This selection appears courtesy of EWTN Publishing. The full book is available here.

Dear Dr. Ray, 

My sister has little to do anymore with the Catholic Faith, in which we were both raised. When the subject comes up, she says, “I’m spiritual, not religious.” What do I say?

—The Religious Sister

Some declarations spread because they soothe the human psyche on many levels.

• They sound smart. The words alone seem to offer both a pithy and a profound insight.
• They sound superior. They profess a “more genuine, enlightened” way to be.
• They sound self-evident, beyond dispute. They need no scrutiny as to how much sense they truly make.

At their core, such declarations are platitudes — superficial but with little substance. They are verbal viruses that multiply rapidly through the cultural body because they suit the self.

People in counseling often introduce themselves with traits. “I’m a passive person.” “My spouse is aggressive.” “My child is stubborn.” To move therapy forward, I must put specifics to the generic. “What exactly do you mean by ‘passive’? Give me some day-to-day examples.” “What, in particular, makes you think your child is stubborn?” In other words, I pursue the what, where, and how of the descriptions. Only then can I get a better picture of the why.

When your sister proclaims, “I’m not religious; I’m spiritual," she’s relying on two words that beg for clarification. So, like a good therapist, ask her, “What do you mean by ‘religious?’” “If you were religious, what would you be like?” “What is your image of someone who is religious?”

Ask her for the meaning of “spiritual.” “What makes a person spiritual?” “Are there different kinds of spiritual?” “How does being spiritual show itself?”

Don’t argue or challenge contradictions. Your intent is to hear and understand exactly how your sister is using those words. In explaining herself to you, she may also explain herself to herself. Sometimes, only by saying things out loud do we hear whether we make sense.

If your sister is defining these two words as many do, she’s doing so quite narrowly. For example, to her, “religious” may mean “following rules.” Not only that, but following rules made by people she considers hypocritical or judgmental. Or “religious” may imply rote, unthinking actions with little heart behind them.

“Spiritual,” to her, is the loftier word. It speaks of a connection, however loose, to another power, perhaps a higher one. What’s better, the power commands little obedience to traditional morals or worship.

“Spiritual” is among the mushiest words in the lexicon. It can mean whatever one wishes it to mean. The spiritual one sets his own terms; therefore, he follows them to the letter.

Suppose I announce to my wife, “Honey, from this point forward, I want to be more ‘marriage-minded’ and less married. I think the expectations and structure of marriage are impediments to our true selves. Let’s not stifle our relationship with rules. As long as we think lovingly about one another, we don’t have to do all the nitty-gritty of actual loving.”

Pretty much, I would declare myself free from the actions, responsibilities, and yes, sacrifices crucial to a good marriage mind without the marriage. But somehow, I don’t think my wife would be enamored with this philosophy.

“I’m spiritual, not religious” is what logicians would call an either-or proposition. That is, one is either spiritual or religious but not both. To a believer in the God of the Bible and His plan of salvation, “religious” and “spiritual” represent a both-and proposition. They exist together, part of the same truth. Religion puts the substance to the spiritual. It defines worship and morality. The words overlap so much that they are nearly interchangeable.

Next time your sister says, “I’m not religious; I’m spiritual,” you can ask, “Can someone be both religious and spiritual?”