Month: August 2021

As a parish pastor this phrase used to irk the hell out of me. I thought it was some sort of cop-out to not get up on Sunday morning. Or maybe they were disgruntled former church members who discovered the church was just as human as any other institution. Perhaps their family did not go to church when they were growing up, so there was no established habit or denominational preference. Perhaps they were so wounded by a church they couldn’t imagine ever returning. Perhaps they saw no reason to affiliate with an institution on the cutting edge of obsolescence. Or maybe they were just plain fed up with the church having little or nothing to do with Jesus. Whatever the reason I filtered it through the lens of trying to grow the church I was serving, and these spiritual but not religious types were not helpful. They did, however, come to the church when they wanted to get married, have a child baptized or have a funeral for a loved one. And of course the church opened its arms in welcome. Mostly we never saw them again.

More and more people describe themselves as spiritual but not religious. People probably have varying definitions of what this means; but what is consistent is that, for the most part, they feel no need to participate in institutionalized religion. I get it. There isn’t a church on the planet that isn’t screwed up in some way, some more than others. The church is a human institution and as such all the frailties and foibles of human beings play out in the life of the church. It can be crazy-making.

As someone who served the church all my life, I can also attest to the fact that churches can be the most loving, faithful, inspirational communities in the world. Churches are the institution God chose to be Holy hands, feet and hearts at work in the world.  When the church can get out of its own way and actually do real mission and ministry, it is an amazing thing. As Margaret Mead said, “Never doubt that a small committed group of people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” If more churches were actually living the gospel, the world would be a very different place.

Now that I am six years into retirement, life has changed dramatically. I am an unintentional recluse. I belong to the church of my childhood, about 90 miles from where I live. I didn’t get custody of my local church in the divorce. My attendance at church is spotty at best. I do miss the communal singing, gathering at the communion table and fellowship with people I have known all my life. I believe there is a part of the Christian faith that can only be lived in community.

I never thought I would say it, but truth be told I am becoming spiritual but not religious. Not being able to attend church means I have to find other ways to nurture my spiritual life and ground myself in my faith. It has broadened my sense of worship and deepened my understanding that everything is holy.

It is a holy thing to watch vegetable blossoms turn into tomatoes, squash, beans and cucumbers. Watching the birds that find our backyard a haven of safety is an act of worship. I am struck silent in awe by the beauty of a summer day or the ferocity of a storm. I am inspired by the words of others who make me think differently about what it means to be a person of faith. I keep a journal and have quiet time every day. I listen to music that feeds my soul. I have a deeper appreciation for my tribe, that small group of people who show up no matter what, on whose fellowship I depend and through whose love I continue to grow. Many of them are also spiritual but not religious, but they embody the Christian faith in beautiful ways.

My heart is broken daily by the suffering, pain and hatred in the world. Watching the news is almost unbearable. Like many others I feel helpless to do anything to alleviate their suffering. All I can do is pray they will have some sense of the presence of the Holy to sustain them. I don’t pray for God to fix it. We don’t give God to-do lists. We humans messed it up; we are going to have to fix it. If I were younger and healthier I would be on a plane to work in the refugee camps, but alas that is not an option. What I can do is work to make my little part of the world a better place and live the love of Jesus as best I can. As the old saying goes, “If everyone swept in front of their own house the world would be a lot cleaner.”

Turns out, for the most part I am doing okay without the church. Whodathunkit? Surely I never did. My idea of what it means to be spiritual but not religious may be unique, or maybe not. It works for me and no one is more surprised than I.

It is widely believed that Jesus said it is more blessed to give than to receive. In truth there is no evidence of that in any of the gospels. Still it is an expression we have taken to heart. Whoever said it (widely believed to be Paul in Acts 20) neglected to mention that it is also a lot easier. Giving makes us feel good. Making meals for a sick friend or working for a charity gives a sense of satisfaction.

Giving also feeds our sense of independence. It demonstrates our ability to manage our own affairs and help others with our resources. Having our own house in order feeds the “rugged individualism” introduced by Herbert Hoover in the late 1920’s and early thirties. It is now woven into the warp and woof of our culture. There is no question it is easier to give than to receive regardless of whatever blessing may come our way as a result.

This perspective also means it is pretty hard to ask for help, or to need help. It can be seen as a sign of weakness, some indication we can’t manage our own affairs. For the most part we hate to be needy. Some say that being needy when accustomed to being totally independent is humbling. I’m not sure that is the right word. Merriam Webster Dictionary defines humbling as, “to lower someone’s dignity or importance.” While it may be a feeling we have when we are needy, in truth this definition is not helpful.

Asking for help or needing help in no way lowers one’s importance or dignity. It simply means life circumstances have changed. These changes may be temporary or permanent. Either way it has nothing to do with dignity or importance.

What lowers one’s dignity or importance is being made to feel shame for being needy, being “less than” or being marginalized. What erodes dignity is not having access to what one needs. In our culture access and importance are assigned by social status, economic resources, education, productivity and a host of other false categories.

Our importance is defined by being human and being made in the image of the Divine. It has nothing to do with what we do, what we have or what we need. It is all about who we are. A better definition of being humbled comes from my favorite apologist Frederick Buechner, “True humility doesn’t consist of thinking ill of yourself, but of not thinking of yourself much differently from the way you’d be apt to think of anybody else.”

Humility has nothing to do with neediness, ours or anyone else’s. Another way of thinking about neediness is as an expression of interdependence. Interdependence creates a framework for shared humanity. Interdependence assumes we will all take our turn at being needy. It also suggests we have some responsibility to others when they are needy.

Most of us have some remedial work to do when it comes to asking for help. Looking at our assumptions and values around neediness is a good place to start. We all stand on equal ground in the heart of the holy. It’s a good place to start.