"I'm and Episcopalian, and I think of myself as a practicing
non-Jew," says
Katherine Powell Cohen, a 36-year-old English teacher in San Francisco.
"I'm
a Mennonite hyphen Unitarian Universalist who practices Zen
meditation," says
Ralph Imhoff, 57, a retired educator from Chandler, Ariz.
"I call myself a Christian Buddhist, but sort of
tongue-in-cheek," says
Maitreya Badami, 30, who works in the Contra Costa, Calif., public
defender's
office.
If America has always been a melting pot, these days its
religious practices
have become a spiritual hash. Blending or braiding the beliefs of
different
spiritual traditions has become so rampant in America that the Dalai
Lama has
called the country "the spiritual supermarket." Jews flirt with
Hinduism,
Catholics study Taoism, and Methodists discuss whether to make the
Passover
seder an official part of worship. Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, a
prominent Jewish scholar, is also a Sufi sheik, and James Ishmael Ford,
a
Unitarian minister in Arizona, is a Zen sensei, or master. The melding
of
Judaism with Buddhism has become so commonplace that marketers who sell
spiritual books, videotapes and lecture series have a name for it:
"JewBu."
The new religions are an offshoot of the globalization of
practically
everything, as formerly exotic cultures and religions are suddenly
accessible
in every way. But Rabbi Schachter-Shalomi says Americans'
dissatisfaction
with traditional religion began in the 1960's when early photos of
Earth were
transmitted from space. At that moment, he says, the idea that one God
might
be better than another lost its primacy, and people began to think that
"all
religions are vital organs in the planet."
Electronic media have hastened the change, adds Rodger
Kamenetz, author of
"The Jew in the Lotus": "We're no longer living in an Episcopal
neighborhood
or a Jewish neighborhood. It's easy to look over the fence and see
what the
other folks are doing.
For the traditional denominations, this cross-pollination
presents an
excruciating dilemma. If denomination headquarters bends the rules to
accomodate the hybrids, they risk watering down their identities. But
if they
stick to the straight and narrow, the may define themselves out of
existence —
and extinction is a growing possibility. Membership in mainline
Protestant
denominations peaked around 1965. Over the same period, the number of
Conservative Jewish synagogues in the U.S. has shrunk to about 770 from
850.
Meanwhile, membership is growing in organized religions that
take a broad
view of God — for example, where pastors use Eastern and Western
scriptures in
their Sunday sermons and will marry people of all religious
backgrounds.
Unitarian Universalists have increased their numbers by 25% over the
past 15
years. Two religious movements rooted in 19th century
transcendentalism,
Unity and Sciene of Mind, have exploded. Fifteen years ago, there were
400
Unity churches in the U.S.; now there are 1,000. "We believe that God
is good
and humankind is working together on a great adventure, "says the Rev.
Carl
Osier, a Unity church official.
Mr. Imhoff, the retired educator, says he joined the Unitarian
Universalist
Church because he was "comfortable not having a label for a higher
being."
But he still considers himself a Mennonite, the religion of his birth.
Even the clergy of mainstream religions are starting to broaden
their view of
God. At St. Gregory of Nyssan, an Episcopal church in San Francisco,
two
senior ministers have created a service that includes the worship of
Jesus
Christ, dancing and the ringing of Buddhist cymbals. The ministers,
Richard
Fabian and Donald Schell, have impeccable Episcoplian credentials, with
graduate degrees from Cambridge University and Princeton Theological
Seminary
respectively, but their service would be unrecognizable to most
Episcopalians,
as would their church's decor.
Built to the two minister's specifications four years ago, St.
Gregory's has
an interior decorated with Ethiopian crosses, a Shinto shrine and a
Chinese
gong. The ministers wear tye-died West African vestments. Unlike
traditional
Episcopal services, this one almost always includes a sh'ma, an anciet
Jewish
prayer, as well a quiet moments of reflection with the ringing of
cymbals.
People dance forward to partake of the Eucharist, and everyone is
invited to
partake, not just Christians.
There are many references to the divinity of Jesus in the
liturgy at St.
Gregory's, but the priests and congregation agree that many divinities
are
being invoked there — and that in the end they are all the same. "It's
one
God talking to everyone," Mr. Fabian says. Since moving into its new
building, the congregation has more than doubled to 140 members.
Members come
from practically every religious background and include Ms. Badami and
Ms.
Powell Cohen.
Born and raised a Southern Baptist, Ms. Powell Cohen became an
Episcopalian
in college after being attracted to the faith's ritualistic liturgy.
When she
married Jeff Cohen, who is Jewish, she didn't convert to Judaism but
began to
observe Jewish ritual more assiduously than many Jews. The couple has
Shabbat
dinner every Friday night: as she prepares the meal, Ms. Powell Cohen
often
finds herself humming Baptist hymns. Saturday morning, they read the
Torah
together, and Sunday mornings they go to church. Ms. Powell Cohen
believes in
the resurrection of Jesus Christ, but she also is intensely moved by
High Holy
Day services at the synagogue.
St. Gregory's is open enough to accomodate the complicated
spiritual ground
Ms. Powell Cohen occupies. "As much as I commemorate, I'm not Jewish,"
she
says. St. Gregory's ecumenical liturgy can make her miss some of the
more
"stupid little Englishy" tradiditions of traditional Episcopalianism —
the
kneeling, for example. But her religious life, she says, is a work in
progress: "I just respond to where the divine is pulling me."
Other theological laboratories are concocting their own
complicated brews.
Rabbi Don Singer has for the past two years held Shabbat services for
about 30
people at the Zen Center of Los Angeles, a Zen meditation chapel. The
service
is "a funny combination." Says Robert Apatow, a write who has attend.
First,
the congregation meditates for half an hour, its members say blessings
over
candles, and the rabbi gives a sermon.
Some denominations are contemplating — even endorsing — hash at
the highest
levels. New Jersey's Episcopal Bishop John Spong triggered a storm in
1996
when he suggested Christians adopt a midraschic or interpretive Jewish,
approach to reading the New Testament. When the Methodists revised
their Book
of Worship in 1992, they discussed including both Jewish and Native
American
festivals in their liturgy, though they ulitmately included neither.
The Unitarian Universalists offically made paganism part of
their world view
in 1995, thus giving Judy Elis, a minister's daughter and
nursery-school
teacher in Wellfleet, Mass., the opportunity to observe Imbolc, a pagan
festival, in her church last week. "I celebrate a little bit of this,
a
little bit of tha,." Ms. Ellis says. "I like a more spontaneous
joyful
experience of the sacred."
Many traditionalists remain just that, saying the spiritual
hybrids are
inauthentic. Some of these critics accuse practitioners of what
amounts to
spiritual tourism. "It's not OK to be a Jew and and a Protestant or a
Jew and
a Catholic," says Rabbi Jerome Epstein, chief executive officer of the
United
Synagogue of Conservative Judaism. "And its not OK to be a Jew and a
Buddhist."
The Rev. Glaucia Vasconcelos-Wilkey, who works in the office
for worship at
the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) dislikes what she calls the
"me-oriented,
consumerist, market-oriented style of worship" that she sees developing
in
many of the country's churches. She prefers a more ritualized
"Christo-
centric" version of Presbyterianism. She says she was especially
rankled when
a minister from New Mexico led the assembly in a Native American
prayer, with
"soothing sounds and movement." She sums up: "We are embarking on this
because it is successful. But even ‘success' is a marketing word."