Much has been written over the past few years about the decline in church attendance in this country. Recent additions to this conversation include “The True Cost of the Churchgoing Bust” in The Atlantic and “The Mental-Health Benefits Linked to Going to Church” in The Wall Street Journal. Together, these articles suggest that affiliating with a church (or another house of worship) fosters friendship, facilitates a sense of community, and counters the endemic loneliness and isolation of our smartphone era. As Derek Thompson explains in the piece in The Atlantic, “religious ritual is typically embodied, synchronous, deep, and collective,” and such rituals facilitate meaning-making and a sense of belonging.
For many students, attending church (or Jummah prayers, Shabbat services, or other religious services) is not a preferred way of connecting with the Divine. They may experience a sense of the transcendent in nature; “worship” and “devotion” can take many forms, and rituals can be enacted through different types of spiritual practices.
If this is true for you, then what are the places that, to use one of Thompson’s words, “anchor” you — not simply because of their beauty or sentimental value — but because they stir up a sense of peace that comes with experiencing purpose and belonging? Where do you find true solace amid the stress of daily life? Where do you feel free to be yourself before God, the universe, or some higher power? It is worth considering whether you are alone or alongside others in these spaces since, as Thompson points out in his piece, “the United States is in the midst of a historically unprecedented decline in face-to-face socializing. The social collapse is steepest for some of the groups with the largest declines in religiosity.”
Saint Ignatius of Loyola wrote in his spiritual exercises about the concept of “consolation,” using this term to describe an “interior movement of the soul” that allows one to feel as if they are moving closer to God. Such interior movements are not confined to periods of worship, but may be experienced as you care for a loved one, assist at a food pantry, practice with your teammates, or jam with your band.
One place where I recently experienced this was at the L’Arche community north of Boston, where four students and I spent the first few days of spring break. L’Arche is a global movement of people with and without intellectual disabilities who live together in community. We from the College weren’t there to volunteer, work, or do service. Instead, our L’Arche hosts invited us to “share time.” We sat around the table, playing cards, looking at old photos, and learning about one another’s hobbies. We shared time by cooking meals, listening to Bruce Springsteen’s greatest hits, visiting Dunkin’, praying, and taking walks.
The people who live at L’Arche are known, loved, and valued by one another. At L’Arche, they recognize “that mutual relationships across difference transform us,” according to its website. They make a big deal about community members’ birthdays and the anniversaries of when they joined the community. They know who they are and they celebrate one another. Their ethos of mutuality was not just for one another. We were welcomed to be part of their community although our time with them was brief.
L’Arche and the College are distinct places with different values, but the invitation to share time exists here, too. Being social can be hard, especially for the introverts among us, but in risking such discomfort, we open ourselves up to the possibility of experiencing the peace of being known more fully by another. Maybe this means chatting with someone from class or a club, or finding your way into a pew or a pickup hoops game. Regardless of what you decide to do, this risk will involve participation and commitment. By showing up again and again, strangers may become friends. Through making an effort to share time , we might be able to experience the consolation that St. Ignatius wrote about.
Bridget Power is the College’s Catholic Chaplain.