Healing to all their Flesh – Jewish & Christian Perspectives on Spirituality, Theology & Health

An ambitious TV cooking contest entrant was once told, "I like your langoustines and I like your lamb but, unfortunately, they don't belong together on the plate". We have the same here: two sections lacking harmony. It might have worked better if the Jewish and Christian halves were consistent, coherent and tasty, but in each I found a confusing mishmash of sweetness and bitterness, of blandness, and some decidedly indigestible gristle. Respected author and (Jewish) researcher Jeff Levin (his 2001 book, 'God, Faith & Health' was impressive) notes in his Prologue (p 3), "The past quarter century has seen a flowering of scientific research on the intersection of religion and health". It was therefore noble and timely for Jeff and fellow (Christian) editor, Keith Meador to seek chapters from ten authorities to provide an overview of spirituality, theology and health from their different 'perspectives'. However, problems immediately arise. For a reader with limited experience of Jewish theology and traditions, the first five chapters, all penned by American Rabbis, were of limited interest and value. For example, if you don't know Hebrew, and are not well acquainted with the 12th century philosopher Maimonides, you are at a disadvantage. For non-Christian readers (where, Latin and St Thomas Aquinas replace Hebrew and Maimonides), the same probably holds for the final five chapters, all written by professors, all but one from USA. The heavily referenced and annotated book seems aimed primarily at American academics, detracting significantly from its value for the general reader. Even health professionals will find parts hard to digest. Only one of the ten authors, incidentally, is a woman. Rabbi Richard Address's chapter, 'Contemplating a Theology of Healthy Ageing', exemplifies another major problem. He writes (p. 26), "The theological questions of meaning and purpose that are allied with issues of health and wellness have become increasingly present within the Jewish community. Medical technology has given us the gift of longevity and with science often comes the religious question of 'what for?' Each of us confronts the fundamental questions of our own existence: Why was I born? Why must I die? What is the purpose for my being?" But these are not necessarily religious questions. Much less are they specifically Jewish or Christian questions. They are simply human questions, calling on people to dig deep for inner strength and wisdom. Many, in the process, will begin to discover the deepest love and fellowship with others similarly at risk of suffering the slings and arrows of not outrageous but commonplace misfortune: loss, injury, pain, ill-health, psychological torment, disability, ageing and the prospect of death. Recognising the universality of suffering, and its capacity to foster transformations in people (whether the affected person follows a religious tradition or not), has caused some authors – myself included – to favour the umbrella term 'spirituality'; denoting that which transcends all duality; over the terminology of any particular religion. Here, for example, is a passage from the chapter, 'Suffering Presence' by Stanley Hauerwas (pp. 252-3), in which the word 'Christian' is replaced by the phrase 'spiritually mature': "A spiritually mature view of health requires that the community recognize illness so that the one who is sick remains part of the community even if their health is not restored. This means that the spiritually mature view of health forms patients who want to be cured but are not seeking cure at all costs". I argue that the two are equivalent and fully compatible, but this notion challenges, even offends, some of the book's authors. Therese Lysaught, in her strangely bitter chapter, 'Beguiling Religion: the bifurcations and biopolitics of spirituality and medicine', is particularly suspicious concerning this essentially holistic approach, arguing (p. 153) that, "The emerging discipline of spirituality and medicine" and "The biopsychosocialspiritual model" serve to, "position religion on the non-normative side of the divide – thereby devaluing and disempowering religion vis-à-vis spirituality". For me, this divide is entirely spurious. This kind of combative/defensive, 'Us/Them', 'Right/Wrong', 'True/False' kind of thinking will surely help no-one at all. Stephen Post (whose 2007 book – with Jill Neimark – 'Why Good Things Happen to Good People' I also admire), in a sweeter chapter, 'The Ontological Generality in Spirituality and Health', makes the valid point (p. 187) that, "The field of health, spirituality, and religion… has become insular and technocratic, perhaps the inevitable result of the absence of creative visionary dialogue between… researchers and world-class theological and spiritual minds". However, his new term 'ontological generality' ("Referring to a communitas between self, others, and a Higher Power in which our full-flourishing as individuals is possible") seems unnecessarily clumsy and obscure where clarity is needed most. Academics, it seems, are trying to capture the whole world in words and symbols; but it cannot be done. I suspect that spiritually mature people working in the field of healthcare are less interested in research findings than in compassionate daily engagement with those suffering in body, mind and spirit. They see their task as striving not only towards curing symptoms, but also towards healing people, making them whole again. They do this with sympathy, and through demonstrating inner strength and courage. In this they restore to patients a valuable degree of faith in themselves and in the fellowship of humanity. They foster hope, even when (especially when) in strictly medical terms things are looking bleak. This is the ideal. The words 'hospital' and 'hospitality', remember, are closely linked. The tide has now turned from religious assertiveness in healthcare, as elsewhere in an increasingly secularised society. It is surely too late to try erecting religious barriers against the flood, however apparently authoritative and insistent. The task is no longer to emphasise specific and distinctive theologies, but to create a new, universally appealing and applicable spiritual paradigm that welcomes and encourages people to explore – especially in sickness and adversity – their truest inmost selves in the search of the health-giving primary divine energy and wisdom of the cosmos. Although there is a tragic and telling absence of creative visionary material in this book, there are some useful ideas. I particularly liked John Swinton's arguments concerning shalom, whose root meaning involves 'wholeness', 'completeness' and 'well-being' (p. 233). Nevertheless, the book squanders a vital opportunity. There is so much more to say that does not appear here. There is no clear distinction between exoteric (mythological) and esoteric (mystical) religion, for example, nor for how caring for others promotes one's own spiritual search and development. The great secret of vocation is that you get back so very much. With the right attitude, rather than meaningless self-sacrifice, your work becomes a central and deeply fulfilling aspect of your personal journey towards maturity. This occurs best in sympathetic surroundings where spiritual values (honesty, generosity, kindness, humility, freedom, forgiveness, compassion etcetera) hold sway over material concerns (expedience, organisational and political imperatives, impersonality, preoccupation with measurement, results and outcomes, cost efficiency, etcetera). When the latter dominate, health care inevitably loses its way. These authors and editors are evidently sincere. Naturally, some readers will disagree with my assessment, finding support in this book for their own thoughts and opinions. My plea is for discernment and a degree of detachment. Finally, though, I must accept that one man's deadly poison may prove to be another person's nutritious meat!