called Mary when we sang “Silent Night” in Sunday school and caroling at Christmas—but I understood that Madonna’s force was both worldly and divine.
Over the years, I became increasingly enamored with Madonna’s enduring spirit and her rabble-rousing. She revered and re-appropriated religious imagery in “Like a Virgin,” dancing suggestively while donning a crucifix and sexy lace. I was entranced by her use of song to express her own spiritual experience, revealing an alternative approach to restrictive and patriarchal traditions. For Madonna, religion was fun—it was about celebration rather than condemnation.
And she’s made it fun for almost thirty years, rebelling against Catholic guilt and rejecting the tired association of sex with shame. She reveled in her own definition of feminine sexuality, exhibiting vulnerability and submission to a saintly figure in “ Like a Prayer,” and wielding a dominatrix’s whip as she kicked off her Confessions Tour in 2006. As a teenager, I appreciated these contradictions. I viewed Madonna as a sort of pop culture Mary Magdalene, unafraid
to express herself in the face of controversy or even condemnation from the highest Catholic judge himself: the pope.
Associating spiritual communion with sacred sexuality, in “Like a Prayer” Madonna equated holy redemption with the freedom of sexual ecstasy. She celebrated both God and sexuality, blurring the lines between the two, rejoicing in the power of both her body and her soul.
I first viewed this controversial video when I was entering my teens, before I understood much about my sexuality. I recall being drawn in by Madonna’s fearless expression of raw sensuality in tandem with images and icons that signified God’s grace. In contrast to what I learned from my church’s interpretation of dogma, Madonna informed my belief that sex and the spirit are married, and the tension that exists between the two is man-made. Madge taught me that sex and spiritual devotion are often about the sweetness of learning to surrender, not about shame.
Madonna’s evolution as a spiritual seeker has remained constant throughout a career fueled by reinvention. For almost three decades I’ve watched Madonna mature musically and spiritually. She has positioned herself as a spiritual icon that the public can buy, leveraging her celebrity to attract consumers to her music and to Kabbalah. But it wasn’t just me taking note of her spiritual openness. She profoundly influenced the culture at large—she was one of the first celebrities to encourage the MTV generation to try yoga, calling it not only a powerful spiritual and physical practice, but “a metaphor for life.” She was on to something. Not only did yoga become uber-trendy, but I blossomed under its teachings and practice as well. I realized that the quest for the alignment of mind, body, and spirit was imperative on my path to enlightenment. Before I discovered Sri Swami Satchidananda’s mantra, “one truth, many paths” during a yoga class in college, I only knew Margaret’s and Madonna’s no-apology approaches to spiritual curiosity. When I found Satchidananda’s mantra, I immediately experienced a
connection with a sense of oneness that I instinctively understood but could not name.
Did this same sense of openness, I wondered, inspire Madonna’s next spiritual evolution, when she devoted herself to Kabbalah, once again inspiring countless others to seek the same? I remember meeting two young men in graduate school who joined the New York City Kabbalah Center with the not-particularly-spiritual mission of getting a glimpse of Madonna herself. But months after they finally spotted her, they continued going, energized and enthralled by the beauty of the faith.
I am in awe of Madonna’s transformative power, and her ability to expand our collective mindset about the limits of spirituality. I connect most with her message of self-love and of seeking a sense of
Over the years, I became increasingly enamored with Madonna’s enduring spirit and her rabble-rousing. She revered and re-appropriated religious imagery in “Like a Virgin,” dancing suggestively while donning a crucifix and sexy lace. I was entranced by her use of song to express her own spiritual experience, revealing an alternative approach to restrictive and patriarchal traditions. For Madonna, religion was fun—it was about celebration rather than condemnation.
And she’s made it fun for almost thirty years, rebelling against Catholic guilt and rejecting the tired association of sex with shame. She reveled in her own definition of feminine sexuality, exhibiting vulnerability and submission to a saintly figure in “ Like a Prayer,” and wielding a dominatrix’s whip as she kicked off her Confessions Tour in 2006. As a teenager, I appreciated these contradictions. I viewed Madonna as a sort of pop culture Mary Magdalene, unafraid
to express herself in the face of controversy or even condemnation from the highest Catholic judge himself: the pope.
Associating spiritual communion with sacred sexuality, in “Like a Prayer” Madonna equated holy redemption with the freedom of sexual ecstasy. She celebrated both God and sexuality, blurring the lines between the two, rejoicing in the power of both her body and her soul.
I first viewed this controversial video when I was entering my teens, before I understood much about my sexuality. I recall being drawn in by Madonna’s fearless expression of raw sensuality in tandem with images and icons that signified God’s grace. In contrast to what I learned from my church’s interpretation of dogma, Madonna informed my belief that sex and the spirit are married, and the tension that exists between the two is man-made. Madge taught me that sex and spiritual devotion are often about the sweetness of learning to surrender, not about shame.
Madonna’s evolution as a spiritual seeker has remained constant throughout a career fueled by reinvention. For almost three decades I’ve watched Madonna mature musically and spiritually. She has positioned herself as a spiritual icon that the public can buy, leveraging her celebrity to attract consumers to her music and to Kabbalah. But it wasn’t just me taking note of her spiritual openness. She profoundly influenced the culture at large—she was one of the first celebrities to encourage the MTV generation to try yoga, calling it not only a powerful spiritual and physical practice, but “a metaphor for life.” She was on to something. Not only did yoga become uber-trendy, but I blossomed under its teachings and practice as well. I realized that the quest for the alignment of mind, body, and spirit was imperative on my path to enlightenment. Before I discovered Sri Swami Satchidananda’s mantra, “one truth, many paths” during a yoga class in college, I only knew Margaret’s and Madonna’s no-apology approaches to spiritual curiosity. When I found Satchidananda’s mantra, I immediately experienced a
connection with a sense of oneness that I instinctively understood but could not name.
Did this same sense of openness, I wondered, inspire Madonna’s next spiritual evolution, when she devoted herself to Kabbalah, once again inspiring countless others to seek the same? I remember meeting two young men in graduate school who joined the New York City Kabbalah Center with the not-particularly-spiritual mission of getting a glimpse of Madonna herself. But months after they finally spotted her, they continued going, energized and enthralled by the beauty of the faith.
I am in awe of Madonna’s transformative power, and her ability to expand our collective mindset about the limits of spirituality. I connect most with her message of self-love and of seeking a sense of
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