When someone says, “I’m spiritual, not religious,” they usually mean that they have a spiritual life without ties to a particular religious institution. They may be fed up with religious hypocrisy or feel that they don’t fit in with any particular group. They may dislike the strictures of worshiping in a particular place at a particular time with a particular group of people. Whatever the reason, they’ve rejected organized religion but not the notion of spiritual experiences.
The first time I heard someone say the opposite — “I’m religious, not spiritual” — that person went on to clarify what she meant. Religion caused her to love actively (my words, not hers). It was why she might show up at your door with a casserole if you were a new mom. She didn’t think she’d feel this same call to action if she identified as spiritual rather than religious.
Google “religious but not spiritual,” and you’ll find riffs on that theme. The people who write about being “religious but not spiritual” believe that religion calls us into community and into action. For them, the danger of spirituality is a lack of connection to others. Religion leads them to express love through concrete actions.
“Spiritual but not religious” people have a point when they complain about hypocrisy or empty religious rituals. But people in the “religious but not spiritual” camp are right to point out that our spiritual impulses must manifest themselves in action. Spirituality and religion are nothing but feel-good emotions if they are not bathed in the particularities of service to others.
A recent viral post shines a light on something that far too many mothers have experienced: the feeling of isolation that can occur when no one steps in to help (and, I might add, when fathers do not step up to their fair share of parenting tasks, which is not “helping,” it’s being a dad). The person who created the post shared about a family party they witnessed, during which a mother was left on her own to entertain her baby. “Either no one noticed the subtle work she was doing,” the poster wrote, “or no one wanted to give up their enjoyment to let her have a taste of it too.”
I’m sure this woman’s family would say they loved her, but at that moment she needed someone to show it. She needed someone to share the work of childcare so that she could be a part of the celebration. (Some comments on this post point out that the woman could have asked for help. While they are right, I understand why she may have been hesitant to do so. When my child was small, I was afraid of “using up” an invisible, finite pool of help available to me. I didn’t ask for help because I was storing up my requests in case I experienced a real crisis.)
I’m not trying to condemn anyone who calls themselves spiritual or religious… or neither of those things. But if we aren’t living out whatever we believe through concrete actions, how meaningful is our love? Let’s commit to an active love that serves others.