When they came to the “New World” the Puritans had a mission. They were educated, adventurous, pious, intellectually curious, ambitious, and sought freedom to practice their religion. Nonetheless, they visited upon early America the Salem Witch Trials in which over 160 men, women, clergy, and even young children were accused of being witches – a crime punishable by death. This was in two settlements with a population of about 600 people. Many lost their standing in the community, their property, their freedom, and some, ultimately, their lives. Nineteen people were hanged, and another died by torture. In their religiously shaped world view they were under constant threat of assault from the devil who took the form of the French, Catholics, Quakers, native peoples, disgruntled or unpleasant neighbors, dark-skinned people, and the poor. Their religion said these “others” made deals with the devil to thwart their Puritan mission. The Salem Witch Trials ended the Puritan experiment, which was America’s first and – so far – last theocracy. In my view it failed because it abandoned spirituality in its quest for religious purity.
In my last post, I noted “spirituality” exists only in relationships. How I relate to and interact with others is how my spirituality lives or dies. I didn’t address either God or religion because they can be apart from spirituality. Although many people practice their spirituality via their religion, today, a commonly heard phrase is “I’m spiritual but not religious.” I embrace this, but find it overly vague, needing defining by illustration. Let’s look to the role of religion in another historical case – American slavery.
The permanent, generational subjugation of an entire race was supported by large parts of early American religions and their sub-sects, bringing their theology to support it. People of African descent were deemed only quasi-human and so, theologically it was morally permissible for European [white] people to own and treat them as livestock. It was practiced in the nation’s North and South; Sojourner Truth was born into slavery in upstate New York. This was not only considered normal, but “American.” Arriving white immigrants conformed to belong in their new country. Puritans, Protestants, Catholics, Jews, Quakers; they all supported the institution and many kept slaves.
But religion also fueled the pre-Civil War Abolition Movement. Among many others, Christian preachers such as Sojourner Truth, John G. Fee, Lucretia Mott, and Jermain Wesley Loguen, and Jewish teachers such as Rabbi David Einhorn and Ernestine Rose pricked the conscience of the nation. They challenged slavery as a systemic evil to be erased. For speaking out, many were threatened and ostracized from their own religious communities. While abolition was initially viewed as irreligious and unAmerican, their spiritually courageous, moral voices prevailed.
Thus, history illustrates religion can be a blessing or curse in spiritual development. Some religions are frankly toxic; building walls, defining “others” as dangerous, or useful only as tools to serve me and mine, promoting fear, and excusing or absolving from blame the ongoing use or abuse of these others. Such religion obstructs spiritual development. What joins the Puritans to the later religious slaveholders was their classifying of whole groups of people – apart from any personal behavior – as beneath and possibly dangerous to them. Today, whole sections of Christianity preach–as a Christian friend stated it a few years ago–“the politics of hatred and division disguised as the gospel.”
Conversely, a spiritual religion offers an inclusive, embracing view of humanity, promoting the worthiness of the other, including racial, ethnic, political, sexual, or social status groups outside of its own. It embraces the value of other species of life and the whole planet’s ecosystems.
The religious concept that most resonates with my personal spirituality is “tikkun olam,” a Hebrew term that roughly translates as “heal the world.” In Talmudic Judaism, the world is seen as broken and needing our labors to mend it. This concept motivates me to improve my personal relationships and social actions to heal the broken world. It requires my practice in my workplace, my home, my friendships, and my family. It focuses me on my deepest personal values, including such intangibles as honesty, kindness, fairness, discipline, and compassion to name only a few.
Do I practice any of this perfectly? Oh, hell no! I’m a volatile, passionate person and I sometimes offend others in my zeal to be “right.” But to quote Robert Browning “Ah, a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for.” My spirituality draws, and sometimes goads, me toward my better self. Should I fall short – and I will – I’m still beyond where I am now. At times my spirituality feels rewarding, like when I volunteer at the local food bank, and other times it sticks me like a needle driving me to “eat crow” after I’ve shot off my mouth without thought and wounded others.
Evil does exist and I’m perfectly willing to call out evil behavior and individuals who have given themselves to it. Sexual predators, greedy corporatism, corrupt politicians – these are true evils to me because they damage others, and build systems for damaging others, for their own personal benefit. They are the opposite of tikkun olam, wounding and killing rather than healing. Will those doing such things end up in hell? I can see they’re acting like hell, but what happens afterward is not my business. As I told people in my clergy days, “I’m in sales, not management.” I attempt to promote a healing presence in the world; what happens to people afterward is not my decision or business.
For many people religion is a source of comfort, but it may not be a source of spirituality. Only when it promotes compassion and world-healing behavior would I consider it spiritual. At its best, a spiritual religion should comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. Should it promote subjugation, control, denigration, greed, fear of, or hatred toward others, it has lost its way. Spirituality can transform religion into a living, fruitful form. The loss of spirituality can make whole religions a withered branch, keeping the form of spirituality but having lost the substance. I don’t worry about being religious. I do aspire to be spiritually better.
Thanks for your time. Tikkun olam. AB