Beloved,

We often say we are human beings having spiritual experiences. But are we? The Jesuit priest and theologian Pierre Teilhard de Chardin suggested something deeper: that we are spiritual beings having a human experience. Our true nature, he believed, is eternal — temporarily inhabiting this earthly life. Lately, I have been reflecting on this as I grieve dear old friends.

When it comes to spirituality, we tend to rely heavily on our feelings as our baseline measure. We decide whether we were “spiritually fed” based on how we feel after worship, outreach, or prayer. Our feelings become the judge, gauging sanctity and justifying the experience with details.

Have you ever had a blissful occasion that felt sacred? Conversely, have you ever walked away from something frustrated, saying, “I didn’t get anything out of it. It just did not feed me!” I have said it many times. Either way, we rely on feelings to interpret and validate what happened.

But how often do we ask whether our internal gauge itself needs adjustment?

Chances are, we all need tune-ups more often than we realize. Your vestry leaders can attest to that, as they help me recalibrate mine. When my spiritual well-being is compromised, my perception narrows, and vulnerable feelings create unhealthy noise. I am grateful for trusting, candid relationships with your leaders — relationships in which we are fearless enough to help one another adjust when needed.

Being “spiritual” — what does that even mean? Before rushing to conclusions, I invite us to pause. Does being spiritual require religion? Does it reject organized faith? Is it about kindness and compassion? Is it about connecting to a higher power? Some use the word to affirm religious devotion; others use it to distance themselves from the Church. Some equate spirituality with warmth and gentleness; others conclude, “I’m not that kind of person — I must not be spiritual.”

The definition has shifted over time — from outward to inward, communal to individual, institutional to personal. Yet one pattern remains: we cling to our version and defend it. We build protective walls around what we call “spiritual.” But how can something rooted in the Spirit of God be confined by our limited perceptions — especially when fluctuating feelings govern those perceptions?

Christian faith offers something steadier. We proclaim at the burial office, “Life is changed, not ended.” The Spirit’s work transcends time, moving from one heart to another, generation after generation. As the Apostle Paul writes, “You show that you are a letter from Christ… written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God… on tablets of human hearts” (2 Corinthians 3:3).

Our lives leave an imprint. We live on in others — as love or as harm. That is why spiritual discipline matters. Prayer, learning, serving, repenting, rejoicing in Christ — these are not optional extras. They recalibrate our hearts so that we are shaped less by momentary feelings and more by the enduring Spirit of God.

Being spiritual is far more than feeling good. It is about being formed — and reformed — into people through whom Christ continues his work of renewal in the world.

Our Lenten journey continues. Let us keep our spirits exercised, our hearts open, and our human experience aligned with the eternal life already at work within us.

Faithfully,

Fr. Andrew