The Essentials of Spirituality | Page 3

points of interest
which that temporary abiding-place has to offer us, careless of what
may await us farther on. But there are other times when we go abroad
on serious business. Some congress of scientists or fellow-workers is to
meet in which we are to take our part; or there is a conflict being waged
in which we are to bear our share of wounds or death, as in the case of
the Japanese, who are now setting out from their homes toward the
battlefields of Manchuria; or there is some loved one at a distance who
needs us, calls us, expects us. Then the stations on the way are unable
to captivate our attention; we are impatient to pass them by; we
welcome each one as we approach it as bringing us one step nearer to
the desired goal.

Some such analogy will help us understand the inner state of a
spiritually-minded person. He thinks always of the ultimate end. In
whatever he does or omits to do he asks himself, Will it advance me or
divert me from the ultimate goal? Since spirituality consists in keeping
in mind the ultimate goal, it follows, in accordance with what was said
in the beginning, that there must be various types of spirituality,
corresponding to the various ways in which the ultimate goal is
conceived. For those to whom the final end of human life is union with
God, the Divine Father, the thought of this Divine Father gives color
and complexion to their spiritual life. They think of Him when they lie
down at night and when they rise up in the morning; his praise is ever
on their lips; the desire to win his approbation is with them in all their
undertakings. To those who regard the attainment of Nirvana as the
supreme end, like the Buddhists, the thought of Nirvana is a perpetual
admonition. To those who view the supreme end of life as moral
perfection, the thought of that perfection is the constant inner
companion. The moral man, commonly so-called; the man who is
honest, pays his debts, performs his duties to his family; the man who
works for specific objects, such as political reform; this man, worthy of
all respect though he be, is still intent on the stages of his journey. The
spiritual man, as we must now define him from the point of view of
Ethical Culture, is the man who always thinks of the ultimate goal of
his journey, i. e., a moral character complete in every particular, and
who is influenced by that thought at all times and in all things.
Spirituality, in this conception of it, is nothing but morality raised to its
highest power.
And now, let us ask what are some of the conditions on which the
attainment of such a life depends. The prime condition is to acquire the
habit of ever and anon detaching one's self from one's accustomed
interests and pursuits, becoming, as it were, a spectator of one's self and
one's doings, escaping from the sweeping current and standing on the
shore. For this purpose it is advisable to consecrate certain times,
preferably a certain time each day, to self-recollection; to dedicate an
hour--or a half-hour, if no more can be spared--to seeing one's life in all
its relations; that is, as the poet has put it, to seeing life "steadily and
seeing it whole." The sane view is to see things in their relation to other

things; the non-sane view is to see them isolated, in such a way that
they exercise a kind of hypnotic spell over us. And it makes no
difference what a man's habitual interests may be, whether they be
sordid or lofty, he needs ever and anon to get away from them. In
reality, nothing wherewith a man occupies himself need be sordid. The
spiritual attitude does not consist in turning one's back on things
mundane and fixing one's gaze on some supernal blaze of glory, but
rather in seeing things mundane in their relation to things ultimate,
perfect.
The eating of bread is surely a sufficiently commonplace operation. Yet
Jesus brake bread with his disciples in such way that that simple act has
become the symbol of sublimely spiritual relations, the centre of the
most august rite of the Christian Church. In like manner the act of
sitting down to an ordinary meal with the members of our family may,
if seen in its relations, be for us a spiritual consecration. The common
meal may become for us the type of the common life we share, the
common love we bear.
On the other hand, seemingly much more lofty pursuits may have a
narrowing and deadening effect on us if we do not see them in their
ultimate relations, and