As regular churchgoers, my wife and I enjoy the tradition and rituals of our faith. We also appreciate the sustaining value of what we learn through fellowship and worship.

But there are weeks when we desire a break from church at times. Then we choose a park or other serene place to visit. One of our favorite places for this ritual is Morton Arboretum, a large park and educational center in Lisle, IL. It isn’t a long drive for us to get there, probably 20 minutes. The Arb as most people call it, offers walking trails through deep woods and open prairies. There are both amazing and subtle things to observe in all seasons. Then we stop back at the center and partake in a little goat cheese/cranberry salad. We call it the Church of the Arboretum.

Finding your own space

Going to a church or temple or mosque is not everyone’s favorite thing. Some people prefer to find spirituality on their own, and some not at all.

My own mother was a Unitarian, a faith that by tradition respects everyone’s belief system. One of the guys with whom I ride is a member of the same Unitarian Church in Geneva, IL, my mother attended. That rider is a devout atheist. And I don’t mean that term as an oxymoron.

Riffing your way to gladness

When we ride together we often discuss spiritual matters, but not in argumentative fashion. My “atheist” friend is one of the most logical thinkers who likes to cut through the bull, but in often humorous fashion. Sometimes we set in riffing on various aspects of religious tradition, making up stories or reacting to those heard on the news. We make a game of it, announcing our ideas as if they were a newscast or a Saturday Night Live skit. The miles roll on as we find the common core of our belief systems. Which is much broader than you might think.

Space to breathe

It is remarkable that by comparison, faith was a relatively rare component of conversation while training with teammates at the Christian institution (Luther College) that I attended in college. We were more likely to talk about the women we liked, parties and coursework than God or Jesus. But we were college kids. What do you expect? God was someone you met in class, analyzed and doubted, for the most part, on the basis that the unexamined faith is not worth having.

It seems that faith sometimes needs space to breathe, and while we are young there is so much happening in our lives that faith gets squished between all that other stuff. It moves around and pops up on occasion like toothpaste in a tube.

What do you think about God?

Then we age a little bit and while life can still be hectic, faith and big questions take on a little more interest and urgency. We let the questions hang out there a bit more. We bring them up with friends during a long run. “What do you think about God?” we might dare ask. Or, “Do you think there really is a God?”

The run or ride then turns into an exploration of sorts. The eyes focus on the road or path ahead. Occasionally you glance over at your friend (or friends) while riding or running along, to see what their faces say about their agreement with your thoughts. We all want to know what people think about our conception of the big picture. It is human nature.

Holy place

Running and riding can be that holy place where you feel open and active enough to ask the big questions, and actually take the time to try to find the answers. Sometimes when things come together and ideas flow in harmony, you can actually be moved spiritually and try to bring back what you’ve learned into the rest of your life.

Transfiguration

It can be difficult to do. Like the disciples who climbed a mountain with Jesus and were witness to his transfiguration, they wanted to stay in that holy place. But Jesus warned them they could not stay. Their duty and calling was to bring that inspiration to others. To deliver the message, as it were, that goodness exists.

And so it goes. We all proselytize to some degree about the many benefits of running and riding. For health. For stress release. But sometime you might want to consider the fact that our time on the road is something of a holy place. We turn regular roads and paths in to holy space. That is how it is meant to be.

Amen to that.