Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age

by Katherine May

I’m also wary of stealing from traditions that don’t speak to my own time and place, bending them out of shape and only partially understanding them. I’ve noticed how often we do that, cherry-picking the comforting parts of complex religious traditions—usually the aspects that tell us everything’s okay—and ignoring the counterbalancing obligations, particularly those that involve careful introspection. There are some very good reasons for being selective in our spiritual beliefs: religions tend to be tainted with the worldly prejudices of those who minister them, and it’s worthwhile sifting these out to find the gems of beautiful thought contained within them. But for those who, like me, only ever want to sift, there’s a real risk of justifying our worst behaviour. I often see internet memes that tell us we are just as we are meant to be, God-made, and that leaves me deeply uneasy. I may not have a divine voice whispering in my ear to render it all clear, but I’m fairly certain that God—however you conceive of them—didn’t plan for any of us to be racist. Every one of us has some kind of work to do. A spiritual practice that blankets us in the analgesic of self-acceptance is just a bandage for our narcissism. Congregations—ones that are allowed to express diversity of thought—hold us to account.