When "Spiritual but Not Religious" Is Not Enough: Seeing God in Surprising Places, Even the Church

"Spiritual but not religious" (SBNR) is a classification that seems to be appearing in the spiritual autobiographies of more and more people these days. I wouldn't call it new, but at the very least anti-institutional or self-styled spirituality is more present in the public discourse and more widely celebrated than it has been in the past. It should be no surprise. Organized religion, it seems, tends to follow culture. Sociologist Robert Putnam, among others, has been tracking the erosion of institutions and the rise of individualism in the U.S. over the last several decades. The SBNR movement, in my opinion, has been conceived largely of those two trends in our society. Interestingly, I received my pre-ordered copy of this book during a week in which NPR aired a series titled "Losing Our Religion," which chronicles the decline of organized religion in the U.S.--a trend that is pronounced among people in their 20's and 30's. Being part of that demographic myself, and being the senior minister of a mid-sized mainline protestant church (with a solid contingent of 20 & 30 somethings), this is a matter of great interest to me.Chapter one of "When 'Spiritual But Not Religious' is Not Enough" regaled me by boldly claiming what is often seen as a forbidden sentiment for someone in my position: I find the SBNR narrative (i.e., the "heilsgeschichte" or "salvation story") to be rather boring and self-serving. Daniel captures it perfectly: "Let me guess, you read The New York Times every Sunday, cover to cover, and you get more out of it than the sermon. Let me guess, you exercise and where do you find God? Nature. And the trees, it's always the trees during a long hike, a long run, a walk on the beach. And don't forget the sunset. These people always want to tell you that God is in the sunset." (5) She goes on from there to point out what most clergy and many SBNR folks have come to experience first-hand: "...push a little harder, on this self-developed religion, and you don't get much, at least not much of depth. So you find God in the sunset? Great, so do I. But how about in the face of cancer? Cancer is nature too. Do you worship that as well?" (6) Some will be put off by Daniel's sharpness and candor, but it is also clear that her critique is rooted in pastoral concern. SBNR works great when life is working great, not so good when times are tough.The remaining chapters present a series of short stories organized loosely around the themes of searching and praying, confessing, communing, wandering, wondering, and remembering and returning. Daniel artfully weaves together reflections on everyday experiences and about the church that many of us have come to know and love--the rough and ready church full of imperfect people who together create imperfect communities. I finished the first chapter thinking that I was in for a quick read that would affirm all my basic assumptions about the subject (and who doesn't appreciate that from time to time!). But as I parsed through the stories, I began to sense that there was more going on beneath the surface. I think the most significant contribution of this book is that it clears some common ground on which honest dialogue about what SBNR means can take place. It enticed me to return to the table and reengage in a conversation that is sorely needed, both by the church and by those who claim SBNR as their creed. Like everything that Lillian Daniel writes, this book is a delight to read, and full of wit and humor. My one criticism is that it suffered somewhat for inadequately framing the discussion. I wanted a concluding chapter to help tie together some of the threads that appeared in the stories. Nonetheless, I think it is a worthwhile read for clergy and laity and would serve well as a conversation piece for any kind of small group.

It was hard to decide how to rate this book--if Amazon let me do half stars I would have assigned three and a half. Like a lot of people, I wanted to read this book because of the essay that makes up the first chapter, wherein the author hilariously mocks the people who are always snottily telling her they are "spiritual but not religious." She expertly sends up some cliches that were long overdue for a sending up. It was great. If the rest of the book had been even close to that, I would have cracked a rib laughing and given it five easy stars.Unfortunately things get a lot more shaky after that solid start. I don't know the history of these essays, but it read to me like the author was offered a book deal on the strength of that first essay and told to patch together some of her other writings as fast as possible, because the quality is very uneven and it reads like a rush job--especially when, late in the book, she reiterates material from the opening essay pretty much verbatim without any apparent reason to do so then and there. It comes across not so much as a coda but as some kind of editorial dementia, and rather than gluing the book together, just threw into the spotlight how slipshod the construction was in the first place.To be fair, there are some really excellent pieces in here. The story about facing her first death as a pastor was very thoughtful, the story of grooms waiting in the basement of her church, and the essay reflecting on pastors who think of their congregation as an "us" versus those who think of it as "them" stand out as gems. But on the other hand, there are also a lot of pieces that are too brief, too cliched, or both. A rant about the politics of immigration in the USA simply rehashed talking points that I can personally recall hearing on a regular basis since the late 1980s, shed no new light on the subject, and cast her political opposites as oversimplified villains rather than capable opponents. There were too many touching stories about pets, including--yes, truly--one about a plucky blind kitten who "walks by faith not by sight." Groan. This is Reader's Digest pap, and not as incisive, daring, or entertaining as what I had come to expect from her opening essay. The fact that she proved herself capable of better insights and better writing with pieces like the one about her dying church caretaker only made these weepy cheesepuff pieces seem lazy by comparison.The ironic thing is, this book struck me as "spiritual, not religious" to a T. The short, easy to digest, misty-eyed anecdotes where the narrator gets brought down a notch by a homeless man's unexpected background; the "carpe diem" sentimentalism where the narrator realizes, gosh darn, just being here with my kids is reason enough to bring out the good china! And thank heavens for the catastrophic flood of my basement that got me to bring out the old photos for a stroll down memory lane! She even finds the brighter side of her parents' divorce. Aww. It's a wonderful life! All of this is the exact kind of "chicken soup for the soul" that the author so wittily sends up in the first chapter. Where is the firm backbone of religious faith that she testifies to in that opening salvo, beneath this mush?The author's cheesy sentimentalism and NPR-as-confessional-statement bent reminded me a lot of Anne Lamott. If you like Anne Lamott, you will love this book--and when she's funny, she's way funnier than Lamott ever is. But I am not a fan of Lamott so it began to grate on me, and, disappointingly, I was glad when the book finally ended.

Some time ago I attended a huge church where nothing but happy music was the order of the day. On the overhead screen (away from the cross), warm cuddly images of children, flowers, butterflies and puppies were shown to the delight of all the people. The pastor rose to speak and told a story of two men who fell from a ten story building. The one died, but the other - praise God - lived. If we only believe, the pastor concluded, we too will be like the man who survived because we are filled with upbeat, positive thoughts.I left that church feeling utterly deflated, like I was a dinosaur in a slick, "whoever's teeth are the whitest wins" kind of world. My mind kept going back to the poor guy who died and wondering how his spectacular failure (what faithlessness he showed in dying!) was fodder for this preacher's sermon illustration. I felt like the odd-person out because I did not love this and because it was about as far away from what I believed as I could get.Lillian Daniel light-heartedly and effectively pokes holes in people's easy theology in her book, "When `Spiritual But Not Religious' Is Not Enough." Before I read her book, I expected it to read more like an essay, but I was delighted to find narratives - stories that related her experiences of life in the church and how that life is often misunderstood by those outside of it. I admire her willingness to take on those who set up a caricature of the church and conveniently dismiss it as so much hocus-pocus. Daniel is one of the most gifted and engaging writers of our day, and as great as this book was, I suspect that her best writing is ahead of her. For readers like myself who really enjoy her storytelling, I hope so!

Loved this book. The points made are valid and enjoyable to read. Honest and practical.

good read

A wise, inspirational input and loving critique on todays spiritual and religious thinking. A must read for clergy and congregation alike.

The stories in this book are short and easy to read and could easily be used as part of a Sunday sermon. They are relevant in today's society and makes one stop and think about the world around us and how we perceive God in our everyday life. a must read.