Leon Seltzer (from “Spirituality Without God”):
The religious seek inspiration from the supernatural and the Church, Synagogue, or Mosque; the non-religious look for it in mortal love—the love of humans for other humans, not the holy love of God, Christ, or Allah (or any other divine, worshipful being). The secular quest for spirituality also includes identifying ourselves as part of a larger community, as well as developing a vital, enthusiastic involvement with nature, the arts, and science. Here spiritual fulfillment equates with feeling fully, energetically, vibrantly alive and connected to others, as well as to the broader environment we live in.
I’d also add that art and nature, “spiritualized” as I’ve described them, offer secular individuals a transcendent experience—just as does great music, art, drama, and literature. Relating to a work of art not as a passive observer but as an active participant, in the sense of somehow getting inside the work is a secularly (if not singularly) transcendent experience in its going considerably beyond our ordinary, everyday experience. And immersing ourselves in nature—whether it be up in the mountains, down in the valleys, or by a brook, river, or ocean—offers us a similar experience of “oneness,” of becoming part of something far beyond ourselves. It can, I think, legitimately be seen as an expansion of self, a liberation of our spirit.
When, personally, I listen to, say, a late Anton Bruckner symphony, there’s a certain indescribable grandeur and piety in the music that actually gives me a profound sense of what, emotionally, it must feel like to believe in a higher power, though I hold no such belief myself. Still, the music—written by someone unquestionably devout—conveys a spiritual sense of life that I find peculiarly elevating. Though I don’t share Bruckner’s particular “brand” of spirituality, I’m yet able to personally feel the transcendence in the music. It may simple be the beauty, or gravitas, embedded in Bruckner’s compositions, but every time I listen to these symphonies I get goose bumps and what I’d call an “altered state of consciousness.” I choose to deem this experience spiritual because I don’t know of any better word to describe it. My life may be grounded in the real world, but that hardly prevents me from relishing (though hardly worshiping!) experiences that many people would describe as “mystical”—that somehow manage to catapult us into another realm of existence.
Note also how close the word “inspire” is to “aspire”. Humanism is very much about our having lofty goals that we strive to achieve because they’re so closely related to optimal fulfillment, our greatest happiness. At its core, humanism is hardly about accumulating worldly things or living a self-centered, hedonistic life. It’s about fully “owning” our lives and taking responsibility for creating richly meaningful goals for ourselves. And frankly, I think these ideals, subjectively, are much more accurately defined as spiritual than they are materialistic, naturalistic, or (well) secular.
For spirituality may best be seen as depicting the exalted or elated feelings that humans aspire to and, at least potentially, are capable of realizing. Such as the deeply satisfying feelings that come with acting honorably, generously, or altruistically—showing caring and concern for others, or the whole human community.
Rabbi Sherwin Wine, the author of many books on humanistic Judaism, affirms that rationality is the key to “staying sane in a crazy world” (in fact, the title of one of his books). Still, he’s not willing, as he puts it, “to relinquish spirituality to the religious [believing that] we live in a world where spirituality has been redefined. No longer is its focus merely knowledge of God and the pursuit of salvation in the next world. Instead, [it can be seen] as the pursuit of happiness in this world. What many call spirituality . . . evolves from experiences of transcendence, beauty, and serenity that empower us. Whereas, in the past, access to God through magic or worship or gift-giving brought empowerment, today it is connection with others and with the natural world that provides empowerment."
Stephen Batchelor, in an article subtitled “Digging into the Humanist Heart of Buddhism” (The New Humanist, 2010), takes us in another direction. In this piece he stresses that the spiritual life has always been at once a search for meaning and for answers to the two key existential questions: “‘Who am I?’ and ‘Why am I?’ A search for truth, personal authenticity and reality, a search for ‘what is,’ a search for purpose: these are the foundations of the spiritual world.”
I’d suggest that [humanists are] essentially talking about the same thing, although we use a determinedly secular vocabulary to avoid defining such a search as spiritual—which, I think, it undeniably is. And it’s a pursuit that’s necessarily both personal and subjective, beyond the province of science. There’s just no single answer for that which is ultimate, or existential. And humanism is, after all, closely related to atheistic existentialism, which certainly doesn’t mandate that we believe in anything, but rather that we take full ownership for creating what’s personally meaningful to us—and then, pro-actively, strive to make it our reality.
In a piece called “The American Experience,” Nancy Frankenberry quotes the famous Spanish philosopher George Santayana as stating, idealistically, that “spirituality . . . direct[s] one toward goals" and that “spiritual individuals [are] disposed to a vision of excellence, loveliness, or preeminent goodness, and they [order] their conduct to realize that vision.” And does not this noble characterization of spirituality also seem consonant with humanism, descriptive of its venerable ideals?
To this point, I haven’t said much about the pragmatic aspects of spirituality. But John T. Chirban, in a Psychology Today post (“What is the Spirit?” 2013), writes about how a person’s active involvement with institutional religion, or with non-religious spirituality, has been demonstrated to contribute to enhanced health in a variety of areas. Citing eight studies to support his argument, the areas of improved health include substance abuse, heart disease, and clinical depression—as well as generally reduced physical and psychological illness. As a result of such outcome studies, he reports that more and more medical schools are beginning to incorporate the topics of spirituality and religion in their curriculum. And this, I should add, is also true of graduate programs in mental health.
The challenge, then, for humanists, is whether we can get over our longstanding impatience or irritation with the term spirituality. Up till now, I believe, we’ve been guilty of “throwing out the baby with the bathwater.” For our efforts to eliminate all theistic language from our lexicon has also led us to avoid using such terms as, say, sacred and transcendent—which in many ways do characterize our deepest values as well as carry the most respected, even noblest, of connotations. And I think it’s also safe to make the claim that for many people today having what they’d call “a spiritual experience” is not generally related to connecting with some heavenly deity.
As humanist psychologist Judith Goren puts it: “Humanism, to be a viable movement [in] the 21st century, needs to expand its parameters to explore, address and include [the spiritual] dimension of human experience.” I think that according to all the secular definitions of spirituality I’ve reviewed, humanism is (and has always been) a spiritual movement. So I’m hoping that in the near future we can fully recognize this and reclaim a word that actually reflects the very heart of what we’re all about. Which is to say our aspiration to lead virtuous, morally responsible lives that are at once rational and—emotionally—passionate, exciting . . . and deeply fulfilling.
https://conference.americanhumanist.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/Lee-Seltzer-06252013.pdf
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