A Tale of Two Tales

How spiritual vitality meets the hunger for community...and vice versa.

These days, we tell two stories about religion in the United States. One is about decline; the other is about hunger.

The story of decline is everywhere and hit my inbox this week when a colleague sent an article from Plough magazine. The author, an Episcopal priest, laments the decline of his denomination and decreased attendance. It's a familiar article, and I didn't finish it. Honestly, I’m a bit fatigued by these stories with their angle of longing for the past and their whine of the present.

Later that evening, a reader of "Notebooks" sent me a link to the NPR story highlighting a Pew Research project released yesterday. The study reveals the other story, a story of hunger. US Americans describe themselves as spiritual.

In my observation, people in this country are lonely, without friends, and lack meaningful connections. They are looking for community. They also yearn for depth, a sense of being alive and connected with something they can't define. Something mysterious and sacred.

A local church, mosque, synagogue, or temple would be the logical place to find community and spirituality. But that's not happening for the most part. Why is that the case? Hmmm, a legitimate question. Let’s get at the answer by noticing where it is happening.

·      An Episcopal church in Georgia is deeply engaged in teaching people spiritual practices centered around mindfulness. But this is not simply via individual meditation techniques, though that's a part of it. Instead, they've made mindfulness a communal experience, combining meditation with probing questions that engage dialogue. People are connecting with God and one another.

·      A synagogue in California is leaning all in on grief work. They have grief groups for people who have lost loved ones. They have also put lament at the center of their congregation. Lament for what they see in their community and around the world.

·      A couple who attends a congregation out west lost a family member to gun violence; they've turned their experience of loss into a ministry to families who experience gun violence. No one should go through this alone could be the motto. Families are surrounded with concrete expressions of support as well as prayer.

·      Another New York church has a spiritual practice center and offers online and in-person meditation, labyrinth walks, and prayer services. They have taken an interfaith approach to this work and connected with a nearby Buddhist center.

·      A historically Black church in the Washington DC area draws from a wide circle as people commute to Sunday worship. Still, they work hard to get as many attendees as possible into community circles of grace. They want to build an intentional community.

·      One of our congregations builds community through service. They started a non-profit to help people stay in their homes by providing home repairs. Another Lutheran church partnered with a Jewish synagogue to create a meal center. “People discover their spirituality through service in the community.”

I could go on. There are examples in your area as well. While I wish every synagogue, mosque, and church could be robust in spiritual growth and community, that's not the case. But what is also true is there are places where it is happening. It can be done. These places are not perfect, and they don't hide their imperfection.

My point is the narrative of two tales of decline and hunger can merge. Yes, it is more uncommon than I wish were the case. But that doesn’t mean it’s not available.

A friend of mine found his community in a local gym, and when someone lost their housing, the community responded with an outpouring of generosity unheard of in many places. My friend told me, "Is it an explicitly spiritual community? No, not really." I then asked if he thought his religious faith extolled generosity, stewardship of the body, and compassion for his neighbor. "Well, of course, it does, "Then, why don't you simply remind your fellow gym rats that they are living out an ancient/future faith? "I think I could do that." He responded after a reflective pause.

I recognize that these "notebook" writings can sometimes get a little heady, even a bit esoteric. But, periodically, I like to remind all of us, myself included, that this depth of inner work and spirituality comes to life when it's incarnated. When our souls experience compassion for our friends and we act, there is something profound in those acts of grace. We make it real when we live it out in daily life.

And God knows the world needs more acts of grace.

Until next time,