It’s been more than seven years since sharing a sidewalk table at my favorite taqueria with a friend who co-pastored a large church near me. We’d grab lunch a few times a year to catch up and talk shop. I had resigned from my pastor job several years before, but we’d discuss his work, mine, our families and look for opportunities to encourage each other. He’s one of those people that only knows how to exude kindness and grace so I treasured our times together.
Invariably, I’d share some reflection or research supporting my observations about church or religion in the west needing some rebooting. He was a company man (in the best of ways) so he’d nod, entertain my doubts and describe his way of navigating things. I always respected how he thought and spoke.
But something seemed off today.
As I caught him staring blankly at the burrito in his plate, I finally asked, “What’s up?”
His response was something I never expected to hear from him.
Still looking into his plate he starts in, “last Sunday, in our morning [church] service, I just sat in the front row as we went through all the motions. I looked around the building; at the crowd of people; all the activity—the production—of everything going on and thought to myself, ‘really? really?’ (yes, he said it twice) we’re just going to do this all over again today? Rinse and repeat; is that the best we have?’”
He looked up at me. “I just don’t know anymore, Dan. Everyone’s very happy with all the stuff we’re doing, but what are we actually accomplishing?”
I looked into his deeply troubled eyes, seeing a sadness I knew too well. I responded with all I had: “I know. I know.”
How would you describe your affinity for religion? How about spirituality? Are they the same?
I encounter an increasing number of people who are drawn toward spirituality but have little or declining interest in organized religion. Many were once very active in their faith tradition but have grown weary enough to leave it behind with little intention of returning. When we discover that even some pastors are feeling the same confliction it’s no wonder something seems amiss.
I think of these people as spiritual nomads, like myself—wandering, searching, hoping; but mostly only encountering other hopeful wanders and searchers. They still want something—just not the old thing. They often ask if it’s possible to cultivate alternative, sure-footed spiritual practices after leaving one established tradition behind but not adopting or “converting to” another. They wonder, can a group of pioneers replace religious dogma with meaningful spiritual pursuit without it feeling loosey-goosey?
And I answer, “yes, I believe we can.”
People sometimes raise their eyebrows at this because faith communities seem to have something going for them that most other social groups do not. What is it about them that makes them different? This is a compelling question precisely because it invites us to consider all communities of faith, not just one. What are the common denominators? Can they be understood and adapted in a new way?
My optimism about a new direction emerges from a belief that much of what we are longing for can be found in such shared patterns. When I talk to people from various faith backgrounds, they are usually most enthusiastic about the community of people they are/were connected to. And the experiences they describe reveal extensive similarities.
My basic view of a new way forward is that we can cultivate meaningful, healthy, enduring relationships that simultaneously ground us and powerfully orient our lives when we adopt most—just not all—of what communities of faith embody.
I’ve been agonizing over this stuff for years, even experimenting with new approaches during my pastoring years. The prototypes I tinkered with tended to leverage the more potent aspects of faith communities and de-emphasized some of the things I felt got in the way. I started to see daylight.
The framework I’ve been stumbling upon is relatively simple. It all seems to rely on two pillars: community and meaning, though defining these requires some specificity. In subsequent posts I’ll explore important features in more detail, but the central idea for now is that both are necessary for the playbook to meaningfully work. Pursuing community without meaning or meaning without community comes up short.
Community. If you’ve been lucky enough to be part of a a community that is tethered to a deeper social or spiritual focus—some deeper meaning—you know exactly what I’m referring to. If you haven’t, you’ve probably sensed yourself longing for one. But researchers have also identified other important attributes that tend to be present in vibrant, life-giving communities that are worth paying attention to. I’ll share some of these in future posts.
Meaning. By definition, religious or faith traditions have some larger purpose or so-called “meaning” embedded (although this may not be as clearly articulated as we assume). But what about those of us who want less religion or, as I’ve previously shared, something less anchored to rigid “beliefs” which tend to falter over the long run?
Whenever I discuss spirituality with others, I find “curiosity” and “discovery” are concepts that invariably come up. Folks seem to want to explore questions more and see where those take them. This inspires me. We dwell in an era where people are more dubious of claims to having it all figured out, so I am compelled by this more open-handed, discovery orientation.
In short, I believe much of what we are searching for can be found in the patterns of faith communities—generally speaking. While they aren’t the only examples, faith traditions tend to exhibit much of what we humanly yearn for. I’ve heard many people talk about “deconstructing” their religious background and I think a considered approach to that process can yield valuable insight for “reconstructing” something healthy and lasting.
I’d like to fan your desire to be part of some sort of meaningful community if you’re not already. There’s a longing in all of us that testifies to our history and emergence as humans. Research from various fields reveals how deeper human connections add social, emotional and even physical health to our personal bottom line. If you’ve been doubtful it’s possible without religious adherence, I want to stir hope.
I invite you to think about your existing friendships and social groups. What is about them that you find valuable and life-giving? What could elevate their meaning, impact and purpose? If you’re still connected to a religious organization, can you imagine something that captures the best parts but are less attached to brand?
I also invite you to visualize an awakened perspective that is deeply curious, less bounded and eager to explore. Maybe think about who you could venture out and explore with. We don’t need inordinate courage to leave the comfort of the proverbial Shire—like Sam and Frodo understood, the only requisites are trustworthy companions and a simple willingness to go.
Dan Parodi is a badge-carrying executive coach. This series on spirituality is consistent with his other topics that urge reflection on the more meaningful parts of life. It’s easy to get distracted from the life-path we long for, so hopefully these trigger deeper, personalized consideration…and maybe action?