Before I followed the call to ministry, I was a very active lay leader, spending many of my evenings in the meeting rooms of All Souls in Washington DC. One day as I was leaving work to head to church, the young woman I supervised quipped, “Off to your unpaid side hustle?” She had a biting wit, but we shared a mutual respect for one another and for our commitments to our respective faith traditions. It was said in good humor. I’ve often recounted the story in a self-deprecating way, to poke fun at myself, but this week I’m reminded of it for different reasons. The joke only works because the behavior was unusual. We were not of a generation and social circle where people spent much time at church. Lately, I’ve been reminded of the ways we’re often discouraged from prioritizing our spiritual lives.

As I prepared for last week’s Thirsty Thursday Theology discussion on spiritual practices, I was struck by how often we (myself included) conflate self-care with spiritual deepening, collapsing the two into an efficient “two birds one stone” block of time. Some of the articles I found while digging around for resources talked about spiritual practices not as valuable in and of themselves, but as a means for improving health or increasing productivity. We call our morning workouts a spiritual practice and meditate to reduce anxiety, as though a well-regulated nervous system circumvents our very human need to ask why we’re here, where we’re going, and what is sacred.

This week I’m attending a conference of the UU Minister’s Association and am enrolled in a learning track focused on the minister’s role in supporting religious education, faith formation, and family engagement. We’ve been discussing the many demands on parents and kids in this day and age and the ways church often takes a back seat to sports, rehearsals, recitals and school projects. It becomes almost an act of care to be the one thing overwhelmed families are allowed to skip, but we all lose something in the process. We don’t benefit from the curious, joyful, wise presence of our children and youth, and our children and youth learn their spiritual lives aren’t worth prioritizing.

As liberal people of faith in an increasingly unchurched world, it can feel almost embarrassing to make caring for our spiritual lives non-negotiable. I once taught a “Building Your Own Theology” class for young adults and one student, who was attending church while stationed on a naval ship in the area, requested time off to attend the class citing religious obligation. The class was shocked! As good Unitarians, the thought of anything at church being a “religious obligation” felt nearly heretical, but we were all moved and even changed by the sense of commitment. It gave everyone their permission to also take their own faith lives that seriously.

And I think more than ever we need to give ourselves that permission. As I’ve written before, we are living in times that demand deep discernment, moral clarity, and courage. Sociologist Liz Bucar writes, “In a political moment when opposition politicians won’t even name the stakes, religious language might be the only language that’s radical enough. Not because it’s comfortable or comforting. But because these traditions have been thinking about costly commitment for millennia. They’ve got frameworks for what it means to trust something absolutely.” When I watch so many of my colleagues and people of faith in Minneapolis, Boston, Portland, ME and beyond kneeling in prayer, getting arrested, and raising their voices in opposition to ICE’s violent and oppressive tactics, I see people who are taking their faith seriously. That kind of risk-taking and prophetic witness only comes after taking time to deeply connect with the source of our most sacred values and listen for the call of the holy.

So friends, give yourself permission to take your religious and spiritual life seriously. When I say this, I’m not saying don’t have fun. I’m not asking for some kind of fanatical commitment to dogma. I’m not even asking you to feel guilty when you miss church. What I am telling you is that your soul is worthy of care and attention. The questions you bring to church are worthy of exploration. Experiences of wonder, awe, devotion, and community are necessary for our flourishing. Worship and faith formation aren’t extracurricular activities, but central to the human experience.

So let’s support each other in prioritizing spiritual care and religious community. Let’s resolve to be a community of people who take our faith seriously—who carve out time for attending to it and aren’t ashamed to let it take up real, substantive space in our lives.

In faith,
Rev. Danielle