Spiritual Writing Shouldn’t Be Boring
You don’t have to be clergy to write about faith
Not so many years ago, I thought of spiritual writing as — unfortunately —
Boring.
I wasn’t reading a lot of it, mainly because I thought it was mostly sermons by clergy members, and I had very little interest in that. Then, little by little, a new generation of bloggers on religious subjects started to spring up, writing about their own personal connections to rituals, holidays and long-held notions about rules or laws. And, little by little, I started being more interested in what these bloggers had to say.
Some were talking about what it was like to be in a room full of people who had celebrated the Jewish Sabbath (aka Shabbat) all their lives, when they themselves had not. Others wrote about why it was important to them to be married in the church where they grew up and still others wrote about intermarriage with someone of a completely different faith.
I was reading spiritual bloggers because my own life had blown apart and then came back together again, kind of like Humpty Dumpty, only with a smoother ending (luckily). I had been married to a cantor who sang the liturgy in a synagogue, and when our son was about three, we divorced.
Trying to raise our son in this circumstance forced me to look at the holidays I’d grown up with — and a whole lot of rituals too, trying to pinpoint what was and wasn’t resonating. I knew that religion isn’t supposed to be about what we want; but at the same time, I wanted — no, needed — to be able to share my heritage with my son — and that meant, believing in it.
I’m writing about this now because it’s getting close to the Jewish New Year (called Rosh Hashanah in Hebrew). It’s a holiday when we’re supposed to take stock of our lives and how the past year went for us.
What “taking stock” means to me is not only about the kind of person I am trying to be — it’s also about what I want to share as a writer whose goal is to stay curious about the world and my place in it. My curiosity extends to being delighted there’s a new generation of bloggers and writers who are taking a fresh look at all sorts of spiritual holidays and traditions.
That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with traditional religious services; in fact, they can all be quite beautiful.
On the other hand, there are a lot of people out there who may not feel connected to traditional services because they aren’t leading traditional lives. Knowing that led me to start writing my own essays, which eventually turned into a book called Crooked Lines: A Single Mom’s Jewish Journey. If you asked me to describe it now, I’d call it spiritual autobiography rather than memoir.
When those first, early essays were published, I began hearing from a number of single parents, which was very exciting to me. I had guessed they were out there, but it was great to get comments from them and find out how they were navigating their lives. Many were trying to raise their kids in spiritual ways — though feeling like outsiders a lot of the time.
I didn’t know if other single moms and dads were tearing their hair out or being anxious about these issues, but I was. I knew I wanted to feel comfortable during a service and I wanted my son to feel comfortable too. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy, and the questions I had were many:
1. If you’re heading towards a big holiday and everyone you know is getting together with family, but you’re not invited anywhere, what do you do?
a. Sit alone in your room and cry
b. Go out to a restaurant with a friend of a different faith who pays for your meal
c. Pay a lot of money to visit family out of town
2. If you don’t have money to buy something you really need to celebrate a specific holiday, what do you do?
a. Start a Go Fund Me page
b. Accept a gift from a friend who really wants you to celebrate
c. Forget about observing this holiday
3. If you fall in love with someone of a different faith, what do you tell your son?
a. “Don’t follow my example.”
b. “We are not changing religions; we are sharing them.”
c. “Don’t tell your father about this.”
4. If you disagree with the way certain rituals are performed (like the divorce ritual, in my case), what can you do about it?
a. Send a note to your local representative or senator
b. Talk to your local clergy and ask for help
c. Leave your church or synagogue and never come back
The answer to every question here is B.
As it happened, a dear Catholic friend took me out for a New Year’s dinner and bought me something I needed to celebrate another holiday. When I met and married someone who was raised Protestant, we still observed the Jewish holidays, and shared a few of his family holidays, too. And when I talked with my rabbi about how humiliating I found our divorce ritual, he said I didn’t have to participate and could legalize it with a document sent by mail.
My rabbi’s words meant a lot to me because I don’t think we’re supposed to be ideal people (if there even is such a thing). And the reason I’m writing about spiritual matters isn’t because I think I have any expertise in religion of any sort. It’s because I don’t have it.
As you probably figured out by now, I’m an artist who flounders around a lot. Instead of knowing the origin of most spiritual practice or rituals or holidays, I have to look up how these traditions started and then figure out what they mean to me and others in my family.
That’s why I started writing about spirituality. It’s why I want to read what you write about your religious traditions and practices, too, whether they are Christian, Islamic, Hindu, Jewish, Buddhist, Wiccan, or anything else.
What am I curious about?
· If you’re feeling confused, or you don’t observe a particular holiday for any reason, can you tell me why?
· If you question some of your religion’s laws or you haven’t read scripture in forever but think about angels every now and again, I’m interested in learning more.
· If you disagree with a certain ritual or you’re having trouble deciding what or what not to believe — I want to read your spiritual biography.
Because struggle is at the heart of any spiritual journey — I’m convinced of it. And struggle can teach us a lot about who we are and what we believe.
Because (at least in my view), spiritual practice of any sort is about finding our own way home, and by home, I mean a place where you are at peace, and where you can transcend the harshness of realities you haven’t chosen.
Because a friend once quoted someone who said life was about muddling through, and I knew as soon as he said it that he was telling the truth. And because whatever we write about religion, spirituality, or anything else, it should not be boring.
To me that means being honest about how we fall short, pick ourselves up again if we can, and fall short again. My own journey led me to stories I never expected, and to the discovery that the rituals and holidays I had celebrated all my life held real meaning for me. So if you should decide to do some spiritual exploring or writing, I hope you won’t feel you have to be a pastor or a rabbi to do it.
I just hope you’ll do it, knowing the more you share (and dare), the more interesting your writing will be — especially spiritually.
