The Spirituality of Our Religon

“The Spirituality of Our Religion”

Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Psalm 104:24-30; Romans 8:14-17

So how many of you are familiar with the phrase “spiritual but not religious”?

How many of you would actually describe yourselves as “spiritual but not religious”?

It is a popular phrase of our time. Useful for many of us who find the institutional church to be outdated or oppressive or just plain irrelevant. And it is a fairly widespread sentiment. A Gallup poll in 2003 indicated that a full 33% of Americans would define ourselves as “spiritual but not religious.” And the numbers are only increasing.

Some scholars of religious history are going so far as to describe this “SBNR movement” as the next wave of Reformation in American Christianity. And I think it is true, on the whole. And I think it is a trend we should embrace, rather than reject. At least as far as it makes sense for us.

Because we at Madison Square are highly sympathetic to the “spiritual but not religious” sentiment, are we not? This is a church that prides itself on being “home for the homeless” in every way a person can be homeless. The pews at Madison Square—and even the pulpits, I might add—are filled with people who have found in this place a way to leave behind the trauma of “church hurt” we associate with negative religion. And hold on instead to a community of spiritual seekers who take us as we are and not who some “institutional church” thinks we are supposed to be.

You might even say Madison Square is a church of the “spiritual but not religious.” Especially on Pentecost, when we celebrate without holding back, the swooping, swooshing, swirling life of the Spirit. Ushering in a whole new way for a whole new day. With a little bit of chaos. And a whole lot of fun!

But of course we are an actual congregation. In an actual denomination. Within an actual tradition. We are still a religion. Right? And so the question is can we be spiritual and religious? Or spiritually religious? Or religiously spiritual? Or spiritual without being sappy. Or religious without being rigid? Or something better than the image we are trying to resist!

It may help to have a common definition of terms. So let’s start with the word “spiritual.” We have been discussing this in our adult education class in our book study on the Christian Spiritual Life. And I just shared a brief definition of spirituality with our children. Which is that the very basic bottom line basis of spirituality—in any tradition, but especially in the Christian tradition—is simply about our breath. The ruach in Hebrew. The pneuma in Greek. The spiritus in Latin. And if you’re into yoga the prana of our pranayama in Sanskrit.

In biblical terms this means that the ruach of God—or the Spirit of God—that forms humanity by breathing through the irrigated dust of the earth literally still flows through our bodies as we breathe in and breathe out. And that this ruach or spirit of God literally binds us with all of creation, as we in the animal kingdom breathe in oxygen from the exhale of the plant kingdom. And our inhale becomes the carbon dioxide we exhale, so that plants have something to inhale in return.

To put it bluntly, “If you are breathing, you are spiritual!” And since all of creation is breathing, all of creation is spiritual, including the countless creatures teeming through the vast expanse of the Sea celebrated by the psalmist in our Old Testament lesson for today.

Which means that spirituality isn’t something we do as individuals that makes us somehow unique or somehow more enlightened or somehow “not religious.” Spirituality is instead simply about paying attention to what is already happening in this breathing, pulsing, symbiotic union of creation that flows together in the fullness of “spirit,” whether we take the time to notice or not.

And it may sound strange in our 21^st century American religious culture, but it is in fact our spirituality that is more demanding of us than our religion! In this country, in this culture, by and large we have the freedom to choose our shared religion. But—if our definitions are true—we actually do not have the freedom to choose our shared spirituality. It simply is. Simply because we have a shared breath.

Which brings us to the definition of “religion.”  It comes from the Latin word religio. Which means “to bind.” And that may sound scary if we fear being bound to a religion of condemnation.

But our definition of spirituality tells us we are already bound to the whole of creation. By the union of our breath. Whether we want to be or not! It is the religion to which we are bound—at least for we who have a choice about it—that can actually be more liberating than our spirituality! It is more like deciding to make a covenant among people and within a tradition. It is more like saying we want to live together in common understanding about the practices of spirituality that inform how we live as a creation. A creation that is already bound together in the Spirit.

The “binding” of religion is actually not all that different than the commitment we make in a marriage.

Which happened here, just yesterday, as two beautiful young souls stood together in front of this font.

And joined their right hands. And offered their promises to bind themselves to one another in holy matrimony. For as long as they both shall live. And they symbolized their bond with wedding bands. And they wanted to be bound to one another! Because they had met their match. And it was very, very good . . .

Of course anyone who is married will tell you it gets harder, right? There are times you look at your partner and wonder what in the world you were thinking. You change together. You grow together. You struggle together. But if you keep paying attention to one another you can truly “go deep” together. And you can learn far more about yourself in the mirror of your marriage than you ever would have if you hadn’t “taken the plunge.”

This is the kind of bond we can share in our religion! Growing together. Changing together. Struggling together. Going deep together. And learning far more about ourselves in the mirror of our religious community than we ever would have if we were off on our own on our mountain meditating.

It is not always easy to be either spiritual or religious. We really do struggle with the people and the institutions and the traditions to which we are bound. Just like any married couple struggles. And let me just say as a side note that of course anyone with a conscience would want someone who was bound to an abusive religion—or an abusive marriage—to get out. But the truth may very well be that we learn more from wrestling with what binds us together than we do from breaking the bond altogether. And the truth is that the Spirit of God is still breathing through we who are creatures of the dust. And sprinkling us with the river of the water of life in our baptism. And continually re-creating a whole new body we call the church.

And being bound together in this religion of the Body of Christ can be wonderful!

We saw it just last week, when two beautiful mothers brought their child to this community and asked for the blessing of God upon her life. They said we want her to know in the depth of her bones that she is a child of God, as Paul tells the Romans in our New Testament lesson today. They chose to make this covenant on her behalf, here, in this religion, because they want their child to be bound to a people and a tradition that will fill her spirit with hope when a spirit of fear grips her tight. They want her to be bound to a people and a tradition that will welcome her home to be glorified with Christ when the suffering of the world threatens her joy. All things Paul wanted to share with the Romans to whom he was bound in the spirit of their religious covenant.

These mothers want their daughter to be bound to this community of faith! In a good way! By choice! Because they know that true companionship in this life can make all the difference. Which is what the best of religion is really all about.

Yes it may sometimes seem easier to be spiritual but not religious. Believe me, I know the struggle it is to bind yourself to an institution that can so often seem so far away from the kingdom of God we are called to proclaim. There are times that I too want to chuck it all and go meditate forever on the top of a mountain somewhere.

But like the mothers who brought their baby for baptism—and like all of you who are still coming here today—I just can’t stop finding the goodness of God in this gift of our religious community. And the Christian community Presbyterian Version is still the place I want to practice the spirituality that binds us to the fullness of creation. And on this fourth anniversary of my ordination to the ministry I can honestly say I am thrilled to be bound to both this spirituality and this religion. As wild and crazy and chaotic as it is has been and will continue to be!

And so I hope you will join me in the next few moments to say alleluia to God for the gift of the Spirit that makes us both spiritual and religious. And I hope you will take this time to renew your bond with the love of God that will not . . . ever . . . ever . . . ever . . . let you go. And to say alleluia again for the opportunity to bind ourselves together in this beloved community. And to ride the wave of that wily Spirit together. And to see how surprised we all can be by where the wind blows.

I pray it may be so. Amen.

The Healing Hope of our Mothering God

“Welcome Home, Iliana,” we have just said in our baptismal vows earlier this morning.

“Welcome Home, people of God,” we say every Sunday here at Madison Square.

And it catches at your heart doesn’t it? Perhaps especially on this Mother’s Day, as we long for the deepest home expressed by the Psalmist today. When our soul is soothed and quieted and we are held in the steadfast arms of the mothering God who will not ever let us go.

But there was another “Welcome Home” that caught at my heart this week. This time on a sign at a restaurant  near the crime scene in Cleveland, Ohio, where three young women finally escaped their captor.

“Welcome Home: Amanda, Gina, and Michelle,” says the sign. And our hearts fill with compassionate hope for their healing. And for the healing of anyone who has suffered such unspeakable evil. Including many of us who have “come home” to Madison Square today.

Our names may not be headline news, but it is the inescapable truth of our existence that every one of us—in some way—bears the mark of the madness that seems to run free in our midst. Every one of us—in some way—“comes home” to this sanctuary today wounded by the ways of the world. In search of the fierce and steadfast love of our “Mama Bear” God, who is desperate to protect and defend every one of her children. Whether we know their names or not.

I am hesitant to speak of such suffering in the midst of our joyful celebration this morning. But it is in fact because of the joyful celebration of the baptismal covenant—and the mothers who bring us to birth within that covenant—that we must remain vigilant in naming and confronting and healing the knowledge of evil that still yet runs rampant in this garden of life we have been given to tend as co-creators with God.

The truth is we who are human know evil far too well . . .

And we must respond!

In the Presbyterian tradition a powerful way to respond to this evil actually does come through our baptismal vows. In our tradition we literally ask the baptismal candidate—or her parents on her behalf—to make a commitment to “renounce evil.”

We couch it in positive language here at Madison Square. We base the question on our mission statement. We invite parents to “teach [their] child to ‘serve actively and creatively as an agent of love, reconciliation, peace, and justice in the community and in the world,’ which is a manner of living that renounces all evil.”

And, when asked if they agree to do this, the parents of Iliana say, emphatically, “Yes!”

And so do we!

But a more traditional service of baptism in the Presbyterian tradition uses language that is much more stark. And language that we might often avoid in our legitimate efforts to bear witness to the unconditional love of God.

“Do you renounce the evil powers of this world,” one way of asking the question goes, “which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?”

Including—and perhaps especially—our children.

And as jarring as that language might sound to us, the truth is that any parent would also—emphatically—for the love of their child, say, “YES! I DO! I RENOUNCE the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God!! I want my child to be well!

The theologian Daniel Migliore would describe our baptismal renunciation of evil as a steadfast commitment to “courageous participation in God’s struggle against suffering” (Faith Seeking Understanding, p114) with our children and for our children and by our children. Until all are made well in the fullness of time. Soothed and quieted and comforted in the arms of their mothering God, as the Psalmist sings in our Old Testament lesson today.

And the author of the book of Revelation, that is our New Testament lesson this morning, would say our renunciation of evil leads directly to God’s ultimate vision of healing hope for the whole of creation.

Like Madison Square’s baptismal vow, the renunciation of evil in Revelation is wrapped up in a positive vision of creative love.  With a river of the water of life flowing from the throne of God. And a spirit of grace that says Come! Frolic in the river! Amid the flourishing of fruit! And the broad branches of life in all its fullness! Growing in a city where pain and suffering and crying are no more!

It is the way our lives were supposed to have been all along. And it is the way our lives can yet be, when we truly renounce evil and cultivate the goodness of the creation God has consistently rushed to redeem.

Yes, admits the author of the book of Revelation, we know far too well what it is to suffer. And we live with ample evidence of the knowledge of evil in the violence that surrounds us. And we even call upon the violence of God to respond to that evil.

The first twenty chapters of the book bear witness to that.

But the final vision of Revelation, and God’s ultimate hope for humanity—in this life and not just the next—is that we might finally learn to live as a whole new creation. Where we refuse to be defined by the evil that we know. What we have done or what has been done to us. But where we define ourselves instead by the “font of identity,” in which we have been baptized. Where our “robes” have been washed clean of the stains of violence and suffering we have either inflicted or endured. And we have the right to reclaim the tree of life that has been ours to partake from the beginning of time until the end.

This is, after all, what resurrection faith is really all about.

Elizabeth Smart and Jaycee Dugard and others who have lived the deep trauma of evil bear witness to this healing hope of our mothering God. When asked how they not only have survived but have honestly come to thrive, they will say they have relied on faith and family and the steadfast hope that healing can come in the fullness of time.

Which sounds an awful lot like the baptismal covenant we continue to celebrate today.

We have said to Iliana, and to Geo and to Kimberly who mother her, that we will join them in instilling faith and church family and steadfast hope in their lives. So that they, too, might know the healing grace of God whenever and wherever they might need it.

And as important as those vows were for Iliana and Geo and Kimberly, the good news really is for every one of us who knows the evil of violence and suffering far too well.

The healing hope of our mothering God is right here for us! Right now for us! Right now with us! Splashing once again in the river of the water of life. Where Iliana and Geo and Kimberly have led us. And where everyone who is thirsty can come. And where anyone who wishes can take the water of life as a free gift of healing grace.

[go to table]

And so the Spirit and the bride say, “Come!”

And let everyone who hears say, “Come!”

And let everyone who is thirsty come!

Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a GIFT!

I pray it may be so. Amen.