The social and the spiritual

Between the ages of 18 and 21, when I was still a Christian, I used to go to a church that was unusually liberal (for instance, sexuality wasn't even an issue) and had a thriving youth "scene". It was organised in different groups, each made up of some ten members plus two facilitators (one male, one female), that held weekly meetings, most of the time with a rather loose agenda. Different groups would get together for celebrations, prayers and other events. Sometimes, notably in Easter, we (maybe a hundred people or so) would go to some retreat house in the mountains and participate in all kinds of celebrations and group activities, each more sentimental than the previous one, where the success of the activity was measured in terms of the emotions they elicited (the more people that cried, the better). Everyone was kind and touchy-feely. Everyone was on a spiritual high. Then ones that were more over the top, the ones that most uninhibitedly displayed their love to Christ (and to everyone else for that matter), the ones that shouted "hallelujah!" and prayed as if God was literally there in front of them, those were the most admired (or secretly despised for their hypocrisy).

Rituals, symbols, physical affection, hormones, nature, intimacy, shared faith, all blended into a state of exaltation that everyone tried in vain to cling on to after the experience was over. For many of us it wasn't really about Jesus. Perhaps about God. But in any case what really moved us, what made God come alive, was the intensity of the social experience. A few years later I went on several four or five-day personal growth workshops (as part of my training as a psychotherapist) and I was struck by their resemblance to those Easter celebrations. Likewise, I later realised how those groups at the church were clearly inspired by the way therapeutic groups (self-help, encounter groups, etc.) typically operate. In retrospect, I think what I got from that church was an invaluable therapeutic experience, where spirituality wasn't just the excuse, but an essential part of the experience.

Certainly most religions wouldn't encourage this kind of overemotional approach, but almost all of them involve powerful group experiences. Hindu festivals can congregate absurd numbers of people (70 million people attended the 2001 Kumbh Mela). Hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca gathers some two million Muslims every year. The pope can easily gather one or two million in any of his trips round the world, although as a lapsed Catholic I find them terribly dull. These are overwhelming and exhilarating experiences for the participants. The sense of communion, of being part of something infinitely larger than yourself, must be deeply touching. Football fans probably get a somewhat similar kick out of cheering their team on the stadium along with thousands of fellow supporters. Not that I'm comparing God to Wayne Roonie, but the experiences created around them have elements in common.

On a much smaller scale, followers of most religions regularly go to their temples to participate in collective rituals. That helps them to keep their faith alive, or their brainwashing in place, or their conscience clean, or their reputation intact, or their place in heaven secured. But let's leave religious indoctrination and enslavement to one side. I'd like to focus on free spirituality, the one you choose in a free and informed decision, not out of fear, coercion or inertia. (I'm aware that the difference is not always clear cut.)

Religious practices are much more powerful when shared with others. For instance, meditation is usually easier and more rewarding when done in a group. To begin with, you don't have to rely on self-discipline; the group expects you to take your practice seriously, and your social instinct will make you live up to that in order not to disappoint the group. You're also more convinced of what you're doing: by meditating in a group you strengthen your sense of belonging to that group, which in turn strengthens your shared beliefs and commitment. In other words, the group validates itself. But apart from this somewhat sceptical analysis (I'm sorry, I can't help it), meditating with other people does indeed feel different. As I said above, it is a more powerful experience. Why is that?

We're social creatures. That's not just sociable or able to socialise. We simply cannot conceive of a life without other people--it would be unbearable, meaningless. Our psychological life is structured around our social bonds and needs. They are fundamental to our existence, they create meaning in our lives, they define us as individuals. It seems that for most of us the social informs the spiritual as well as vice versa. As with emotions, I distrust those that look down on social needs, or that oppose them to spirituality. A good example of that is the radical Catholic sect Opus Dei, whose members are warned against "special friendships", for they are "detrimental to charity with others" and "end up in true slavery" (that is the founder, St Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer, quoted here [in Spanish]). Two friends of mine are former members of that very sect (now one is a Marxist and the other one is gay--woohoo!), and they confirmed that real friendships (that is to say the ones with no ulterior motives) indeed had to be kept on the quiet. What kind of madness is that? What a perverse way of turning vulnerable people into tormented freaks! But anyway, didn't I say that I was only going to talk about free spirituality?

The idea would be to let the social inform the spiritual and vice versa, though not in a pre-determined from-the-top-down way, but in accordance with the actual experience of the individuals involved. I personally resent not having the opportunity to share my spirituality with others--my oversensitivity to bullshit (pardon my French) in its multiple forms makes it difficult for me to find suitable spiritual companions. A group of spiritual sceptics is a strange-sounding idea after all, but I think a necessary one as well. It's about time we freed spirituality from rigid traditional structures and hierarchies and gave it back to the individual. It's about time we brought spirituality into the 21st century. There must be some people out there who share these ideas, but I'm afraid they've all moved to California.