We live in a world that is notably religious.

Religions from Asia have spread to the West. Buddhism is one of the fast growing religions in America. Religions from Western cultures have gone East.

The Internet has strengthened and deepened inter-religious dialogue

Global issues, compassion, humanitarian efforts—all swing on religious ideals.

Yet we live with a drought of compassion, in a world that is unjust and unfair.

ü Dishonest politicians and economic disparity.

ü Wars engaged in the name of a religion.

ü And civil wars, whether with words or bullets, fought with religious justification.

     (2) The other issue I would like to address is "Spirituality."

"Spirituality" is rightfully one of the most powerful words, and at the same time, it ends up being one of the most useless words in religion.

It has the capacity to say so much, while at the same time, saying so little.

Perhaps because, in popular usage, it has no definite meaning.

By meaning everything, it ends up meaning nothing.

In popular usage, it has a negative meaning … all connotation and no denotation.

People miss something in religion … something is NOT there … so they say, "I want spirituality, I don’t want religion." That communicates. Everyone knows what it means.

But, the minute they try to explain what that is, people are at a loss.

We want "spirituality" and run off in all kinds of directions, tasting a smorgasbord of options to get it. Ending up confused. And sometimes, empty in our search.

Spirituality is such an abused and unfortunate little word.

This little word has been around for thousands of years … So well educated! So well traveled! So much to teach!

Yet it is crippled, handicapped. It cannot walk, nor can it speak.

With the dawning of the so-called, "Age of Enlightenment," the church kicked it out of the sanctuary, and is now, trying to invite it back in.

But spirituality sits in its living room, watching the news on television.

Reporters and clerics show up at its door, with cameras and bibles, and knock … but there is but a faint whisper of an answer.

 

I would propose that if we could ever get "Spirituality" to speak, we would find the true source of fairness and equality.

We would find the inner motivation, beyond any rationale, for justice.

And it would be, as we say in the Lord’s Prayer, "on earth, as it is in heaven."

One would flow into the other like spring-fed water into a pool.

I have known people in churches, throughout my life, who like to argue about beliefs.

They’ve read the Bible. They can quote scripture. Their beliefs are well formed.

But I’ve seen some of these same people, when life crashes – a disease, an automobile accident, a divorce – fall apart. Many just give up on their religion.

I have also known others who do not know all that much about their religion.

Never read the Bible. In church, they’d just as soon fix a broken door than attend a church school class.

Yet, in the crunch, they can manifest profound fortitude. Much courage. A daring faith.

I have come to a conclusion that there are two ways of growing in our chosen religion.

"Belief Development" and "Faith Formation."

"Belief" and "faith "—we often use these words as synonyms. "I believe in God," and "I have faith in God."

There is a profound difference in the way these two are experienced.

Belief Development is working out what we believe in our heads.

Faith Formation is learning how to trust with our hearts.

The opposite of Belief is doubt.

The opposite of Faith is fear. And its watered down versions: anxiety and worry.

And while both are important, and both are interrelated, whatever "spirituality" is has more to do with the latter than the former.

        A centipede has many legs.

When it runs, it looks like alternate waves moving down both sides of its body.

One leg goes in front of the other in a precise pattern.

A children’s story recounts how a centipede scurried along the sidewalk. Eventually, the centipede came across a snail.

"What fine legs, you have," said the snail. "I have no legs."

"I wish I could get around as quick as you," said the snail.

"Indeed, these are fine legs," said the centipede.

"Tell me," asked the snail, "How do you know which foot goes in front of the other?"

The centipede thought for a moment. "Maybe it’s this way. No. Maybe that way."

The centipede thought for a long time. It finally figured out the pattern enough to explain it.

But then when the centipede got up to run, it stumbled all over itself.

When it tried to follow its own mentally pattern, it didn’t work.

There is what one school of mysticism calls "Corporal Intelligence" within each person, within each group, and within each lifetime. Innate intelligence that requires no thought.

We do not have to tell our heart how to beat. It knows how.

We do not have to tell our lungs how to breathe. We can breathe automatically.

Every group has its own innate wisdom, if we can get out of the way and let it out.

Every destiny has its own map, if we can let go enough to reflect and see it.

Problems come when we try to figure it out. Regardless how accurate our understanding, unless we forget it in the doing, we stumble all over ourselves.

       There is a story in "existentialism" about a "bound man." It is a kind of parable.

He was tied up in ropes, and lived with a vow never to release his bounds.

He had some freedom of movement, but not a whole lot.

Moving within his limits, he learned to perform acrobatics and eventually joined the circus.

His act, known as, "The Bound Man." People flocked from cities and towns to see him.

Restricted by the ropes as he was, he could do the seemingly impossible – flips and turns and rolls – on the ground, from the high wire.

One day, someone felt sorry for him and cut the ropes, freeing him.

Finding himself free, he discover – he could no longer perform his feats.

        One psychologist, Mihaly Csikezentmihalyi, coined the phrase, the "Flow Experience."

It’s an echo of Abraham Maslow’s "Peak Experience."

This concept has been much discussed in professional circles.

The "Flow Experience" happens when someone is totally absorbed in an activity.

Zen folks call it "mindfulness."

Being fully aware. Focused. Finding stillness in motion and motion in stillness.

The characteristics of the "Flow Experience" have been identified.

The goal is clear. The rules of engagement are clear.

There is a balance between ability and challenge.

One is not self-absorbed.

One does not self-monitor or self-criticize.

Time is distorted.

And afterwards, it remains vivid in the memory.

In other words, we enjoy less control and more flow.

And this, to me, is "spirituality."

Surrendering to the "flow." As Gerald May says in his book, Will and Spirit, at some deep level, becoming more "willing" and less "willful."

It is widely discussed from various perspectives.

Many popular books have lifted up this principle.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (which is not about motorcycles).

The Inner Game of Tennis

Zen and the Art of Archery.

As trite as the cliché is, it’s all about "Letting go, and Letting God."

This is more than what we can figure out in our heads. This is to be felt in our bodies.

When Connie and I were in Cincinnati for one of our denomination’s General Assemblies, we walked along the streets.

The streets stirred with a downtown fair—booths and bands and street performers.

On one stage, an African troupe drummed and danced.

Transfixed, I was, standing there and feeling the beat beginning to animate my body.

I purchased one of the book on display, and read how one African dancer explained it.

She danced at a high speed, for a long duration, and yet when studied, monitors detected a remarkably low heart rate, and not much perspiration.

She explained it like being inside a living and dancing aura.

She just relaxed her body inside this shell, and went with it. She let it carry her.

In other words, she was not dancing. Something bigger danced her.

This is my metaphor for spirituality … to eventually be able to live this way.

Spirituality is the willingness to surrender to a higher power. To flow with it.

Not just with our minds. But to surrender with our whole bodies.

Spirituality is the willingness to surrender to a higher power.

To stop trying to do it all ourselves … but flow with what happens, putting out our very best, but not fighting to make it happen.

Like broadcasting seeds on varied grounds, laying our best on the altar of history, not tied to results, but celebrating the sheer joy of sowing.

To fine-tune this a bit, we sometimes think of spirituality as an experience, and we undertake a spiritual disciple to search for that experience.

Spirituality is not exactly something we experience, per se, but the ability to flow with equanimity, with whatever we experience.

We undertake a spiritual discipline to tangibly feel our body and being in the palm of God’s hand … carried with assurance and grounded in faith.

If we master surrender, at the level of a faith beyond belief, from our hearts, then justice and mercy will balance.

Equality will not have to come from discipline or demand. Fairness will feel natural. It will flow.

And our communities will live in harmony.

No amount of believing the "right thing" can bring it about. It will bloom in our midst, like from a richly fertilized bed from which springs beautiful and diverse flowers.

Consider an eagle that soars. It arcs to the left, then to the right, riding updrafts and floating on the wind. Changing directions with just a slight twist of a feather—that’s all the effort that is required.

This eagle soars through resounding echoes of John Denver, who’s voice still rings in the Colorado Rockies. John Denver wrote a beautiful song, entitled, "Sweet Surrender."