Religion and Spirituality

I was listening to NPR while driving the other day, and heard an interview in which spirituality was being compared to religion. Spirituality was defined as the sum of a personal search for purpose, joy, meaning. Religion was defined as a truth system in which meaning was already defined.

The guest was explaining how spirituality felt so much more vibrant than religion to him. Spirituality, he said, is the realm of questions, while religion is the realm of pat answers. 'What's the joy, the mystery, the wonder,' the interviewee asked, 'in knowing everything? I'd much rather the adventure of unknowing, of mystery, of questions. Give me spirituality over religion any day.'

I found this an endearing point, for I too long for mystery. I desire the adventure of the unknown, the joy of exploration and wonder of discovery.

But I question a fundamental premise of the interviewee's statement. His opinion hinges on one unfounded point: that questions are dynamic, while answers are static. He assumes that an answer is by definition a conclusion, that an arrival is by definition the end of the journey. But any adventurer, scientist, child will tell you- discovery is never the end. It is the beginning of a greater world than previously known. This is like telling my younger cousin that the greatest of joys is looking out of the window- going outside would ruin it all. In truth, questions inspire us for they are intended to lead us to discovery. And discovery is never the end- it is a beginning.

Let us consider again my cousin's window. From it we might wonder at the outside world, but from it we will never adventure into it. Is climbing out of the window into the fields, then, into the forest, the river- is this the death of wonder? Of mystery? Of Joy? No- these things sprout with questions, but bloom with discovery.

To say it another way: according to the interviewee, spirituality is wondering what can be seen from atop that distant mountain, while religion tells you: some rocks, some trees, and a stream that curves like this. Rats, religion- you just took all the fun out of it.

But what if spirituality wonders at the mountain, while religion climbs this mountain, only to marvel at the range of mountains now visible from its peak? What if spirituality wonders at but one feature of geography, while religion (with a single answer) now wonders at the vastness of the world seen from its peak, the vastness of a world with lines that fade into eternity?

You see, to remain in personal spirituality is actually to limit oneself. It is to limit one's wonder. Truly, it is the answer-refusing questions of personal spirituality that remain static, not the wonder-producing answers of religion.

Imagine that you meet someone. You are immediately intrigued by them. You wonder about their life, their loves, their interests. And so you resolve never to talk to them again, because to do so would jeopardize the joy of your personal mystery.

How silly that would be! How sadly narcissistic. No, the joy of falling in love is not found in drifting aimlessly in one's personal queries. It is the exploration of something new, something mysterious, something eternal in the other. And the wonder of falling in love is that you never reach bottom. Feelings may change, desires may change, but even those who have been married for decades will tell you, the mystery remains. Being with a person, knowing things about that person, does not dampen your appreciation of their mystery- it deepens it.

It is too low a view of spirituality to assume that its questions are one-dimensional and cannot be answered or built upon. Likewise, it is too low a view of religion to see its answers as static conclusions. Religion, defined as a truth system, is not an end but the beginning. It is the open window, the first mountain peak lifting our eyes unto a world so rich with glory that we could never have imagined it. It is the falling in love with an Eternal Other, a Living Answer, a Known Mystery, forever to be explored and enjoyed and wondered about.