Let's start with a question. If you say someone is a spiritual person, what does that mean? . . . .

Now, if I asked you to describe a religious person, would your answer be different? How so? . . . .

This topic came up at our annual meeting when several of you suggested things you would like me to talk about at some time in the future. The person who made this suggestion wrote, "Spirituality versus Religiosity." The ideas of this person might be suggested in the use of the word "religiosity," which, for most of us, has a negative connotation.

Historically, however, the words "religious" and "spiritual" have been used pretty much interchangeably until relatively recently. However, as Robert Fuller points out in his book Spiritual, but not Religious, more than one out of every 5 Americans today claims to be spiritual, but not religious. Fuller goes on to describe characteristics of those people, but briefly they are people:

-- who do not attend church,

-- who believe that most people who go to church are more rigid than they are,

-- who think that the clergy are more interested in building institutions than in helping people, and

-- who tend to have a negative reaction to "organized religion."

First, I'm not going to use the word religiosity. In general, this seems to be a pejorative term, one that implies hypocrisy, pomposity, "holier than thou" or "belonging to the right church." So defined, it seems to me that even people who call themselves "religious" are probably opposed to religiosity. Most of us understand that religion without substance, without love and care behind it, can be destructive. I'm going to leave that alone. If the term religiosity does not have this negative connotation for you, please forgive me for discarding it so quickly. I'm doing so, knowing that it is a little too simplistic.

But let's move on, then, and look at spirituality and religion.

While it is no doubt true that many people have different meanings for the terms spiritual and religious, there appears to be a growing consensus that "Spiritual" is a more private word, and "Religious" a more public, institutional one.

There seems to be a sense, even among people who practice a more orthodox and structured religion such as Catholicism, that true faith belongs in the private realm of personal experience, while religion is connected with membership in institutions, participation in specific rites and rituals, and adherence to some official denominational or religious doctrine. As you might suspect, most of the people who say that they are "spiritual but not religious" have a relatively low opinion of organized religion.

For people who see themselves as religious, however, the lines are not so clear. Religious people may say that they find their spirituality in their church. If there is a difference between these two terms, it is that spirituality may be more private, but it is definitely fed and nurtured by religious practice.

Without getting into semantics here, for purposes of discussion let's use those definitions if we can to draw a distinction.

Let us say that spirituality is internal, of the (using a non-UU word) "soul," relating to the essence of the individual. Spirituality is private and personal. Our relationship with the divine, with the "otherness" of life, is a purely personal relationship, one that grows out of who we are and what we believe to be true. I call it God, but use the term somewhat differently than many may understand it. I use it to identify that which is other, bigger than all of us, but in all of us. And whatever relationship we have with God is personal, internal.

Religion, on the other hand, is public. Religion may be shaped as an organization or a church. It can be seen as the outward trappings, but not faith itself. Naturally, the differences are not so clear in the minds of many of us, but let's keep them completely separate for the time being.

If the Spirit is Internal, if Spirit and spirituality relate to who I am, it comes from deep inside. Some would ask, "Who am I in my heart of hearts?" In the still quietness of night, when I am totally alone, who am I and what do I believe to be true? How do I get through the long dark night? When do I celebrate? It relates to a question that all of us sooner or later ask: why am I here? What is this all about?

There are some distinctions that I think need to be made. Spirituality is not sentimentality, although it does involve emotion. Spirituality is not mysticism, or a form of natural religion, but it does often involve the discovery, the uncovering, the awareness of mystery. Spirituality is not a substitute for rationality, although it may reach beyond cognitive understanding.

Spirituality does not depend on anyone else, although the experiences of other spiritual beings can open vistas for each of us on our individual journeys. Spirituality cuts across sectarian lines. It does not rely on a specific set of beliefs, nor does it rely on the denial of any specific set of beliefs. It does not belong to any group or tradition, nor is it any stronger because we accept diversity of beliefs. Instead, it seems to rely on that "something" that begins to track inside us, and only when we are alone do we really ask the questions about it.

Spirituality does not depend on institutional religion, although it is easier to grow in an environment of sharing with others on the journey.

Whether or not spirituality plays an important role in our lives depends on how we look at it. There is a familiar story about an old farmer out in his field.

A car stops, and people inside call out to him: "What kind of people live here? We are thinking about moving here and wonder what we will find." "What kind of people lived where you came from?" the old farmer asked. "Unfriendly, hostile, mean people. People we don't like and can't trust." "Well," answered the farmer, "you'll find the same kind of people here."

Soon another car drives up and stops. People inside call out to him: "What kind of people live here? We are thinking about moving here and wonder what we will find." "What kind of people lived where you came from?" the old farmer asked. "Warm friendly, caring people. People who are real neighbors, who we like and trust." "Well," answered the farmer, "you'll find the same kind of people here."

How we look at spiritually is like that. If we think that spirituality will feed our souls, will help us in our journey in life, then a spiritual journey will be important for us. If we think that spiritual people are people who don't think very much, they're not logical, and probably too emotional, etc. If we think that spirituality is not going to do us any good, it probably won't. It all depends on how we approach it.

So we start by knowing who we are, and what our view of the world is, and what we think is good. What is it that we believe? One of my professors once said that you don't know what you believe until you understand what it is that you assume to be true, so true that you are building your life on it, but can't prove.

For me, I don't believe in any god with a gray beard and sandals walking around "up there" somewhere and looking down and waiting for me to ask which head of lettuce I should pick out in the grocery story. I'm not even sure that my God has a "shape." What I do believe is that when I combine love, and creativity, and truth, I come up with something that organizes my life and tells me something about what I am here for. And it is that that I call God.

Whatever that organizing principle is, we subject that to study, to thought, to meditation, to learning. And so we can grow a soul.

To the extent that various religions express a reality that transcends any and all of them, they seem to agree. We are responsible for our own souls.

- Paul - work our your own salvation with fear and trembling

- Islam - You have charge over your own souls

- Buddhism - Rely on yourselves, and do not rely on external help

- The Rabbis - If I am not for myself, who is for me?

- Confucius - What the superior man seeks is in himself

"We are not compelled to meditate by some outside agent," says Lama Thubten Yeshe, "by other people, or by God. Rather, just as we are responsible for our own suffering, so we are solely responsible for our own cure. . . ."

For me, spirituality is important because there is mystery and wonder and awe in the world I encounter. It helps me to live, and to thrive, as I seek to work out my own spirituality.

Religion, then, can be defined as: "What do I believe strong enough to practice it in public?" We can never live up to the best of what we profess, or want to be. We can never find that ideal where everyone in our religious community is "like me." Look around. People here are "kind of" like you, but not really. That's what is good about this community.

The writer of the book of Hebrews (10:24-25) said, " And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and to good deeds, not neglecting to meet together as is the habit of some." Already, it seems, in the first century after Jesus' death there were people saying, "I want to be spiritual but not religious." This writer says, "You can't do that; you won't make it that way."

Marie-Henri Stendhal, one of the most creative thinkers at the beginning of the 19th century in France, said, "One can acquire everything in solitude -- except character."

At its worst, religion can alienate and destroy. At its worst, religion can persecute and prosecute; at its worst, religion can separate, can tear down. At its best, religion can provide fertile soil for us to grow. What is more likely is that we will find religion to be somewhere in between.

Carol Ochs and Kerry Olitzky, in Jewish Spiritual Guidance, said:

Although we might think it would be easier and more powerful to discern the word of God privately, in a remote setting, the opposite is true. Community provides the context for us to hear God's voice in the world. The philosopher Mordecai Kaplan . . . believed that the folk were of utmost importance, that community is more important than anything else.

Religion, building the beloved community, asks much of us in order to be able to give much. Rather than looking to religion in other contexts, let us strive to make of this community the representation of religion that feeds us, that teaches us, that provides the soil for our souls to grow.

Sometimes I think that we at UUCCV have a choice to make. There are at least 3 options I can think of -- We can seek to make this community in our own image, getting upset when people don't act as we think they should, or when something happens that we don't like, and griping, complaining, perhaps leaving. "Our last Sunday was when we marched around the church building and scattered bird seed," one former attendee told me. Choosing this path is an option, but not a very good one. Why can't we be open to even more diversity, and learn from it?

Second, we can go on being a "nice" church where we can be sure of finding at least one person to talk to that we like, and where we won't be offended, and sometimes we might even like the service. We can survive being a church that has few of the benefits of true religion. At times, it seems, all religions look like this. "Well, we have to get through this," sometimes without even knowing what that means. But this kind of church will never help us grow. It cannot, in the long run, feed our needs.

Our third choice is to renew our spirit once again, to invest ourselves in this church and this fellowship, knowing that in so doing we can build together the kind of beloved community where souls can grow and thrive. I'm not talking about being the perfect church -- there is no such thing. I'm talking about working together to make a difference in ourselves and our world -- working together in love.

Often I am asked to read from Paul's letter to the Corinthians as part of a wedding service. But Paul's description of love also carries with it the challenge of community. Listen, and hear the words not in the context of a one-to-one relationship, but as a goal for each of us in strengthening this church, this religious community, for us:

Love is patient, love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant. It does not insist on its own way (sometimes that is pretty tough for UUs), it is not irritable or resentful. It does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.

Some have said that being spiritual without being religious is simply being too lazy to put one's beliefs to the test. Jonathan Livingston Seagull said that it is good to be a seeker, but sooner or later you must give of what you have found, a gift to the world. It's good to be spiritual, but there comes a time when you have to give.

Others have said that being religious without being spiritual is like being a zombie -- moving like one is alive but having no internal substance. Going through the motions of religion without living, learning, loving, is the worst kind of sham.

The kind of wholeness we seek, the reason for being alive that hangs in the back of each of our minds, has a better chance when we have both spirituality and religion.

We need both spirituality and religion in order to be whole human beings. Being more spiritual will strengthen us and help us understand more. Being more religious will allow us to build a community of faith together -- a community of faith and understanding that can comfort us, challenge us, teach us, and reach out to those who need us.

Religion and Spirituality. Each one takes work and practice -- and each one has a promise of reward that goes far beyond what we put in.

Shalom.