Religious collectivities in the era of individualization

Abstract

Research in Quebec by a team that I direct indicates that religious collectivities still have very important roles to play despite the individualization of religion and the changing relations between individuals and religious institutions. The analysis focuses on the smaller, more marginal spiritualities that attract native-born Québécois, who often maintain some ties with the Catholic Church. Here we find abundant evidence of individualized, hybrid spiritualities but we also see that religious sociality remains essential for maximizing the effectiveness of religious (spiritual) practice, providing a framework for religious apprenticeship, supporting those in ritually produced altered states of consciousness, and validating religious authenticity of the practices and beliefs of participants. While collectivities remain important in more mainstream religious congregations (Catholics and Pentecostals, for example), the specifically religious elements of communality in these groups are sometimes obscured. By examining more marginal currents, we try to show the enduring power of religious sociality.

Introduction

For several decades the individualization of religion and all it entails – religious mobility and hybridity, the primacy of subjective experience over the institutional aspects of religion, and so on – has been a central preoccupation for many scholars of religion. Several others have raised the issue of how this affects individuals’ relationships to religious institutions; notably Danièle Hervieu-Léger (1999) and Meredith McGuire (2008). One only has to look at survey findings on religious mobility (e.g. Pew Research Center, 2008) to see that this is changing. I would like to reframe the question in a broader way and look at the role that religious sociality plays for social actors in this era of subjectivized religion. Leaving aside the question of individuals’ long-term commitment or belonging to a particular religious institution, I try to show that, based on my team’s fieldwork in Quebec, religious collectivities still have very important roles to play. Indeed, we find abundant evidence for the individualization of religion, particularly in the smaller, more marginal spiritualities ¹ that attract French-speaking, Catholic-raised, native-born Québécois, who often maintain some ties with Catholicism. Such currents are particularly interesting in relation to the roles of religious collectivities today, since their participants tend to have highly individualized, hybrid spiritual beliefs and practices. I will first describe the research in more detail and then turn to our findings about religious individualization. From there I will discuss the roles of religious collectivities as these emerge from our fieldwork. I will conclude with some reflections on the question of authenticity, given the crucial role of religious collectivities in validating individuals’ religious experience, practices and beliefs.

The research

Since 2006 our team ² has been conducting ethnographic research on contemporary religious groups throughout Quebec, particularly in Montreal. By contemporary groups, I mean groups that represent the important social and religious changes dating from the Quiet Revolution of the 1960s. This was a period of rapid secularization that saw the Catholic Church lose its social hegemony and control of major social institutions and the province become open to an array of religions and spiritualities. Since then, factors associated with globalization have exacerbated the trend toward religious diversity. One of these is, of course, more diversified immigration; the increased mobility of the general population, along with new communication technologies, are also major factors in the spread of exogenous religious influences.

Our team has made ethnographic observations of religious groups that represent (1) religions established in Quebec since the 1960s (e.g. Baha’i; Neo-shamanism, including Druidism and Wicca); (2) new forms of religious practice in long-established religions (a Reconstructionist synagogue, Catholic charismatic groups); (3) religions imported by immigrants (including Islam, Hinduism and certain forms of Buddhism); and (4) congregations of long-established religions that include a substantial proportion of immigrants among their members (e.g. Korean Presbyterians). Over 230 groups across the province were observed from 2007 to 2013; of these, 65 were studied in depth over a period of five months or more.

Individualization, mobility, hybridity

Our research gives abundant evidence of the individualization of religion and, along with it, religious agency. We find a great deal of circulation by individuals between different types of religious/spiritual groups, though not in a chaotic way (cf. Campiche, 1997). Healing and discourses of healing are central to many newer religious currents (Meintel and Mossière, 2011). We also find much individualized bricolage (Gellner, 1997); some groups present a veritable kaleidoscope of individual constellations of practices, beliefs, religious attendance and participation. While far from absent among immigrants, individualized spiritualities are particularly noticeable among non-immigrants, and my focus here will be mostly on the latter.

At the same time, we note the enduring, pervasive presence of Catholicism (cf. Bibby, 2008), often diffused into memory and religious imagination, even as the Church as an institution seems less important. Nonetheless, it is worth mentioning that Catholic lay communities are quite dynamic, especially in the outlying regions. These communities are vital and very demanding of their members’ time and enjoy a remarkable degree of autonomy towards the clergy.

In Quebec, as elsewhere, most people, including those who are religiously active, prefer to speak of their ‘spirituality’, as opposed to their ‘religion’, though the two do not necessarily refer to separate religious groups, unlike the context described by Heelas and Woodhead (2005). Much as Giordan has noted in Italy (2009), the same individuals may keep ties to the Catholic Church, for example, while frequenting a Buddhist or a Spiritualist group. And some who identify as Catholics may consider their Catholicism less as an institutional belonging or form of ‘religious’ practice, than as a spiritual wellspring. Likewise, Evangelicals (usually born Catholic) in our research sometimes deny having a religion, and call their church activities ‘spirituality’.

Globalization, religious ‘resources’, agency

Many scholars have noted the individualization of religious life, some with dismay or great reservations, others with more enthusiasm. Among the uneasy, Robert Bellah (Bellah et al., 2007 [1985]) and Charles Taylor (2002) come to mind; similarly, a certain reluctance to normalize hybrid spiritualities is evident in terms like ‘la nébuleuse mystico-religieuse’ (Champion, 1990) and ‘religion à la carte’ (Bibby, 2008). As for those more ready to see religious hybridity and bricolage as ‘the new normal’, or even just ‘the normal’, I would mention first and foremost Meredith McGuire, along with Campiche, Giordan and many others.

It is clear that globalization has dramatically expanded the range of religious resources available in Quebec, as in much of the world. The neoliberal-sounding term ‘resources’ is used deliberately, because it reflects not only a certain economic and social reality, but also the discourse and perceptions of many of those we have studied in our research. To speak more specifically of the Quebec social majority (native-born French speakers), religions (or ‘spiritualities’) are approached less often as institutions to ‘belong to’ (though there are converts to Islam and Evangelical Protestant religions) than as potential sources of what I call ‘tools for transcendance’ (Meintel, 2011a); i.e. a means of experiencing a direct, often healing, contact with the Sacred. Here I am thinking of the Spiritualist congregation I have followed for over a decade, as well as Druids, Wiccans and neo-shamanic groups. This last type usually shows marked Native (Amerindian) leadership and influence, and is sometimes referred to as ‘Native spirituality’. ³

What is different in Quebec, say, as compared with the US or UK, is the fact that the Catholic Church’s fairly recent loss of social hegemony, along with the decline of conventional Catholic practice, has created something of an existential void (Lemieux, 2002), which is often filled by participation in groups representing other traditions. For the most part, these groups (yogic, nature-centred, Buddhist, Spiritualist and so on) do not have a rhetoric of conversion – i.e. of a new religious belonging – but rather one of transformation. That is, they encourage conversion only in Rambo’s (1993) phenomenological sense, meaning a ‘change of heart’. Thus we meet many who say they have ‘no religion’ or, when asked their religion, that they were brought up as Catholics, and who are quite active in some non-Catholic tradition. And so we find not so much new religious identities or belongings as new religious subjectivities where Catholic imagery and beliefs are often in evidence (e.g. Spiritualist mediums who invoke St Brother André and practitioners of Native-influenced shamanism who have visions of the Virgin Mary). Needless to say, there are many cases of multiple participation (e.g. individuals who identify as Catholic but mostly frequent Spiritualist churches and sometimes participate in a Native sweat lodge). Many seek new religious resources via the Internet to inspire their rituals and personal practice, notably among Pagans and Wiccans, which sometimes leads to some heterogeneous combinations, as, for example, in the case of ‘Rose’, described by project assistant Rosemary Roberts (2009). Rose is a woman in her late forties who embarked on a spiritual path with Wicca, then studied Core Shamanism (Harner, 2011) and now is integrating Celtic traditions into her spiritual apparatus. Some might dismiss such a case as just a new brand of Sheilaism (Bellah et al., 2007 [1985]): a flimsy, ephemeral and ultimately solipsistic personal creed with no social correlates whatsoever. Indeed, individualization is often taken for individualism, as per an article on American youth and religious individualization entitled ‘A congregation of one’ (Arnette and Jensen, 2002).

In what follows, I hope to show how individuals like Rose nonetheless seek and often create religious community, though in forms some might not recognize as such. Furthermore, such cases reveal that the religious agency that is implied by the individualization of religion carries its own burden. Like Rose, many interviewed in our study see the quality of their spiritual lives as their own responsibility. Their very freedom to circulate among various groups and to seek resources in different traditions also means that they feel constantly driven to enrich and enliven, or at least, tweak, their spiritual practice. Moreover, their spiritual practices involve considerable personal inconvenience. We find Ashtanga yogic practitioners rising early and commuting to a daily 6 a.m. group practice in a midtown centre; women sacrifice their usual jeans for skirts for shamanic rituals and sometimes wear only skirts in the day-to-day, because of the symbolism of this garb in shamanic traditions. Participants in ayahuasca ceremonies abstain from coffee, alcohol, sex, meat, salt, fatty foods and drugs (including a long list of prescription drugs) for several weeks beforehand. Even a sweat lodge generally requires that participants spend hours in ritual preparations. Note that all these examples we are talking about involve group activities, which suggests that even marginal spiritualities involve some kind of community, an issue to which we now turn.

Individualization of religion and religious community

François Laplantine (2003: 22) calls for researchers to examine the new ‘modes of sociality’ around groups that he characterizes as ‘small, heterogeneous and heterodox … amorphous, unstable, evolving and yet animated by a spirit of partage, sharing, being-with … [groups that] are less in danger of turning in on themselves than of dispersing and dissolving’. It is this type of group that I want to focus on here; I am thinking of Wicca, Druidry, Spiritualism, Spiritism, Umbanda, certain forms of Buddhism, and neo-shamanic and yogic spiritualities. These newer ‘varieties of religion’, to use Taylor’s (2002) term, most often seem mobilized by French-speaking, Catholic-raised Québécois and brought into their personal spiritual syntheses, along with strong Catholic influences in many cases, producing highly individualized spiritual amalgams.

Religious hybridity, heterodoxy, individualization and agency are also evident in the more conventional groups we have observed, e.g. Catholic parishes, a Jewish reconstructionist synagogue and traditional ethnic Buddhist temples. However, it is in more marginal religious currents that we see most clearly the emergence of new kinds of religious sociality, new articulations between the individual and the collectivity. I use the term ‘collectivity’ rather ‘community’ so as to include as many forms of religious sociality as possible, while keeping in mind the fundamental idea of the ‘moral community’. In other words, however loose their boundaries, all of the groups mentioned herein, I would argue, constitute moral communities insofar as they represent, promote and reinforce some kind of normative consensus. While they often do so in ways that seem undogmatic, they nonetheless transmit values, norms, beliefs and, just as important, principles that are implicit and taken for granted.

New forms of religious collectivity

The kinds of spiritual collectivities mentioned above, involving Spiritualists, practitioners of nature-centred spiritualities and so on, are more a matter of fluid networks than clearly defined groups. Though there is often a fairly stable nucleus, participants come and go and circulate among various spiritual traditions, often keeping in touch via Facebook, websites and so on. Religious exclusivity is neither demanded nor expected. Proselytism is unheard of; rather, it is thought that those who should find these groupings will be drawn to them. Furthermore, in Quebec, there is something of a social taboo on flaunting one’s religiosity or spirituality (Meintel, 2011b), and this is even more the case among those with less conventional beliefs or practices. In groups such as these, participants do not necessarily see each other outside of religious contexts; typically, there are no activities designed to socialize children into the group, and non-religious social activities are rare. And yet for ephemeral but meaningful moments, participants are linked in communion through their common connection to a transcendent reality, this last being activated through shared prayer and ritual. That is, these collectivities offer occasions of communitas rather than institutional communal elaboration.

The participants in the Spiritualist circle I attend (a closed meeting oriented to developing one’s spiritual gifts, mainly clairvoyance) do not identify as ‘Spiritualists’, even though, technically speaking, Spiritualism is a religious denomination, and most do not see each other outside the church. However, they feel that the two hours they spend every other week in the group ⁴ that I have observed for some years sustains them in the rest of their daily life and reinforces their personal spiritual practice.

Wiccans, Druids, Umbandistas and others have personal, individual rituals but also hold collective rituals regularly. Facebook, Twitter and email are commonly used to mobilize participants for these. Moreover, prayer and rituals are sometimes accomplished collectively and synchronically via online tools; Roberts (2011) describes how Pagans mobilized for synchronized prayer after the Gulf oil spill; virtual religious ‘flash mobs’ of this sort are common when disaster strikes, it being widely believed that prayer is more efficacious when done by many at the same time, even if they cannot be physically together. I should mention in this regard that one Catholic church in my neighbourhood organizes online retreats, where all participate during the same general period but not at the same moment of the day.

The renewed importance of religious sociality

Participation in the loosely bounded groups mentioned here is not seen as a moral obligation or a matter of social conformity but rather is purely voluntary. Given the marked religious individualization of participants, and the fact that many have an active personal spiritual practice, it is worth asking: Why are they motivated to participate in groups at all? What does religious sociality offer them? Our research suggests a few answers to these questions, notably: (1) enhanced religious practice; (2) structures for apprenticeship; (3) support and protection for those in altered states of consciousness; and (4) recognition, i.e. validation. As we shall see, though virtual sociality may play a role, it is generally not sufficient to fulfill the needs of most religious actors.

Enhanced religious practice

First of all, those participating in such groups consider that the effects of activities such as yoga or meditation are magnified in a group. Practitioners of Ashtanga yoga (Bouchard, 2013) ⁵ , which is very much an embodied form of spirituality, are acutely aware of this. Members experience transformation first by learning new, reflexive ways of inhabiting their own bodies (‘self-presencing’, ‘self-reflexivity’) and by their silent connection to those practising along with them, which is experienced in a very holistic way; the frontiers between self and others are reworked. This in turn reshapes their relationship to the world, to their social environment and to the cosmos. In the same vein, Michal Pagis (2009; 2010) analyses the silent self-reflexivity and intersubjectivity among Vipassana meditators. Non-discursive religious (spiritual) sociality may be further illuminated by reference to the notion of ‘affect’ (Blackman, 2010; Henriques, 2010), a term that refers not to emotion as one might think, but rather to the kinesthetic relations among individuals whose bodily reflexivity has been heightened; affect is a force that goes through, connects and transforms bodies in their existence, and disturbs the presumed boundaries between bodies, both human and nonhuman (Blackman, 2010: 166).

Structuring apprenticeship

The Ashtanga group illustrates another important function of such groups; that is, to help structure apprenticeship by providing an appropriate setting and examples for the neophyte. In fact, most consider themselves to be in a learning process in Ashtanga; they are guided when necessary by the teacher but otherwise feel their practice reinforced by the presence of others similarly engaged. This learning takes place mostly in nonverbal ways; Csordas (2001) explains Catholic charismatics’ heightened ‘somatic modes of perception’ (Csordas, 1993) largely in terms of rhetoric, but we have found many examples besides Ashtanga yoga where new somatic modes of attention are generated but where rhetoric is minimal to nonexistent.

Supporting and protecting those in altered states of consciousness

Dramatically altered states of consciousness are sometimes witnessed in other groups of the ‘unbounded’ type: e.g. Spiritualist circles, and Umbanda and Ayahuasca groups. Here, the group, and often designated individuals (e.g. the cambono among the umbandistas), acts to protect and support anyone in a trance state. Moreover, engaging in the activities that produce trance states is not generally encouraged outside the group; in fact, they are seen as dangerous if not performed in a collective, ritualized context, for example. Those who frequent Ayahuasca groups are against drug consumption in the day-to-day; Spiritualists are not encouraged to practise mediumship outside ritual contexts, and so on. Indeed, trance states are often associated with clairvoyance or prophecy, gifts to be used for the benefit of others.

Recognition

Recalling that such groups are marginal, I now want to focus on what I see as one of their most important functions, that is, that they offer validation, or recognition (Fabian, 2001; Ricoeur, 2004; Taylor, 1994), to those who frequent them. For non-mainstream believers ⁶ in an invisible, transcendent reality, connecting with like-minded others, no matter how few, is vital. Following Gauthier’s (2012) discussion of religious recognition in consumer society, we can say that spiritual legitimacy requires validation by others. Such legitimacy is particularly precious when it concerns intrapersonal experiences that cannot be given voice in one’s usual social milieu; many in these groups do not share their practices or beliefs with family members, friends or associates, for fear of ridicule or hostile reactions.

Religious collectivities and new ‘régimes d’authenticité’

This brings us to an interesting issue. Authenticity happens to be a central preoccupation for most people involved in our study. Some are preoccupied with orthodoxy as a guarantee of authenticity; we see this among Evangelical leaders but not necessarily the Evangelical faithful. More often, we see an emphasis on orthopraxis, particularly regarding ritual. Leaders (and often followers) in nature-centred spiritualities (Druids, Wiccans, Pagans, Ayahuascans) as well as certain yogic ones attach great importance to the details of ritual. This is paramount for the umbandistas, who are mostly not of Brazilian background but who nonetheless chant in Brazilian Portuguese, wear garments made in Brazil during the weekly ritual, or gira, and, of course, incorporate ⁷ Brazilian spirits. (An email report on the gira is submitted each week to the temple in Brazil with which they are affiliated.)

Closely related to ritual orthopraxis is what I would call ‘embodied authenticity’; that is, the authenticity founded in lived, embodied experience. Here we are referring to self-discovery and transformation in contact with a transcendent reality that is lived via the body. Eminently intrapersonal, they are heightened, it seems, when co-experienced with others, and are often triggered in ritual contexts. Embodied spiritual experience through participation in group rituals along with sustained personal practice is typically presented by our informants in terms of healing (from drug and addiction issues, physical illness, histories of sexual abuse and other forms of violence, and interpersonal difficulties). We have many examples of this from the types of group we have been discussing. (See also Anna Fedele’s remarkable study (2013) of ritual creativity and alternative pilgrimage, Looking for Mary Magdalene.) Embodied authenticity is often paramount for those who practise spiritualities originating in completely different cultural milieus, sometimes involving foreign languages and cultural elements ⁸ (cf. Beyer, 1998).

Cohabiting and conflicting regimes of authenticity

Sometimes we find cohabiting, even conflicting ‘regimes’ of authenticity within the same tradition; here I am thinking of certain spiritualities taken out of their place of origin and ‘glocalized’ (Guilianotti and Robertson, 2006) in Quebec. Ashtanga exemplifies this in that students in the Mysore shala (literally ‘house’) are encouraged to read the Sanskrit texts that are fundamental to this tradition; Montreal students have heard of these texts but most do not read or refer to them. Such a disparity appears to be common in yogic spiritualities (cf. Pagis, 2010). It is particularly pronounced in one of the several Kashmiri Yoga groups in Montreal that have been studied by one of our assistants (Raina, 2013), where tradition has been ‘adjusted’ – some would say, ‘falsified’. The modified practices are said to produce relaxation, and are felt as beneficial by participants. However, they do not seem to lead to the deeply transformative experiences that result from the forms of practice prescribed in the foundational texts of this tradition. In a second Montreal Kashmiri Yoga group, practice is oriented by the prescriptions of these texts. In both groups, followers are hardly acquainted with the sacred writings of the Kashmiri tradition, but in the second, the leader knows them well and adheres to them in his teaching. Participants claim to experience profound self-awareness, reflexivity and ‘revelation’ (the term used by several informants) through bodily experience that is sometimes uncomfortable and often far from relaxing. ‘Tradition’ in this case does not take the form of rigid orthodoxy and is by no means frozen in the past; accommodations are made to the cultural context in which the teaching is done while a living and changeable connection to sacred texts is maintained. This seems to be the case where transformation – more or less the equivalent of ‘conversion’ in many contemporary spiritualities, as I mentioned earlier – is less likely, i.e. when authenticity based on bodily well-being is prioritized to the exclusion of fidelity from tradition. It raises the question of whether individually felt, embodied authenticity may not have its limits in some, if not all, religious currents.

Another illustration of dual models of authenticity concerns the Clan du Cheval Blanc (White Horse Clan), a pan-Indian form of shamanism that is also taught to interested allochtones (non-Natives) in the Basses-Laurentides, a mountainous region about an hour from Montreal. To participate in shamanic rituals, allochtones are first adopted into the clan ⁹ , as many dozens have been (Doublet, forthcoming). Some Natives consider the Clan du Cheval Blanc inauthentic with regard to tradition. Those who follow it – Europeans, Canadians and Natives alike – consider it authentic because it has brought them healing and in some cases spiritual gifts, such as clairvoyance and prophecy. In this case, the leader (whose father was Micmac and his mother English) clearly sees himself as faithful to the Micmac and, more generally, Amerindian spiritual tradition transmitted by his paternal grandmother, a healer.

Finally, it is worth noting that there is an intriguing tension between the authenticity claimed on the basis of orthodoxy and the ‘embodied authenticity’ experienced by Catholic charismatics and Catholic lay groups, who are particularly active in certain outlying regions. Individual practice sometimes takes less orthodox forms than do group ritual activities and, in general, clerical oversight for these groups seems somewhat limited. This is a theme we hope to explore further in future research.

Conclusion: The enduring power of religious sociality

We have seen the many ways in which religious sociality continues to be indispensable even for those who have developed idiosyncratic syntheses of religious practice and belief. The same is true, of course, of religious collectivities where orthodoxy is paramount; immigrant congregations (usually Evangelical) in our study often accomplish a great deal of (largely unrecognized) social labour that allows refugees and other migrants to resettle successfully (Meintel and Gélinas, 2013; Mossière, 2012). Some raise the question of whether government agencies should be doing this work; the fact is, they could not. What government agency would act as a family to a 16-year-old Congolese boy arriving alone? Or give a familial welcome, including food, clothing, shelter and help finding a job, for months on end to a fellow believer, as Murids from Senegal do? If such congregations have been put to one side for most of this discussion it is only because of the fact that where religious congregations are seen to perform ‘secular’ functions, such as helping new immigrants, their activities are often presented by scholars simply in terms of communalization, and the specifically religious aspect of these forms of sociality are occluded; i.e. the fact that mutual trust is based on presumed moral consensus and a shared relation to sacred reality. Moreover, not only material needs but also symbolic ones are fulfilled; these congregations offer not only practical help to new arrivals but also a symbolic apparatus, often activated in group ritual, that allows members to reframe the tribulations associated with migration (unemployment, discrimination, exile) in a way that gives them value (Meintel, 2011b).

The forms of religious collectivity are changing, and the relation between individual participants and religious institutions is becoming one of affinity rather than one of exclusive ‘filiation’ in a religious lineage (Hervieu-Léger, 1993); participation and religious sharing do not necessarily imply taking on a collective identity. Moreover, even when a broadly shared identity is affirmed, such as ‘Catholic’, personal affinities are playing a greater and greater role in how individuals connect to religious institutions. ¹⁰

The advantage of focusing on more marginal, less clearly bounded, religious collectivities, as has been done here, is that the specifically religious dimension of their sociality is all the more evident. It is here that we see the uniqueness of religious sociality and its particular power. In short, the need for religious groups to support and sustain the individual’s experience of transcendence (God, the sacred or whatever it is called) and the effects of this in everyday life seems greater than ever.