Filling a spiritual vacuum

Mind Moves: Last week, I attended a function that I found deeply troubling

Mind Moves:Last week, I attended a function that I found deeply troubling. The flier for the occasion, kindly forwarded to me by a reader of this column, promised a new synthesis of spiritual truths from a variety of cultures and a novel experience of guided meditation.

I mention it only because the event reflects a phenomenon that is becoming increasingly common in our post-Christian society: talks, courses and programmes, which broadly may be termed New Age, being offered to people who are experiencing a spiritual vacuum in their lives.

I sat in a conference room with others (mainly women) and listened to a man of about 50 years who spoke with great passion and wrote words and diagrams on a flip chart. I listened intently, but I hadn't a clue what he was talking about despite his clear English and his fine communication skills.

He tried to blend insights from every conceivable religious tradition into some over arching framework but he made no sense at all. Phrases such as the divine mother, the path of light, divine spark, the heart of being, etc sounded vaguely familiar - but never gelled together or moved beyond the cerebral.

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All I experienced was a torrent of words that failed to spark anything in my soul despite the intense conviction with which they were delivered.

After the break the whole event got a bit creepy. We sat in a circle, eyes closed and listened to his instructions; which in fact turned out to be an hour long.

He instructed us to listen to his voice and allow it to enter "deep into our spirit". He led us into contact with divinities and angels and as we were introduced to each of these, he spoke for them and addressed us in deeply personal tones.

His intense voice wormed its way into our souls with messages that were no doubt meant to be comforting and inspiring. But as he spoke I kept thinking of Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost where she played a fake medium, pretending to channel the voice of the dead for bereaved relatives.

Throughout this "meditation", his voice was accompanied by a new age techno soundtrack (think Bach preludes played on synthesiser with backing vocals from a girl band). At one point the music volume was raised and we were instructed to holds hands with the person beside us.

My arms ached and I wanted to leave. But now I was part of his "sacred" circle and I calculated that if I did, the people sitting to my right and left would not be able to hold hands unless they were master yoga practitioners. But when the hour was over I got out of there as fast as I could.

Why did it scare me? It felt so contrived. I could imagine this same man in another time zone, selling Dr Bob's Tonic just as passionately or urging us to accept Jesus into our hearts with the zeal of a fundamentalist. I was concerned for the others in the room who were, no doubt, sincere souls seeking, with complete sincerity, something that might awaken their spiritual lives.

Maybe they got something useful from this experience, maybe it was just me who didn't get it. And it concerned me that people were being opened up in a very vulnerable way and being offered showbiz rather than anything of substance.

A healthy spiritual programme is one that respects some boundaries in people's lives. Above all it should help people feel more grounded and empowered in their own lives, and not con them into believing the real truth is "out there" and only accessible through exotic practices that must be learned (and purchased) from the latest guru.

If you hear a spiritual truth that doesn't resonate with what you already know in your heart, it's probably not true.

There is such a vacuum out there for many people who are looking for ways to connect with some higher meaning for their lives. (A teacher in a Dublin secondary school spoke recently about how some of her teenage girls spend a small fortune phoning tarot card readers for guidance in their lives - sometimes on a daily basis.)

Sunday mass may be a tad traditional for most of you, but it's generally not nearly as invasive of our inner lives in the way that some modern alternatives can be.

It may be boring, but at least it leaves you with the inner space to think about your own life and respects your freedom to tune into or tune out of the liturgy and to take whatever you may need from the occasion.

Tony Bates is founder director of Headstrong - The National Centre for Youth Mental Health - www.headstrong.ie