If you’ve not already noticed I’ve been editing my thinking on the “spiritual but not religious” idea as I go along. Looking at the conversation developing here, as well as thinking about various tangents (thus my first post on it here).

Thanks to Sam Urfer I’m quoting from the Onion:

“Father Clancy Donahue of St. Michael Catholic Church told reporters Wednesday that while he believed in blindly adhering to the dogma and ceremonies of his faith, he tried not to get too bogged down by actual spirituality. “I’m not so much into having a relationship with God as I am into mechanically conducting various rituals,” Donahue said. “To me, it just feels empty to contemplate a higher power without blindly obeying canon law and protecting the church as an institution.” Donahue emphasized that although he did not personally agree with those who pondered the eternal, he had nothing against them.”

Funny as this is it hits the mark when it comes to thinking about a definition of “religious” and “spiritual”. Is being religious merly thoughtless ritualism? Is being spiritual all about the ethereal, the intangible elements of relating?

Working on my PhD thesis I had to come up with a sensible “working definition” for “cult” and “devotion” and was surprised at how difficult it was largely because there is so much overlap between them that a cut and dried, black and white definition becomes rather awkward. If the same can be said of “spiritual” and “religious” does the description “spiritual but not religious” have any concrete meaning?

Surely there is a Venn Diagram for this somewhere (grin).

Thinking about this possible overlap reminds me of a study published last year about the nature of people’s belief and participation in Christian faith communities. I’m afraid I cannot remember who did the study – I think it was Pew. One of the interesting features of contemporary Christian belief is that most people believe that Christianity is not the only way to God, and that many people draw on the practices and ideas of other non-Christian faith traditions. Based on the tongue in cheek definition kindly provided by the Onion; does this mean that a significant portion of the body of Christian faithful are more “spiritual” than they are “religious”?

Finally, following the same “working” definition. I wonder should I switch from describing myself as “faithful” to “spiritual AND religious”? I value the intangible sense of intimacy with the Divine, and I participate in, indeed perform the rituals of the cult of Christ.

This little “sapling” of a conversation deserves more than its getting.

Looking at not only my own initial response on Twitter, as well as the response of others (see previous post) I’m realising that these two words are very “loaded”. Huw, rightly observes that the underlying question remains unanswered – what is our working definition of “spiritual”? What is our working definition of “religious”?

But here’s the caveat to those questions – can we define them without reference to the ongoing liberal vs. conservative war within and among faith communities? If we do succeed what affect does this have on the self description “spiritual but not religious”? Honestly, I’m not sure I have a definition – at least not yet – that is not consciously, or unconsciously rooted in the existing loaded nature of “spiritual” and “religious”.

Can I throw a spanner in the works here and ask – is there a difference between “religious” and “being faithful”? I ask this because it is how I often describe myself. It seems to me that to describe one self as being faithful is to actively divorce one self from the liberal vs. conservative, us vs. them, divisions.

Last week my friend and fellow Indie-Easterner Huw posed this question on Twitter: “Define ‘Spiritual but not religious’.” My initial response encompassed two ideas that I’ve encountered over the years from a significant number of people who describe themselves as being “spiritual but not religious”. First is the idea that the “institution” of religion impedes communion with God. Second that “dogma” or “doctrine” also impedes communion with God. Both of these themes have some very interesting problems. For example, people who describe themeselves as “spiritual but not religious” and go on to discuss their dissatisfaction at what they percieve to be the overly dogmatic nature of religous communities – frequently go on to make very clear statements of belief (doctrine) themselves. Opening the jar of questions about what do we know, and what do we percieve about the collection of teaching involved in a particular religious identity or praxis.

Huw uncovered an article from First Things “Spirituality Without Spirits” while a bit of a rant – makes an interesting point about the quality of being “non-dogmatic” in relation to also being “spiritual but not religious”:

“I don’t think Ms. Gaga or anyone else who talks like this has really thought it through. That God who forgives everyone and excludes no one doesn’t object to debauches in Berlin sex clubs. A point in his favor, from one point of view. But then he doesn’t object to murderers and torturers and corrupt bankers either. A point in his favor from no one’s point of view.”

Miller (the author) makes a fine point when he later says: “The word “spiritual” has no useful meaning if it does not refer to a relation to a real spirit. . . ” This is very true of course because that spirit necessarily has an identity, one which demands a particular relational mode, and that in turn shapes and informs the individual relating to it – just as all of our relationships shape and inform us as individuals.

In this morning’s news trawl I happened across another article this time in the Telegraph reporting that Mark Hucknull, the Chancellor of Lincoln Cathedral (a fantastic English cathedral by the way), criticises the “spiritual but not religous” crowd as selfish:

“To say that ‘I’ am ‘spiritual’ here is on a par with saying that ‘I’ am patient or thoughtful or generous; it is a description that is all about ‘me’.”

In truth this is not an unfair criticism. Think about the two themes already mentioned – the underlying issue in both is a desire to not be accountable, to not be challenged, and to not be expected to do X or Y in conjunction with one’s religious identity and praxis.

I’m aware that I’ve over-taken my usual 300 or so word limit so please bear with me just a few lines more, as I tie this into an OC/IC context. Ihave often heard indie folk, clergy and laity alike insist on being “non-dogmatic” or “non-doctrinal” – in essence “spiritual but not religious” the reasons given are that they endured the abuses of the “institutional church” and its imposition of doctrine through the activity of church officials. But It seems to me that they have run to the exact opposite extreme. The extremes at both ends are heretical as St. Epiphanius says in the Panarion.

“Spiritual but not religious” has had a lasting impact on the shape of the indie community over the past 20 years at least – one effect of this has been the simple fact that indie communities are fickle because people are afraid of committment, and they are afraid to call one another to account – because it might make them unpopular, and thereby shrink the “numbers” within the community. The problem with this model is that there is no integrity in it. Many people who convert – who become OC/IC believers do so because they are seeking a stronger connection between the integrity of the community and the practice of their sacramental Christian faith. “Spiritual but not religous” – non-dogmatic, simply does not cut it.

Have a look at the two articles, and maybe follow the sapling exchange of this thread on Twitter, but certainly add your thoughts to the comments below here.

Here in the UK the Guardian has a regular column called “Bad Science” which exposes . . . well, “bad” science, pseudo science, and “popular science” ideas – like homeopathy. Maggi Dawn has suggested on her blog the brilliant idea of a “Bad Theology” column. So what bad theologies, or pseudo theological ideas would you include, and why?

Maggi Dawn, draws attention to an interesting set of posts from Church Mouse, highlighting some interesting figures from a survey done of 1000 or so men here in the UK asking about their comfort level in church. Apparently men are more comfortable in a lingerie department than they are in church. Fascinating.

But this got me thinking about comfort zones in an Indie (OC/IC) context. There is a general tendancy in indie communities towards stepping outside of the box of the pre-programmed idea of what “church” is or should be. Does this negatively affect how interested new-comers perceive the nature of an indie community? First impressions and all that. . .

Indie communities are often small – very small. This can be a real challenge to someone coming from the “Big Tent” church realm. Accustomed to a standard congregation size of between 50-75, coming into an indie community of between 5 and 20 can be a shock to the system – an impediment to seeing the rest of the experience of that community.

OC/IC communities often meet in unusual environments – unusual for sacramental Christians at least. Homes, rented church basements, public meeting halls, hotels, and out-doors. So once again in our context we find a possible barrier in a new person’s comfort zone. Sacramental liturgy is intimately linked to a building, a fixed consecrated altar, an iconographic plan, etc. Meeting, celebrating, in an unusual environment is occasionally nice but every meeting?

For some indie communities the answer to these questions of comfort zone is to look and feel as much as possible like a big-tent community. Unconsciously believing that to look, feel, and sound like tradition X or Y will overshadow the awkwardness of being indie, of not having those things one has been programmed to expect in a liturgical community. I’ve always thought we loose something in the mix when we do this. Other indie communities swing to the exact opposite extreme, re-shaping, re-designing the liturgy (for example) such that it is un-recognisable as Christian worship.

I wonder though are there not better ways to explore and address the issues of “comfort zone”? For those of us who have spent most of their life in the indie environment we don’t honestly “see” the problems others experience unless something like this survey draws our attention to it. But we do know its there because we’ve seen it in action, we’ve witnessed how individuals who are quite keen to join in, come for a while, but find those un-expected barriers of “comfort zone” overwhelming, and they turn away dejected.

Maybe we should experiment with celebrating vespers in a lingerie department? What do you think?

Six months ago my garden stopped. Or so it seemed. Leaves turned brown and dropped off. Flowers vanished. Vines ceased producing fruit, withered, and crumbled. Newts, butterflies, moths, dragonflies; even the neighbour’s cat – disappeared. For five months or so I stood on the patio looking out over a brown, crumpled, lifeless trapezoid (our garden is not quite rectangular).

It was empty.

It was spent.

I sometimes wondered if this vine, or that fruit tree would ever spring back to life – would it survive the “down time”.

The “visual” of my garden in that down time, was deceptive, for underneath the surface things were happening. Trees were resting, and preparing for the spring. Newts were hibernating (at least I think they hybernate), eggs were maturing, the ground was renewing its richness. Things were happening in the quiet of “down time” that were not immediately apparent.

Here we are some six months later and the fruit trees have blossomed, and are covered in little fruits and leaves. Lettuce, beans, and melons are sprouting reaching ever higher preparing to put on their annual show. Newts have returned to the pond in droves, and are in full mating show. The fish have lifted themselves from the bottom, shaken off their winder slumber and are zipping around demanding food and looking to mate in a few weeks time. Bamboo shoots are popping up left and right, mint is spreading, bay is flowering, irises have produced long stalks with promising buds. The active life has returned to the garden.

And so it is with one’s spiritual life. We go through periods of intense activity, engagement, interest. Then something throws a switch and shuts it all down – or so we think. We become emotionally detached, even a bit depressed, wondering, “where did it all go?” But it comes back.

Perhaps the trick is to learn to cultivate a less enthusiastic, more consistent “sense” of spirituality, so that the “garden” produces year round and not just in the few months of spring and summer. A skill which I think is much more difficult than it appears – on the surface at least.

I just realised this morning that we’ve been working on this project, we call the “Theo-blog” for four years and . . .one month (well 4 years, 1 month, and 3 days) now. Happy birthday blog!

When I started this experiment back in April 2006 I never imagined that it would have the staying power that it has had. Why? Because blogging is fickle and most blogs are created, and abandoned within the first year or so (at least that’s what I’ve read) – and I did not expect that our effort here would be any different from “the norm” in this regard. Try it, see what happens, learn from it, maybe make some new connections with other interested folk and move on. That was the attitude I had coming into this.

So has it worked?

Well, yes, after a fashion. Through the connections we’ve made we’ve made new contacts in the Indie community. Through the process of writing, reflecting, and engaging with others doing the same thing about the same topics I’ve come to better understand the “why” and the “process” of some elements of theology and the history of the OC/IC movement. It has also occasionally made me think about things in entirely new ways, as well as changing my mind on long held assumptions.

So here’s to another four years, one month and three days . . .

This is interesting no only for its comedic value – you just had to laugh. But also for the side thoughts that emerge while reading the story. A man in Liverpool has been found guilty of “causing religiously aggravated intentional harassment, alarm or distress”, sentenced to 100 hours of community service, and given an ASBO forbidding him to carry religiously offensive material in public.

He left pornographic material, and cartoons of Christian and Muslim religious figures in the prayer room at Liverpool airport in an effort to convert people to atheism.

Okaaay . . . .

If you’re done gasping (or in my case giggling hysterically) lets play with this one for a moment. Does this judement now mean that I can change the sign on my front door from: “No Evangelists”; to “Evangelists Will Be Prosecuted”?

This man’s actions are curious in another – more serious way – in that it moves to pose questions about identifying belief in the first place. In a very real sense his choice of pornography was . . . . wisely chosen. A significant number of Christians, at least, place a strong emphasis on the relationship between sex, and God. Is this all our tradition can speak to? Of course not – but it is very much a part of the popular reception of what Christianity is all about.

Why? Because too many Christians at least, link their faith in God, their “belief” with sex, and sexuality, thereby narrowing the range of areas of life where they might readily percieve “blessings seen and unseen”.

I’m a bit behind on things – including posts. It’s half way through Lent and I’ve not much to show for it here on site – sorry about that.

Yesterday was the fifth Sunday of Lent – St. Mary of Egypt, one of my favourite saints because her story is so interesting. She was a linen weaver, who enjoyed sex a bit too much. On one occasion she journeyed to Jerusalem, she joined a throng of pilgrims entering the church of the Resurrection, she found herself prevented by some “invisible force” entering the church itself. At that moment she realised some things had to change, and she had to re-claim her humanity.

The link between Mary’s debauchery and her loss of person-hood is one that is closely tied to asceticism. Athanasius says of humanity’s fall that they became like animals, unreasonable, violent, and greedy. Origen describes how idolatry is shaping one’s being according to an image other than that of the Logos, usually animals – asceticism trains the individual and refines his or her reflection of the Logos, and throught that process empowers the individual to realise the fullness of being.

In the church, St. Mary turns to an icon of the Theotokos and “repents”. She is then allowed into the shrine, and from there made her way to the desert where she spent the rest of her life. Two years before she died Mary encountered Zosimas, a priest who was spending Lent in the desert. She recounted her story to him, and he gave thanks for having finally met a true “God-bearer”. Mary asked him to return the following year and give her communion at the banks of the Jordan. He did, and she walked on the water to meet him on the other side. She asked him to return the following year to the place they had first met. When he did Zosimas found that Mary had died.

Zosimas found that Mary had scrawled in the dirt a request that he bury her there. The problem was that the earth was baked hard, and he could not dig it. A lion passed, and Zosimas ordered the large cat to dig a hole using his powerful claws. He then returned to his monastary to tell everyone about the glorious St. Mary of Egypt.

The year before she died Mary encountered Zosimas, a priest who was spending Lent in the desert.

Huw’s essay on Lenten praxis is well worth the read.