Let Go Of Spiritual Judgment
Appreciate, Don't Castigate, Those Who Walk Away From the Religion You Observe
A Substack author named Laura London, who apparently is an Orthodox Christian, posted this note on July 23:
"Spiritual but not religious" is just another way of saying "I want the comfort of meaning without the discomfort of truth.”
I saw it the following morning, and in response I posted this reply:
It can also be a way of saying “I refuse to allow the trauma of participation in an abusive institution to strip me of my relationship with the source of all life and love.” If you are going to criticize those who have a different experience of religion, I hope you will at least acknowledge how much it hurts people.
While I doubt that anything could be gained by getting into a debate over this — Laura London is certainly entitled to her view — it seems worthwhile to write a bit more about why I believe it’s a mistake to chide people who walk away from religious institutions, especially if they retain at least some understanding of themselves as “spiritual.”
Spiritual But Not Religious — SBNR for short — is nothing new. I researched the concept when writing my first book, Spirituality, published in 1997. Full disclosure: I myself am a recovering critic of SBNR. In several of my books over the years, I have argued for the importance of participating in some sort of communal expression of spirituality. To this day, I believe community matters, and that generally speaking spirituality is stronger, healthier and more fulfilling when it is expressed in both communal and solitary ways.
As someone who has been an active church-goer most of my life, participating in Lutheran, Charismatic, Episcopal, Roman Catholic, and Unitarian Universalist congregations (not to mention involvement in Wiccan covens and Buddhist sanghas as well), I have slowly come to believe that most of the time, people who walk away from religion but not from spirituality are making brave and healthy choices.
Why do I believe this: for one simple reason: religion hurts people.
Oh, not all people, of course. Like any other social organization, religion has its circles of greater or lesser privilege; so those who more easily fit in to any religion’s culture will be more or less blind to the way the institution marginalizes or excludes others.
Likewise, I recognize that much good is done in the name of religion as well. But the more someone is likely to be a social outsider or even just “different,” the greater the risk that institutional religion will not be a safe place to be one’s true self: in fact, it can sometimes even be dangerous.
Just a few examples of what I mean…
Religion can be dangerous to the abused woman whose pastor counsels her that she needs to forgive her husband and go back to him.
Religion can be dangerous to the queer or trans kid whose parents and congregational leaders believe that they can be “cured” of their “affliction” through prayer and so-called “conversion therapy.”
And historically, religion was clearly dangerous to millions of enslaved persons who were told that it was God’s will that some people are enslaved, and that it was the enslaved person’s job to obey those who enslaved them.
And even when religion may not be dangerous on these levels, it can still cause psychological harm and/or emotional distress, by promoting a culture of mistrust, censure, or hatred for those who are different—which can range from marginalizing those with mental illness, those who are addicts or substance abusers, those who work in the sex industry or other lines of work judged as immoral, those who are neurodivergent, and especially those who conscientiously question the dogmas and doctrines of their church, and/or who feel drawn to explore other spiritual traditions aside from their own.
And finally, I have long recognized that there is a real tension between religion and mysticism — which may seem ironic given that many mystics are the product of religious cultures. But read on to see what I believe this tension is not only understandable but perhaps truly necessary. Let’s begin with Howard Thurman, the great mystic Baptist preacher, who spoke eloquently of this tension almost a century ago:
The mystic seems always to be the foe of institutional religion. He is very sensitive to the crystallizing of acts of worship into dead forms. It is profoundly true that he does not stand in need of the institution or the institutional forms as such. Even in Catholicism any careful reading of the testimony of the mystics convinces one that the church has no real friend in the mystic.
Why would a mystic be a foe of institutional religion? That is strong language indeed. Thurman is not mincing words, and his point is simple: that it is the nature of any human institution, sooner or later, to become focused on protecting the institution itself, even if this means deviating from its original mission. In the case of religion, this means that an organization originally created to love God and care for humanity can easily drift away from that initial mission, especially when it comes to promoting or protecting the institution itself. This is what Thurman means by observing how worship eventually crystallizes into “dead” forms.
Mystics and contemplatives are those who have such a meaningful and life-enhancing direct relationship with God/the Divine/the Mystery that not only do they “not stand in need” of any kind of institutional support, but they have the capability of seeing just how religious institutions can betray their original mission, and become organizations that can even cause harm rather than (or in addition to) their service toward others.
In other words: historically speaking, mystics were the OG SBNRs. (For readers who are older than I am, this basically means that mystics were the original and best version of those who prioritize spirituality over religion).
Now, like Howard Thurman, many mystics throughout history remained active in their faith communities. You can bet that any mystic who has been declared a saint by the Catholic Church generally had a track record of remaining embedded in their churches. But mystics who remain in churches often do so because they see the church as a place where they serve others, often in spite of the dysfunction of the church.
Meanwhile, at least one major mystic of the last 100 years — the French philosopher and activist Simone Weil — consciously chose not to affiliate with Christianity in its institutional form, even as she remained clearly a mystic who encountered Christ.
In the non-dual consciousness that mature mystics will often experience, they have the spiritual freedom to be non-attached to their relationship with the institutional church: staying in the church or leaving the church is equally acceptable to the mystic, and many mystics “stay” simply because the church is a place where they can love and care for others, which is what they really feel called to do.
But not all SBNRs are mystics at that level of non-dual non-attachment.
In my experience, many people who choose to identify as SBNR do so not because they are rejecting “truth” (this is where I take issue with Laura London’s snark), but because they are rejecting harm — real or potential harm that the institutional church has inflicted on them or on people they care about.
If you’re in an abusive marriage, very often you have to leave it, not only to protect your safety and/or the safety of your children, but also to act decisively so that the abuser will no longer be able to keep abusing. Having the relationship end may be precisely what is necessary for an abuser to finally begin doing the hard work necessary to overcome their violence. Of course, there’s no guarantee that will happen, and too many abusers will respond to the end of one relationship just by finding someone else to abuse. But the end of an unhealthy marriage gives them a chance to repent, even if they refuse to do anything about it.
I know that’s an imperfect analogy; after all, toxic religion is not going to change just because some people choose to do the healthy thing and leave. But at least for the person leaving, doing so can make the difference between life and death (psychological and emotional death, if not real physical harm). And just like it takes real courage for an abused spouse to leave a hostile marriage, it also often takes real courage for a person to walk away from a high-control religious setting and choose to be SBNR.
All this to say: if you are SBNR, I see no reason to criticize you. On the contrary, I admire your courage and your bravery. I may still be religious myself, but I will do everything I can to relate to you in safe and supportive ways. I want to hear your story and understand why you have made the choices you’ve made. I don’t want to be your judge, I want to be your friend. Indeed, I want to appreciate your ongoing commitment to spirituality, even after you have been hurt by religion.
And to those who, for whatever reason, choose to remain religious practitioners: please stop boring me with your criticism of SBNR persons. Furthermore, if you happen to be a Christian, remember that Jesus taught us to “judge not.” So let’s stop judging SBNRs and other people who have walked away from religious observance. Let’s be humble and listen to their stories instead. We might learn a thing or two.
