big questions or not,
they are in fact asking them and giving some form of answer to them. The answers they give might be complete or
partial, they might be satisfying or unsatisfying, they might include a divine
being or they might not, but all people are giving some answer.
We constantly ask these big questions because they reflect one of the most profound drives within human beings, the search for meaning. Meaning is of the greatest importance to people. When they become bored with their marriage or their job or their lot in life, they begin to feel that their life is going nowhere, that it lacks meaning. And there are few things that so eat away at a person’s sense of dignity and self-worth as a loss of a sense of meaning in life.
One person might give an answer as basic as “Making money and
enjoying myself. That’s what life is all
about.” Another might do no better than
say, “Me, what’s good for me. That’s the purpose of my existence.” Most people, however, would instinctively
seek something more than this, for example, “Developing my full potential.” Most people would also wish to include some
form of reaching out to others, for example, “Helping the world to become a
better place”. Some might consciously
bring God into the equation by saying, “Working with God to help this world to
grow”, though some might merely seek the self-interested religious option of
“Getting into heaven.” Others might seek
the highest goals by saying “Growth towards perfect love; that’s where the
deepest meaning in life is to be found.” In a world full of fears, however, many will settle for more modest
goals such as “Helping my family to live a good and decent life” or the basic
but common goal of “Trying to find, and even give, a little happiness.”
Because of their fears, there is the danger that many people will sell
themselves short by setting a goal and purpose for their life that is
significantly lower than they are capable of. This can lead to a lack of the strong and inspiring spiritual
underpinning that could be there for them if only they would seek it, and they
need to choose goals that will stretch them beyond their comfort zone towards
something greater.
This must be balanced, however, by a sense of realism. I suggest that we need to answer three
questions. The first is: If an objective
outsider looked closely at the reality of the life I have been living, what
conclusions would that person have to
draw about the goals I have been seeking? This would base my answer in reality. The second question involves listening to the deeper longings within
myself and then asking: What goals do I want to strive for? How high do I want to aim? And this will in turn lead to the third
question: How can I bridge the gap between the first answer and the second?
Whatever the answers might be that people give, high or low, turning
inwards or looking outwards, generous or downright selfish, religious or
non-religious, protecting a comfort-zone or stretching beyond it, these answers
express an important part of the spiritual dimension of their lives as that
term is popularly understood today. In
this broad sense the word “spiritual” indicates the answers we are giving to
the big questions of life, where we find the source of purpose and meaning in
our life.
Not long ago there was a top-level meeting in the city where I live
on the subject of illegal drugs. Different people saw drugs as a health problem, a social problem, a law
and order problem or an education problem, but there was no explicit and public
mention of the fact that it might also be a spiritual problem in the sense in
which I am using that word here. And
yet, it is when people have no sense of meaning in life, no satisfying answers
to the big questions, that things like drugs and even suicide can begin to seem
attractive. We will not make serious
progress against drugs and suicide until we confront the spiritual dimension of
the problem. Our society has been good
at destroying many of the spiritual values of the past, but it has not been
good at replacing them with other values that people might find truly
satisfying, and this we must seek to do.
It is good that people should do their best to put into words the
answers they are giving to the question, “What is the purpose and meaning of my
life?” The answers will probably develop
and change at different times in a person’s life, and we need to adapt, but it
is good to think about the question and to have some answers in mind. It is good that our answers should challenge
us and lead us to seek higher goals. It
is an important part of the spiritual dimension of our lives.
Second Approach: Seeking Unity
Some time ago I spoke with a nun who had worked
for years in a poor village in a developing country and was home on a needed
rest leave. She told me that, after a
week or so at home, she started to feel disturbed and even angry, and did not at
first know why. She then realised that
what was making her angry was all the choices that were constantly being forced
on her. If she said “yes” to the simple
idea of a sandwich, she was promptly asked whether she wanted white, brown,
wholegrain or soy and linseed bread, and whether she wanted butter or low-fat
or low-salt margarine. And these were only
the preliminaries to what she wanted on the sandwich and the sauce on top of
it. Did she then want coffee or tea,
and, if so, Indian, Sri Lankan, Chinese or herbal? Did she want to watch television and, if so,
which channel? She soon felt that there
was not a moment of the day when she was not being forced to make choices that
had simply not been present in the simple village life. In that village life, she felt that she had
some idea of what was truly important in her life, but that at home what was
important ran the serious risk of becoming lost in all of these unimportant choices
that were taking up so much of her time.
It is only when we have a sense of what it
is that is central to our life that we have a sense of unity, as everything
else is then judged by this central value and accepted or discarded. It was this truth that the nun felt was being
threatened by all the choices.
Some years ago I knew a man who all his
life had had a passionate desire for new experiences. He had travelled around the world many times
and worked at many different jobs. In
between his travels he had married and fathered three children, but had never
allowed his family to hold him back in his quest for the widest possible
variety of experiences. It was only when
he became ill that he finally gave up his ceaseless wandering. And it was only then that, for the first time
in his life, he discovered family and the joy that was to be found in personal
relationships. This gave an anchor to
his life, a central value by which to judge everything else, and he came to
regret more and more the ceaseless desires that had driven him and that could
never be satisfied. He became a doting
grandfather and, most noticeably, ceased to tell stories of his travels. In his family he had finally found something
that calmed his restlessness and gave a sense of unity to his life.
At the opposite pole to the man I have just
described, I once knew a woman who was so totally dedicated to her family that
she was almost a caricature. Anything
that affected her family she cared about passionately but, if she could not see
an immediate impact on her family, I don’t think she would have cared about
World War Three.
If, for most of his years, the man did not
find anything to give unity to his life, despite his ceaseless wandering and
searching, the woman certainly had a unity, but it was too narrow and left out
important elements of her life. Both
cases would tell us that, if there is a natural tendency to rise higher in our
search for meaning, people can more easily accept a sense of unity that is far
less than perfect.
If I may add a fourth story, I remember a
visit I made to the
Most people feel rushed in modern life, so
that they have little time to stop and think about where their life is
going. They feel that they are faced
with too many conflicting duties and too many choices, and that the more
important things can get lost in this bustle. They can feel that different aspects of their life have become
compartmentalised and have little connection with other parts of their
life. They recognise the need for unity,
but find it difficult to achieve.
Even in the middle of their busy lives in a
modern city, it is essential that people somehow manage to find moments of
solitude, a private desert or mountain top where they can withdraw, however
briefly, and think again of what is central to their lives, that by which they
judge everything else, that which brings a sense of unity to their lives. In fact, the busier a person’s life is, the
more necessary this becomes.
If someone asks me to do something and I
reply, “I’m sorry, I don’t have time”, what I really mean is that what that
person is asking of me is not important enough to me for me to make time for
it. If it were important enough, I would
make time. Often the answer that I don’t
have time is a perfectly reasonable answer, for we each have the same
twenty-four hours in a day and we don’t have time for everything. We have time only for those things that are most
important to us. In deciding what to do
with each day I have to have priorities in my life, things for which I will
find time. The priorities will vary from
person to person – parents must find time for their children, a prime minister
must find time to face the major issues of the country, a monk must find time
to pray. So each must have priorities,
things they will find time for. And it
is these priorities that give a sense of unity to their life.
As well as a sense of purpose and meaning, therefore,
people also want a source of unity, something that unites all the different
facets of their life into one whole. In
order to do this, they know that they need to look very closely at their lives
and select those few things that are truly important, such that everything else
must be judged by these few essentials and give way to them. Whenever they do this, they are attending to
the spiritual dimension of their lives.
Third Approach: Seeking Wholeness
Many parents see in their first baby a great composer or painter or
writer or scientist, an Olympic athlete, a prime minister or president. Most of these dreams will not be realised,
but they reflect the fact that every baby is at the beginning of a journey
towards all it is capable of being.
The desired end to this journey is different for each individual. We live in an age when people can have
unrealistic ideas of perfection and consider themselves failures if they do not
achieve them. The reality is that we all
have disabilities. Indeed, those who are
called disabled can often be the true realists, for they more frequently accept
their disabilities and learn to live within them, while the rest of us can deny
our limitations and seek an unrealistic perfection.
Some babies will be physically stronger, some will have higher
intelligence, some will have greater artistic gifts. But none will have all possible gifts in all
possible fields. Throughout their lives
all will carry two packs on their back wherever they go. One pack will contain their cultural baggage,
the limitations imposed by the time and country and culture into which they are
born. The other will contain their
psychological baggage, the limitations imposed by their genes, their upbringing
and the events that have affected them. They can do something about lightening the load, but they can never be
free of the packs.
Within these limitations, the task of each person is to advance as
far as possible along the road towards all that particular individual is
capable of being. This will involve the
development of their whole persons – their physical, intellectual, emotional,
social
[2]
,
artistic, moral and spiritual being.
According to their circumstances, most parents do all they can for
the physical and intellectual health of their children. They are also concerned for emotional and
social health, but these are so complex and subtle that the results are more
varied. Artistic development is
sometimes fostered and sometimes not. Moral and spiritual growth can sometimes be the first consideration and
sometimes the last. And yet all seven
forms of growth are essential parts of our journey towards all we are capable
of being.
To take a simple example, a person who, according to age and state
of health, has worked to be physically fit will have more energy to go out and
help other people, while the unfit person will not have this energy. So why would a truly spiritual person not
care about physical fitness?
It is, of course, legitimate to emphasise one or the other. The manual labourer and the athlete will
emphasise physical development. The
teacher and the scientist will have spent much time in intellectual
development. The psychiatrist will see
the harm that can be caused by lack of emotional development. The painter or sculptor or musician will be
concerned with artistic development. The
person who seeks to inspire change in society will look to social
development. The person with a passion
for justice will want moral development and the person with a passion for
wholeness will seek spiritual development.
And yet no one of these seven forms of development should so
dominate that the other six are neglected. The person who is all muscle and no brain, the intellectual who cannot
relate to people, the artist who uses and abuses people in the pursuit of art,
the moral person who constantly judges others, the person who, in seeking the
spiritual, despises human qualities - none of these persons
represents the end of the journey towards all we are capable of being.
On the one hand, denying the talents we possess in all seven of
these areas is not humility, but fear or laziness. Each of these areas has been given to us by
God, so that we may grow and then help other people. We are meant to develop in all seven areas,
so that we may have a true sense of wholeness. On the other hand, developing our talents is not an end in itself or
something to be used exclusively for our own benefit. The best way to develop our talents is through
helping others and so that we might help others even more.
In this context, the spiritual element consists in recognising all
of our talents in all seven fields as gifts, greeting them with wonder and
gratitude, sensing a duty to develop every talent to its full potential and use
it for the good of all people, recognising the talents of other people and
being grateful for them too, avoiding the futile comparisons between others’
talents and our own, and accepting that every talent is also a challenge and
hence a responsibility.
Unless we attend to the spiritual element, there is something
missing in the development of the other six, for it is the spiritual element
that provides the context, the sense of wholeness, within which the others can
work.
Fourth Approach: Seeking Integrated Energy
We all have restless, insatiable desires within us. [3] And these desires are stronger than any satisfaction of desire we can receive, for desire is an unquenchable fire, so strong that it renders us incapable of ever coming to full peace. We are not serene persons who occasionally become restless, but driven persons who only occasionally experience peace. Desire can be experienced as aching pain or delicious hope, but, since many hopes are not fulfilled, the aching pain is never far behind the delicious hope.
“Hope
deferred makes the heart sick.
but desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” [4]
The spiritual dimension of our life
concerns what we do with that desire, what we do with our unrest. One of the greatest writers on the spiritual
life,
A true spirituality must do two
things. It must foster the greatest
possible energy and fire within us and allow it expression; otherwise we would
achieve less than we are capable of. But
it must also keep us integrated, so that the energy is not wasted by firing off
in every direction.
If we feel no energy within us, but only
depression or cynicism, our spirituality is failing. But it is also failing if we feel energy, but
lack adequate control over how that energy is used. The absence of a dam where one is needed is
an absence of energy, so that for large parts of the year the soil is without
water and cannot produce a crop. A dam
bursting is energy without control, causing death and destruction. A dam releasing a controlled amount of water
is a source of power through hydroelectricity and of irrigation for the
surrounding countryside.
We must find a balance, a creative tension,
between order and chaos. Too much order (control
of energy) and we die of suffocation, too much chaos (energy without control) and
we die of dissipation. This creative
tension explains why we sometimes feel such intense contradictions within us.
In earlier times people had a healthy fear
of the harm energy can do, so they surrounded it with prohibitions and rituals,
especially in the fields of sex and religion. All too often, however, this
tendency ran the danger of becoming a path of fear and prohibition, of
rejection of the energy itself. This may
have given a certain social stability, but ultimately it was an attempt by
those in authority to protect people from themselves, and it could not do this
without also taking away both their energy and their sense of responsibility
for their own actions, and hence their ability to grow as they should.
Many people of today have reacted against
these prohibitions and demanded the right to access and manage energy without
the need for such rules. In many people
this tendency has been a sign of growing maturity that has greatly enhanced
their ability to grow. Their reaction
against religious restrictions has been a perfectly correct one.
It must be added, however, that in a number
of other people the tendency has been a sign of the child claiming a control it
does not have. In these latter cases,
the result can be a fluctuation between being out of touch with the source of
energy (depression) and not being able to control it (restlessness). While it must be openly admitted that many
religious forces of the past went to an extreme of control, it is no solution
to go to the opposite extreme of removing all controls. Naiveté about the sheer power of energy and
the difficulty of finding the right balance between access to energy and
control of its power is one of the major spiritual stumbling-bocks of our
age. If we do not find a balance between
energy and control, we can be like adolescents, with bodies bursting with
hormonal energy, who reject all rules or guidance from elders in dealing with
this energy. The energy inside us can be
simply too much for us, and when we attempt to handle it without the proper
reverence and safeguards, we can find ourselves stripped of joy.
Fire and water have always been important
in religious symbolism. Fire symbolises
energy and passion, water symbolises a cooling down, a holding in containment. In our spiritual life we are forever in a
forge, heated and shaped by fire, then cooled by water.
Fifth Approach: Seeking Love
Love is the deepest longing of the human heart and comes from the
very centre of our being. All other
desires and longings within us can be traced back to this source and are
different expressions of this one fundamental longing. It is so deep that nothing on this earth can
satisfy it, not even all the loves of our life put together.
Within this fifth and final approach, the spiritual dimension of our
lives consists in the response we are giving to this deepest longing of our hearts,
the longing for love.
Whenever we try to say anything about this longing in words,
however, we find that we ask too much of the poor little word “love”. The ancient Greeks at least came closer by
having three words to express three different aspects of love: eros (desire), philia (affection) and agape (self-giving
love).
[5]
Since the time of Freud, eros and its adjective “erotic” have been largely restricted to sexual desire, but
in earlier times the word included all desire. Eros or desire is the unquiet
aspect of love: the fire within, the restlessness, the loneliness and nostalgia
for better times, the wildness and ache at the centre of our being. It can be felt as a pain, dissatisfaction and
frustration, but it can also be felt as an energy and pull towards beauty and
creativity. It is a subject of eternal
fascination, and we love stories about desire, sexual attraction, journeys into
the unknown, tragic loss and triumphant regaining.
[6]
We can desire something with all our being
and yet, when we achieve it, find that it has done little to assuage the
deepest desires of our heart. Ultimately, all desire, no matter what form it takes, is a desire for
love.
Philia is the affection that we feel for those close to us. We want them to be an important part of our life, we want all that is good for them, and we want these things so much that strong feelings are spontaneously engaged. Philia can include all the feelings of romantic love and all the tenderness of true friendship.
Agape goes out to others without looking for anything for oneself. It is the genuine love one might feel for
people on the far side of the world who are dying of hunger. It does not exclude affection (e.g. the
self-giving love of parents), but it extends even to people for whom one has no
feelings of love. It is the type of love
that can be known only from the actions it prompts and, if it prompts no
actions, one must query its existence. It exists within all people who have not totally hardened themselves to
others. If some self-sacrifice would
prevent a war between two countries, most individuals would be willing to make
that sacrifice. Even if the condition
were attached that no one would ever learn of the sacrifice, most people would
still act.
All true love starts as desire, leads to affection, and then rises
to self-giving love. For example, a
couple desire a child (eros), are
overwhelmed by feelings of affection and tenderness when they first hold their
baby in their arms (philia), but, as
soon as they get the child home from the hospital, they quickly discover that
this love involves immense self-giving (agape).
[7]
Religion can make the mistake of seeing this
process in terms of a line moving upwards, in which self-giving love is the
higher love, and desire and affection are left behind. But the process is a circle, not a straight
line, for it is important that self-giving should not leave desire and
affection behind, but be constantly strengthened and renewed by them.
Our whole life is a response to this multi-faceted longing for love
within the depths of our being, and the response to love is the spiritual
dimension of our lives.
To take a simple example, a young person might come to love the
violin and work hard to learn to play it. This love will give the person three things. Firstly, it will give a sense of achievement
in doing something worthwhile and through this a sense of deeper love, and
hence of meaning. Secondly,
because it gives a sense of meaning, it will also give the energy to
keep on pursuing the love, so that the person will continue to work hard to
master the instrument. Thirdly, at a
later point the love can actually create a significant part of the person’s
very identity, so that, if you asked another person “Who is that?”, the
answer might well be, “Oh, that’s the violinist.” The love has then become at least part of
the person’s answer to the big questions of life, a feeling that part of the
reason for the person’s very existence is to be a carrier of the beauty that
violin music can contain.
In the same way, other people become lovers of husband/wife and
children, lovers of nature, science, literature, animals, sports or an almost
infinite variety of other things.
The object of our love can be
- any person such as a husband or wife, a child or a friend,
- any object such as an animal, a flower, a painting or a gemstone,
- any activity such as playing or listening to music, walking by the sea or studying history,
- any idea such as a passion for justice or a search for perfect beauty.
The spiritual dimension of our life then comes from the sum total of the loves of our life. The more
genuine love there is in our lives, the more spiritual we are.
There are three conditions. Firstly, the love must give people and things the freedom to grow. It must not be the possessive love that
suffocates, the conditional love that manipulates, or the selfish love that
seeks only one’s own good. It must also
not be the mistaken love that denies one’s own good, for all genuine love must
benefit two people, the lover as much as the beloved. Love is not an ability but a capacity, for it
consists in creating space in which people and things are free to grow.
[8]
If love does not create the freedom to grow,
it is not true love.
Secondly, if it is to give meaning and energy, the love must in some
manner be returned.
[9]
Flowers return our love, just by being
beautiful, even though they will wither and die. Activities can return the love we give them,
though they can also give us bad days when we feel that our love is not
returned. A passion for justice can
bring much frustration, but it can also bring a powerful return of love. Persons are by far the most satisfying, for
no object or activity can return love in the way they can, but they are also
the most dangerous, for no object or activity can hurt in the way they
can.
Thirdly, there must be some balance and proportion among the things
we love. If the young person I mentioned
earlier spent so much time practising the violin that there was no time left over
for people, the love would have become an obsession that would suffocate rather
than allow to grow.
There are many paradoxes in love. If we want to see our love returned, we should give without thought of
return. Love is not bought or sold, it
is always gift. It is fallen into rather
than planned. The more we love another
person, or even a thing, the more we must make ourselves vulnerable to be hurt
by that person or thing. And yet,
despite these paradoxes, it is love alone that gives meaning to our lives.
The fragility of love reminds us that we should never take it for
granted. On one occasion when I visited
a refuge for homeless youths, there was a young man there who had had to appear
in court that morning on a charge. I
noticed something moving on his upper arm and asked what it was. He unzipped a pocket there and took out his
pet mouse. I asked whether he had had
the mouse with him in court and he said that he had. My first thought was that this was a
dangerous thing to do, but I then thought that, if a pet mouse is one of the
few things in life you love, if it is one of the very few reasons you have for
getting up in the morning, then you will insist on keeping it with you in all
circumstances. It was a reminder that,
after all the talk, many people do not find love everywhere they look and have
to take the little they can get.
The world we live in has destroyed many of the values of the
past. At times it presents to us things
so grossly superficial that they cannot possibly provide lasting
satisfaction. The search for love and
meaning is universal, profound and at times desperate. We can never take love for granted, and it is
good to be grateful for the love that we have in our lives.
Bringing the Approaches Together
Can these five approaches be brought into
one? I believe they can, and the
indications are to be found in two things I have already said. In speaking of a young person learning the
violin, I said that the sense of meaning and satisfaction given by making
progress gave the energy to keep on practising and making further
progress. In its simplest terms, it was
love that created energy. In mentioning
the great mystic, John of the Cross, I referred to the same phenomenon, for the
energy he presented as the basis of the entire spiritual life was that of
“love’s urgent longings.”
The starting point for the spiritual in our
lives and for any spiritual quest we undertake is the insatiable longing for
love in the most profound depths of the human heart. This longing is so deep and so powerful that
it determines every decision we ever make, every action we perform. And it is this love alone that gives us our
sense of meaning, our sense of unity, our sense of wholeness and the energy that
drives us.
It is love alone that gives us a sense of
meaning. Every time we love anything at
all, it gives us a certain sense of meaning, and our total sense of meaning in
life comes from the sum total of all the loves of our life. There is no other source of meaning. To set goals for our life means to determine
those things that we love more than all else. A person whose ultimate goal is making money is a person whose greatest
love is money and the things money can buy. A person whose goal is what is good for self is a person who loves self
above all else. A person whose goal in
life is to create a better world is a person who loves this world and all the
people in it.
In the same way, our sense of unity comes
from those things that are central to our lives, such that all other things are
subordinated to them. And this is simply
another way of saying that our sense of unity comes from the greatest loves of
our life.
Our sense of wholeness comes from the same
source, for a proper understanding of love includes not only a love of others
that wants to reach out to them with all our gifts, but also a self-love that
wants to recognise, develop and use all of God’s gifts to their fullest extent
so that we may better reach out to others. As the Buddha said, “If your compassion does not include yourself, it is
incomplete.”
Our sense of integrated energy is simply
another way of speaking of love, for the deepest source of energy within us is
the insatiable longing for love that drives everything we do.
The spiritual life then consists in more
and more recognising and understanding the centrality and power of this longing
for love in our lives, and in finding the balance between accessing the energy
this love creates and learning to channel its energy into goals that give even
greater meaning, unity and wholeness to our lives.
If the word “spirituality” does not mean
this, one might fairly ask what it does mean.
Spirituality and God
When we come to look at the relationship
between the spirituality I have described and religion, it is important that we
do so in two stages. The first concerns
our relationship with God, the second our relationship with a church or
religious community. In this section I
shall consider solely the first stage, the relationship with God.
What
Kind of God?
The very first question to ask concerns the
kind of god we are talking about, for authorities within most religions have all
too often presented to their people a god of anger and control. Whenever this has happened, religion has
presented a god that a true spirituality cannot respond to, for it has created a
situation where control of energy has been more important than access to and
release of creative energy. A god of
anger represents a religion based on fear rather than love, and so can not give
people a true sense of meaning or unity or wholeness or energy and can not
answer their longing for love. More than
any other single factor, it is the worship of an angry god that has been the
cause of spirituality and religion being so divided today. If spirituality and religion are to be
brought together again, religion must offer a sincere apology for the angry god
of the past and show clearly that it has now changed radically.
Many people of today, in reacting against the angry god, have simply
rejected that god and moved towards some form of agnosticism or even
atheism. Other people have sensed that
the problem has been the manner in which the divine has been presented rather
than the divine itself, but they have solved the problem of the angry god by going
to an opposite extreme of a god of soft love. If I may use an analogy with parents, this movement has gone all the way
from parents who beat their child into submission to parents who spoil their
child. It has created the idea of a god
of soft and indulgent love, a god so “loving” that nothing is asked of people
and they are challenged to nothing. Under such a god it is just as certain that people will not grow as it
is that spoiled children will not grow as they should. The followers of this god can go so far as to
deny the very existence of right and wrong, personal responsibility or
standards of conduct.
Healthy ideas of the divine must be found in the middle between
these two extremes, and we can take our start from our understanding of what makes
people good parents and good teachers. The best parents and teachers love children, but with an intelligent
love that knows when to give a child a big hug and when to challenge a child to
further effort. Their overriding desire
in all they do is that the child should grow to become all he or she is capable
of being. There is a place for
obedience, but it is never an end in itself. Obedience is a means and growth is the end it must serve. So parents and teachers will seek to inspire
children to want to grow and they will place before them challenges that are
appropriate to their age and level of development, for it is in large part by
meeting these challenges that they grow.
In a similar way, the glory of a true god
is not to be found in obedience but in growth. People cannot grow under an angry god and they will not grow under a god
of soft, indulgent love. They will have
a true freedom to grow only under a god who loves them and, because of this
love, wants them to grow to become all they are capable of being, and so is not
afraid to challenge them to grow.
Only within this understanding of the
divine is there room for spirituality and religion to walk together. To try to bring spirituality and religion
together without addressing the question of the kind of god people worship is a
futile exercise and will, indeed, be counterproductive, driving the two further
apart.
To
Fly Beyond the Stars
Every time we experience love for anything
at all, we feel some satisfaction and sense of meaning in our lives, but we
also know that we long for a deeper and fuller love and meaning. We feel that we are somehow prisoners within
our bodies and long to escape and fly beyond the stars. Our longings are infinite, for ultimately we
long for perfect love and perfect meaning. Any understanding of life that does not even attempt to speak to this
infinite longing will not satisfy us.
It is in this that atheism has been given
too easy a passage in recent years, for it has been allowed to limit itself to
criticising the defects of various forms of organised religion. Because it must be admitted that religion can
so readily lead to excess, the criticisms are too easy, and I find myself
agreeing with many of them. But there
must come a day when the demand is made that atheism give a more positive
account of itself, when it is asked how the longing for perfect love and
perfect meaning that is present within the depths of every human being can
flourish in a world of atheism. If
everything in human life is the result of pure chance, the blind interaction of
molecules and chemicals, what happens to any form of spirituality? In the world of atheism, what explanation is
there of such things as our longing for perfect beauty and truth, our profound
sense of hope, or our innate desire to grow to become all we are capable of
being by doing what is right and avoiding what is wrong and by reaching out to
others? What basis do we find for human
dignity? Where do we find a satisfying
centre to our existence around which everything else can revolve? What answers can we give to the basic
questions of life concerning purpose and meaning? Where do we find meaning, unity, wholeness,
integrated energy and love?
Unless and until atheism can give
satisfying answers to these questions, many human beings will always reach out
towards some power, some intelligence and some love that is beyond anything that
can be explained by molecules and chemicals, for they will be reaching out to a
love that answers the seemingly infinite depth of the longings they find within
themselves.
This is the dilemma that we face. There are obvious problems concerning belief
in God, especially evil and suffering, but there are also problems in not
believing in God, for there are most powerful forces within us that a world
without God does not speak to. We can at
times feel that we face the most unpleasant choice between a god who allows
evil and suffering and a world without meaning.
It is, therefore, the longing for the
infinite that opens up the link between spirituality and religion. Part of our understanding of religion is that
it is a form of spirituality that sees God
and infinite divine love as the ultimate source of the love-energy within us
that drives our life. It believes that
the love we long for in the depths of our being is so great that it can
ultimately be satisfied only by divine love. It believes that meaning, unity, wholeness, integrated energy and love
find their fullest satisfaction in God and will remain forever unsatisfied without
God.
Divine
Love and Human Love
In addition to presenting an angry god, religious bodies have,
unfortunately, all too frequently made a second mistake. I have already mentioned that they can see
love as a straight line moving upwards from desire and affection to the higher
plane of self-giving and stopping there, rather than as a circle in which
self-giving is constantly renewed by desire and affection. In a similar way, because of the importance
religious bodies have seen in reaching for the infinite, they have too often
spoken of divine love as though it were the only love that really mattered, and
this is simply not true. Indeed, if I
were told that a certain person had a burning love for God, but loved nothing
and no one else, I would instantly know that something was radically
wrong. Jesus insisted that love of God
cannot exist without love of neighbour, and there is a psychological as well as
a religious truth to this statement. A
religious body is failing its people if it presents some contradiction between
love of God and love of the world God created, if it tells them to turn their
backs on “the world” and be concerned exclusively with “the spirit”. There is much wisdom in the words of a Jewish
writer, “People will be called to account by God for all the legitimate
pleasures they failed to enjoy.” All
genuine love is a sharing in divine love and leads to God.
Most people’s sense of love comes, above and before all else, from
their relationships with other people and from the many ways in which those
relationships are expressed. After this,
it comes from flowers and music, from colour and perfume; from the marvellous
complexity of nature, from stars and planets and from atoms and particles; from
the fluid grace of a horse or cheetah or eagle or dolphin; from music and dance
and poetry; from a passion for justice for the poorest people in the world and
a desire for reconciliation with the dispossessed. It comes from all these things and many more,
and even then it still leaves them with a profound sense that all these loves
are not enough, that there must be something more.
It follows that it is the very depth of the
longing for love within them that leads many people to believe that it is only
divine love that can meet the depth of this longing. Without divine love, there is always the
danger that we will ask too much of objects and persons in this world. Music can express exquisite beauty, but we
cannot demand total meaning of the whole of life from a violin. Romantic love can be overwhelmingly
beautiful, but it is dangerous to demand total meaning in life forever from one
other limited person. God alone can meet
the bottomless depth of our longing for love.
This leads to the idea that a spirituality
that includes God must consist in nothing less than a love relationship with
God. Those who in any way put truths to
be believed, moral rules to be followed and/or external expressions of worship
before the love relationship are leading people astray.
Spirituality and the Religious Community
Just as the desire for infinite love that
we find within ourselves can demand that we include God in our idea of
spirituality, so the need to reach out to others that is inherent in love
demands that we include other people in our idea of spirituality. A purely private spirituality that concerns
only ourselves and excludes other people will never satisfy us, precisely
because the longing for love in the depths of our being is the source and the
unifying force of all that is spiritual, and love essentially reaches out to
others.
The reaching out to others includes two
elements. It means that our love is
directed towards those most in need of love, such as the poor, the sick and the
lonely. And it means that we will be far
more effective when we work with others in our reaching out. In the language of integrated energy, the
desire to reach out to the neediest requires the fire that comes from God,
while the need to work together with other people requires the water of control
of our personal wishes so that we may more effectively work as part of a team.
At their most basic level, this is why religious
communities exist. In their essence they
are places where people seek meaning, unity, wholeness, integrated energy and
love by working together, supporting one another, and together reaching out to
those in greatest need.
Unfortunately, this is also where serious
problems are to be found, for these noble goals can coexist with less noble
ones. I have already referred to the most
important of these less noble goals: a) the placating of an angry god and the consequent
controls that prevent spiritual energy from being fully accessed and expressed;
b) the extolling of divine love at the cost of the denigration and suspicion of
human love, let alone of sex. Almost
invariably these two goals are combined with a third: the preservation and
growth of the institution that the religious body has become, and particularly
of its authority structures, siphoning off much important energy that could
otherwise have been directed outwards.
In these matters many people today believe that religious bodies have over the centuries gone to an extreme. And when people perceive that some group has gone to an extreme, there is always the strong temptation for them to oppose this extreme by going to the opposite extreme. There are several ways in which this has happened in relation to spirituality and religion.
- In opposing the extremes of control imposed by the churches in the past, there is today a strong tendency to resent and oppose all controls.
- Religion is said to be about certainties and obedience, while spirituality is said to be about search and freedom.
- Religion is said to be about private morality while spirituality is about social justice.
- Religion is said to be about praying that God will solve the world’s problems, while spirituality is about doing the work to solve those problems ourselves.
- Religion is said to be about prayer and contemplation, while spirituality is about action and responsibility.
- Spirituality is said to be about self-denial, while spirituality is about a proper self-love.
-
Religion is presented as anti-eros, anti-sex, anti-creative,
anti-enjoyment, anti-this-world, while spirituality is pro-eros, pro-sex, pro-creativeness, pro-enjoyment, pro-this-world.
Rolheiser perceptively describes the
situation as that of a demanding-father Christianity and an adolescent modern
culture, both resentful and failing to understand the other. We can look on like the wife-mother who loves
both but does not know how to bridge the gap between them. She feels that each possesses part of the
truth, but both fail to grasp what is most essential, for both fail to place
love at the centre of their thinking, feeling and acting.
[10]
The first response must be to change
“either…or” into “both…and”.
Religion must be about both accessing the maximum amount of energy within us and about learning to use that energy
in the most fruitful manner possible.
Religion must be about both putting in place the basic and necessary certainties without
which human life would fail to provide meaning, unity, wholeness, controlled
energy and love and providing
abundant freedom for that sense of wonder and enquiry without which human life
would shrivel. Religion must be about
finding a proper and creative balance between the two.
Religion must be about both matters of private morality, for this affects who I am in my
deepest being, and everything that
comes under the heading of social justice, e.g. a concern for the good of all,
a reaching out to the most needy and a sense of the part I play in the
successes and failures of the entire community to which I belong through such
things as the use of water or the creation of carbon deposits.
Religion must be about both prayer to God and action
in the world. It must not be about
asking God to do our work for us or working as though we needed no help to
solve all our problems. Religion must be
about God and ourselves working together.
Religion must be about both prayer and contemplation and action and responsibility.
Religion must be about both a proper sense of self-love and self-worth and about a true sense of self-control and being in charge of my
own life.
Concerning the last opposition mentioned
above, I must say that modern spirituality is largely correct, and, while
nothing in human life escapes the need for necessary control of energy, religion must learn to be far more pro-eros, pro-sex, pro-creativeness,
pro-enjoyment, pro-this-world.
It follows that, if there is to be a re-uniting of spirituality and
religion, the churches have much work to do. I suggest that the most profound changes of attitude required will be
those of a) rejecting the angry god from every aspect of the church’s
life; b) stressing the complementarity of divine and human love; c) moving from a stress on the need for
external control of energy to the fostering of the maximum energy possible while
helping people to find within themselves the necessary control of that energy;
and d) the consequent passing of as much power as possible from authority
structures within the institution to individuals.
It must be added that, on the other side, the people of today will
need to move beyond the sense of individualism that so dominates in the Western
world, and appreciate better how individuals need community, both in order to
grow themselves and in order to reach out to others more effectively. Without this better understanding, it is
difficult to see spirituality and religion coming closer together, for the idea
that we grow in and through community is essential to religion.
If much work remains to be done, dialogue between religion and the modern world is still possible.
[1] The Macquarie Dictionary gives thirty separate meanings to the word “spirit” and ten to the word “spiritual”. Some are directly religious, but others give a broader meaning, e.g. “an inspiring or animating principle such as pervades and tempers thought, feeling or action” or “of or pertaining to the spirit as the seat of the moral or religious nature.”
[2] For the purposes of this presentation I understand “emotional” to refer to harmony and balance within the individual, while “social” refers to the ability to relate to other people. Needless to say, the two depend on each other.
[3]
For this fourth approach, I am indebted to Ronald Rolheiser in his
book Seeking Spirituality, Hodder and
[4] Prov.13:12
[5]
There is, in fact, considerable variety in the way the words are
used in the Second Testament and what I say here is admittedly a
simplification. See Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, edited by Gerhard
Kittel and Gerhard Friedrich, translated and abridged in one volume by Geoffrey
W. Bromley, William B Erdmans Publishing,
[6] See Ronald Rolheiser, op. cit., p.4.
[7]
Much beautiful writing on this topic is found in Pope Benedict
XVI’s encyclical Deus Caritas Est, 25th December 2005.
[8] Gerald G May M.D., The Awakened Heart, HarperCollins, San Francisco, 1991, p.10.
[9] “… man cannot live by oblative, descending love alone. He cannot always give, he must also receive. Anyone who wishes to give love must also receive love as a gift.” Pope Benedict XVI, op.cit., no.7.
[10] Op.cit., p.37.
