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May 2001 Issue


Where Spirituality Meets Religion

By James A. Bornstein

Spirituality, in many ways, is a passive word. We experience spirituality as it happens in and around us. The word spiritual has no infinitive form. I would never say, for example, "I am going to shul tonight to spiritual for a few hours."

One might argue that I can, however, be spiritual: "I am going to shul tonight to be spiritual for a few hours."

Still, a true spiritual experience is not premeditated. I cannot have a calculated and contrived spiritual experience that is scheduled into my Palm Pilot. Just like finding the perfect mate, spirituality often comes when we are not actively searching for it. On the other hand, there are certainly many times when we yearn for a spiritual connection.

Prophecy, a divine rendezvous between man and God with the help of an angel, is the ultimate spiritual experience. In Mishneh Torah* Rambam writes, "All the prophets do not prophesy whenever they desire. Instead, they must concentrate their attention [upon spiritual concepts] and seclude themselves, [waiting] in a happy, joyous mood, because prophecy cannot rest upon a person when he is sad or languid, but only when he is happy. Therefore, the prophets' disciples would always have a harp, drum, flute, and lyre [before them when] they were seeking prophecy."

When we do yearn for spirituality, therefore, we can create an environment that is conducive to it. In other words, Rambam teaches us that it is possible to prepare ourselves mentally for spirituality, even though we cannot necessarily experience spirituality whenever we desire. Just as different atmospheric conditions must exist in order to yield various natural weather phenomenons, there are different human emotional conditions that allow for different spiritual experiences.

The capacity to which we can experience different levels of spirituality is part of our individual human characters. That is to say, just as each human being is born with a different athletic or musical ability, we are also born with different spiritual inclinations. Some naturally gravitate towards a spiritual life while others find themselves far removed from a spiritual existence.

Spirituality, however, is not measured on a comparative scale. Whereas musical skills can be assessed and judged by an audience, spirituality is a completely personal experience. The extent to which I grow spiritually is relative only to myself. The smallest spiritual inclination can be just as grand and meaningful to a person generally lacking spirituality as the most profound of spiritual experiences might be to a great sage whose life is dedicated to spiritual pursuits.

We will all reach a point, however, where we exhaust our natural abilities. In other words, even the greatest athlete or musician's abilities will plateau without practice. A musically inclined individual may learn technically how to play a piece on piano with ease. Yet without serious practice, this person will never extract the true feeling of the piece that emerges once the individual immerses him/herself in understanding every nuance--resting for exactly the right amount of time, striking the keys just hard enough to achieve the most beautiful tone, etc.

The same is true in many ways for spirituality. While we each possess the ability to experience spirituality to a degree, if we wish to truly develop and nurture our spirituality, to sensitize our emotions to the nuances of our spiritual existence, we must practice, using religion to extract this spiritual potential.

In short, religion, specifically Judaism, facilitates the transformation of potential spirituality into kinetic spirituality. Judaism, however, is still a very broad prescription for spiritual growth.

The wide denominational spectrum that makes up Judaism has become a blessing and a curse. It offers Jews the ability to find any number of Jewish environments to match their personal spiritual inclinations, while at the same time, generating enormous friction and animosity among Jews.

For example, many liberal Jews claim that traditional Judaism desensitizes one's spirituality. In their opinion, the strict observance of mitzvoth (Jewish law) becomes mechanical to the point where observance lacks emotion and conviction. Liberal Judaism provides a framework for Jews to express their spirituality according to individual tendencies, free from the constraints of Jewish law.

Many observant Jews, on the other hand, see liberal Judaism as a movement lacking substance. A creative service led by guitar, which substitutes Psalms with Bob Dylan quotes, may create a festive environment, but it lacks any significant Jewish content. It is the belief of many observant Jews that the sanctification of our mundane, everyday life activities through the fulfillment of mitzvoth, will greatly enhance one's spirituality.

In my opinion, the question is not whether religiosity is more important than spirituality. Indeed, they are both interconnected to the point where one cannot truly mature without the other. What we must ask ourselves is which brand of Judaism most effectively facilitates the transformation of our potential spirituality into kinetic spirituality.

Once we discover the most suitable approach, we must commit ourselves to it in a very serious way, as a concert pianist is dedicated to his or her music. We will not satiate our yearning for spirituality unless we are active in our spiritual pursuit. The key is to continuously move forward.

A Jew who is not spiritually inclined, yet genuinely attempts to move forward, might spend his or her entire life trying just to light the Shabbat candles every Friday night. This Jew, because he or she is committed to transforming whatever potential spirituality he or she has into kinetic spirituality, is just as righteous and spiritually successful as the Jew who consistently observes a wide variety of mitzvoth. The beauty of Jewish spirituality is that it provides a small space in our lives where we can receive an "A" for effort.

*Mishneh Torah, Yesodei HaTorah (Chapter 7, Halachah 4) Translation by Rabbi Eliyahu Touger.

 


James Bornstein recently graduated from Skidmore College and is now working as Program/Research Associate for the Wilstein Institute of Jewish Policy Studies in Boston, MA. Please send comments and/or questions to jbornste@yahoo.com.


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