Books reviewed in this essay:

The Psychology of Mature Spirituality: Integrity, Wisdom Transcendence, edited by Polly Young-Eisendrath and Melvin E. Miller, (Routledge, London, 2000).

Religion and Aging: An Anthology of the Poppele Papers edited by Derrel R. Watkins (Haworth Press, 2001).

Aging and Spirituality: Spiritual Dimensions of Aging-Theory, Practice, and Policy, edited by David O. Moberg (Haworth Press, 2001).

Soulful Aging: Ministry through the Stages of Adulthood, Henry C. Simmons and Jane Wilson (Smyth and Helways, 2001).

The Spiritual Dimension of Ageing, by Elizabeth MacKinlay (Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 2001).

At the beginning of their The Psychology of Mature Spirituality, Polly Young-Eisendrath and Melvin E. Miller pose a challenge worth considering as we reflect on the place of religion in later life:

"The typical educated individual at the beginning of the twenty-first century is likely to feel demoralized about the chances of finding any larger purpose or meaning in human life.

Those of us who are trying to live in tune with the rational empiricism and scientific achievements of our era face a double bind in regard to our spirituality. If we pursue the old paths of institutionalized religion, we often end up pretending to be convinced of something that seems inherently illogical and unpersuasive: religious dogma. Or, if we pursue the path of enlightened scientific reasoning, we end up in despair and apathy about humanity and its inhumanity...

Is it possible to embrace spiritual meaning and not become either childish or irrational, while increasing one's genuine awe, inspiration, gratitude, and intellectual appreciation of living now in this period of scientific skepticism?"

Young-Eisendrath and Miller's question comes down to this: What is "mature spirituality" and how can we find it? As gerontologists, we further ask, what is the place of mature spirituality in the last stage of life?

The question arises at a moment in history that might have seemed unexpected: namely, a time of ascendant power of religion in contemporary affairs. This growing role for religion goes against all predictions made by the great prophets of secular modernity: Marx, Freud, and Weber and a host of lesser lights. The great secularists all expected religion to wane. Indeed, across Western Europe-- as well as in vast tracts of American academia, media, and professional life-- religion, if it has not waned, has become something of an embarrassing antique. But not for the rest of America and not in the rest of the world. Therefore, intellectuals remain baffled that religion played a pivotal role in bringing down the Soviet Empire (Poland, Afghanistan); that religious enthusiasm continues to spread through the developing world; and that religion, not utopian politics, is the major stimulus for violent conflict even today. Religion will simply not go away. But the intellectual class is hard put to make much sense of it.

The field of gerontology, that uneasy amalgam of science and practice, has demonstrated this familiar ambivalence about religion. Most academics gerontologists have little use for it, even where they recognize its power. Today, in America we are experiencing a modest revival of religion or at least of "spirituality," which a Mother Jones magazine cover once called "the new religion." So, for instance, the federal government approves of "faith-based initiatives" while prestigious medical schools at Harvard, Columbia, and Stanford have invited spirituality ("mind-body medicine") into their curricula. Something has changed, but most of us are still troubled by the challenge of reconciling science and religion.

This challenge is the primary stimulus for the collection edited by Young-Eisendrath and Miller. Their volume is divided into sections addressing large issues of integrity, wisdom, and transcendence. The first section on "Integrity," opens with an essay exploring the role of the "Shadow--" that is, the dark or unconscious parts of ourselves. This theme has been much in the news lately: for instance, "spiritual abuse" illustrated in cases where religious leaders misuse their role through sex, money or power (or all three). But spiritual abuse can only take place because of "pious coercion" where the victim cooperates, reflecting a kind of immaturity that remains widespread, as contributors to this volume point out.

Spiritual maturity, we imagine, would protect us from abuse. But what is it and how do we attain it? Some answers are offered in Melvin Miller's chapter on the mutual influence of therapist and patient in psychotherapy. Other chapters explore integrity through figures like the Buddha, Kierkegaard and Heidegger, as well among more recent writers like Michel Foucault and James Hillman. A common thread is what Erikson called "ego integrity" or what Jung named "individuation:" that is, a struggle to bring together all sides of ourselves with a measure of tolerance for ambiguity and complexity.

The subject of wisdom has recently invited empirical attention in gerontology: for example, through influential studies by Paul Baltes and colleagues. But their pragmatic approach to "everyday wisdom" is far removed from the exotic terrain covered in this book and far from what world wisdom traditions mean by wisdom. The contrast in approach is striking. For instance, an opening chapter in this book examines wisdom as amor fati (love of one's destiny), a motif that fascinated both Nietzsche and Jung. Another chapter inspired by feminist thinking redefines wisdom in terms of relationship and caring-- a theme of great importance for understanding caregiving. Gisela Labouvie-Vief's contribution echoes her idea of wisdom as dialectical reconciliation of reason and emotion. Here she breaks new ground by linking insights from lifespan development psychology with contemplative traditions of Sufism and Buddhism. This openness toward religious, even mystical doctrines, also appears in a chapter that brings together Erikson and Maslow with Chinese Taoism.

Willingness to see wisdom in spiritual terms raises a basic challenge for contemporary gerontology: How does a spiritualized approach to wisdom fit with enlightened self-interest in our era of skeptical secularism? Does an expanded version of wisdom become an invitation to New Age mysticism? Contributors to this book, by and large, want to have it both ways: both spirituality and science. But that commitment brings a dilemma: Is there room for transcendence, for a genuinely spiritual dimension, in our contemporary theory of knowledge? The third section of this book faces the dilemma by considering whether psychotherapy itself may not prove to be a vehicle for what the authors call "ordinary" transcendence.

An appealing move, perhaps. But does this claim on behalf of "ordinary" transcendence in psychotherapy not go too far (or perhaps not far enough)? Does this move represent what Phillip Rieff once called "the triumph of the therapeutic" where psychotherapy itself becomes a covert new religion? One contributor is honest enough to acknowledge that Christian fundamentalists who see therapy as "the work of the devil" may not be entirely wrong. After all, psychotherapy does insist on bringing the Shadow into everyday awareness, and that proves dangerous for traditional doctrines of all kinds. Other contributors appear more sympathetic to a traditional Judaeo-Christian perspective-- for instance, in the form of pastoral psychotherapy. But they end up advocating "green spirituality" (environmentalism, the Gaia Hypothesis) or adopting a postmodern version of the self-as-multiplicity. These moves will probably not prove acceptable to traditional religious believers.

A more conventional view of mature spirituality is found in the Derrel Watkins' volume Religion and Aging: An Anthology of the Poppele Papers. Contributors to this collection make clear that the church as we know it has not done a good job of paying attention to aging. Despite the importance of congregations in the lives of older people, gerontologists have failed to take religion seriously, phenomenon, as the late Barbara Payne Stancil emphasizes in her essay. The Watkins anthology is filled with practical, sensible suggestions for ways of helping congregations become better engaged with elderly parishioners: for example, by responding to adult children with aging parents, providing better training for clergy, adopting a more holistic approach to ministry, and so on. All good ideas, but many have labored in this vineyard before. There are also essays in this collection that open up new perspectives on the Psalms and the New Testament, as well as articles that treat contemporary writers like Viktor Frankl and Harold Kushner.

Clearly there is a rich religious terrain waiting to be explored. If properly oriented, clergy could help guide people on the spiritual journey. Yet mostly it doesn't happen. As the wise W. Paul Jones candidly acknowledges in his article, "We who do ministry with the aging are poor tour guides, for we betray the gospel with shuffleboard." A provocative statement, but the term "shuffleboard" amounts to all those activities-- including lifelong learning, volunteerism, and so on-- which distract us from "the one thing needful." Jones, like fellow contributor Leo Missinne, is inviting the reader to "desert spirituality," to a deeper appreciation of suffering. He wants us to accept "being" instead of "doing" as the goal for later life, as Elizabeth MacKinley does in her book. That's a hard sell, but Jones at least acknowledges that clergy need to think in bolder terms. A few more in-service workshops in aging won't be enough. The details of this bold vision will not be found here, but this anthology should be of interest to those concerned with religion and aging.

A collection conceived along similar lines is Aging and Spirituality: Spiritual Dimensions of Aging-Theory, Practice, and Policy, edited by David O. Moberg, one of our most distinguished scholars of religion and aging. Moberg not only edited the book but contributed about a third of the chapters, so the volume bears the distinct stamp of his curious and comprehensive mind. The collection spans an enormous territory: it truly does cover the entire range of theory, practice, and policy. Where Watkins, an emeritus seminary professor, writes from within the world of religion and aging, Moberg takes a broader perspective. For years he was co-editor of an annual series on the social scientific study of religion. Moberg is knowledgeable enough about congregations, but he is also mindful of troublesome issues raised by non-believers. He specifically addresses questions like the following: What is the difference between "spirituality" and "religion?" Does religion or spirituality actually contribute to better physical and mental health in old age? How do we come up with scientifically valid means for measuring "spiritual well-being" in later life? These are questions the skeptic will appreciate. Moberg is not just an advocate for religion and aging. He is always looking over his shoulder to take account of the wider, secular world of gerontology and the social sciences.

Moberg's book could serve as an exemplary introduction to the entire field of religion, spirituality and aging. It includes essays that summarize what empirical research has shown and also acknowledges open questions that remain. For instance, how do attitudes toward death and dying change in the "fourth age" of life? Do spirituality and religiosity actually increase with age or not? Practitioners will find helpful many articles here where contributors look at spiritual care in settings that range from hospice and acute care hospitals to counseling and social work agencies. There are also contributions on "Spiritual Life Review" and on the role of chaplains. Moberg's book concludes with essays reflecting on challenges for the future, including what Moberg himself calls the "Babel of Spirituality Concepts." Robert Best's essay envisages a new spiritual role for the "elder" drawing on historical traditions of Christianity. He concludes that tradition needs to be reinvented for the 21st century. But how tradition can be "reinvented" remains perhaps the biggest question of all.

Both the Watkins and Moberg volumes are edited collections, and readers are likely to find something of interest in the rich variety found there. By contrast, two other books considered here express a distinct vision of individual authors.

Soulful Aging, by Henry Simmons and Jane Wilson, is at one level a practical manual for pastoral professionals. The book offers guidance on writing sermons, organizing group activities, selecting readings, finding service projects, and so on. Chapters are organized around stages of later life: Extended Middle Age, Ready or Not (retirement), The New Me, Like It or Not, The Rest of Living, and Dying. Each chapter offers six pathways to personal and communal spiritual growth, such as prayer, service, witnessing, and so forth. What is especially valuable here are the short excerpts from writings by authors like Thomas Berry, Jane Thibault, Kathleen Fischer, and Eugene Bianchi. In this book we get an anthology of bite-sized essays along with fast-paced techniques and resources for putting ideas into practice.

But Soulful Aging is much more than a how-to book. What makes the book special, and memorable, is that it is animated by a powerful vision of spiritual growth in the second half of life. Simmons and Wilson understand what is at stake in the massive demographic shift called population aging. All of us, they argue, are compelled to choose among three strategic responses to aging: (1) wishful thinking; (2) desperation and despair; and (3) the belief that all of life is holy. Many of us delude ourselves about this basic existential choice, as Thoreau understood when he observed that "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation."

Ironically, quiet desperation is what shows up in dominant images of "positive aging" all around us today. Later life in the early 21st century seems increasingly shaped by shallow ideals like "Successful Aging" or "activity theory:" in short, by desperation masking itself as wishful thinking. Thus, we accept the "Third Age" but only on condition that it offers us endless Elderhostel trips (with no "Fourth Age" to follow). By contrast, the belief that all of life is holy represents a genuinely "counter-cultural" position which rejects cheerful postmodernism and instead demands acceptance of the whole of life, including its final stage. Contrary to what Freud imagined, there is a spiritual "reality principle." It is precisely this transcendent reality that the Biblical vision insisted upon all along, even when surrounding culture converted the prophetic vision into sentimentality. Simmons and Wilson have brought the vision up to date and made it more available to us in the 21st century.

Elizabeth MacKinlay's Spiritual Dimension of Ageing is actually several books in one. It is virtually a literature review of entire field of spirituality and aging; it is also a report on original research, mainly interviews with a sample of respondents; and it is finally an original reflection on the search for meaning in later life, a question much broader than any limited approach to religiosity.

MacKinlay's research enterprise involved mapping the dimensions of spiritual health among a group of elderly people using a spiritual health inventory developed for that purpose. More interesting than her tables of data were the personal comments made available through in-depth interviews among a sub-sample of respondents.

MacKinlay started her research with a very broad definition of "spirituality:" namely, "a sense of meaning in life" or whatever "lies at the core of each person's being." Defined in these terms, spirituality could plausibly be taken to be universal in the human condition. She analyzes interview responses in terms of deeply held sources of meaning for her respondents: essentially, whatever they themselves take to be "ultimate" in their lives. Responses were further classified into major themes such as hope vs. fear; relationship vs. isolation; wisdom vs. final meanings; and self-sufficiency vs. vulnerability.

There is a distinctly Eriksonian flavor to these dualities, and that point brings up the caution that Erikson himself was ambivalent about religion. One aspect of Erikson's appeal was an openness toward "ultimate concern" (Tillich) even while he remained reluctant to name that concern with traditional religious language. The 1950s, when Erikson achieved prominence, was the era when Congress added the words "In God We Trust" to the American Pledge of Allegiance. President Dwight D. Eisenhower said at the time that he wanted every American to have a "deeply held religious faith," then added, curiously, "...and I don't care what it is." MacKinlay is aware of temptations toward this kind of easygoing tolerance. Like Erikson, she wants a more normative framework: otherwise, how do we recognize "development" in contrast to "stagnation?" On the one hand, MacKinlay is all in favor of religion, and in fact is a member of the clergy herself. On the other hand, she doesn't want to insist too strongly on sectarian definitions. Hence, she opts for "meaning" in her broad-church version of gero-spirituality.

MacKinlay's generalizations get their bite through the qualitative research reported in this book. To gain insight into what her respondents are telling her, she brings in some heavy guns-- Rudolf Otto, Clifford Geertz, and Robert Bellah. More recent writers like Andrew Greeley, Harold Koenig and James Fowler also make an appearance. Eventually, the reader is persuaded by sheer accumulation of data and authoritative commentary. Along the way, we gain understanding of a wide range of phenomena: the place of prayer and liturgy; the impact of diverse images of God; reminiscence and life-review; the role of humor in late-life spirituality.

MacKinlay found that the spiritual journeys of her informants were markedly different. But she is not content with pluralism or descriptive diversity. Her agenda is to identify generic "spiritual tasks" of later life, and she does identify those tasks: transcending disabilities; searching for final meanings; achieving intimacy with God and others; and finding hope. She acknowledges that spirituality is difficult to quantify but makes the effort anyway. At the end of the day, what most commands her respect in what she hears from her respondents is a deepening spiritual integrity or wholeness of being.

One has the feeling that MacKinlay wants this book to be read by those in "mainstream gerontology," not just by church people. But if we take her findings seriously, we see a chasm between the mainstream and the religious tributaries. For instance, her argument leads to a distinctly spiritual interpretation of late-life wisdom, going well beyond the prudential or pragmatic approach of Baltes and others. Her argument leads us to question our commonplace veneration of independency and self-sufficiency-- manifested in the celebration of autonomy in ethics and "locus of control" in long-term care settings. It suggests that physiological decline can be a stimulus toward moving from "doing" to "being" in the final spiritual developmental stage of life.

We start our journey with MacKinaly in the familiar territory of grounded theory and factor analysis. But we end up in the desert of transcendence and "dying to self," where we have been told mature spirituality is to be found. Not all readers will want to make this trip. But to say that that is just another way of saying that it remains hard to reconcile the claims of science and religion, the motivations of mainstream gerontology and the search for transcendent meaning in old age.

At the end of a long life, in her eighties, writing her journal in a nursing home, Florida Scott-Maxwell said "I am in that rare frame of mind when everything seems simple. When I have no doubt that the aim and solution of life is the acceptance of God. It is impossible and imperative, and clear. To open to such unimaginable greatness affrights my smallness. I do not know what I seek, cannot know, but I am where the mystery is the certainty."

Scott-Maxwell's state of mind is far from childish. On the contrary, she speaks in the tone of mature spirituality so familiar in the writings of Meister Eckhart, St. Theresa, Rumi, and Ramakrishna. Her words "I do not know what I seek" are an echo of "negative theology," the "God beyond God." They are also a humbling reminder that reconciling the claims of science and religion is not-- and ought not to be-- any easy task to accomplish. That task, reflected in these books, is "impossible and imperative" and one we cannot evade if we care about the soul of gerontology.

This Review Essay appears in a Fall, 2002 issue of The Gerontologist.