Spiritual Leaders and those of us untethered

This week our campus celebrated its formal inauguration. The featured guest was His Highness the Aga Khan, Chancellor and benefactor of our University. Even more important is the fact that he is the head of the Ismaili Islamic community, its spiritual leader.

His Highness at Inauguration

His Highness came to the inauguration to give a speech on the importance of UCA and what it all means. About half of our students are Ismaili and what struck me as much as anything I experienced on that day was the love and devotion these students had for their spiritual leader. I don't know if I have ever seen an outpouring of emotion as genuine and heartfelt as what I witnessed on inauguration day. I overheard one inaugural guest, clearly a non-Ismaili Westerner, comment to her companion, wondering why some of the students were crying. She had misinterpreted the tears as a manifestation of distress, perhaps unable to comprehend the joy people might feel when encountering their spiritual leader for the first time in their lives.

After the ceremony ended, and His Highness had departed, I sat in my chair quietly, waiting for the buffet line to diminish, and at that moment I realized that never in my life have I ever looked to a spiritual leader for guidance or been truly devoted to any creed or organized belief system. Yes, I was raised in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, but somehow the teachings of the ELCA never inspired me or captured my soul. The spiritual leader of the ELCA is called the "Presiding Bishop."  And the Bishop is headquartered in Chicago. The current Presiding Bishop was born in Cleveland. Somehow none of that inspires much fervor or devotion. To the Lutherans' credit, the current PB is a woman named Elizabeth Eaton and she is married to an Episcopal priest--all a testament to the general progressive spirit and open-minded nature of the liberal wing of Lutheranism in America, but relatively meaningless to me personally.

What caused this disconnect from the spirituality with which I was raised? Perhaps it was my experience with the spiritual leaders with whom I interacted. Was it the interim pastor of our church who sexually harassed women? Was it the minister I knew who fooled around with the church secretary? Was it the pastor I listened to every Sunday for years who had no humility and was certain he would enter heaven, not even possessing one small doubt that perhaps the Lutheran doctrine of salvation by faith alone was not enough if that faith was devoid of goodness and a kind heart? I don't know exactly what it was, but untethered I became.

Despite being raised a Lutheran, and possessing a newly-untethered status, somehow I kept finding myself remaining connected to Christian spirituality in the company of the Roman church. I graduated from a Catholic university, taught at a Jesuit high school, and served as the Dean of Students at a university run by Ursuline nuns. They all had the Pope as their spiritual leader, but sometimes I felt the Notre Dame football coach was a more-influential religious figure with many of the Catholics I knew. Besides, when you are not a Catholic at their institutions you are always an outsider, not allowed to take communion, never truly connected to the intricacies of their spiritual world and untethered I remained.

While never being connected to a spiritual leader or particular creed during my life, that doesn't mean one is devoid of spiritual experiences. One such experience happened to me in Japan. My apartment in suburban Osaka was located near a Buddhist temple.  On Mondays, which I always had off, I would often walk to the temple and sit and gaze at the statue of the Buddha situated there. The temple was tended by an elderly priest. He could not speak English and I could not speak Japanese.  However, he would come up to me whenever I was there and we would both sit together silently. We never exchanged more than a glance or a knowing smile and we never learned each other's names. I am still not sure what it all meant exactly, but I knew, as I sat in silence, I was at a rare place in the world where peace presided. But aptly, one does not gain attachment to creed or spiritual leader while in a Buddhist temple.

Before I moved to Kyrgyzstan, I lived in Arkansas. It is a place where everyone says they have a spiritual leader of some sort or another and where everyone is saved. There I worked at a Presbyterian university in the heart of the Bible Belt. How is it I, the untethered one, seem to always find myself among the devout? I worked with a group of Central American students, most were ardent Christians. These students were the possessors of scholarships where one of the values I was required to promote to them was faith, and promote faith I did, in my unorthodox manner. How peculiar it was to find myself attending chapel every Wednesday. I even was called upon by the chaplain to give the sermon once, and a fire-breathing sermon I did give. I wonder how many of my students suspected that, when it really comes down to it, I am an agnostic person, uncertain of matters spiritual, unable to cast my lot with any faith or creed? Well, they all know now.

What happens to a person when they are untethered from the world of faith, disconnected from spiritual guidance, without a spiritual leader? Much depends on the person themselves. I have had people tell me that they couldn't live, couldn't face the world, if they didn't have their faiths and couldn't hang onto the promise of the afterlife they've received. For me, I think I am not worried about what comes in future realms of existence; there's enough difficulty deciphering this one. All we can do is live our best, try to help others, err on the side of kindness, and work to bring justice, mercy, and peace to whatever corner of the world in which we happen to reside. Trying to follow these humble principles might be all someone without a spiritual leader can do.

Despite being untethered, I found great joy being with the students here and witnessing the great flood of emotion and pure happiness they experienced this past week. How wonderful it must be to see and hear the person who represents your faith and who provides you with wise guidance and direction. After being here awhile, I realize His Highness and the Ismaili people are also trying to live their best, trying to help others, trying to err on the side of kindness, and working to bring justice, mercy, and peace to whatever corner of the world in which we all happen to reside. It turns out that is why I also shed a few quiet tears when I saw His Highness and heard him speak--because it is my hope that at some point in human existence those of us following spiritual leaders of every calling, and those of us untethered, can all unite to follow these humble principles which matter so much and which are the inspiration for this secular, yet spiritually-guided, place where I now work.