Growing spiritually during the college years. (Featured Topic).

"I'M NOT RELIGIOUS, BUT I AM SPIRITUAL," is a common expression among many college students. When asked why they are not religious, these students offer a litany of reasons: organized religion is too dogmatic and judgmental, worship services are too cold and perfunctory. There certainly exists compelling anecdotal evidence that a significant percentage of college students are "disaffected" with institutionalized religion.

Spirituality examined

So, what about "spirituality"? For some, appropriating this term will mean starting down a slippery slope to narcissistic navel gazing. For others, "spirituality" is a compelling and generative term that captures our most heart-felt aspirations. For example, Sharon Daloz Parks (2000) suggests in her new book Big Questions, Worthy Dreams that spirituality is "rooted in a longing for ways of speaking of the human experience of depth, meaning, mystery, moral purpose, transcendence...the capacity to love, and the apprehension of spirit (or Spirit) as the animating essence at the core of life" (emphasis added).

Although college students may nod in approval at her definition of spirituality, I was immediately struck by Sharon's use of the word apprehension; it seemed out of place, and in subsequent readings, I kept wanting to put a different term in its place. I finally looked up the word in the dictionary and discovered that apprehension has three distinct meanings: 1.) uneasiness, dread. 2.) understanding, perception. 3.) arrest, capture.

The use of the term apprehension suddenly made perfect sense to me. Indeed, I started to think that these three definitions might reflect a dynamic three-step process by which the "apprehension of spirit" actually occurs. Step one: We work through our uneasiness (and doubts) about God, spirituality, and religious faith. Step two: We begin to perceive and understand the reality of a transcending Spirit. And finally, step three: The point in our lives when we capture the Spirit.

I will leave it to the scientists and theologians to test the empirical and ecclesiastical validity of this three-step construct. Instead, I would like to focus on the nature of spirituality during the college years. I am hopeful that my ideas may provide a useful framework for a dialogue among college and university officials who teach and work with college students--whether these students were raised in a home completely void of "God talk" or whether their childhood faith has suddenly lost its meaning and vitality.

A closer look at spirituality

More specifically, I have developed three premises that focus on the nature and development of spirituality. Each premise builds on and serves as an essential touchstone for the next. It is my hope that each of these three premises may also be helpful to students (and others) who are questioning the meaning of "spirituality," or have doubts about the nature of spiritual wisdom, or perhaps most critically, are open to learning more about the incredible mystery of what some call Ultimate Reality.

Premise 1: Spirituality is a human universal

Just as it is within our human nature to build (homo faber) and play (homo ludens) , I believe we are most assuredly homo spiritualis. Perhaps within the next decade or so someone in the academy will take up the challenge to scientifically "prove" this essential reality of human nature. Clearly, there already exists compelling evidence that most (if not all) of us experience what Peter Berger (1969) calls "signals of transcendence," moments when we have "touched" the Spirit in a numinous experience. For some, this initial "signal" emerged during childhood when we experienced the beauty of nature and felt for the first time something "larger" than ourselves. For others, it was the first twinge of anger at injustice and our responsive shout (to ourselves and others): "It doesn't have to be this way!" For still others, it was (and remains) the power of a Bach fugue or the rapturous thrill of gospel and other forms of religious music to touch and stir one's soul. And yes, a few of us first experienced God in resp onse to a humbling cry for help in times of illness or loss.

One hundred years ago the Harvard psychologist William James (1985/1902) wrote that these experiences are "states of insight into depths of truth unplumbed by the discursive intellect. They are illuminations, revelations, full of significance and importance...and as a rule they carry within them a curious sense of authority over time" (emphasis added). About a half century later, the Oxford University scientist Alister Hardy (1966) posited that each of us is endowed with a "divine flame"--the very source of our capacity to believe in God. Even more recently, the University of Chicago scholar Leon Kass (1994) has argued that our soul is not a theological construct but a biological notion. We are creatures, he asserts in his book, The Hungry Soul, who must provide nourishment to our deepest desires, appetites, and longings.

All of this evidence suggests that we possess an innate spiritual impulse that lies deep in our human nature. This "divine flame" is something we are born with, something that is essentially dynamic and forever seeking articulation and expression. Perhaps William Butler Yeats had it about right when he wrote: True education is not the filling of a pail but the igniting of a flame.

Premise 2: Spiritual practice is the rudder of spiritual growth

The reality is that for many college students there exists considerable confusion: They are hungry for deeper meaning and a "taste" of transcendence, but they just don't know where or how to begin. They are "lost" in the sense that they are searching for--but can't seem to find--the equivalent of a Mount Sinai to begin their spiritual climb. Indeed, spiritual mountain climbing is the metaphor used most effectively by Scotty McLennan (1999), currently dean of religious life at Stanford University, in his book, Finding Your Religion. McLennan's core argument is his unyielding belief (born out of his own personal experience) that the mountain beckons--so, choose a religious tradition and start climbing!

Perhaps here is where the unease and dread among college students begins to surface. Simply put, all spiritual traditions have developed a set of practices through which one comes to experience a transcendent spirit. Some of these practices include meditation or journal writing outside formal worship, while for others--especially those embedded within a specific religious tradition--there is an array of community practices, such as attending weekly Bible study or being present at mosque for Friday prayer.

Within American culture there exists a renewed emphasis on the centrality of practices. Several years ago Richard Foster (1988) authored Celebration of Discipline, and more recently Dorothy Bass (1997) edited a wonderful volume titled Practicing Our Faith. Each of these works reinforces the same point: Without engaging in practice one's spiritual life becomes ossified, static, and frozen--and eventually the term itself will lose any real meaning or distinctiveness. We are only kidding ourselves if we think we can grow spiritually without seriously participating in a set of practices.

Premise 3: Spiritual "truths" flow out of our spiritual practices

Truth is a word rarely heard in the academy today. Indeed, the term itself may be the number one reason why so many college students resist participating in the practices of "organized religion." The notion that only one religious faith has a lock on the Truth is offensive and deeply repulsive to many in a generation whose motto can (arguably) be summed up in one word: "whatever."

The sort of truth I want to explore is truth born out of personal experience, not institutional dogma or doctrine. It is truth we begin to "see" within the context of participation in spiritual practices. It is the sort of truth that unfolds before us as well as truth that has been communicated to us by the spiritual traditions of the past. At its core, it is a "lived truth"--and one that frequently emerges out of the crucible of great loss or pain. It is the sort of truth that affirms: "When I was young I was forced to learn Isaiah 2 at Hebrew School--but now those words really mean something to me!" It is truth that draws us like a magnet into a much larger Story, a story that gives us the strength to stand on the shoulders of those who came before us and "search" for the truth in our own time and place. Perhaps it is precisely at this moment when we truly capture the spirit.

Most of these truths are of the "eternal" variety. That is, they are objective and "self-evident" in the sense that they do not change according to the seasons or whoever is in power. Perhaps the most fundamental of these "eternal truths" is the truth of love. All of the spiritual traditions speak to the relationship and connection between human love ("love thy neighbor") and divine love. Jesus called the ultimate expression and reality of this love the Kingdom of God, while the Buddha called it Enlightenment, and the Hindus named it Nirvana. Each of these spiritual traditions (and others) asserts that if we love everything--every grain of sand--we will begin to perceive the divine mystery in things. And then there is the simple reality of giving selfless love to those most in need: "Let us love you until you can love yourself" is a common refrain of those in Alcoholics Anonymous.

The spiritual traditions also emphasize the "truths" of justice, forgiveness, and mercy, and caring for the "least of these." Humility is another truth common to all of the spiritual traditions and many of the spiritual practices. As the prophet Micah (6:8) tells us, we are "to act justly, to show mercy, and to walk humbly" with our God. I have always wondered whether Micah is trying to tell us that humility is the face of Truth.

So, what difference does it make if we "search" for truth or not? I think it was Gandhi who answered this question best when he suggested that we should regularly ask ourselves: What have 1 done today that expresses my truth? If we agree with Gandhi's insight, then our spirituality ought to be grounded in specific behaviors and actions. If we bind together spirituality and truth seeking, then we have raised the stakes considerably. Spirituality is no longer just a buzzing feeling of Oneness or an abstract principle, but instead, spirituality suddenly becomes a lived truth that dynamically shapes our thoughts and actions.

Further reflections

Several years ago a number of campuses began launching "social norming" campaigns, aimed at reducing alcohol use among college students. The campaign was based on the phenomenon that students are likely to do what they believe their peers are doing, regardless of whether or not that belief is true. In other words, when researchers asked the average college student how much drinking he or she thinks is taking place on campus, the student will most likely grossly overestimate. The campaign focuses on "advertising" this discrepancy between perception of use and actual use.

Perhaps another sort of "social norming" campaign is needed on our campuses that focuses on matters of the spirit. However, I suspect that this time students might grossly underestimate the level of spiritual experience among their peers. If I am right that spirituality is a human universal and that all of us have experienced "signals of transcendence," then there ought to be more that we can do to allay the uneasiness that students often have when it comes to God-talk, spirituality, and religious faith. Perhaps one strategy might be creative ways to encourage students to begin participating in spiritual practices that have personal meaning. One such example, perhaps, is journal writing on themes related to transcendence, purpose, and the vitality of spiritual practice.

We are very likely reaching a moment in higher education where our students are now more likely to ask, "Where do I meet God?" than to ponder the question "Does God exist?" or to argue that "God is dead." Our challenge as educators is to discern how best to help our students develop a relationship with what they hold to be Sacred. We are relational beings, suggests Martin Buber. We learn best in relationship. Perhaps at the core of "spirituality" is a mysterious relationship that opens our hearts to questions of intimate meaning and ultimate truth.

WORKS CITED

Bass, Dorothy C, ed. 1997. Practicing our faith: A way of life for a searching people. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Berger, Peter. 1969. A rumor of angels: Modern society and the rediscovery of the supernatural. New York: Doubleday.

Foster, Richard. 1988. Celebration of discipline: The path to spiritual growth. San Francisco: HarperSanfrancisco.

Hardy, Alister 1966. The divine flame. London: Collins.

James, William. 1985/1902. The varieties of religious experience. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Kass, Leon 1994. The hungry soul: Eating and the perfecting of our nature. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

McLennan, Scotty. 1999. Finding your religion: V/hen the faith you grew up with has lost its meaning. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco.

Parks, Sharon Daloz. 2000. Big questions, worthy dreams: Mentoring young adults in their search for meaning, purpose, and faith. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

ARTHUR SCHWARTZ is director of character development programs at the John Templeton Foundation. He can be reached at [e-mail].