T
he muezzin’s call rang out over
the masjid speakers, reciting the
Islamic kalima, or statement of
faith, and my mother grabbed my hand as
we separated from my father and brother
to answer the call to prayer. It was one of
the occasional times my family went to
our mosque in Miami, but at age eight, I
was already aware that we were walking
to the women’s section behind the men’s,
separated by a row of dividers across
the middle of a large prayer room. The
unpatterned wall of beige dividers towered
over me when I was a child, but as time
went on, they never really felt smaller.
They blocked our view of the imam, or
religious leader, and we prayed, listening to
his disembodied voice recite excerpts from
the Quran.
After years of the same routine, I
remember one day finally asking my mother
why we had to pray separate from the men.
Her answer, somewhat vague, combined
the notion of prioritizing spiritualism, that
the separation allowed mosque-goers to
focus on God alone and because of tradition
— this was what had always been done. I
was temporarily comforted by her answer,
but I couldn’t help but wonder why it was
the women who were delegated behind the
barriers.
I wasn’t the first person to ask these
questions, nor will I be the last. Members
of the reformist Muslim community have
combatted questions like these for years,
with some groups staging protests against
gendered practices. In 2003, activist and
journalist Asra Q. Nomani challenged her
mosque in Morgantown, West Virginia by
praying in the men’s section rather than the
secluded women’s section on the balcony.
She argued, “The prophet Muhammad
didn’t put women behind partitions, and
the barriers were just emblematic of sexist
man-made rules.” Her actions resulted
in a trial organized by the mosque. Years
later, a group of women, led by Fatimah
Thompson, in Washington, D.C., staged a
similar act of civil disobedience and were
consequently escorted out by police force.
Nomani spoke on NPR’s series “Faith
Matters” to expand on the importance of
breaking gender segregation, “... the mosque
is not just a prayer space, it is a community
hall. It is a place where public policy in
the community is established. And what
happens when you sequester women into
these corners, is we dont vote at elections.
We don’t participate in policy development.
And so, you allow these places to become
safe houses for ideology that may not be
peaceful always.” She proposes that while
she wishes to abolish gender segregation in
mosques, she still respects women who feel
safer praying in their respective sections
and believes women should have the option
to pray where they please.
Their movement is one of many across
America — and the larger world — that
reflect a shift in the way we approach
spirituality in an increasingly secularized
world. Traditionally, we have viewed
organized religion and religious traditions
as an applied, systematic reflection of one’s
spirituality, but religion and spirituality
are not always the same.
In a 2017 poll, the Pew Research Center
reported that 27 percent of U.S. adults
identify as spiritual but not religious. This
number reflects a steady increase, which
is estimated to increase by 8 percentage
points in the five years after the study.
Other studies report Americans who
identify
their
religious
affiliation
as
“nothing in particular” have grown by 5
percent. Indeed, people are leaving their
sects, but are they in search of something
else?
My
personal
sense
of
spirituality
centers around the belief that I am only
a small piece of a larger, unexplainable
world. Rather than letting this scare me,
spirituality tells me that in my existence
there is balance, and within the madness
there is meaning. Growing up, I sincerely
appreciated the role religion played in my
life. I recall reciting prayers before I slipped
my mask on at fencing tournaments, before
taking exams or before just about any
challenge I prepared myself to face. I didn’t
pray to mystically improve my skills, but
rather to acknowledge aspects of life that
were beyond my own control. Praying was
putting out the energy to “the forces that
be” — asking for a just outcome.
My need for change regarding my
spirituality arose not because of the way
it was applied in my life. What troubled
me was when forms of spirituality,
which I have always held as a source of
empowerment, seemed to disempower my
existence. As I grew older, I remember
continuing to ask my mother about why our
experiences at the mosque felt so distant
and different from those of my father
and brother. Despite her honest efforts, I
no longer felt satisfied by the religious
explanations for differences within our
practices of the same faith. I found myself
confused with what to do with the faith I
still felt but had no way of directing. I felt
I could never embrace a belief system that
didn’t value me — and all people —
in the same way.
Other
modern
worshippers
within organized religion have
often grappled with this sense
of disempowerment within their
communities, particularly those
with marginalized identities, like
women or members of the LGBTQ+
community.
Oppressive
beliefs
within religious communities can
even extend beyond marginalized
groups in their impact and can
inhibit the altruistic objectives
that many religious groups strive to
fulfill. In late March, a temporary
New York City hospital intended
to
treat
COVID-19
patients,
funded by Christian evangelist
group Samaritan’s Purse, required
volunteers to agree to a “statement
of faith” that says “marriage is
exclusively the union of one genetic
male and one genetic female”
before allowing them to volunteer.
As population statistics have
reflected, modern ideas of faith have
been changing, and members of
established organized religions are
left with the question of whether or
not to adapt. The Muslim reformists
protesting
gender
segregation
demonstrate one of many ways
policy changes are being made
within religious communities to
reflect a commitment to equity
and inclusion. Similarly, recent
years have seen the growth of
Christian
LGBTQ+
support
groups, such as The Naming
Project, which aims to “provide
a safe and sacred space where
youth of all sexual orientations
and gender identities are named
and claimed by a loving God”
through camps and programming for
LGBTQ+ youth. According to Catholic
news publication Crux, Pope Francis has
said that homosexual tendencies are “not a
sin” and has famously answered, “Who am
I to judge?” when asked about his stance on
homosexuality.
Here
in
Ann
Arbor,
the
First
Congregational Church of Ann Arbor
has emphasized their commitment to
inclusivity through a church resolution
stating that church members must “speak
out against hate-speech, physical attacks,
and threats aimed at individuals or groups.
(They) work to make (their) communities
free of hatred and intimidation.” These
efforts aim to make faith more inclusive,
equitable and accessible to a broader range
of people across socioeconomic, racial and
gender identities, among others.
Still, as statistics show an increase of
those who consider themselves spiritual
but not religious, new spiritual outlets
outside
of
organized
religions
have
increased in popularity. Pop culture has
reflected a growing awareness of avenues
of spirituality that fall beyond popular
religions. Weekly astrological horoscopes
in magazines, like those in Cosmopolitan
and The Huffington Post, have become
widely popularized. Film and television,
driven by magical realism and themes
of environmentalism and spiritualism,
such as “My Neighbor Totoro,” have been
critically acclaimed and widely viewed,
grossing over $30 million at the box office.
A core theme of James Cameron’s “Avatar,”
the second highest grossing film of all time,
is environmental spiritualism.
Even social conceptions of organized
religion have broken into the public
consciousness
through
award-
winning films such
as
“The
Master”
starring
Joaquin
Phoenix
and
the
late Phillip Seymour
Hoffman,
which
portrays Scientology
and grants the public
insight into religious
ideologies
that
weren’t
previously
widely known.
Why people leave
their
religious
groups or seek out different expressions of
spirituality is a question with multitudes of
answers based on experience and context.
To understand a bit more about how
young people are dealing with the tension
between spirituality and religion, I spoke
to a few college students on their own
journeys to a new spirituality.
In a phone interview with The Daily,
Sydney Merydith, an incoming
college freshman at The New
School
in
New
York
City,
described her relationship with
astrology as “providing a greater
sense of understanding whatever
life presents,” and that while she
uses astrology to define herself,
she wouldn’t describe the practice
as a religion. In fact, she turned
to astrology after feeling what
she describes as “the danger
of the rigidity that comes with
organized religion.”
Merydith’s
concerns
about
rigidity are echoed by researchers
studying the driving forces behind
the religiously unaffiliated. In
journalist Kevin Shrum’s analysis
of James E. White’s book “Facts
and Trends, Rise of the Nones:
Understanding
and
Reaching
the
Religiously
Unaffiliated,”
he remarks that one of White’s
key explanations for movement
away from the Christian church
is that “the church is too narrow-
minded and unbending on moral
issues” and “antiquated in its
methodologies.” Essentially, some
have felt that the restrictions of
organized religion do not fully
encapsulate
what
spirituality
means for them and that its
methodologies are alienating.
Raised Catholic, Merydith said,
“My experience with organized
religion made me scared and
angry at the idea of any religion —
but as I discovered more aspects
to spirituality, I realized that
believing that was in itself a rigid
way of thinking. Astrology helped
me open up to finding my own
spiritual path.”
Indeed, astrology has acted as a
mechanism for many to expand their
conceptions of spiritualism. Pew Research
Center data shows that 29 percent of
Americans believe in astrology and its
growing cultural acceptance has been
unseen since the 1970s. The data also
reflects that many couple their belief in
organized religion with a belief in other
spiritual conceptions, labeled “New Age”
by the Pew Research Center, like astrology.
In The New Yorker, journalist Christine
Smallwood
describes
the
growing
population of those who believe in
astrology as remarkable. “It’s not just that
you hear (about astrology). It’s who’s saying
it: people who aren’t kooks or climate-
change deniers, who see no contradiction
between using astrology and believing
in science. The change is fuelling (sic) a
new generation of practitioners.” This
reveals another aspect of some modern
spiritualists; they question the balance
between faith and science.
Shrum’s summary of White’s book “The
Rise of the Nones: Understanding and
Reaching the Religiously Unaffiliated”
addresses this notion by explaining that
another reason we can see a population
shift
away
from
organized
religion,
particularly Christianity, is because of its
lack of evidence or scientific explanation
regarding key tenets of the religion, such
as the creation myth. This struggle is
heightened within an increasingly secular
world.
Gehenna Garcia, a sophomore at the
University of Michigan, described growing
up in a Christian household in which she
was told reading religious magazines, such
as “The Origin of Life - Five Questions
Worth Asking,” would answer her broader
questions regarding faith’s relationship to
science.
“It explained that the chance of the Big
Bang and evolution was minuscule, but they
never gave evidence regarding their God. It
was extremely hard for me to believe in one
omnipotent God.”
Even
after
moving
away
from
Christianity,
she
maintained
her
spirituality, “While in the religion, my
beliefs were that spirituality was the belief
in God, praising his name, and spreading
his word throughout the world. After
moving away from conventional religion,
I began to realize that spirituality was our
connection to ourselves and this world.”
After identifying as agnostic, Garcia
recently discovered Wicca, which she
described as “the belief that we should
worship the Earth and give back what it
gave us,” from her roommate who was
taking a history class on witchcraft. She
now identifies as a pagan and also believes
in astrology.
Garcia discovered paganism, a religion
not related to the three major world religions
— Islam, Judaism and Christianity — and
that invovles nature worship, after she
had already begun to practice witchcraft,
and found it easy to merge the two belief
systems. Describing the process, she said,
“I still felt as if I was missing something. I
had always had issues believing in one god,
but with paganism, there are pantheons
of gods and goddesses … after discovering
paganism and doing extensive research, it
was easy to change my path in witchcraft
to please the gods and goddesses that I
prefer to give offerings to and work with.”
Her synthesis of belief systems reflects
an increasing personalization of faith and
spirituality. As some choose to believe
in a structured faith system as well as
astrology, or a combination of a number
of
spiritual-based
ideologies,
modern
spirituality can be a customized process,
self-determination based on the factors one
aligns with.
Merydith navigates astrology with her
friends with the same sense of fluidity.
“We like to read as much as the stars have
to tell us, and decide for ourselves if it’s
something we believe, something that
could guide our actions or something that
just isn’t really useful or applicable.”
Yet for those who choose to explore
“new age” outlets for spirituality, how have
they connected to each other without the
traditional meeting places we expect from
organized religions?
Some, like Garcia, have turned to the
internet. For every subgroup, there are
pages on Facebook, Reddit, Tumblr and
other social media websites connecting
believers across cities and continents.
Garcia discovered astrology through the
blogging website Tumblr and discovered
other spiritualists like her through the app
TikTok.
“TikTok has actually connected me with
other people who have the same beliefs as
me … the people who have been in my faith
for a long time help those of us who are
fairly new. It was and still is, really difficult
to find people who have the same ideology
as me in real life. Many people are scared
or turned away from my beliefs,” she said.
Shared spirituality also allows one to feel
connected to a greater purpose or meaning.
Across traditional organized religions,
reformed religions, “new age” spiritualism,
niche spiritual sects or a combination
thereof, there’s a common part of us that
gains comfort in being an accepted part of
something bigger than ourselves.
In this time of year where Instagram feeds
are flooded with pictures of celebrations of
Passover, Easter and Ramadan, it’s obvious
that traditions of togetherness, family and
reflection are still important vehicles that
drive spirituality and religious practice.
Maybe before focusing on where religion is
headed, we must consider what it has been
for us thus far: Something that brings us
together.
As my family gears up for Ramadan, I am
once again faced with the question of what
exactly I believe. Spirituality has been a
journey for me, and I still find it hard to
fully place myself at a single destination.
However, while this uncertainty used to
give me anxiety, writing this piece has
been truly therapeutic. Realizing that new
methods of spirituality are growing in
popularity and acceptance, that millions of
other Americans don’t quite have their own
spirituality narrowed down and that there
are people out there I can connect with
when I do feel like connecting, has given
me the reassurance I’ve been searching
for. Spirituality is not all or nothing, it just
simply is. I do not have to be the perfect
Muslim. I do not have to be anything at all.
I simply believe — and that’s enough.
Sarah Rahman is a freshman in LSA
studying Political Science and Economics
and can be reached at srah@umich.edu.
Wednesday, April 15, 2020 // The Statement
4B
5B
Wednesday, April 15, 2020 // The Statement
BY SARAH RAHMAN, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR
‘New Spirituality’: outlets for
spiritualism in a now secular world
INFOGRAPHIC BY JONATHAN WALSH