Spiritual Friendship after Religion: Walking with People while the Rules Are Changing
144
Spiritual Friendship after Religion: Walking with People while the Rules Are Changing
144eBook
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Overview
Hardly a day goes by without some poll or news story documenting the changing relationship between the general population and religion, often accompanied by predictions of doom. The rise of the "nones" and the "dones" leaves many adrift in a world with multiple complex challenges. Providers of "spiritual friendship"—pastors, spiritual directors, pastoral counselors, concerned Christians—will need to change their approach as those with whom they interact distance themselves from the church. How should we talk with the "nones" and the "dones" about their spiritual lives? How can we be with them in their struggles when they are suspicious of our motives?
These are questions providers of spiritual friendship face every day. This book offers answers that can help them look at their work in new ways. Stewart-Sicking presents an innovative approach to spiritual friendship, addressing major challenges of modern life and significant challenges in the lives of individuals, as well as making accessible scholarship on the subject that is difficult for practitioners to access.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780819232502 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Morehouse Publishing |
| Publication date: | 03/01/2016 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 144 |
| File size: | 250 KB |
About the Author
Joe Stewart-Sicking is an Episcopal priest and Associate Professor of Pastoral Counseling at Loyala University Maryland, where he directs the PhD program. His research explores the impact of modernity and postmodernity on spiritual formation, the emotional health and vocational satisfaction of clergy, and the relationship between spiritual direction and psychology. He was the associate project director for the Project of Congregations of Intentional Practice at Virginia Theological Seminary, directed by Diana Butler Bass. He co-edited with her From Nomads to Pilgrims: Stories from Practicing Congregations and wrote the study guide for Christianity for the Rest of Us. He lives in Baltimore, Maryland.
Richard Bass is a consulting editor with Church Publishing Inc. He was the director of publishing for the Alban Institute from 2002-2014. He is the editor of "Leadership in Congregations" (Alban, 2007) and "Resources for Congregational Vitality" (Alban, 2004).
Read an Excerpt
Spiritual Friendship After Religion
Walking with People While the Rules are Changing
By Joseph A. Stewart-Sicking
Church Publishing Incorporated
Copyright © 2016 Joseph A. Stewart-SickingAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8192-3250-2
CHAPTER 1
Just How It Is
I AM A PRIEST WHO is also a professor and a therapist. One of the blessings of this ministry is that I have regular opportunities to talk with people, in a variety of settings, as they negotiate their spiritual lives. Many of these conversations have been where you might expect them: with parishioners whose parents are critically ill, with clients looking to overcome addiction, with students trying to figure out what their studies have to do with their life calling. But surprisingly many — and probably the more interesting ones — have materialized out of conversations that started with a very different purpose with people who have little connection to my "flocks." The following is a great example.
I was sitting in a coffeehouse in Frederick, Maryland, with a friend from high school, one of those good friends with whom it is always easy to pick up even though we have lived in different parts of the country for the past twenty years. We are both professors, so we usually talk about teaching and the politics of higher education. He is a natural scientist and skeptic, and we had an unspoken détente in which we avoided talk about religion. This time was no different. We shared stories of crazy students, talked about life after tenure, then turned to our family lives.
We both had been through some difficult times of grieving recently, and my friend was sharing how he had taken up meditation at the recommendation of a counselor. It had given him a lot of relief, and he shared with me that he was contemplating learning more about Buddhism, but wasn't sure what that was going to entail. He knew I had background in religion, and he wanted my opinion. He was Roman Catholic by upbringing, agnostic through training as a scientist, and usually just indifferent to spirituality or religion. It wasn't part of the furniture of his life. Yet here he was, sitting in a coffeehouse, talking to a friend whom he rarely sees about his fascination with Buddhism. He liked that it was nontheist and empirical, but he was also intrigued by the artwork and ritual of Tibetan Buddhism.
I wasn't sure what to say, so I defaulted to empathic listening as he started to work out what this curiosity meant for him. At the end of our conversation, I mentioned a couple of books on Buddhist spirituality I had found helpful and gently suggested that he might look for a meditation group on his campus. Ninety minutes had passed, and we both returned home and continued our friendship as usual through Facebook and Twitter but did not have another deep discussion until a year later when I visited him. He had enjoyed the books and was now including meditation alongside his regular yoga group. I didn't know whether to count that as a success of spiritual friendship or not.
I doubt that I am alone in finding myself having this kind of conversation more frequently. My experience suggests that there are plentiful opportunities for talking with people about the spiritual life, but frequently, these conversations do not fit the traditional format of spiritual companioning. My friend and I had closeness and frequent digital contact, but only occasional personal contact. He had some familiarity with Christianity, but only a basic level of formation in his Catholic tradition from childhood. He was not sure that spirituality even was a real thing, and his scientific outlook ruled out many traditional expressions of faith as superstition. And yet he also had a very strong social ethic and took part in groups of practice for yoga and sustainable agriculture. His pathway toward spirituality came through the psychotherapeutic use of an Eastern practice, and this practice intrigued him beyond its therapeutic value.
These kinds of conversations — which happen both outside and within organized religious groups — do not meet the assumptions that are behind the classical models of spiritual direction, such as geographical stability, a shared vocabulary for the transcendent, plentiful mentoring opportunities, or lifetime affiliation with a single faith tradition. The primary concern of this book is to explore how the ministry of spiritual companionship can accept the invitation to change posed by this contemporary context.
One blessing for disoriented spiritual companions is that a great deal of social-science research is being conducted on exactly how spirituality and religion are changing. However, the breadth and complexity of this literature require some maps. Observers of contemporary religion and spirituality have pointed to many changes that impact the development of the spiritual life. Consider the following examples:
• Mobility, technology, and globalization have changed the nature of interpersonal relationships.
• Traditional religious organizations and authorities have declined as there has been a proliferation of new and alternate spiritualities.
• The fastest growing group in the United States is the spiritual and religious "nones," now 22 percent of the population.
• Spirituality has taken on a do-it-yourself character rather than being handed on from one's cultural heritage.
• Spirituality is often encountered as a resource for psychological and physical health, frequently removed from its tradition of origin.
• Spirituality has increasingly become something commodified, marketed, and consumed.
• There are increased encounters between adherents of different faiths, and individuals are increasingly exploring multiple traditions in their own spiritual practices.
• The relationship between science and religion is often presumed to be antagonistic.
• Social and environmental ills engage the political side of many faiths just as many individuals have become alienated from overly political religious expressions.
The list could continue. In fact, scholars don't even agree on what to call the current period — secular? Postmodern? Late capitalist? Post-secular? Post-postmodern? A new Awakening? This is a complicated and rapidly changing picture. To be able to take things in, we can organize these dynamics by four emerging themes: fluidity, commodification, the secular search for control, and diversity.
Fluidity
The lack of agreement on what to call our current era reveals one of its key characteristics, fluidity. We don't know precisely what is going on or where we are going because the central characteristics of contemporary social phenomena are "precisely their fragility, temporariness, vulnerability and inclination to constant change." While still modern, our era is different from earlier forms of modernity in which people were certain that scientific progress would slowly improve the human condition and allow everyone to live a good life. Now, the idea of incremental progress is less attractive, replaced by a faith in the power of infinite revision and liquidation.
We value things not for the confidence or certainty they provide, but for how easily they can be abandoned for something else. We can see this change in the enthusiasm for "disruption" and "creative destruction" in the world of business. And our culture values fluidity not just in capital, but also in ideas, organizations, relationships, and selfhood.
The metaphor of fluidity clarifies why so many of the assumptions of the spiritual life seem to be breaking down. A world in which every idea, relationship, and identity is only "for the time being" does not fit well with how spiritual formation is approached in many church environments. Instead, many structures that have been taken for granted are melting away, some at alarming rates.
Foremost among these is the idea of established religion. Religious organizations and their leaders may have had a special status and authority, but now they are just one voice among the many to which people turn for spiritual advice. In fact, for a growing portion of the population, religious leaders are not compelling enough to even make this cut. There are plenty of therapists, friends, writers, and the Internet to give most of us an overwhelming choice of advice on how to live our lives. Fluidity undercuts the idea of the imprimatur, the "official" source of information that we should all listen to. Denominations as organizations are irrelevant to the practice of spirituality and religion in liquid modernity. This is not to say that the traditions and habits that they carry are no longer of interest. At one and the same time, people are becoming interested in the wisdom of traditions like early Methodism and becoming indifferent to the structures and policies of organizations like the United Methodist Church.
Spirituality has become open source: spiritual resources are seen as something shared, and people draw from across sources to piece together something new that works for them. It is the logic of the free and open Internet: Wisdom is not owned by any organization or hierarchy; it should be shared for the bigger common good, regardless of how costly it was to create. Open source movements can create new and powerful products, but they are also bad news for the "legacy" organizations that think they should hold the patents.
Fluidity undercuts the rationale of doing something because it is time-tested and traditional. There is no reason for loyalty to the old ways simply because they are old. By contrast, religion intrinsically involves looking to the past for lessons. What is interesting is that spiritual traditions do not seem to be simply going away as we might expect. In fact, turning toward tradition seems to be associated with congregational vitality. Therefore, fluid spirituality is not necessarily becoming more secular and less interested in the past, but the understanding of tradition has undoubtedly changed. Fluid spirituality has little place for custom, doing something simply to reproduce an existing structure, but it has a lot of opening for tradition when seen as a historically embodied argument about wisdom. Tradition in this sense is not Chesterton's "democracy of the dead"; it is about bringing the wisdom of the past alive again in new ways.
Finally, fluidity changes the assumptions of what constitutes community, since no single community is central to a life lived in constant change. People are constantly moving, their relationships with others ebbing and flowing, never keeping shape for long. Throughout each day, people move between several groups: congregation, PTA, yoga group, running group, workplace. Whereas many of these groups would once have been dictated by social convention, most of them now are entered into by choice and based on affinity. People are not living life on their own. The Internet has made it easier than ever for people to find others who share a bewildering array of interests, and contrary to the critique that they are all about dabbling, many of these groups are dedicated to serious practice. But since these groups are chosen, they are unlikely to bring people into encounters with people very different from them. Instead, they provide the security of an "imagined community." And because the focus of these groups is specialized, they often do not last long.
Fluidity creates a unique spiritual situation. It simultaneously opens up new possibilities for leading a meaningful life while depriving us of any standards for judging our success. Spirituality has become "do-it-yourself," and each person's journey can be like that of a nomad: visiting the caravan site from time to time to get new ideas from other travelers, but quickly departing again for the road without any specific destination. The campsite is not especially important beyond being a waypoint, and there is little need for critiquing or investing in it.
Commodification
Fluidity is one face of global capitalism. Another is the unceasing pressure to experience everything in life as a commodity to be obtained and consumed in the most efficient way possible. Consumer spirituality can be shallow and narcissistic, and self-help spirituality has often come in for this kind of criticism.
Any critique that is so easy to make probably hides a lack of nuance. In the case of spirituality as commodity, yes, people do sometimes search for spirituality as if they are finding the best diapers or car or exercise clothing, perhaps with more on the line. As long as there has been religion there have been people looking to buy and sell relics, talismans, shrines, and other spiritual goods. But this kind of sacred economy is more about magic and superstition than spirituality, and magical consumerism has just as much of a history within the walls of the church as outside them. The real dynamics of religious consumerism are much subtler, and we discount many genuine experiences of the divine when we comfort ourselves by making fun of others' spiritual quests.
The relationship between consumerism and spirituality is very complex, but several aspects of it seem especially pertinent to growing in the spiritual life. The first of these is how consumer capitalism creates a way of being in the world (shaping our understanding, experiences, and actions) that defines human life in terms of infinite freedom, unlimited resources, and self-focused choices. Living this way tends to turn religion into a kind of cheap transcendence, Christotainment, or "special effect." When we want to feel "spiritual" (because in this world, spirituality is a kind of peak experience), we listen to chanting monks, sit in a darkened auditorium while a praise band performs, or place icons and mandalas around our room. We become spiritual gluttons, susceptible to our faith's falling apart as soon as we no longer are "feeling it."
Even more insidiously, consuming spirituality as a commodity has the effect of hiding the ways and purposes for which that spiritual item was created. Christianity, which has the potential to turn society upside down, can be reduced to comforting platitudes, as unthreatening and bastardized as the Che Guevara T-shirt sold in the local big box store. And spiritual community, which has the power to transform lives, can become a sort of aspirational brand identity — which necessarily excludes those different from us.
Consumer spirituality also focuses on technology as the model and vehicle of transformation. The message is straightforward: press a button, take this pill, meditate for this length of time, use this program, visit this place, set your mind on God's prosperity ... and things will work together seamlessly to meet your needs. This "device paradigm" abstracts things from their material settings and makes them disposable, interchangeable, glamorous. You buy the machine. You own it. And don't worry, because there are geniuses producing better and better machines to meet your needs down the line.
When spirituality is experienced as a commodity, then it is inevitably judged by its therapeutic value. There is nothing wrong with faith being therapeutic, generally speaking. Jesus promises complete joy, and Scripture promises comfort amid distress. Many of the characteristic doctrines of the church have developed out of a pastoral sensibility that links faith to the pursuit of happiness. The problem created by consumer spirituality is that its idea of happiness is too thin. The therapeutic can be reduced to the merely therapeutic without anyone noticing, and the richness of a way of life can be turned into a utilitarianism that sees faith as something like wheat grass — usually unpleasant, but good for you. And a faith that can be functionally compared to a pill is not threatening in any way to the powers and principalities of this world. Consumption inhibits critical thinking, and there is no room for spiritual ideas such as the Christian practices of giving one's self for others and living simply.
The good news where consumerism and spirituality are concerned is that spirituality contains seeds of resistance that, if nurtured, can rip apart the logic of consumerism from within. Many spiritual practices, such as meditation, hospitality, and singing, have benefits that can be obtained only through the practice itself. Such practices are pursued for their own sake, and they look to a tradition for standards of excellence that can lead us in further training. Research has repeatedly demonstrated the potency of these kinds of practices as people move from dabblers to serious practitioners. Even in the supposedly consumerist and therapeutic spiritual scenes of the yoga session or the growth group, practitioners can begin to get interested in the practices for their own sake, often reproducing the structure of monastic communities (gurus, ongoing practice spaces, traditions, spiritual guidance) while steadfastly insisting that they are not "religious." It is a powerful thing to open oneself to the depth of the Spirit, and all of us are in over our heads in terms of what we can expect from our spiritual practices. They can lead us to totally reorient our lives and provide us with a passion that we didn't know we could have.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Spiritual Friendship After Religion by Joseph A. Stewart-Sicking. Copyright © 2016 Joseph A. Stewart-Sicking. Excerpted by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Foreword by Diana Butler Bass,Preface,
Chapter 1 Just How It Is,
Chapter 2 Being a Spiritual Companion,
Chapter 3 Change as a Spiritual Issue,
Chapter 4 Suffering and the Spirit,
Chapter 5 Receiving Joy,
Chapter 6 Maturing in Service,
Conclusion Improvised Spirituality,
What People are Saying About This
“Spiritual Friendship After Religion is less of a directive ‘how to’ book and more of a practical ‘what if’ one. What if we treated all our friendships as the opportunity for the Spirit to show up? What if we encouraged people in our congregations to consider their communal vocation as spiritual companions? What if people of faith took on the task of befriending the postmodern world?”
—Diana Butler Bass, author of Grounded: Finding God in the World—A Spiritual Revolution
"In today's fluid society, spiritual improvisation is as important as contemplation for those who serve as companions to others on a spiritual path. Joseph Stewart-Sicking serves as an interpretive guide for anyone negotiating the unfamiliar terrain of a post-religious world."
—Eric Elnes, author of Gifts of the Dark Wood: Seven Blessings for Soulful Skeptics (and Other Wanderers)