Not religious… but, Spiritual

In her blog, “All Shall Be Well,” my mother writes the following, in part as a response to the first entry in this blog:

“I still struggle with what it means to be ‘spiritual’. I have often said the same thing myself, ‘I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual.’ What does that mean to me? What does that mean to my son?”

While I certainly can’t ascertain precisely what this means to my mother, I can attempt to answer what it means to me, her son.

It is not an easy question to answer.

What chafes me about many (most?) organized religions is their dogma, their certainty that theirs is the one, true, right way – especially when this is extended to the absolutely ridiculous notion that all “nonbelievers” (meaning people of other faiths as well as true nonbelievers) shall be condemned to hell or some such excruciatingly painful place. I believe in Hell. It’s here. In the Elah Valley. In the deserts of Darfur. In Bagdhad or Bangladesh or the barrios of the Bronx. What I don’t believe is that Hell is a fiery place overseen by Beelzebub in red cape and horns.

So, why would I assert that “I am not religious, but I am spiritual?” I suppose it has something to do in how one looks at the women and men around us. My wife Gloria likes to ask: “Do you think man is inherently good or inherently evil?”

Well, we can all point to countless examples of man’s inhumanity towards man and of countless deeds that appear very evil indeed. On the other hand, we can see many examples of good if we allow ourselves to recognize them. (These acts tend to receive less newsprint than the latest murder or genocide or Ponzi scheme.)

I guess I embrace the word “spiritual” because I think there is more that binds us together than that drives us apart. We all must share the scarce resources of this tiny planet hurtling through space at I-can’t-recall-how-many-miles-an-hour. We all breathe from the same atmosphere, and we are all impacted by the billions of gallons of pollution that choke it on a daily basis. We all derive benefit from our various communities – be they friends, family, book discussion groups, or churches. (I’m not anti-church, per se, I just choose not to participate.)

So, these shared experiences, these communities that enrich and enliven and support our lives are perhaps what constitutes “spirituality” for me. I’ll borrow another phrase from my wife, who is also not religious, despite having been raised as a Catholic. She has told me several times about the experience of looking out on the vast, beautiful expanse of Lake Michigan, which is only a mile or so from our house. She’ll describe her awe and wonder and then thinking, or even saying aloud, “I didn’t make this.” Indeed. Whether you call it nature or God or Allah, not one of us can take credit for the grandeur of the Rockies or the lush beauty of the Everglades. Organized religion didn’t make it, either. And no matter what they tell you, they don’t know who did. This is the mystery. This is what “spiritual” means to me.