| SARA MAITLAND said that the word “spirituality” was something that made her angry (Back page interview, 14 March). As someone who uses the word frequently, I had a strong but mixed response to this. For me, the word spirituality is a necessary tool for my everyday work as a parish priest, but it is also inadequate for the task, and I think I can see why it irritates many people.
I think I need this word. For centuries, Christianity has been seen as a book-based faith — a Religion (with a capital R), with rules to be followed, codes of conduct, and a creed to be adhered to. It has become ingrained in the public consciousness that, in order to be a Christian, you need to believe set doctrines, follow rules, and attend rituals. Although its Latin root is disputed, many would say it comes from “religare”: “to bind”.
Archbishop Rowan Williams said in his recent lecture at Westminster Cathedral (News, 25 April), that many people describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious”, and that, while spiritual issues might be taken seriously, anything labelled “religious” is seen as “ambivalent at best, dangerous at worst”. He sees that religion is perceived to involve “the claim to some kind of exclusive truthfulness . . . and the demand for the abdication of personal liberty”.
It is not only those outside the Church who think of the Christian faith in this way. Some members of the Church get sidetracked into valuing only the doctrines and rituals, and so confirm this perception. For this reason, I have as strong a reaction to the words “religion” and “religious” as Ms Maitland does to “spirituality”, and probably for similar reasons.
“Religion” defines Christianity in one dimension, and excludes the element of experience and the notion of a spiritual journey. It becomes a barrier between me and those I meet outside the Church; it becomes a barrier between people and God.
Without the element of personal experience, the rules and practices belong to someone else, and I am simply a consenting foot-soldier. But if, through sharing in the ritual and the practice of private prayer, I come into contact with a living God, I am able to own the faith for myself.
Recently, a young couple came to arrange for their banns to be called, and the conversation took an unexpected direction. They had been attending the church where they were to be married, and the groom was struggling with this experience. He told me that he could not have the kind of faith that Christians have. He could not be a Christian because he could not accept these set descriptions of God and the world, when his experience was telling him something else.
In this sort of dialogue, I need another word. I need to describe Christianity in a way that is not about rules or binding, but about a journey of faith and the experience of God. “Spirituality” and “spiritual path” are not adequate to the task, but they are a starting place. They offer me the possibility to describe faith in terms of relationship with God and others; to answer the need inside each of us that presents itself more readily in questions than answers.
We live in a time that some call post-Christian. People have given up on legalistic, controlling religion. They have also begun to give up on the materialism and licence with which they replaced it, as they see that it does not meet their needs.
They flock to the “Body, Mind and Spirit” section of bookshops, and to talks on alternative practices because they are trying to find a way to feed their spiritual side. They are not flocking to the Church, because they do not see that we have anything to offer them.
So when I say to people: “I’m not really religious,” they are nonplussed. “Hang on,” said one young man, “but you’re a vicar.”
It is then that I use that word spirituality to begin a dialogue about experiencing God rather than joining a club and following rules.
The downside is that this could imply that this element of faith is something different from the Christianity that has been around for more than 2000 years. It might suggest that it is something new and separate from the Church, while, in reality, this has been a central part of Christian thinking from the earliest times, and has been kept alive faithfully, particularly in the monastic tradition.
Like a rare plant, this hidden tradition has been spared from extinction by a minority, while the mainstream Church has focused on a more legalistic form of Christianity, with a modicum of mysticism allowed. The assumption that we all believe the same things in the same way builds a wall around the Church that keeps safe those on the inside.
Any form of outreach encourages people to come in from the outside. The protection of the belief system, seen as orthodoxy, is also a method of control: you must believe like me, so that I do not need to embrace change or take risks. The belief system is no longer a vehicle to encounter God; it has become an end in itself.
My focus is on experiencing God in the present moment, and that transcends everything. Through those transcendent moments, I begin to understand the implications of the life and teaching of Jesus for the Church and the world.
The combination of time spent in contemplation and in sharing the reality of Jesus in the eucharist in the Church community lead me into a greater understanding of what Jesus meant when he said he came to fulfil the law. The story, the man, and the way of life he taught come alive.
For me, “spirituality” describes that element of our faith that brings it to life. I concede, though, that all words (including “religion” and “spirituality”) are inadequate to describe how the divine operates in our lives. For now, I have to work with these limited tools, this clumsy language, as I seek to break down the barriers between the Church and the people she is here to serve.
The Revd Eva McIntyre is Vicar of Stourport and Wilden in the diocese of Worcester. |
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