Spirituality With(out) Sacrifice
In a culture in which we are told anything is attainable, the concept of sacrifice is an ugly one. The ideology of constant development leads us to believe that we can continue gaining and gaining, in exchange for our time, energy, and usually our money.
This is perhaps why world religions such as Christianity find it so challenging to have their message heard and understood in a chaotic, consumerist society: a religion that is built on sacrifice is nonsensical in a world where you are told you can have it all.
Much of the way we live our lives is governed by the central theme of more is better, with things only lost to us when we exchange it for something of equal or greater value. Even our approach to relationships can be framed in the mindset of “what am I getting out of this?”, and our contemporary approach to spirituality can be wired in a similar way.
It would be a simplification to suggest that faith in the modern world is dead, but a sense of sacrificial faith is certainly dwindling. Faith, or as it is more commonly understood today in large urban areas: spirituality, is as transactional as many other elements of our everyday lives, akin to going to the cinema or an exercise class in the gym.
When we attend our yoga classes, or tune into our meditation podcasts, we briefly enter a space that can nurture a spiritual need. Yet I believe we often do so transactionally, both through the necessity of things costing money – of course people ought to be appropriately renumerated for their time and energy, but also in that so rarely are we willing to give up something of ourselves that runs deeper than the financial cost.
We require even our spirituality to fit the rhythm of our lives.
Through the adoption and adaption of a smörgåsbord of spiritualities, Western audiences are nourishing an otherwise neglected aspect of ourselves, but doing so in a way that conflicts with a theme that is present in a significant number of world faiths: sacrifice.
Sacrifice is a common theme not only in the Abrahamic faiths of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism, but also in traditions that Western audiences may be familiar in their consumer-friendly formats, such as Hinduism and Zen. The theme of sacrifice takes on many formats in these religions, but what remains central is its importance to the development of the individual and their relationship with their “spirit”, as well as with any concept of divinity.
In religions where sacrifice features as prominently as it does in Christianity, it is perhaps then no surprise that any attempt to reconcile the central Christian tenets with a consumerist, usually Westernised worldview, are met with mixed success. It could well be astounding to the average middle-class urbanite who enjoys access to what they want, when they want it, that willingly giving up anything could be a positive thing.
Of course, the idea of temporarily abstaining from something, whether it be a food group, activity, or habit, is not an alien concept. However, all of these come with the promise of a reward. If you eat less refined sugar, you’ll likely lose weight and feel healthier, if you stop drinking alcohol you’ll perhaps sleep better and notice a better complexion, if you stop biting your nails then your friend/colleague/partner might stop nudging you to break the habit. Most of the actions we might consider sacrificial don’t entail a sacrifice at all, as they remain transactional and ultimately reward driven.
True sacrifice, as it is represented in the heart of Christianity and other faiths, comes with no tit-for-tat exchange. The New Testament teachings based on the life and ministry of Christ centralise not only the sacrifice of the Divine becoming flesh, but of that very person offered up as a sacrifice for the redemption of the created order. This is not the time to explore atonement theology (what Christians believe the purpose and result of the crucifixion was), but instead it helps us understand the conflict that such a faith faces in a world that gives the act of sacrifice no second thought, or, if it is considered, viewed disparagingly.
Sacrifice ought not to be a dirty word. To sacrifice something for another, with no thought to your own gain, is a beautiful thing. It is an expression of the very best of humanity: our ability to look beyond ourselves. Like any behaviour, sacrificially giving requires practice for it to become something we more regularly turn to, but I don’t believe it can ever truly become second nature. Whilst we have it in us to look beyond our own needs, we primarily default to survival, not sacrifice. Few individuals in human history have transcended this primal wiring.
For us to embrace a deeper sense of spirituality, for which many crave, we should not shy away from sacrifice. And indeed, for religions such as Christianity to have the impact in the world that they desire, they must better understand the contemporary resistance to it, not attempt to disguise it or explain it away. Much of Christian expression today has attempted to reposition itself as a supplement to the “you can have it all” approach to life, not an antidote to it. It is perceived as way to compliment the over-indulgence offered and necessitated by consumerism and the media, yet it all it does it further enable the harm that this causes.
Through sacrifice we can begin to distinguish between worth: the cost-benefit analysis we make when determining if something or someone is a good use of our time and energy; and value: intrinsic importance and significance that is dictated not by external, societal, or monetary judgements.
Explored further, sacrifice may well be part of the puzzle that contributes to our increasingly fractured, polarised, and disconnected world. The first hurdle is to motivate ourselves and those closest to us to make the leap: to live sacrificially not despite the cost, but because of it.