Genuine spirituality in fiction, part 2
Denatured/secular spirituality and the notion of "spiritual but not religious"
In Genuine spirituality in fiction, Part 1 (which I edited a little since it first went out via email, by the way) we saw how different lists of fiction titles on sources like Goodreads are rather generous with what qualifies as “spiritual.” Although some works do inspire readers in some manner, even if it’s not explicitly stated, toward God or a greater reality of some kind, many don’t seem to have anything to do with what would normally be associated with the spiritual. Such classifications arise, I believe, from the notions of “secular spirituality” and “spiritual but not religious,” the latter being a way in which a good number of people today identify themselves.
In part 2 here we’ll dig into these notions further because although I can understand their appeal, they do present a few problems or challenges that then spill over into expressions of spirituality and spiritual realism in fiction. Most notably, in their rejection of the “religious” they can easily reject a lot of what is yet genuinely spiritual, and instead of aiding people in a sincere spiritual search they can become obstacles. That is, although they might satisfy a sociological desire to avoid being identified with either dogmatic religionists or abject materialists, they aren’t likely to satisfy the inner yearnings of the heart and soul either.
Definitions of “spiritual”
What does “spiritual” even mean? According to the references built into Microsoft Office (and Bing search, which is what Office uses), “spiritual” has two definitions:
“Relating to religion or religious beliefs,” for which some synonyms are religious, sacred, divine, holy, nonsecular, churchly, and ecclesiastic.
“Relating to or affecting the human spirit or soul as opposed to material or physical things.” For this meaning, some of the synonyms are nonmaterial, intangible, otherworldly, ethereal, mystic, psychic, psychological, and metaphysical.
Other dictionaries have variations on these ideas, but these definitions are suitable for our discussion, most notably because they include one meaning that falls outside the traditional sense of the word and one that I don’t find in my printed dictionary.
Now, the first definition clearly reflects the traditional understanding, the one that equates “spiritual” with “religious.” I think this usage is pretty clear, although it’s necessary here to think of “religion” in its most universal sense rather than in terms of a particular faith, denomination, sect, church, and so on.
The second definition, too, when it speaks of the “soul” and gives synonyms like nonmaterial, mystic, and metaphysical, suggests the understanding that “spiritual” refers to things that transcend our normal, material, and sensual world. This must again be taken in a universal, nonsectarian sense, as I think we can agree, for example, that it’s “spiritual” to speak of God or a greater reality in an overarching sense that’s inclusive of Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Sikhs, and people of many faiths who share that fundamental belief. (Even Buddhists, who are properly described as nontheistic rather than atheistic, speak of the Buddha awakening to the Ultimate Reality.) The idea, too, of an eternal, nonmaterial soul that exists separate from the body, as also common among many faiths, is also a “spiritual” concept in this sense of the word. And we can say that attitudes, beliefs, and practices that inspire or uplift one in the direction or experience of these concepts is also spiritual.
So far, so good. These definitions align with how I’ve generally understood “spiritual” over the course of my adult life. So how, then, do books that have nothing to do with these matters, like the two we looked at in Part 1, find their way onto lists of “spiritual fiction”?
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