THE SPIRITUALITY OF HUMANISM

May 21, 2006

Today I will be talking about two terms frequently tossed about by Unitarian Universalists: Humanism and Spirituality. When we do use them, I’ve noticed, we sound as if we know what we were talking about. At the end of my talk today, you may conclude that at least one UU (the speaker) has absolutely no clue. Seeing as how my resume’ includes zero seminary training that would be fair, but anyway I’ll give it a try. And then I will conclude my remarks with two examples of what I have come to think of as spiritual experiences in my own life.

Humanism was the bedrock orientation of Unitarians back in the 1960’s when I first discovered our denomination and became an enthusiastic convert from Presbyterianism. And, sure enough, Humanism is still around – it is the most frequently selected theological orientation on surveys of Unitarian Universalists nationwide. On the other hand, Spirituality, during the past decade or so, has captured the imagination of younger UUs, has puzzled some of us older guys, and has energized all of us. My question today is: How do these two concepts relate to each other? Are they like oil and water – they just don’t mix? Or, are they like the Shakespearian families in Romeo and Juliet, the Montagues and the Capulets? They do mix, but when they do, the sparks fly and people die, and then more people fall in love and still die. Or, finally, can Humanism and Spirituality find common cause and coexist, and are they natural companions with one another?

First, humanism. The classic, most prominent short statement of humanism, I believe, comes from the Humanist Manifesto. The Humanist Manifesto was created by 34 religious intellectuals in 1933. (Signers include John Dewey, Lester Mondale, Ed Wilson.) From the viewpoint of traditional religions at the time, the Humanist Manifesto was radical, perhaps even heretical. The document contained fifteen affirmations. These included: A rejection of the divine creation of the universe (they said, the universe was “self-existing”); an endorsement of the natural evolution of humans; rejection of a supernatural or cosmic origin of human values (i.e., human values are not God-given but created by human beings, and thus not absolute); a rejection of separation of sacred and secular; and endorsement of the cultural influences in human development. It endorsed science as a path toward enlightenment. With reference to today’s topic, it said: “It follows that there will be no uniquely religious emotions and attitudes of the kind hitherto associated with belief in the supernatural.” In other words, religion can’t claim emotional experiences that are different from other kinds of human emotions.

Humanists hold to an organic view of life, based on science. The faith of the humanist is not in a supernatural being and the hereafter, but in “the complete realization of human personality” and in the desirability of seeking the personality’s “development and fulfillment in the here and now.” Humanism, as the name implies, is entirely focused on the human being. Humanists look not to religious doctrine for future’s hope, but to human civilization and culture, and the products of human effort, such as the physical, biological and social sciences.

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The Seventh Thesis of the Humanist Manifesto states: “Religion consists of those actions, purposes, and experiences which are humanly significant. Nothing human is alien to the religious. It includes labor, art, science, philosophy, love, friendship, recreation – all that is in its degree expressive of intelligently satisfying human living, The distinction between the sacred and the secular can no longer be maintained.” When you think of Humanism, especially what came to be called “secular humanism” you think of the rational, the material, the logical, and the notion that supernatural causes are not necessary to appreciate and find worth in (“worship”) our universe and all that it contains.

And now to spirituality. I admit to being a neophyte regarding spirituality. What I found is that understanding precisely what spirituality means is like nailing Jello to a wall. The various approaches to the topic, though, appear to agree that spirituality has to do with the emotional, the subjective, and the personal – with our inner experience and the growth of our inner life. In the New Age view spirituality is also the “active and vital connection to a force, spirit, or sense of the deep self.” And to quote one source, “Spirituality, according to most adherents, is an essential part of an individual’s holistic health and well-being” (Wikipedia on Spirituality). So, it is an important part of our lives.

Spirituality can be associated with religion in several ways. Those in traditional or orthodox religions are likely to think of spirituality as part of their religion, that is, that part which brings them closer to God in a more personal way, as opposed to the rituals and dogmas of their religious tradition. Those in more progressive religions may think of spirituality as even broader in scope than any particular religion – that is, that religion is just one way to experience the spiritual. For these worshipers, there are many spiritual paths and each one is valid, so that the path that makes the most sense to the individual is the correct one for him or her. (That may sound familiar to UUs.) There is even a third way to look at spirituality. Some believers separate spirituality from religion altogether. Their conviction is that religion is unnecessary to experience the spiritual in our lives and to make us whole. Some may even see religion as an impediment to achieving true spirituality.

So, what do ordinary people think of when they think of their own spirituality? Two investigators took up that question and published the results in 1998. They highlighted five key concepts as worthy of our consideration:

· Meaning – significance of life; making sense of situations; deriving purpose.

· Values – beliefs, standards and ethics that are cherished.

· Transcendence – experience, awareness, and appreciation of a “transcendent dimension” to life beyond self.

· Connecting – increased awareness of a connection with self, others, God/Spirit/Devine, and nature.

· Becoming – an unfolding of life that demands reflection and experience; includes a sense of who one is and how one knows. (Martsolf & Mickley)

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And there it is, in the fourth key concept –what I have been looking for: How a humanist such as myself is likely to participate in spirituality. It’s in the connecting. Omitting references to the supernatural, that fourth key concept reads “Connecting – increased awareness of a connection with self, others and nature.” Humanists value relationships, the relationships between individuals, among people in families and groups, and how each person connects with his or her wider culture. We also value ourselves as a part of nature and our association with all things natural. So, it is through these connections that humanists, I believe, will experience spirituality.

Let me illustrate that discovery with two personal experiences – one connected with nature and one with another human being in an intensely emotional situation. In the early 1970’s our family took a break from college teaching for a sabbatical semester in Hawaii. We lived on Kauai, one of the beautiful islands in the chain. Kauai has famous beaches on the perimeter of the island, and Mount Waialeale rising majestically into the clouds in the interior. A noteable characteristic of Kauai is that the road along the beaches does not completely encircle the island – it is interrupted by the broad Kalalau Valley. Dalyte and I took the kids one day to view this valley from the Kalalau Lookout. It is hard for me to put into words my emotions on first viewing the Kalalau. You stand at the head of the valley and see below you the lush, tropical green covering over a series of knife-like ridges and a straight swoop down 4,000 feet to the Pacific Ocean. I could see the breakers at the shore, plunging white against the deep blue waters; but, amazingly, from that distance I couldn’t hear them. That first look took my breath away. And not a sign of modern human habitation anywhere in the valley, although Hawaiian natives had once occupied the valley as their home. What serenity, what majesty, what unexpected beauty! If you can’t love and appreciate nature on viewing the Kalalau Valley on Kauai, you probably can’t do it anywhere in the universe. I’m not the only one with such profound feelings. The Kalalau has been called the most magical place on earth. One poet said, “Being in Lalalau is like being given permission to see and touch one of the most intimate parts of the earth.” Much later in my life, with the memory of that day still fresh, I concluded – “That was a spiritual experience.”

The second personal experience I want to share with you occurred on Halloween night in 1994. By 1994 I was working professionally in the Indianapolis area and had developed working relationships with a number of public safety and emergency response agencies. The weather that night was just awful. Severe rainstorms had produced flooding. The night was pitch black and sporadically fierce winds whipped trees into a frenzy. Early in the evening I got a call from Mitzi Graham of the Indianapolis chapter of the American Red Cross. Had I heard that an airliner had crashed? No, I hadn’t. Well, she said, American Airlines had told the families of the passengers from Indianapolis to gather at the Indianapolis airport, so I had better get on over there and help out. ”Goodbye, get going” she said. I went.

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I lived north of Indianapolis, and Indianapolis International was southwest, so just getting to the airport was a bit of a challenge. The Interstate was flooded and closed, so I traveled on open city streets. There was almost no traffic. Once there I found out more about what had happened. Sixty four passengers and four crew members had left Indianapolis earlier that evening on American Airlines Flight 4184 bound for Chicago’s O’Hare airport. The airplane, in severe weather, had crashed in a farmer’s field in Northern Indiana, near Roselawn. There were no survivors. Much later we learned that too much ice had built up on the wings, causing lack of maneuverability, and a deadly plunge into the earth.

Airport personnel had cordoned off the cafeteria for families and loved ones of the passengers presumed to have been on 4184. Chaplains and grief counselors were permitted into the cafeteria and (thankfully) all media were aggressively excluded, although they hung around in the hallways. As you might imagine, it was a somber, quiet assemblage, with the men mostly grim faced, the women both grim faced and tear stained. Names had been taken, and everyone was waiting to hear from American Airlines authorities the horrible news that, yes, it is now official that your loved one really was on that aircraft. People gathered at the small, round cafeteria tables, waiting for the approach by an airlines official, which sometimes took an hour or more.

I asked myself, what was there for me to do in these circumstances? They don’t teach you that in graduate school, I can tell you that for sure. In death notification situations, psychotherapy is not appropriate and any intervention that purposely uncovers or draws out strong emotions, is not advised. I took my clue from Father Richard Cooley, the Chaplain of the Indiana State Police, who had come to the airport prior to my arrival. He and I had developed a close working relationship through my work with the State Police. He was the very picture of an Irish Catholic priest, short, a bit pudgy, round faced, full of stories and a great sense of humor. Everyone liked Father Cooley, and I had great respect for the job he had done with the State Police. He greeted me, smiled and said, “Just introduce yourself at one of the tables, and ask if they would like you to sit with them for a while.” Then I remembered the first rule for helping in these circumstances: Just Be There.

I met with and listened to some of the families. One couple I sat with had an adult son who had left on a business trip and they talked about how proud they were of him. They knew, really, that he had not survived, but the bewilderment and shock had not given way yet to the grief that was to follow. And then the man from American Airlines called their name and they left for a private conference with him. I did not see them again.

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So this was the context for what I am calling my other humanist spirituality experience. Toward the end of my stay in the cafeteria, I sat with three people, a woman in her mid-20’s and an older couple. The young woman was showing intense grief, controlled, but intense. She had been crying. She twisted a wet handkerchief in her hands as we talked. The two older people were distant relatives of another passenger and, as I recall, were called away soon after I sat down. Earlier that evening, the young woman explained, she had taken her husband to the airport for the start of a business trip. He was working his way up in a computer business and he loved his job. She had a small picture of him, which she produced from a pocket in her jacket. They had been married for all of six months and enjoyed each other immensely. They had met in college. She said, “I know he’s dead because I saw him get on the plane.” She said they lived in a starter apartment in Indianapolis, and upon my inquiry, said both his and her relatives would come in from nearby cities in Indiana to be with her that night.

She got up to leave when suddenly the loss hit her again, this time with the reality of what was to follow. She slumped down and let loose her accumulating fears, “How am I going to cope with this, how will I ever get along without him, how am I going to make decisions, what am I going to do with his clothes and his books, how am I going to pay the bills, should I keep the apartment?” And it was there with her agonizing over the future that I was able to offer the one real intervention I made all evening. I said her name and said, “Look, you are very capable and you will decide all these things as they come up. But for tonight, you don’t have to solve a thing. Just go home, be with your family, try to eat some soup or something, and try to get some rest and sleep if you can. Your grief will work itself out in time. But for tonight just take care of yourself.” She paused and seemed to regain control, then thanked me, said she should be on her way and left the cafeteria. I read about her husband in the Indianapolis Star, which eventually profiled all sixty-eight people who died, but I never heard from her again. In my mind, I wish her well and feel confident that she was eventually able to resume her life.

Why would I now call this a spiritual experience? In retrospect I realized that I had responded spontaneously, straight from the gut so to speak, to a person who had just revealed the depth of her fears and her anguish. Psychologically I sensed that she was heading into that abyss too quickly, trying to answer what was, for that night, at least, unanswerable. Simply put, it was one human being connecting with another when a connecting was certainly in order. To me, that’s how humanists experience the spiritual.

And so, I guess I have provided a partial answer to my question this morning. Humanism and spirituality are not only compatible, but necessary for one another.