SQ - Spiritual Intelligence

It was the last night of my groups’ work hosting a weekly night at a rotating homeless shelter called the Robes Project. It was a night like any other and I was doing the usual overnight shift. I often arrive early and help work the dinner shift as well, cooking food, then eating and hanging out with the guests. There was the group of guests and volunteers who had finished eating and started playing Scrabble. Another volunteer was playing a guest in chess. There was the group of guests reading the newspaper. Some people were still eating dessert. Two guests were speaking in their native Sierra Leonean pigeon English. Music was playing in the background and laughter could be heard in the air as many of the books we brought for the donated library sat there, unread. Suddenly one guest, a very distinguished man with a nice black blazer, well-wrapped scarf, and reading glasses, stood up and declared, “Excuse me, excuse me, everyone. I have an announcement to make.”

He was a type of father figure in Robes. He could talk to and with anyone, and he could feel just as comfortable reading to himself in the middle of all our noise, like a father might feel at home in the evening in his favourite chair, drawing comfort from the fact that his children were happy, playful, and alive. This time he made a rare move and took centre stage before all the guests and volunteers.

“I’ve received permission from Olivia and Crispan to make this announcement. As you all know, tonight is the last night for the volunteers here. From now on our Friday nights will be spent at another hosting community. We have been so richly blessed by you and we want to say thank you. The food was amazing. The way you talked to us, laughed with us, played games with us, brought books for us—we were treated so well, and we want to say thank you. The conversation, the love, the joy—it was just amazing and overwhelming. Simply the best. Thank you so very much from the bottom of our hearts. Thank you. May the Good Lord, in all his wondrous workings, richly bless you this day for what you have done with us and for us. May you be richly blessed in all you do wherever you go in Jesus’s name.”

At that moment, the place erupted in applause. Applause is a weird thing to get used to. Some famous people do. I sometimes have to diffuse the energy, so I just jumped in and applauded as well, thanking the guests, too, and thanking the other volunteers who allowed me to participate in this work of learning to relate to the guests. It really was a beautiful moment.

Here is the strange thing: the guests were specifically calling attention to our work over and above the work of other church groups and community groups that host the shelter on other nights. This floored me and blew my mind. They were not saying “Thank you for caring for us when no one did.” No. They were saying “In caring for us, thank you for loving us over and above what was required.” They were saying, “we are cared for a lot by many others, but it is not like this. We are not always loved.” Do you see what I’m saying? I guess, I was surprised because most of the community groups hosting were church groups, and I stereotyped the churches and expected that they would all simply love all over the guests.

I was wrong. Apparently, we were the only people who created a library. However, instead of it being the kind where you return or swap the book, you could keep the book. We were the only ones who brought games. We were the only ones who actually called up the Robes administration (or other hosting groups) to find out what the guests ate throughout the week so that we could cook something original. When my group decided to do the Robes project this year, we decided one thing—we were going to cook the best food ever, food we would cook for ourselves, our families, and our friends. And it makes sense to me because the guests became our friends.

So every week, without a doubt or an aberration, multiple guests told me that we cook the best food.

“The food here is amazing.”

“This is just like home-cooked food. It’s so hearty.”

“We all look forward to coming here every week.”

“I’ve been waiting for Friday just for the meal. We always know it’s going to be good.”

“Uhhh, I’m so sick of pasta and apple crumble. I know I’m gonna get something good tonight! I can’t wait!”

Second helpings and plates were commonplace. I’ve even seen thirds and fourths. People really loved it, whether it was lamb stew, Moroccan chicken, vegetarian curry, or Belgian waffles. To them it was always good. Take it from me, it was goooood. The experience of doing that and the amazingly wonderful time the guests and volunteers had reminded me of why I like my group—they are spiritually intelligent. And just because you’re religious doesn’t mean you’re spiritually intelligent (this explains my surprise at finding out our night was seen as special among all nights of the week for the rotating shelter, even though they are hosted by churches). You can be non-religious and highly spiritually intelligent, and you can be very religious with little spiritual intelligence. This experience reminded me of that truth. This reminded me of that.

I should probably define or explain spiritual intelligence. But let me backtrack to emotional intelligence. We all remember or have heard of the traditional Western understanding of intelligence. I still see it in schools today. This person is smart. That person is dumb. For a long time rational or logical intelligence was the only recognized form of intelligence—IQ. Then Professor Howard Garner was the first person to explicitly articulate the still controversial idea of multiple intelligences in the 1983 book Frames of Mind: The Theory of Multiple Intelligences. Though some disagree, people began to realise you can be intelligent in many different ways such as kinesthetic intelligence, musical intelligence, social intelligence, linguistic intelligence, etc. Then another wave of ideas and books were birthed when Daniel Goleman’s 1995 book, Emotional Intelligence (the first use of the term is usually attributed to Wayne Payne’s doctoral thesis in 1985), argued that emotional intelligence (EQ) is at least as important as IQ. Emotional intelligence deals with being aware of people feelings as well as being self-aware of our own. It involves being able to “read” people and situations and enables empathy, compassion, and response to the pain or pleasure of others. You can cultivate and grow EQ throughout your life; it is not static.

However, few of my friends have ever talked to me about spiritual intelligence. The idea started popping up around the late 90’s and one 2001 book, SQ: Connecting with Our Spiritual Intelligence by Danah Zohar and Dr. Ian Marshall, considers spiritual intelligence the most important intelligence. While IQ and EQ mallow you to play within the boundaries, SQ allows you to play with the boundaries and question and criticise the status quo, why things are the way the are, or the meaning of our ways. It allows you to imagine new creative possibilities—the way real faith should be. Spiritual intelligence looks at the big questions and asks them. Why am I here? What is it all for? What should I do with my life? What purpose can I serve? It asks the tough questions about values, existence, meaning, and purpose, allowing you to transcend, at least in thought, the physical and material. Spiritual intelligence deals with the sanctifying of every day experience and the inner life of the mind and spirit and its relation to the world. It’s really just the adaptive mental capacity to deal with nonmaterial things like purpose and meaning, reflect on it, and integrate it into your life such that it affects your understanding of meaning, your awareness of things (whether causes or purposes) bigger than yourself, and peace.

Did you catch the recurring theme in there? It’s the use of reflection and questioning. Unfortunately many religious groups or institutions stifle this type of questioning, criticism, or imagination allowing for little spiritually intelligent growth. Because of the importance for reflection and questioning of the status quo, you can be an atheist with a very high SQ; on the other hand, you can be a staunch religious person and have a very low SQ.

What I love about my group that works to host a night at the rotating shelter is that they are so spiritually intelligent. Though it’s rare that they reference God or Jesus in a meeting, every thing we do—whether a type of service, a pub get-together, or a meal—is pushing us to develop our spiritual intelligence. It’s one of the few experiences I’ve had of being in a group in which people are not encouraged to believe the same things. And for all the critics who say this is untenable or impossible, let me tell you—it works. The only foundation we share in common is love. And love is not a belief.

I have some amazingly spiritually intelligent friends who are not religious, and I’m thankful for them. They care for the sick, host weekly community dinners, give money they don’t have, live in uncomfortable places and spaces for the sake of someone besides themselves. They serve in the military, they teach, they clean buildings, they quench fires, they do a myriad of tasks, and their lives (not just their jobs) are infused with spiritually intelligent actions.

Spiritual intelligence is living and thinking with your soul. Everyone can do that regardless of having a religion. But what does that mean? Dave Tomlinson talks about spiritual intelligence in his book How to be aBad Christian. Some of the qualities he lists are below:

Self-awareness

Principle

Spontaneity

Empathy

Humility

Curiosity

Flexibility

Resilience

Being centred or grounded

Receptivity

Dave lists three ways of cultivating spiritual intelligence. First just make a commitment to go on this inward-outward journey (he calls it an inward journey). I always remind my friends that spiritual intelligence is an outward intelligence as well. The journey starts with questions and reflections but it doesn’t end there. First, you have to commit to start.

The second important thing is to participate in spiritual practices.

To yourself – what are you feeling but ignoring, what thoughts are you pushing to the back of your mind

To other people – friends and family whose concerns or needs you tend to bypass or overlook, strangers who pass by unseen by you

To situations – circumstances in your life that may be saying important things to you or about you

To the world – big things, little things, things of beauty, things you may not have noticed, details that pass you by, unawares

To God – who is present in all these other ways seeking to enrich you and guide you

Last is a hugely important step without which the first two steps don’t mean anything: you have to find a community to go on this journey with you. I know people for whom leaving their church was a spiritually healthy move. I have a friend for whom leaving her church did her faith well because she was in a place that was toxic for her faith. I wish all religious places were about the business of growing spiritually healthy and intelligent people, but we are not. Still, I never want to make the mistake of thinking that it’s a journey that can be done alone. If you venture out from a tough community, find another one that you can work with, one that welcomes and accepts you in love, one that honours and respects you, and one that is concerned about you and your spiritual growth. You have to travel with people that will affirm you and encourage you and also speak truthfully to you, empowering you and enabling you to grow.

No church or religious group or institution is perfect. And there are some amazing examples of church groups that do help to cultivate your spiritual intelligence. I travel around and go between religious groups, but I can tell you that Borough Common, my group that hosts the rotating homeless shelter is a wonderful community of people. They let you ask any question you want, critical or unchallenging. They let you probe who we are as a people, where we are going, and what we are doing. Most importantly, they let you believe what you would like and in the process they love you unconditionally. They are not perfect in any way and you’ll see that when you visit. But I love that I, first, belong. First and foremost, I belong.

AFTER RELIGION

If you look at just the first minute of this Jonathan Haidt talk on “Religion, evolution, and the ecstasy of self-transcendence,” you will notice the shift that has been happening in the West away from religion. Many more people in the TED audience felt they were “spiritual” than the number of people who felt they were “religious.” Of course, you can feel like you are neither or feel like you are both. But it highlights an interesting phenomenon—the decline of religion in the West. 

According to a Newsweek article in April 2009 entitled “The End of Christian America,” between 1990 and 2009 the number of Americans who claim to have no religious affiliation has doubled from 8 to 15 percent. The number of people who self-identify as Christians has fallen 10 percentage points from 86 to 76%. And the number of atheists or agnostics has increased by almost four times from 1 million to 3.6 million.

Sociologists, theologians, historians, and others have noticed this trend over the past two decades (and some slightly longer). At first people confined the analysis to Europe thinking that the U.S. might be an exception but, as the numbers show, the same phenomenon is happening in the U.S., albeit somewhat later than the phenomenon in the UK. The evidence is very strong for the decades-long decline in American religiousness especially since it comes from multiple sources—academic polls, journals, denominational surveys, newspapers, religious think tank research, etc.

Originally, I remember religious historians and sociologists would talk of the decline of particular part of Christian America – mainline Protestants and their decline in the 1970s. Other Christian groups, such as Pentecostals or evangelicals in general, would say “Yes, Christianity or religion is declining but not in my church and not in my denomination. It’s not declining with us. It’s declining with them.” But now, even Pentecostals and evangelicals show declining numbers across the U.S. Catholic churches, conservative evangelical churches—they are all in decline among US membership.

Even in my own life just among my own friends with whom I grew up, it’s obvious. A majority of my friends who used to attend church no longer do (I believe this has to do with the diversified group of friends I have; this would not be true with a skewed or biased group of friends). If you took a random sample of my childhood friends you’d probably find a strong percentage (say at least 20%) of those who did believe in God, no longer do. The church, if it ever did something for them or meant something to them, no longer holds any meaning.

Usually, in my experience, instead of church groups looking inward to explore what is the issue, a church might point a finger of blame in the wrong direction. In the book Unchristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks About Christianity . . . and Why It Matters, the authors David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons reach the conclusion that people reject and feel rejected by Christianity due to an image problem with Christianity, and that what is needed is a type of revised public image campaign for Christianity. Researcher Diana Butler Bass says their statistics are good and helpful, but their analysis is weak and their interpretation show a bias towards a conservative evangelical social agenda.

So what is the real issue because there is an issue? Why has religion failed for so many people according to those people? What is this shift and where is it going? There are a number of books that have talked about this shift from different perspectives: Brian McLaren in A New Kind of Christianity, Harvard’s Harvey Cox in The Future of Faith, Phyllis Tickle’s The Great Emergence, and Diana Butler Bass’s Christianity After Religion. In Diana Butler Bass’s book, she points out 3 great awakenings in U.S. and Canadian church history. According to her, the First Great Awakening (1730-1760) “marked the end of European styles of church organization and created an experiential, democratic, pan-Protestant community of faith called evangelicalism.” The Second Great Awakening (1800-1830) marked the end of Calvinistic theological dominance and the growth of the understanding of free will resulting “in a voluntary system for church membership and benevolent work.” The Third Great Awakening (1890-1920) brought the growth of the social gospel movement with its progressive politics and the growth of the Pentecostal movement with its focus on miraculous transformations.

Bass believes the growth of the social group dubbed the “religious right” in the 1980s was not an awakening but rather a reaction to an awakening and an experimentation that happened in the 60’s and 70’s leading to the election of Jimmy Carter, a leader who embodied many of he aspects of the spiritual awakening. (What’s funny is that every single political or historical analysis of Jimmy Carter’s presidency I’ve seen has framed him as a failure). One person interviewed in Butler’s book says that Jimmy Carter was elected to tinker with the system but not to really change it. The interviewee didn’t feel that there was enough grassroots momentum or consensus on issues like environmentalism, multi-faith understanding, justice, or the global community for Jimmy Carter to be effective. “Not enough people had converted to the new vision.” And in 1980 the difference between Reagan and Carter could not have been clearer. America chose Reagan, beginning a different, diverging period in the spiritual climate of the U.S. However, it seems to be going back in the same direction in was going in the 60’s and 70’s. There seems to be a Fourth Great Awakening.

But first what is an awakening? Bass highlights 5 parts of an awakening.

1.     Crisis of legitimacy – People feel like they can no longer sustain the common set of religious understandings they hold or were holding.

2.     Cultural distortion – People switch from thinking the problem is personal failure and feel there is an institutional problem.

3.     New vision – People and communities begin to articulate a new understanding of organisations, practices, beliefs, etc.

4.     Follow a new path – People begin to experiment, create, edit, innovate as they search for a new way.

5.     Institutional transformation – This tipping point happens when the innovators win over a majority of people so that institutions begin to change.

As this awakening continues to take shape, I want to highlight one difference between its form in Europe and its form in the U.S. and Canada. Bass quotes two polls in her book. Here is a Gallup poll from 1999. Americans were asked how they viewed themselves. Look at the answers.

Spiritual only                                                 30%

Religious only                                                54%

Both spiritual and religious                         6%

Neither spiritual nor religious                     9%

Now, in 2009, Newsweek used Princeton Survey Research to conduct the same survey (at least this part of the survey). Here are their results.

Spiritual only                                                 30%

Religious only                                                9%

Both spiritual and religious                         48%

Neither spiritual nor religious                     9%

Now, I know it wasn’t the same survey group and may not have been the same methodology and the question may have been phrased differently; there may have been different demographics and cultural linguistic shifts (like “spiritual” becoming more accepted) during the time. I would still like to look at the difference. It’s as if a majority of the “religious only” people jumped into the “Both spiritual and religious” bin. Why is that important? I think it’s important because in the UK, my guess is that the largest percentage would be “spiritual only.” I don’t have research to back it up but it’s my experience. It suggest that, at least right now in the US (I can’t prognosticate) there are people trying to combine the two—the religious and the spiritual—and begin to “faith their practices” as much as they practice their faiths. This is a particular characteristic of the spiritual climate in the States.

I won’t define what this means for the U.S. and where this will end up or go. But it’s clear to see the movement is away from a culture of religious belief systems. And don’t think this is particular to Christianity. There are similar different-sized movements in Judaism, Islam, and even Hinduism, to name a few. It’s moving towards more openness and more inclusiveness. It’s moving to greater understanding of justice and environmentalism. It’s moving toward spiritual practices and away from belief systems.

JESUS CAMP

I’m on a documentary binge, and I’m watching this documentary “Jesus Camp” which I mentioned last time. And my roommate is freaking out and saying negative things about Christians or those people in the film. And I have a church group coming to my house in 3 days; she’s repeating that they better not be like those people in the film. Ha ha! Don’t you love the tension.

I dated a girl once who introduced me to a friend of hers. This friend knew I was a Christian of sorts and the first thing she asked me was why I was a Christian. “I mean, when I think Christian I think judgmental, hypocritical, and self-righteous.” Man, what do you say to that? Aren’t you glad that the history of this religion of which I’m a part (of sorts) is filled with a tension, so that it’s not just known for the Crusades, witch hunts, slaveries and slave trades, wars, apartheid, Nazi movements, etc. but it’s also known for the abolition of slavery, the abolition of child labor (in many places around the world), St. Francis of Assisi, Jesus (pre-Christianity), liberation theology and Oscar Romero, redistributive principles, etc. That tension is palpable anywhere and everywhere and ever present in the religion of which I’m a part. To deny it is to cut off any chance for real dialogue for you’ve no where to start with someone different than you. Plus it probably means you have specks in your eyes. So daily, I wrestle with God (Israel) as what it means to be a Christian or Christ-follower in a world that feels hated by such and in a world that is loved by such (I won’t talk of proportions).


I have a very beautiful friend named Jeannie living in South Africa. She recently became more beautiful as she has worked to blossom more, care less about what others think of her, be embarrassed less, and just live and love. She asked me once if I was an “evangelical Christian.” The problem with the term is that there are a few meanings especially as you travel around the world, but yes. I know she probably took this to mean that I am trying to proselytize and convert people to a new religion but I didn’t bother explaining or correcting or challenging or conversing about it. I just said yes. The problem is if you try to convert me, I’m pretty resistant. I feel it when I talk with Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses (ok this isn’t true; I LOVE to dialogue with these people that share a similar book with me but originally when I was younger I didn’t look forward to it always). It’s the same way with Christian people trying to convert. I have tons of Pentecostal and charismatic Christian friends who talk about who they have reached hundreds for Christ themselves on the power of their prayer or through the power of reading the Bible or through the power of the Holy Spirit when they speak. I’ve never had that happen to me. In fact, the few people who have “become Christian” didn’t tell me when they decided to do it. For them, it was a gradual process. They told me I was a part of the influence that led them in that direction. And most of them never had deep conversations with me about it (meaning it wasn’t due to my words or some deep intellectual battle). They watched me, they interacted with me, they were loved by me. I guess people talk about the Word of God so much they forget that the Word of God isn’t real or formed until it is performed; otherwise it’s just words. Anyway, actions will speak louder than your words.

What I mean to say is that I’ve never seen people repulsed by Christians who follow Christ, they way I understand his words and teachings. That’s a different thing. People always seem to love those Christians, or people are unnerved by them and unsettled from constant hate or hurt.

GOD IS NOT ONE

People always say that all religions are the same or they say “basically” the same. Some people, usually Christians, disagree (Christianity tends to be exclusive, as I have grown up understanding it). I understand both sides. There are commonalities, specifically in ethics and morals between many religions. But the framing narrative of religions is different and the goals of the many religions are different.


Stephen Prothero, a Boston professor, wrote a book by the title “God Is Not One” about 8 of the world’s religions. He says in Islam, the problem is pride, and the solution is submission; in Buddhism, the problem is suffering, and the solution is awakening; in Judaism, the problem is exile, the solution is returning to God; Confucianism, the problem is chaos and the solution is social order; in Christianity, the problem is sin, and the solution is salvation. Though I liked his realization that there are different narratives in each of these religions, I disagreed with his framing of Christianity. I think he did a great job with understanding traditional Christianity but if it’s about following Jesus, I’m pretty sure that is way more than just about sin and “salvation.” It’s a common and prevalent misinterpretation of Jesus in the West. I think Christianity, if it is following Jesus, is probably closer to the Jewish framework--can you imagine that! We don’t call it the Judeo-Christian tradition for nothing. But I would still word it differently. I’m in a story-mood during this update. So let me share one.



In a world where following Christ is decreed to be a subversive and illegal activity, you have been accused of being a believer, arrested, and dragged before a court.

You have been under clandestine surveillance for some time now, and so the prosecution has been able to build up quite a case against you. They begin the trial by offering the judge dozens of photographs that show you attending church meetings, speaking at religious events, and participating in various prayer and worship services. After this, they present a selection of items that have been confiscated from your home: religious books that you own, worship CDs, and other Christian artifacts. Then they step up the pace by displaying many of the poems, pieces of prose, and journal entries that you had lovingly written concerning your faith. Finally, in closing, the prosecution offers your Bible to the judge. This is a well-worn book with scribbles, notes, drawings, and underlinings throughout, evidence, if it were needed, read and re-read this sacred text many times.

Throughout the case you have been sitting silently in fear and trembling. You know deep in your heart that with the large body of evidence that has been amassed by the prosecution you face the possibility of a long imprisonment or even execution. At various times throughout the proceedings, you have lost all confidence and have been on the verge of standing up and denying Christ. But while this thought has plagued your mind throughout the trial, you resist the temptation and remain focused.

Once the prosecution has finished presenting their case the judge proceeds to ask if you have anything to add, but you remain silent and resolute, terrified that if you open your mouth, even for a moment, you might deny the charges made against you. Like Christ, you remain silent before your accusers. In response you are led outside to wait as the judge ponders your case.

The hours pass slowly as you sit under guard in the foyer waiting to be summoned back. Eventually a young man in uniform appears and leads you into the courtroom so that you may hear the verdict and receive word of your punishment. Once you have been seated in the dock the judge, a harsh and unyielding man, enters the room, stands before you, looks deep into your eyes and begins to speak.

“Of the charges that have been brought forward I find the accused not guilty.”

“Not guilty?” your heart freezes. Then, in a split second, the fear and terror that had moments before threatened to strip your resolve are swallowed up by confusion and rage.

Despite the surroundings, you stand defiantly before the judge and demand that he give an account concerning why you are innocent of the charges in light of the evidence.

“What evidence?” he replies in shock.

“What about the poems and prose that I wrote?” you reply.

“They simply show that you think of yourself as a poet, nothing more.”

“But what about the services I spoke at, the times I wept in church and the long sleepless nights of prayer?”

“Evidence that you are a good speaker and actor, nothing more,” replied the judge. “It is obvious that you deluded those around you, and perhaps at times you even deluded yourself, but this foolishness is not enough to convict you in a court of law.”

“But this is madness!” you shout. “It would seem that no evidence would convince you!”

“Not so,” replies the judge as if informing you of a great, long-forgotten secret.

“The court is indifferent toward your Bible reading and church attendance; it has no concern for worship with words and a pen. Continue to develop your theology, and use it to paint pictures of love. We have no interest in such armchair artist who spend their time creating images of a better world. We exist only for those who would lay down their brush, and their life, in a Christlike endeavor to create a better world. So, until you live as Christ and his followers did, until you challenge this system and become a thorn in our side, until you die to yourself and offer your body to the flames, until then, my friend, you are no enemy of ours.”





Here, I hesitate to interpret or comment as I might lead you one way; there are many layers. I almost added to the story, but I know the author of the story, a philosopher named Peter Rollins, would not object. I could have added that the person, the defendant, had been a righteous (really blameless man) or that people who had been convicted had been people who had sinned (I guess we all have according to the definition). But my point is that the court (in this story) isn’t interested in personal, private piety. The judge might say, “That just shows you’re a personally good person with morals but not Christlike in that you are systematically against systems, communing with the excluded and the least of these.” Great story.


That is the first story in a book of modern-day (I call them parables) stories by Peter Rollins. It’s called “Orthodox Heretic.”