SPIRITUALITY IN THE TREATMENT ROOM
How easy is it, really, to make crystal-clear distinctions between "spiritual" conversations and "psychological" ones? This seems like very hard work to me, and not really necessary—there's just too much organic overlap. When a client looks up in tears and asks, "Why should I go on living?" the responsible therapist shouldn't necessarily just stare blankly and refer them to clergy. This is a sacred moment to be sure: a time of crisis that may be a golden opportunity for deep learning. Is this a "spiritual" opportunity? Probably—but by labeling it as such, a counselor can become professionally mute, fearful even, right at the time when abandonment is just not an option.
One of the things I personally love the most about my profession is the depth and breadth of the discourse: it can go in any number of directions, from the practical to the behavioral to the emotional and psychological to the spiritual and back around again. This does not mean that psychologists can or should replace rabbis, priests or shamans—there's just some genuine overlap that there's no need to be afraid of.
No one goes to see a therapist to learn to pray, particularly. But we might go to rekindle our "hope," which is very similar. We don't generally study the Torah in counseling sessions, but we do study meaning, truth and authenticity; we do talk about love and forgiveness. Clergy, of course, often find themselves in the position of marriage counselor or drug counselor or intervening with teens in trouble—they deal with very real, nuts and bolts, "behavioral" and "emotional" issues all the time without holding a degree from an accredited Counseling Psyche program. This is probably all fine.
I am not suggesting that therapists practice outside their area of expertise, not at all. A client's spiritual life is but one facet of their complex, interconnected life experience—and arguably a critical one. Millions benefit from exploring a relationship to "higher power" (however that is manifest) that can be called upon when one wrestles with the really big, deep, wide questions. Faith is sometimes the only word that can be inserted into that frightening void between "why?" and "why not?" And it's a word not wholly-owned by any one religion. To have "faith in one's self" (or in others, or in the world) is clearly a legitimate aim of psychotherapy.
Many say they do not "believe in God," yet still experience powerful moments of feeling awed by the "miraculous" in their lives. No organization really "owns" these moments, do they? It's a feeling with a thousand faces and a thousand names—let's not be afraid when it comes up. TB
