When I was younger, I wanted to be spiritual not so much for it’s own sake but because I thought for some reason it might be impressive. I’m not good at team sports and I am attractive in low light, so holy man seemed like my only option. The problem with that, of course, is it’s hard to be holy when you are hoping someone is watching. That mountain top experience with chanting monks and incense just was not coming together.
Any real spiritual insight I may have gained — if any — has mostly come through what William James described as “the educational variety” of spiritual experience. Slow, steady, and not very attention grabbing. So when I actually do have some sort of visceral spiritual experience, it is a bit disconcerting. My reactions are as unpredictable as the events.
Like you would think that maybe being in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre would be a spiritually moving event. This is the place, so they say, where Jesus was crucified, died, was buried and rose. All within easy walking distance. And it’s not that I don’t believe the story, I just am not sure it’s all so conveniently located. The mass of sightseers in the midst of it all can be pretty disconcerting as well. That’s the epicenter of my tradition, but somehow it is just not doing it for me.
So what to do next? Why not meander on over to the Western Wall. This is the only verifiable part of the last Temple of the Jews before it was destroyed by the Romans in 60 AD. It has been the holiest site for many Jews for many centuries. But what’s that got to do with me? I am not Jewish. Still, I can feel a holy place, and there is something undeniable about the connection to history and the relationship of our story to God’s story when I touched the Western Wall. It was a much more powerful experience than I anticipated.
It is an experience I want for everyone to have, especially my family, my wife and daughter. But we cannot have it together. There are separate sections of the area in front of the wall for men and women. Had my child been born with half a chromosome less, we could have gone together to the wall. As it is, she would have to go only with her mother who could not reach the wall because there were too many other women praying there. The area for women is one third the size of the area for men, and there were easily twice as many women praying.
I know it’s complicated. I know it’s historical. I know there are a lot of things that I don’t know or understand. But it’s not about a political or ideological statement. It’s about my family. The one thing that endures is our life together. The thing we came here to celebrate is the creation of another family. But our family cannot be together at the place in which I have most directly experienced God on this trip, and that makes me angry because it’s not about God, it’s about people. And my unpredictable reactions to unexpected experiences.
maybe it IS about god and you just don’t understand what he’s up to. maybe he wanted to get you alone, to have you to himself for a moment, to share something directly with you. he’s a jealous god, you know, doesn’t always share those who belong to him, even with their families. and some things are just between a man and his god… everything’s not meant to be shared.
but, what do i know. 😉
You could be on to something. At the very least, I am always due reminding that it’s not about what I want. It’s a good illustration of why I’m not the guy to receive the next astounding revelation, but give me a small one and I’ll pick it apart for years.