Today I visited the new location of the Lund Jewish Center (JCL) twice.
The first time, I went to help unpack books and put the rooms in order. The JCL has recently relocated to a new space, and it must be put in reasonable order prior to the house-warming and mezuzah-hanging gathering on Sunday. I have met several JCL members, but had never before met G., the woman with whom I was volunteering. We spent a productive couple of hours together, putting the JCL library back onto shelves and learning a bit about each other's stories. She also gave me several useful bits advice regarding life in Lund.
A few hours later, I returned to the JCL to attend a meeting of their Board. Among other topics, we discussed the up-coming Days of Awe; what sort of services they'd like to have, and how I can serve them as rabbi. People also provided all types of help and advice for how to acclimate to our new home. Considering that I've only been here two weeks, I felt very comfortable with this small group of Jews who offer leadership to the relatively tiny Jewish community of Lund. And I know that part of my comfort had something to do with the combination of unpacking books one on one with G., and then talking with the group in a meeting, surrounded by the library.
When I got home, and logged onto Facebook (the only place where I truly understand that pointless phrase, "international community,") I discovered that over 50 of my friends and colleagues had either recommended and/or posted the below article by Lillian Daniel. I find it so spot-on that I had one of those moments of envy, wishing I'd written something like it. In the same amount of time it took to unpack the books, have coffee with a new friend, and return to the JCL for the Board meeting, I could have indeed gone down to the water and watched the sunset. Or, I could have taken a walk in the woods and listened to birdsong. And it would have been soothing and delightful and, yes, spiritual. But not in the same way that connecting with these individuals, and being welcomed by them to join in their nitty-gritty work of buidling a kehillah kedosha, a sacred community.
I am copying the Rev. Lillian Daniel's article in full. I substitute "community" for church, and for an opening quote, in my mind's eye I see the passage from the Talmud (Brachot 63b) that the National Havurah Institite uses as its motto: Torah cannot be acquired except in community.
May our collective work during Elul help us to build stronger communities, and allow us to figure one another and ourselves when we don't always achieve that.
Spiritual but Not Religious? Please Stop Boring Me.
August 31, 2011
Matthew 16:18
"And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it."
Reflection by Lillian Daniel
On airplanes, I dread the conversation with the person who finds out I am a minister and wants to use the flight time to explain to me that he is "spiritual but not religious." Such a person will always share this as if it is some kind of daring insight, unique to him, bold in its rebellion against the religious status quo.
Next thing you know, he's telling me that he finds God in the sunsets. These people always find God in the sunsets. And in walks on the beach. Sometimes I think these people never leave the beach or the mountains, what with all the communing with God they do on hilltops, hiking trails and . . . did I mention the beach at sunset yet?
Like people who go to church don't see God in the sunset! Like we are these monastic little hermits who never leave the church building. How lucky we are to have these geniuses inform us that God is in nature. As if we don’t hear that in the psalms, the creation stories and throughout our deep tradition.
Being privately spiritual but not religious just doesn't interest me. There is nothing challenging about having deep thoughts all by oneself. What is interesting is doing this work in community, where other people might call you on stuff, or heaven forbid, disagree with you. Where life with God gets rich and provocative is when you dig deeply into a tradition that you did not invent all for yourself.
Thank you for sharing, spiritual but not religious sunset person. You are now comfortably in the norm for self-centered American culture, right smack in the bland majority of people who find ancient religions dull but find themselves uniquely fascinating. Can I switch seats now and sit next to someone who has been shaped by a mighty cloud of witnesses instead? Can I spend my time talking to someone brave enough to encounter God in a real human community? Because when this flight gets choppy, that's who I want by my side, holding my hand, saying a prayer and simply putting up with me, just like we try to do in church.
Prayer
Dear God, thank you for creating us in your image and not the other way around. Amen.
August 31, 2011
Matthew 16:18
"And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it."
Reflection by Lillian Daniel
On airplanes, I dread the conversation with the person who finds out I am a minister and wants to use the flight time to explain to me that he is "spiritual but not religious." Such a person will always share this as if it is some kind of daring insight, unique to him, bold in its rebellion against the religious status quo.
Next thing you know, he's telling me that he finds God in the sunsets. These people always find God in the sunsets. And in walks on the beach. Sometimes I think these people never leave the beach or the mountains, what with all the communing with God they do on hilltops, hiking trails and . . . did I mention the beach at sunset yet?
Like people who go to church don't see God in the sunset! Like we are these monastic little hermits who never leave the church building. How lucky we are to have these geniuses inform us that God is in nature. As if we don’t hear that in the psalms, the creation stories and throughout our deep tradition.
Being privately spiritual but not religious just doesn't interest me. There is nothing challenging about having deep thoughts all by oneself. What is interesting is doing this work in community, where other people might call you on stuff, or heaven forbid, disagree with you. Where life with God gets rich and provocative is when you dig deeply into a tradition that you did not invent all for yourself.
Thank you for sharing, spiritual but not religious sunset person. You are now comfortably in the norm for self-centered American culture, right smack in the bland majority of people who find ancient religions dull but find themselves uniquely fascinating. Can I switch seats now and sit next to someone who has been shaped by a mighty cloud of witnesses instead? Can I spend my time talking to someone brave enough to encounter God in a real human community? Because when this flight gets choppy, that's who I want by my side, holding my hand, saying a prayer and simply putting up with me, just like we try to do in church.
Prayer
Dear God, thank you for creating us in your image and not the other way around. Amen.
OK, I'll lead off. I find it amusing and ironic that this piece purports to be a critique of "self-centered" religious culture--but what's the big zinger? "Being privately spiritual but not religious just doesn't interest me." Doesn't interest WHO? "Me."
ReplyDeleteIt interests the person next to you, the person with whom you are IN COMMUNITY while on that plane, or could be. But no, his or her "spiritual" take on things is "boring," not like an ancient tradition filled with "a mighty cloud of witnesses."
I find this piece just as American, just as "self-centered," as anything uttered by that "bland" person--the one that this minister wants to switch seats and get away from. I guess being "challenged" by him or her isn't exciting enough to count as a spiritual (excuse me, "religious") opportunity.
"Truly, God was in this place, and I, I did not know."
Oops. That should be "doesn't interest whom." But you get the idea.
ReplyDelete