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'A Welcome Light'
Saying: Those who wish to live a sacred life, truly spiritual, may find it a challenge to find a community supportive of that aspiration. No doubt, many faith communities discourage such a life. Possibly, we are awaiting new forms of community to develop to be places of nurture and refuge for spiritual aspirates. Could it be the old forms no longer provide for the spiritual seekers of today, for they are not the seekers of a yesterday? If not, this invites a crisis of belonging, exactly what seems true of many now, including a large population of persons who once were part of a traditional faith community but either are struggling still to belong or have decided to look elsewhere for belonging. How sad when persons follow their tradition faithfully and, then, find they no longer feel supported by it for they are seen no longer to fit in. Yet, this very not-fitting-in is the consequence of their following the teaching to a logical conclusion, one the faith group cannot welcome as tolerable, or at least confirm as legitimate. This has been my experience, and it is the same for many who only wish to live faithfully the way given them, and that fidelity leaves them alone and without the support they need from like-hearted beings. Faith communities need to admit they are not for spiritual aspirates when they are only tolerable of such at best, and even if they are good places for the comfort of those seeking only the consolations of religion.
sometimes
you leave what you once cherished
to return again
and what you return to
might be what you left
somewhat what you left
very different from what you left
you can't know, can you,
until you've returned
yet
do we ever stop
leaving-and-returning
* * *
To "belong" means, going back to the 1300s, "to go along with." Hence, to belong is not a static relationship or becoming a member of something. We spiritually do not share belonging by merely living with someone or attending the same group. To belong means belong-ing. The question becomes for anyone aspiring to grow spiritually, "Whom am I going to share the journey with?" and "Who can I share it with?" This aspiration might lead to major changes in personal relationships and where and whom one shares time with.
This is the way of Nature. Living things are drawn to belong with like things. If a fish became an eagle, the eagle would not find itself belonging in the waters and with the fishes. No, its belonging would be the sky and eagles. So, where one and with whom one finds belonging will change. There is nothing wrong with needing a new venue and new companions. The more you become spiritualized, attuned to the Heart-of-hearts, the more your heart will seek like, resonating companionship. One reason you seek this is you need someone to mirror your self back to you. You, then, come to know yourself better through that mutual-attraction.
* * *
The presentation today was inspired by reading and reviewing a book on the search for spiritual belonging. The book is Enuma Okoro, Reluctant Pilgrim: A Moody, Somewhat Self-Indulgent Introvert's Search for Spiritual Community. While often not agreeing with Okoro in her conservative religious worldview, I could identify with her longing for spiritual connection with others. In reviewing the book, I wrote…
While Okoro writes from a conservative Christian worldview, her book invites us, regardless of our spiritual orientation, or lack of, to be honest about our need for spiritual connection with others, as well as how we may resist such a belonging. She calls us to be honest about our need to belong, for our nature is to belong, to find who we most truly are among others on a like path.
That summary describes much of my adult life - a need, felt deeply, to belong to a spiritual community and resistance to it after losing faith in it. For me, spiritual community became equated with wounding, not healing. Yet, can we transcend the misplaced ideals we may have had about such community to a healthier relationship with belonging around some sense and way of the Sacred? I think so, I hope so.
* * *
So, recently, after having begun attending weekly meetings of a Quaker Meeting ... I awakened on a Sunday morning in pain after a painful night. I had been hurting many weeks from a back and shoulder injury. The medication I was on seemed not to touch the pain. I got out of bed, made coffee, and started getting dressed to go to the Meeting. And I gave up, reluctantly. The pain was too much.
What surprised me is the sadness felt in being unable to go, not because I needed to go or should go, but I wanted to go. This wish-to-go was something I had not felt in many years. Even over many years of being a pastor, I had come to see serving in the role was likely the only thing keeping me going to church worship. I was a pastor, and I did not like the church thing much at all. But the serving of others in pastoral care and worship leadership was meaningful and fulfilling.
* * *
I was raised in a strict, evangelical, conservative Baptist home and community. I attended Philadelphia Missionary Baptist Church - not of the Missionary Baptist folk but the Southern Baptist ones. Part of the culture was the eleventh Commandment, beyond the Ten Commandments, would be, "Thou shalt not miss going to church." That would be one of the added ones to the ten, somewhere near "Thou shalt not wear long hair" and "Thou shalt not listen to rock-'n-roll music."
One of my earliest memories is of sleeping in the church. My mom had placed me on a church pew. I lay there alone, bundled up in a blanket for warmth, while the Baptists enjoyed the singing and preaching - or acted as though they did. I have possibly only one memory earlier than this one.
So, my family and I went to church worship year-round, three days weekly, seven nights when in revival meetings. We attended Sunday School, Sunday worship; Training Union, Sunday night worship; Wednesday night worship. The only time we could take time away was on vacation, when sick enough not to go, and my mother let us three boys remain home one Sunday night to watch the Wizard of Oz. She felt that was okay, God would understand, seeing it was such a good movie for children. I do not know if my father agreed with that, but he did not raise a fuss about it.
Sunday mornings began early with the Gospel. When getting up, my dad would have turned on the black-and-white television to the weekly Gospel singing show, always the Florida Boys. So, before church worship, we were already getting a dose of Good News, and we had to dress up well to meet the brothers and sisters and the Lord later. The worship attendance was a change for my father, for when I was very little, he did not go to worship. My mother would go with us three little ones. My dad was raised in a devoted, church-going family. What led him to quit for a time, I never was told.
I cherish these memories, even though I have changed regarding religion in many ways. I joke with persons of my coming to that point where I am sure my parents were asking, stunned in spirit if not showing it on the face, "What has happened to our boy?!" For my beliefs changed considerably, so unlike what they had been and the Philadelphia Church had instructed me in.
So, one may not be surprised I was a Gospel preacher at age 15, serving as interim pastor for congregations while they looked for their next pastor - I began this at age 16. I also spoke revivals - both youth and adult. I also had a radio broadcast during high school called "The Way, the Truth, and the Life" and served my first pastorate, a little church outside Lyons, GA, when age 19. I was paid one-hundred dollars weekly, up from the ninety dollars I talked them up from when I accepted the role. My dad encouraged me to seek that extra ten dollars - my father was very good with money.
I served the congregation nine months and found out after resigning my brief stay was longer than most of the older pastors who came their way. I decided I had done pretty well to last longer than almost all those senior, more experienced pastors. I did not want this adult job. So, I returned to live near the campus and enjoy school and time with friends. Anyway, the congregation was a problem group, had been for years, which was made more difficult by my age and inexperience.
* * *
In those early years, my home congregation, made of Hands and Wilcoxs - my clan - and a few other assorted bloodlines, was a home away from home, a place I should want to be, so I was told. I was sinning if I chose not to attend, I was taught.
Where I came from, we often referred to where we attended and held membership as "my church home." I was told it was my duty to try to bring persons from the fields of sin into that home. I tried to lure them in, though the church adults did not seem to have a problem omitting that ought-to-do, and the pastors did not seem interested either. I was not very good at bringing the lost sheep into the fold; I recall not one success. But I tried, and I was told that was fulfilling my responsibility.
Now, at this early age, I did not know what the church is, in contrast to a church. A big difference. When we said, "Church was enjoyable last Sunday" or "Will I see you at church Sunday?" or "Just take a right at the corner, across from the tobacco barn, and you'll see the church on the left," we were not correct... not really. That is like a Buddhist saying, "The sangha is that red-brick building on First Street, across from Ernie's Garage. You can't miss it."
Like sangha, I came to see the church, as taught in the Christian Bible, is a people, gathered or apart, who share a common life called in the Scriptures "in Christ," and this church is called the "Body of Christ" in that same Bible. I learned the Bible word for that early group of Jesus followers was ecclesia, a Greek word for any unofficial, informal meeting. If I met someone in the grocery store aisle and had a chat, that would be ecclesia, being the church, not a church. This alike to the sangha being Buddha being Buddhists who follow the wisdom of the Buddha. So, the church is Christ, as the sangha is the Buddha. And Christ is not stuck in a building, nor is the Buddha. I realized a sacred community of two or more could be the church and never go into a church.
* * *
So, when did the break with the a churches happen? This writing is not for sharing how all this happened, but I will share, now looking back, what seems to be the moment I walked away. About five years ago, after attending various church worship meetings over many years, but mostly not, and feeling that I should, something inspired me to let go.
I had again started attending weekly worship. This time at an Episcopal congregation in north Florida, for, in past years, that sect is what I usually attended on Sundays. I could enjoy the beauty of the liturgy and relished sharing in the mystery of the Eucharist. I could go in and out once weekly and never get involved otherwise. Yet, I found I was still going out of a sense of duty. Outside of the Eucharist, I could do better, it seemed, at home rather than in the worship gathering. This church-exhaustion may partly be for I had been so into church work almost all my life; I had been churched out, so to speak.
I got an appointment for spiritual guidance from the deacon of the congregation, a compassionate, wise woman. I informed her I was making myself go to worship, that I truly did not wish to be there. Her response surprised me: "I recommend you not return to worship until you want to." That was the turning point - hearing someone give me permission to do what I had been unable to give myself permission to do.
* * *
I am sure the deacon had no idea it would take years for me to want to participate again in a faith group. I am sure my parents, as my other family, immediate and extended, would never have dreamed this man would even be sitting in a group of Quaker Friends. Yet, Grace works that way when we get out of the way. And, of course, usually in these sacred surprises, someone was instrumental in the gift. That like the deacon, whom I remain grateful for, for she helped free me from the ought-to and to trust Spirit would lead me, even when my appearing to be running the other way.
* * *
This sacred belonging does not have to manifest as a faith group. Two persons can share this belonging. For this to occur, they must share a like "spirit-frequency." Then, the connection can be heart-with-heart, not merely person-with-person - a true spiritual encounter.
* * *
Hence, in conclusion, a subtle and vital point ... When persons meet in sacred fellowship, heart-with-heart, this means they do not meet as persons. Persons cannot create a sacred connection. Hence, this deep communion disrobes the self of the self. What is left? Here, two selves move about, exchanging energies, being appearances of one Self.
* * *
*(C) Brian K. Wilcox, 2021
* Brian's book, An Ache for Union: Poems on Oneness with God through Love, can be ordered through major online booksellers or the publisher AuthorHouse. The book is a collection of poems based on mystical traditions, predominantly Christian and Sufi, with extensive notes on the poetry's teachings and imagery.
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