Do We Need Holy Things?
Holy Week, finding God outside church, and my least favorite word
It’s Holy Week for 2.2 billion of the world’s Christians (not for the Eastern Orthodox.) Another 1.8 billion Muslims are in the midst of celebrating the month of Ramadan. Saturday was Holi, marked by 1.2 billion Hindus worldwide. And we’re a month out from Passover, which will be celebrated by 15.7 million Jewish people. The cherry blossoms are at peak bloom here in Seattle; it feels like a time of year to stop and notice, to wake up and be present. This time feels special, but is it holy?
If you grew up spending as much time in church as I did, you might have heard the word “holy” so many times that it’s lost all meaning. We were told it means “to be set apart;” the idea being that certain things needed to be kept separate for/dedicated to God. Given your preferred religious flavor, this might mean special items used only for worship purposes, such as furniture, decorations, music, or texts. In Judaism and Islam, worshippers often undergo ritual bathing before being considered ready for worship—holiness as a process of physical purification. Meanwhile many churches have headed in the opposite direction, encouraging casual dress, playing secular-sounding music, allowing coffee in the sanctuary.
I’ve never been a fan of drawing a line between holy and profane. Bird watching can be a divine experience. Sharing a meal with friends can be, too. Many of my most moving spiritual experiences have been in a (gasp!) secular theater or concert halls. Is holiness just a way for religious institutions to try and monopolize our spiritual experiences?
Perhaps. But the more I’ve leaned into deconstructing my faith, I’ve come to a strange paradox: I thought I wanted an easy spirituality that placed no demands on me, but I’m finding that’s not true. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want a controlling religion that uses shame and fear to manipulate its adherents into compliance. I want a religious community that affirms and loves me, even my prickly, argumentative parts. But I don’t want a spiritual life that devolves into boundless hedonism, either. After years of fighting it, I’ve accepted that happiness is a byproduct of building a good life, not its main purpose. As more people embrace the label of “spiritual but not religious,” I do wonder whether there’s any practice to this spirituality, or is it mainly vibes? In our superficial culture, digging into deeper things means going against the grain. If we say “everything is holy” doesn’t that essentially mean that nothing is?
During the few years I wasn’t attending church, I would complain to my husband about how I wanted a casual space where people could gather to think and talk about the big, deep topics, things like forgiveness, community, or suffering. You wouldn’t need to RSVP, you could just show up. While we were there, we could plan service projects or political actions. There could be something for the kids, and maybe some art or music.
“Congratulations,” my husband replied, “I think you’ve just invented church.”
So here we are. This Holy Week finds me weary, grieving, and doubt-filled. I don’t think I believe in a literal resurrection, though I often wish I did. But regardless of belief, I want to enter a holy place, to open myself to an experience that defies language or logic.
Maybe both things are true. Maybe God (however you see them) is in everything, and maybe it’s incredibly helpful to have times and spaces “set apart” to connect to the eternal.
Do you believe in holy spaces or times? Where do you find transcendence? What spiritual practices feed your spirit?
BONUS MATERIALS
Richard Rohr on Easter
children being terrified by the Easter Bunny. Hilarious, terrible or both?
Have you looked into the Unitarian church? They have no doctrine, and there are no prescribed beliefs. The point is the questions and the search for meaning; people are free to come to their own conclusions. They explore the big questions that you mention. I'm sure individual congregations vary, but the Unitarian church in my area also gets involved in community and social justice issues.
I don't think you have described a church when you say you 'wanted a casual space where people could gather to think and talk about the big, deep topics, things like forgiveness, community, or suffering.' Not without some form of spooky non-existent-entity worship stuff, and the dictum to not question but obey. That's a church. What you describe is something more useful.
I find it hard... no...impossible... to have any idea what a spiritual life, or the spirit, might be. One definition I found on-line is: 'The spirit is the immaterial part of humans that has the capacity to relate to God. Outside of Christ, a person is spiritually dead.' I'm sure that makes sense to Christians, but it makes no sense to me. And how would people of other religions feel about that as a definition?
Of course it could be argued that it's because I have no religion that I have no sense of spirituality, but there, honeybuns, we are in the realm of tautology.
Keep up the excellent work.