Getting and staying connected
Wendy Lieber, 40, a lawyer and a mother of two in New York City, learned just how key community can be when, a year ago, her husband was in a biking accident that left him in a coma for five weeks. She and her husband are Jewish and send their older son, who is 10, to a Jewish day school. “We’re not religious, but we really wanted him to have that identity, and we didn’t feel we could give it to him,” she explains. Still, she never expected the flood of support she experienced after the accident. As soon as the school heard her husband was in the hospital, parents organized and took turns providing the family with dinner every night for the entire five weeks. “Basically, anything we needed, we got,” Lieber says. “When my older son needed help with his homework, the school sent — and paid for — a tutor to come to our home. Another time, a mother showed up and took my son, along with her own child, to the zoo.

“I never considered myself someone who leans heavily on others,” Lieber says. “But we’ve never been part of this kind of community before. And we never had a tragedy like that before.” The story has a happy ending: Lieber’s spouse fully recovered, and her family, she says, now fully appreciates the benefit of being part of a community. “It was an amazing gift.”

Another leg up enjoyed by the faithful: People who are religious and regularly attend some kind of services also tend to refrain from unhealthy behaviors such as smoking and heavy drinking, Dr. Koenig says. And, perhaps because they are more prone to being influenced by religious doctrine and the mores of their community, observant folks are less likely to be promiscuous and have extramarital affairs — which helps protect them against sexually transmitted diseases.

Being spiritually minded also appears to alleviate stress — which could explain why people with faith report having an easier time coping with life’s trials. “Repetitive prayer, in and of itself, can be a potent stress reliever,” says cardiologist Herbert Benson, M.D., director emeritus of the Benson-Henry Institute for Mind Body Medicine at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. His research shows that meditation — which can be similar to prayer — elicits something he calls the relaxation response, the physiological counterpart to the fight-or-flight response (the telltale nervous system frenzy meant to help us respond to immediate threats in our environment).

Meditating or praying can be a good way of calming ourselves down, Dr. Benson explains, because they cause the reverse of the heart-pumping fight-or-flight reaction. “The relaxation response is akin to a whole-body exhale. That release translates into a lower risk for all kinds of stress-related ailments, including heart disease, high blood pressure, insomnia and infertility,” he says. “Many people pray when they’re stressed, but yoga, tai chi, breathing exercises … all of these approaches can bring forth the same soothing result.”

Dr. Benson gives patients a choice of techniques to elicit the relaxation response — “the crucial thing is for them to feel comfortable.” He asks patients to pick a word, sound or phrase they find meaningful, such as “peace on earth,” and to repeat and reflect on it while meditating. “I don’t care what they choose, as long as they stick with it and it works for them. What’s most important is that they find a technique they believe in and select words that conform to their individual belief system.”

I’ve often wondered whether I would have had an easier time coping with my brother’s illness and death if I had thought there was a reason to pray, a heaven waiting for him, where I might see him again someday. The studies, it seems, indicate that I might at least have felt a measure of comfort, or been calmer, had I been part of a religious community. But I wasn’t, and as an adult, I have to admit that I’ve done things like going to a medium, who assured me that my brother was still around and very much a part of my life. And, honestly, hearing that helped.

Talking with Dr. Benson also helped. OK, so I don’t pray. I can’t pray. In my worldview, there isn’t anyone for me to pray to. But if there’s one thing that yoga provides for me, it’s the chance to meditate. The chanting is a meditative act. And I find yoga itself to be a kind of meditation, simply because I’m generally so occupied with breathing and holding a pose correctly that I can’t think about all the other worrying things that are on my mind. No wonder I generally feel so relaxed and happy after I leave class.

Of course, I’ve been to yoga studios where people wouldn’t move their mat an inch to accommodate a latecomer, competitive places that left me feeling frazzled and out of sorts. But a few years ago, my husband, who is also a yoga buff, and I discovered a place where the teachers know your name. Tea and cookies are served in the foyer, so people stop and chat with their fellow yogis. The school hosts teacher/student dinners at various restaurants around the city to foster community spirit. It’s kind of fun knowing all those kindred souls — people of all religious persuasions, I’m sure, who share the love of turning themselves inside out for kicks. Where else in life do adults get to compliment one another on their headstands?

“Spirituality means different things to different people,” affirms Daniel Dennett, Ph.D., codirector of the Center for Cognitive Studies at Tufts University in Medford, Massachusetts. “For some, it’s World Cup soccer. But it’s possible for practically any intense human endeavor or cultural preoccupation to be the focus of your spirituality.”

If soccer can count, so can yoga. And, in truth, at this stage in my life, I’m probably happier doing yoga than with the idea of taking up religion. Yoga works for me. I go to class four or five times a week — more often than most people go to church. I know many of the teachers by name, and they know me. And while I don’t know all the people who line up on mats alongside me, I know their faces, and they know mine. In fact, the entire community watched over my first pregnancy with the delight and concern of an extended family. When I missed a class or two, people I knew and people I didn’t approached my husband to ask if we’d had the baby yet, and they sent their good wishes. That may not feel like church or a community to some people, but it sure feels like it to me.

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