Finding God
I have been puzzling recently over the whole nature of spirituality. What exactly does it mean to be spiritual? to have a spiritual practice? to know if an experience has been spiritual? The default answer is that something spiritual brings you closer to God, or seems fully infused by the presence of God. But what does that mean exactly?
As I read some of the masters of recent spirituality like Thomas Merton, Richard Rohr, Joan Chittister, or Dorothy Day, spirituality seems to be an entire approach to life that involves being able to see (as in perceive) the full depth of existence. If I expand my reading to include ecumenical voices like Thich Nhat Hanh or the Dalai Lama, it becomes not only a matter of perception, but also of way being present in the world. To flesh out these visions with some of the ancient voices like Bernard of Clairvaux, Julian of Norwich, or St. John of the Cross, the issue becomes centered on somehow being engaged in constant prayer as one perceives and participates in the world.
All of that reads well, but I am still left with an everyday struggle of finding my activity, relationships, and quiet as something I could definitively name as spiritual. Did I come away from any of it sensing deeply God?
I spoke with our son, Perry, and his girlfriend, Kaylee, as they are well into the Camino de Santiago, the famous pilgrimage in northern Spain that covers hundreds of miles of walking as one wends one's way to the Cathedral of St. James. This trek is marked by so many as one of the most deeply spiritual experiences they have had, so I asked them how it felt to be a couple hundred miles into their own journey. They both quickly affirmed that it indeed has been the most spiritual moment either of them have ever had. So, being me, I pushed them further to explain what that meant. They spoke of being fully connected to the earth and their own being as they walked six hours each day, intensely aware of their own bodies and the world around them, plus the deep relationship between themselves as human beings and the earth from which they sprang.
Okay...but what does that mean for ordinary life on ordinary days doing ordinary things?
I get the search for meaning. I do. We need some reason for what we do if it is going to be something that fully expresses who we feel we were born to be.
I certainly get the hunger for the presence of God, and, yes, any experience that we feel that presence becomes sacred and holy in and of itself.
But does that really get at the full definition of what spirituality is?
Spirituality, by the very etymology of the word, indicates something immaterial. Spirituality deals with that which cannot be readily felt through any of the senses, yet somehow employs all of them in a way that transcends their basic function. Spirituality deals also with something beyond reason, something that cannot be readily understood or defined, creating one of the great existential oxymorons--spirituality is that which gives thought its depth, yet is something no one can think into being.
Spirituality, also by its etymology, has to do with breath. In both Hebrew and Greek, the biblical languages, the word for spirit is also the word for our breath. In the Old Testament, the Spirit of God is the quickening breath of God that brings creation to life. It is also the quickening breath that fires imagination and comprehension. It is the source of wisdom. In the New Testament, that breath becomes the sure sign and seal of God's presence, bringing Jesus into being through Mary, and then resting on Jesus as he grew into his identity as God's Savior at his baptism. In turn, Jesus breathes on the disciples, according to John, as he sends them into the world as his emissaries after Easter. The Spirit descends as a flame on each of the gathered disciples in the Upper Room on Pentecost. According to Paul, it is this same breath of God that enables any of us to even profess belief in Jesus as the Christ. In other words, it is the source of life for the most profound expressions of faith.
So where do we find that here and now?
As powerful and profound as pilgrimages, retreats, and meditation are, my own thinking is that spirituality should not be so confined to only those profound and depthful moments. One of the most wondrous promises of Christ is to be with us. That presence is meant to be a daily experience. Christ's life seems to overwhelmingly indicate that it was not we who withdrew from the world to find Jesus, but rather Jesus who withdrew from the world to find the ability to draw near to others--note when Jesus separates himself to pray--it was usually in response to being in direct engagement with the crowds or just after; the rest of us simply find Jesus at work among us.
So then, even if spirituality is transcendent, it is also part and parcel of life as it is, where it is, and how it is. It is realizing the sacredness of any encounter. It is the inherent holiness in each breath taken. It is God here, now.
As I read some of the masters of recent spirituality like Thomas Merton, Richard Rohr, Joan Chittister, or Dorothy Day, spirituality seems to be an entire approach to life that involves being able to see (as in perceive) the full depth of existence. If I expand my reading to include ecumenical voices like Thich Nhat Hanh or the Dalai Lama, it becomes not only a matter of perception, but also of way being present in the world. To flesh out these visions with some of the ancient voices like Bernard of Clairvaux, Julian of Norwich, or St. John of the Cross, the issue becomes centered on somehow being engaged in constant prayer as one perceives and participates in the world.
All of that reads well, but I am still left with an everyday struggle of finding my activity, relationships, and quiet as something I could definitively name as spiritual. Did I come away from any of it sensing deeply God?
I spoke with our son, Perry, and his girlfriend, Kaylee, as they are well into the Camino de Santiago, the famous pilgrimage in northern Spain that covers hundreds of miles of walking as one wends one's way to the Cathedral of St. James. This trek is marked by so many as one of the most deeply spiritual experiences they have had, so I asked them how it felt to be a couple hundred miles into their own journey. They both quickly affirmed that it indeed has been the most spiritual moment either of them have ever had. So, being me, I pushed them further to explain what that meant. They spoke of being fully connected to the earth and their own being as they walked six hours each day, intensely aware of their own bodies and the world around them, plus the deep relationship between themselves as human beings and the earth from which they sprang.
Okay...but what does that mean for ordinary life on ordinary days doing ordinary things?
I get the search for meaning. I do. We need some reason for what we do if it is going to be something that fully expresses who we feel we were born to be.
I certainly get the hunger for the presence of God, and, yes, any experience that we feel that presence becomes sacred and holy in and of itself.
But does that really get at the full definition of what spirituality is?
Spirituality, by the very etymology of the word, indicates something immaterial. Spirituality deals with that which cannot be readily felt through any of the senses, yet somehow employs all of them in a way that transcends their basic function. Spirituality deals also with something beyond reason, something that cannot be readily understood or defined, creating one of the great existential oxymorons--spirituality is that which gives thought its depth, yet is something no one can think into being.
Spirituality, also by its etymology, has to do with breath. In both Hebrew and Greek, the biblical languages, the word for spirit is also the word for our breath. In the Old Testament, the Spirit of God is the quickening breath of God that brings creation to life. It is also the quickening breath that fires imagination and comprehension. It is the source of wisdom. In the New Testament, that breath becomes the sure sign and seal of God's presence, bringing Jesus into being through Mary, and then resting on Jesus as he grew into his identity as God's Savior at his baptism. In turn, Jesus breathes on the disciples, according to John, as he sends them into the world as his emissaries after Easter. The Spirit descends as a flame on each of the gathered disciples in the Upper Room on Pentecost. According to Paul, it is this same breath of God that enables any of us to even profess belief in Jesus as the Christ. In other words, it is the source of life for the most profound expressions of faith.
So where do we find that here and now?
As powerful and profound as pilgrimages, retreats, and meditation are, my own thinking is that spirituality should not be so confined to only those profound and depthful moments. One of the most wondrous promises of Christ is to be with us. That presence is meant to be a daily experience. Christ's life seems to overwhelmingly indicate that it was not we who withdrew from the world to find Jesus, but rather Jesus who withdrew from the world to find the ability to draw near to others--note when Jesus separates himself to pray--it was usually in response to being in direct engagement with the crowds or just after; the rest of us simply find Jesus at work among us.
So then, even if spirituality is transcendent, it is also part and parcel of life as it is, where it is, and how it is. It is realizing the sacredness of any encounter. It is the inherent holiness in each breath taken. It is God here, now.
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