Spiritual But Not Religious? An Oar Stroke Closer to the Farther Shore (review)

One of the most persistent challenges with teaching an undergraduate course in Christian spirituality is the perception that spirituality has little or nothing to do with religion. Whether students are passionately engaged with spiritual questions or unsure whether these questions concern them at all, they often believe that religions are basically all the same, that religious institutions are at best optional, and at worst those institutions are an obstacle in the spiritual life.

Reid Locklin addresses his book to readers who are suspicious of organized religion. He eschews neatly packaged answers to the question of institutional commitment, and instead narrates elements of his own passage from religious dabbler to membership in the Roman Catholic Church and participant in interreligious dialog. He interweaves his story with readings and reflections on the Gospel of John, the teachings of Augustine of Hippo, and the eighth-century Hindu teacher Adi Shankaracharaya. The result is a lively and inviting conversation that responds to the concerns of a new generation of religious seekers in a way that is "allusive and personal—a soft porch light, left shining to welcome late arrivals inside rather than to demand of them where exactly they have been" (5).

Locklin frames the autobiographical portions of the book as moments of teaching and learning. He enters into discussion and discovery with people he comes to identify as companions and guides, even when they are not on the same spiritual path. The practices of teaching and learning are central to both the Christian and Hindu traditions that Locklin draws upon, and they structure the book nicely, making it particularly suitable for the classroom. Locklin treats the Christian and Hindu sources with great sensitivity, drawing out points of fruitful dialog between the traditions without pretending to exhaust them, nor suggesting that they are simply in agreement with each other.

Chapters 1 and 2 build a portrait of religious institutions as grounded in a "moment of recognition" between teachers and learners. A person emerges as a spiritual seeker when the twin emotions of desire and disgust propel her into spiritual awakening. The revulsion she feels at the corruption of religious institutions is a sign that they (should) transcend ordinary life. The negative reaction points beyond the failures of the organization to the true object of her desire. A religion's "ultimate beauty is found in something greater than" itself, and yet it "can be seen to embody or contain this very beauty itself" (24). When this moment of clarity occurs, hope and desire compel us to set out on a spiritual quest that will ultimately fulfill and transform our present selves. The process of coming to know the object of our spiritual desires is the same process by which we come to know almost everything—through reliable teachers. A good teacher does not demand our trust, but rather invites and fosters its natural development. Teaching authority comes from the commitment to be present and available to the seeker, to nurture the seeker without fear or defensiveness. Both teacher and learner accept a measure of risk in this commitment.

Chapters 3 and 4 invite readers to contemplate the connection of teacher and seeker not only in a one-to-one relationship but also in the company of others. Locklin introduces the idea with a story about his college rowing crew, where only time and practice together made a group of disparate individuals into an athletic team with flashes of brilliance. The boat becomes a metaphor for organized religion: "chanting together, breaking bread together, teaching and learning together, all joined inextricably to one another as we move up the slide, drop our oars into the water, and pull" (86). The image is also an opening to consider other boats which we may encounter on our communal voyage- religious traditions which are decidedly not our own, but whose members we may encounter as fellow travelers, as outsiders who are nevertheless beloved.

The text...