EASTER 7, YEAR B

May 16, 2021

St. Uriel’s, Sea Girt, N.J.

Acts 1:15-17; 21-26; Psalm 1

I John 5:9-13; John 17:6-9

Over the past twenty years or so, it’s become something of a cultural cliché to say: “I don’t believe in organized religion but I’m very spiritual.” However, this dichotomy between religion and spirituality is false. Whether we admit it or not, we human beings are inescapably both religious and spiritual. 

Religion may be defined as the total system of beliefs, stories, symbols, values, and practices by which we construe our identity and place in the world. By this definition, even an atheist has a religion; the belief in God’s non-existence is a key component of his religion. In the modern world, one’s religion might not be Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, or Hinduism, but rather nationalism, capitalism, fascism, Marxism, or socialism. For much of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, these secular ideologies did function as religions in the sense that they gave ultimate meaning, purpose, and direction to millions of people’s lives. In today’s world, one’s functional religion might be individualism, hedonism, consumerism, or egoism. We don’t have a choice about being religious; we do have a choice about which religion we believe to be true and worthy of adherence.

Moreover, the term “organized religion” is really redundant. There’s no such thing as an unorganized religion. We human beings are born organizers; the drive to order and arrange things belongs to our nature. Religious organization is neither limiting nor restrictive but liberating. For example, I didn’t choose the readings for Mass today. The Church chose them for me by means of something called the lectionary. I trust the Church to do a better job of choosing the readings than I could. Having that choice made for me gives me the freedom to concentrate on more edifying and worthwhile questions. The organized part of religion means that we don’t need to keep on reinventing the wheel.

 

Just as we don’t have a choice about whether to be religious, so we don’t have a choice about whether to be spiritual. All human beings have a spiritual life of one sort or another. Our experience of reality is not limited to the material world of things that can be seen, heard, touched, tasted, or smelled. We have imaginations and the capacity to dream dreams. Although some individuals are possibly more sensitive to this dimension than others, we all have some awareness of an unseen world: a realm of presences and influences distinct from yet capable of impinging upon the material world in which we live. Some such forces are benign, and others are malign. Different spiritualities put us in touch with different aspects of this unseen world. We don’t have a choice about being spiritual; we do have a choice about which spiritual practices to embrace as beneficial to our souls’ health, and which to avoid as dangerous and destructive.

The contemporary emphasis on spirituality-without-religion tends in a self-centered, self-indulgent, and ultimately narcissistic direction. Its root flaw is hyper-individualism. Being all about me and my personal fulfillment, it lacks traditional religion’s power to build community, motivate moral heroism, and inspire self-sacrifice for a greater good.

So, contrary to those who claim to be “not religious but very spiritual,” we human beings are inescapably both. The real questions are: Which religion we shall embrace as the organizing principle of our life? And: Which spiritual disciplines shall we practice as our entry point into the invisible dimensions of reality? It might be profitable to reflect on those two questions during the coming week as we approach the Feast of Pentecost.

From my point of view, speaking both personally and on behalf of the Church, the best answers to those questions are clear. I find that Catholic Christianity offers a more satisfactory framework for understanding life’s meaning and purpose than any of the available alternatives. It’s not just a system of beliefs but a relationship with a living God, the Holy Trinity, and membership in an organic community, the Church, the Body of Christ. Moreover, authentic Christian spirituality involves openness not just to some vaguely spiritual dimension of life, but to a specific divine Person, the Holy Spirit, who brings us into a living relationship with God the Father through God the Son.

In today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles, the risen Lord has ascended into heaven, but the promised Holy Spirit has not yet descended. It’s a time of waiting. And so what do the apostles do? Why, they attend to matters of religious organization! 

The defection of Judas Iscariot has broken the circle of the Twelve. A replacement must be appointed – someone who can share in the apostolic mission of bearing witness to the Resurrection. The candidate must be someone who followed Jesus from his baptism until his Ascension. At Peter’s instigation, the apostles choose two suitable candidates, pray, and cast lots to identify Matthias as the new Twelfth Apostle. So, the period between the Ascension and Pentecost is a time not only of waiting and praying for the Holy Spirit, but also of regrouping and reorganizing in preparation for the Spirit’s arrival.

We need both religious organization and spiritual power. The Church has aptly been likened to an old-fashioned sailing ship. Such a vessel requires a specific type of construction to stay afloat – a watertight hull and properly configured masts, rigging, and sails to catch the wind. Without the right design and structure, the ship will sink, founder, or capsize. But neither will the ship move forward if there’s no wind. For the Church, the wind that propels the vessel is none other than the Holy Spirit. Without the Holy Spirit, the Church is dead in the water and not going anywhere.

We don’t make any progress in the Christian life without both the ordering structure of organized religion and the dynamic power of the Holy Spirit. We need set religious practices, such as the weekly Mass and the daily Office. But all that structure becomes dry and arid formalism unless the Spirit breathes life into our religion. It’s not a question of either/or, but of both/and. We need both sound religion and authentic spirituality. 

In some respects (but not others), the interim period between rectors in a parish is analogous to the interval between the Ascension and Pentecost. The previous rector has departed; the next one is yet to come. In the meantime, both organizational and spiritual work needs to be done. The disciples attended to the organizational matter of replacing Judas and so reconstituting the Twelve. In like manner, your vestry is addressing necessary administrative tasks like refurbishing the rectory and working with the diocese to get a search process underway. But the disciples also gathered in the Upper Room every day to watch and pray. At this time, then, we can do no better than join in praying with Our Lady and all the Apostles: Come, Holy Spirit: fill the hearts of thy faithful, and kindle in us the fire of thy love. Send forth thy Spirit, and we shall be created, and thou shalt renew the face of the earth.