Since the beginning of recorded time, people have developed spiritual traditions that serve as a source of comfort and support, especially during hard times. In this chapter, we’ll take a look at the role of spirituality and emotional coping.

Across cultures and across the millennia, all societies have embraced some sort of religious or spiritual belief system. Oftentimes this is in the context of an organized religion; however, for many, spiritual beliefs are highly personalized. Spirituality likely addresses universal longings to feel cared for or looked after by a higher power. And most traditions also attempt to offer some answers to existential questions that plague all people from time to time:

For many people, spiritual practices or participating in religious activities are woven into the fabric of daily life. It can help sustain people during hard times, offer support and hope, and provide a way to make and sustain contact with others. Here such beliefs may be an integral part of one’s life.

For others, people primarily turn to religion and spiritual pondering during painful losses and severely traumatic experiences, the kind of which often drive people to their knees. During these times, ordinary sources of support and coping skills may not be enough to provide adequate comfort.

Nietzsche said, “God is dead.” Most Americans disagree. Recent public opinion polls reveal that 94 percent of Americans believe in God, 69 percent belong to a religious organization, and 90 percent say that they pray (especially during difficult times). Eighty-five percent of our citizens say that because of faith, their lives have meaning and purpose.

Graffito offers a rebuttal, “Nietzsche is dead.”—God.

Sigmund Freud was an atheist and believed that religious beliefs were simply an illusion, a figment of human imaginations. However, his famous counterpart psychoanalyst, Carl Jung, couldn’t disagree more. He believed in the importance of spiritual beliefs and held the opinion that many emotional problems could only successfully be resolved by religion. Needless to say, there have been mixed feelings among mental-health professionals regarding the role of spirituality in emotional health during the past 100 years. A part of this is likely due to the fact that while many religious beliefs, practices, and traditions can offer tremendous support, there are also times when conflicts over religion can be terribly harmful.

Psychiatrist Scott Peck has aptly stated, “Many people hurt by religious experiences throw the baby out with the bathwater. And clearly there is a lot of dirty bathwater … holy wars, inquisitions, human sacrifice, dogmatism, ignorance, hypocrisy, conformity, self-righteousness, cruelty, book-burning, witch-burning, morbid guilt, and insanity. But is all this what God has done to humans or what humans have done to God?”

In this book I do not intend to endorse a particular belief system. I have a great appreciation for how personal such things are. However, I do want to address four issues:

James Fowler, who has written widely about religion, specifically addresses what he calls “stages of faith development.”

From young childhood until early adolescence, most children exposed to some form of organized religion tend to take in the beliefs taught to them, largely without questioning them. Sometime during later adolescence or young adulthood, according to Fowler’s model, some people begin to question the religious dogma they have been taught. Sometimes this is spurred on by noticing paradoxes in holy writings (e.g. one place in the text it says one thing, while in another place it says something different). They begin to understand that holy writings are complex.

Others encounter difficult life experiences that directly clash with church dogma. When this happens, some abandon religion altogether, but many begin a personal quest for their own unique beliefs. Such beliefs may be largely in accord with what they have been taught, but for others, life events, reflections, and re-evaluation lead to more personal and more unique beliefs. The resulting, redefined beliefs now are not prescribed, but are chosen. Some organized religions encourage this journey of questions and personal struggle while others strongly discourage it.

As Norman Douglas has said, “There are some things you can’t learn from others. You must pass through the fire.”

For many people, their primary spiritual beliefs were fashioned early in life and have gone unexamined. However, in times of great emotional upset, some come to question their beliefs. Some authors have written about the concept of “de-constructing beliefs.” De-constructing beliefs does not mean destroying beliefs. It simply is a careful exploration and examination of one’s beliefs in light of life as it is now. Most times, initial beliefs were formed as children or adolescents and never again questioned … what people may discover is that these existing beliefs were truly not a chosen path. For many people, this re-examination of beliefs leads to the formation of belief systems that ultimately feel more authentic.

Although one’s beliefs can often offer significant support during hard times, there certainly are times when beliefs may contribute to conflict or intensify emotional suffering. Julie Exline and colleagues suggest the following common religious-related conflicts:

Many authors from both psychology and theology have suggested the following elements that characterize potentially toxic religions traditions:

Conversely, qualities that characterize healthy, growth-promoting beliefs include these:

Buddhism holds as its “first noble truth” the acceptance of emotional suffering as a normal part of life … not pathology. An even more ancient Eastern religion, Hinduism, states, “Suffering is grace, for it awakens the great heart of compassion.” These traditions acknowledge the ultimate value in being open to and accepting suffering, not only for oneself but suffering in others. This is a part of the pathway to a meaningful life.

Likewise, in Christian teachings, the New Testament says, “Jesus wept,” (John, Chapter 11, verse 35). He wept upon discovering that his friend Lazarus had died and when he saw the suffering of Lazarus’ wife and sister. Clearly this verse gives people permission to acknowledge one’s own and others’ suffering.

Acceptance of human limitations is also acknowledged in the New Testament, “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” (Matthew, Chapter 26, verse 41).

Facing existential fears can enrich and animate life. In traditional Jewish weddings, the breaking of a wine glass at the end of the wedding, a prelude to celebration, stands as a poignant reminder of the fragility of life. In a number of West African cultures, for centuries, a sort of rattle is shaken at the time of the birth of a child. These very first baby rattles were designed to sound like the rattling of bones. At this time of great joy and new life, one must not forget how close the specter of death is.

Such traditions might seem morbid to some; facing one’s own mortality can become a focus for worry or pessimism. However, conversely, it can be an ongoing reminder of how precious life is, and encourage people to live each day to the fullest.

Hope for salvation, for comfort, and for the felt presence of God can be a comfort to many people who are facing otherwise hopeless situations (such as a terminal illness). In the Jewish tradition, hope is sometimes referred to as the “anchor of the soul.”

In the myth of Pandora’s box, once the lid is lifted and out pours all manner of bad things, evil, pestilence, suffering … at the bottom of the box is left the spirit of hope.

Many spiritual traditions also address a common existential question. Has my life mattered? Rabbi Harold Kushner says, “It is not the fear of death, of our lives ending, that haunts our sleep so much as the fear that our lives will not have mattered.”

Getting clear about what really matters in your life may be one response to these haunting existential questions. For some, this involves charity, volunteer work, and living one’s life in an authentic way (as we discussed in Chapter 17). The key is to not put this off. Time is always running short; the sooner the better. Find your true calling (whether a job, a leisure-time pursuit, or a mission) and follow it. As scholar Joseph Campbell said, “Follow your bliss.”

Finally, one source of great comfort is when people are able to feel some sense of connection with God. Burning bushes aside, the pathway for some is to be found in religious rituals. There is something about repetitive rituals that can, for some people, shut off the busy chatter of inner thoughts, and create an altered state, during which they feel closer to God. Different traditions have taken their own version of this, Native American sweat lodges, ritual drumming, Gregorian chants, contemplative prayer, deep meditation, or listening to favorite hymns.

Accompanying many life crises, in addition to feelings of sadness, fear, anger, intense disappointment, etc., are those very common and gut-wrenching existential anxieties. Most notable is the question, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” Rabbi Harold Kushner in his bestselling book by the same title speaks of Archibald MacLeish’s play “J. B.,” which is a takeoff on the book of Job from the Old Testament.

J. B., like Job, experiences extraordinary hardships. His children die, he loses all of his possessions, and is afflicted by a terrible illness. Like Job, he is a man totally devoted to God. The dilemma is how to rectify his predicament: loving God yet experiencing tragedy. In this play, he (like the rest of us) really does not fully understand what’s happened or why, nor does he have a magic formula. But he does respond by saying something that may seem radical. He tells his wife that he forgives God. He forgives God for making a world where there is danger and disease, where innocent people suffer. And despite his horrific experiences, says to God that he wants more life.

Another response to existential pain comes from a very ancient tradition. In Greece, temples have been excavated and something odd has been discovered. Beneath some temples is a small dark basement. Translations of artifacts indicate that these rooms were called incubation chambers. Presumably if someone was ill (physically, emotionally, or spiritually), she would enter the underground chamber accompanied by a healer. The healer and the sick person would spend three days in the incubation chamber and emerge having been healed. Nothing is known about what happened during these three days. But I believe there are a couple of images and ideas that can be gleaned.

First, the sick person descends into darkness. This may be what many of us do when entering terribly painful times in our lives. Times that might be what some authors have called “the dark night of the soul.” Let me be clear: the sick person does not flee, but rather walks into this darkness.

Secondly, she is accompanied by the healer, another human being. I believe that this kind of companionship may be what humans need (or what we can best offer to others) who are struggling with tragedy and existential despair. No one truly has answers to avoid or fix some of these painful realities. But, at least we do not have to be alone.

The word “psychotherapist” comes from the Greek words “psyche” (meaning soul) and “therapeia” (meaning caring for or tending). Literal translation is “tenders of the soul.” This may certainly apply to professional therapists, but of course also can apply to pastoral counselors, clergy, and dear, trusted friends or relatives.

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