What’s in a Word?

 

A couple of weeks ago, I blogged on the word “church.”  We’re called the Living Interfaith Church.  Why?  I spoke of my experience of listening to a UU Fellowship debate the word church, and of what the word originally meant: a circle.  I invited comment and one person took me up on it. 

 

She mentioned that in her congregation, the word church had taken on the meaning of “building.”  Could, should a congregation that was small in size and might need to meet in homes, for example, be called a church?  Or did being a “church” mean owning a building?

 

It’s a good question.  It hadn’t occurred to me, and yet it had occurred to an entire congregation.  Humbling.  And it reminds me that words, all words, but particularly words with emotion and a history behind them, are powerful.  It reminds me too of how easy it can be to assume communication with someone because we both use the same words.  But, particularly with religion, are we sure we actually mean the same things when we use those same words?

 

The obvious word for such discussion is the word “God.”  A dear friend and minister used to tell me of people coming up to him and saying that they don’t believe in God.  He would ask them what they meant by God.  Often they would say, “An old white guy with a beard, pulling puppet strings.”  He would tell them, “I don’t believe in that God either.”

 

There are other loaded words as well.  Worship.  Faith.  Sacred.  I know from experience that it can be so easy to slip into arguments with each other without realizing that we may not mean the same things by these words.  And I realize it can also be easy for me unwittingly to affront someone, because I mean one thing by a word, but the person I’m talking to hears something else entirely.

 

What it comes down to, I think, is being willing to ask the other what he or she means – not to confront, but to understand.  This is, of course, an essential part of any interfaith dialogue.

 

For me, a church is a circle of people.  A church can also be a building, but it’s the building where the circle meets – any building where the circle meets.  For the next several months, our church, the Living Interfaith Church, will be meeting in a home.  That home becomes the “church” because that’s where we meet.  It will cease to be the church when we stop meeting there.  In the meantime, we are the church, because we are the circle.  We are the Living Interfaith Circle … with one extra chair, always.

 

Meantime, I want to change subjects for now, because I attended a delightful event last night and I’d like to share it.  The Acacia Foundation is a group whose events I have attended before.  I wrote about it in the blog “Interfaith in Action” - but that was when this blog and website were in their infancy, so you’ll be forgiven if you missed it.

 

I wrote then, So, you may ask, what’s the “Acacia Foundation.”  I’m no expert.  I’ve now been to three of their functions.  I can tell you I’ve met a wonderful, warmhearted and open group of people, largely of Turkish and Islamic background, who are truly interested in dialogue.  Indeed, quoting from their mission statement:

 

“Our mission is to promote cross-cultural dialogue by emphasizing universal values such as love, truth, faith, brotherhood, solidarity and sharing; to encourage strong family values, high morals, and ethics among community; and to help establish a society where individuals love, respect and accept each other as they are.”

 

Well, now I’ve been to four of their functions (they hold most of them on Thursday nights, and my Thursday nights have mostly been taken for the past ten years leading the UU Choir in Marysville).  Last night was an Ashure Day celebration, and happily I was free.  Ashure is also known as "Noah's Pudding."  Tradition has it (and you know, tradition is always right!) that by the time the flood was over, there were only scraps of this and that available.  So a pudding was made from it.  Nuts, grain, fruit.  In total 40 ingredients.  However many ingredients, it's tasty.  And it was a chance to support a group actively trying to bring people together. 

 

I met some great people, got deep into a conversation with another guest regarding the difficulties of peace in the Middle East, and watched a truly amazing artist create art before our eyes.  Literally. 

 

Still, the highlight for me was the beautiful explanation of the pudding itself.  The speaker talked of the diversity in Noah’s Pudding.  It’s not a melting pot.  Nothing “disappears” in order to make the pudding.  Each ingredient keeps its unique flavor.  And yet when they are combined together, the pudding brings out the flavor of each ingredient in a new and delicious way.  Each ingredient a unique and crucial part of the whole.  Diverse.  Yet united.  What a magnificent metaphor!  

 

And what a wonderful evening. 

Starting a Church 101 – Part 2

 

I’m so pleased to be able to write that the Living Interfaith Church will begin monthly “at home” services beginning in March.  You already know this if you get our newsletter.  If don’t get our newsletter and would like to, please click here.

 

I was asked an important question the other day.  It was unexpected, and took me aback.  But I supposed it shouldn’t have.  The question was, “Why should I leave my religion and join yours?”  The person might have easily have said, “Why should I leave my spiritual path and join yours?”  It’s an important and indeed crucial question. The profound and emphatic answer is, “You shouldn’t!”

 

This is the essence of who we are.  You are not asked to leave your spiritual path behind you when you come to the Living Interfaith Church.  How could you?  Why should you?  It’s your path!

 

If you are Christian, bring your Christianity with you.  Share it.  Not to convert.  Not to convince.  Not because Christianity is the right path and the others are wrong.  Share it because Christianity is a profound and important path, and we joyfully celebrate it with you.

 

If you are Muslim, bring your Islamic faith with you.  Share it.  Not to convert.  Not to convince.  Not because Islam is the right path and the others are wrong.  Share it because Islam is a profound and important path, and we joyfully celebrate it with you.

 

If you are Humanist, bring your Humanism with you.  Share it.  Not to convert.  Not to convince.  Not because Humanism is the right path and the others are wrong.  Share it because Humanism is a profound and important path, and we joyfully celebrate it with you.

 

By the same token, I’m Jewish.  I bring my Judaism with me.  Not to convert.  Not to convince.  Not because Judaism is the right path and the others are wrong.  I share it because Judaism is a profound and important path, and it gives me joy to celebrate it with you.

 

The same holds true for the Baha’i faith, for Buddhism, the spiritual paths of our First Peoples, Hindus, and those who yet seek a spiritual path that will nourish them and help them to live engaged, compassionate lives.

 

Interfaith, as a faith, is new enough that I’m getting the feeling we’ll need to just keep repeating this for a while.  We each encounter the sacred in our own way.  Our question is never what is the “right” way to encounter the sacred.  Our question is, having encountered the sacred: what are we going to do about it?  All of our paths have tried to teach us to reach out to each other with compassion and respect.  How do we intend to help make that a reality?

 

We welcome gay and straight, men and women, young and older.  If you are a human being, who seeks to engage the world with compassion, respect and love, you are most welcome to come and join the circle.  There is always an open chair.  Always.

 

There is, in some congregations, a “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach to our spiritual paths.  I think this is done with the best of intentions.  It is seen as a way to be sure that all feel welcome.  At the Living Interfaith Church, we would replace “don’t ask, don’t tell” with “respect, and be respected.”

 

Christianity has much to teach us.  So does Humanism.  And I deeply believe we are diminished when we exclude one or the other.  The same holds true for the multitude of encounters with the sacred that can either unite us in wonder or divide us by assertions of one “right” belief.  I choose unity. 

 

This past year I have been privileged to lead an “Honoring Ramadan” service, an “Honoring the High Holy Days” service and an “Honoring Christmas” service.   All of these holy days are profound and beautiful, with much to teach people of all spiritual persuasions.  As the Living Interfaith Church opens and grows I look forward to many more such services. 

 

Starting a Church 101

 

[Please say a prayer for the people of Haiti.  As much as they need contributions, what they need most right now is relief coordination.  Four days, and the aid is still piled high at the airport.  We can get people to the moon and complete the most complicated of experiments on the space station, but we can’t get food and water to people who are so desperately in need of it.  It is frustrating, infuriating, and deeply saddening.  I’ve tweaked a blog entry I drafted several days ago.  Sorry if it turns out a little rough.  Just now, my heart isn’t in it.  My heart is in Haiti.  Meantime, if you are wondering where to contribute, I have a friend who works for World Vision.  I trust not only their work but their knowledge of how to get aid to where it’s needed.  To go to their website, click here.  And, of course, there are MANY other worthwhile organizations.] 

 

Got an e-mail the other day asking, “Just how do you start a church, anyway?”  A few days before that I was asked, “Why are you starting a church?”  I don’t think these are unrelated questions.

 

And I realize as we continue on, I won’t be the only one asked these questions.  So I thought it might be worth a ponder.  How do I, and how might you, if you’ve chosen to become a part of this new beginning, answer these questions?

 

It rather breaks down to: “Why an Interfaith church?” and “How an Interfaith church?”

 

One question asked me was, “You’re Jewish.  Why are you calling this a church?”  This immediately reminded me of a vigorous and rather vehement conversation at the Unitarian Fellowship that I’ve worked at these past 10 years.  I think it was about three or four years ago. 

 

The question at the annual congregational meeting was, “We’re bigger now.  Why don’t we call ourselves a church, rather than a fellowship?”  From this perspective, a fellowship is, by definition a small group.  A church is a larger group.  But the argument back was “We are and will always be a fellowship.  We will never call ourselves a church.”  From this perspective, a fellowship is a neutral term for a group of people.  A church is a reminder, to people who have been wounded, of a specifically Christian institution, replete with rules and dogma.

 

So again one question for us … why the Living Interfaith Church?  Well, for one thing, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word “church” comes from the Old English “cirice” and Old German “kirka” both meaning circle.  In its simplest form, a church is a circle.  Later the word “church” came to mean where a circle gathers.  And even through the 12^th century, people translated the Hebrew word that we now say means “assembly” as “church.”  So for quite some time, a “church” was simply a gathering, an assembly, of people of faith, any faith, every faith. 

 

To be sure, a word like “church” or “temple” or any other can carry baggage.  But only if we let it.  So why call ourselves the Living Interfaith Church?  Why not?  We are gathering together in our circle of Interfaith, where we welcome those of good will from all faiths.

 

What is more important, it seems to me, is to make sure that we always place an empty chair in our “circle.”  I think that this is something we must do with intention.  Circles can much too easily become “closed.”  “We’re in the circle – you aren’t.”

 

So we are back to “Why an Interfaith church?”  And I realize this is going to be more than a one blog effort!  This is to be continued!  And if you’d like to chime in, please do go to the comment section and reply.

 

 

But for the moment, here, in brief, is what I believe we are saying.  We are saying that we need to live our faiths, not simply preach them (hence the Living Interfaith Church).  We are also saying that trying to live our faiths behind walls of “right belief” that proclaim there is a “right” way to pray, a “right” way think about the sacred, and a “right” way to believe, has isolated us.  It has contributed to keeping us from achieving the goal that all of our faiths have urged upon us: justice, compassion and peace.  For this reason we gather together in this new circle that respects, honors and indeed celebrates the differing ways we have encountered the sacred (hence the Living Interfaith Church).

 

We do not call into questions anyone’s faith.  We do not engage in arguments over whose faith is “right” or “better.”  We do believe that by worshiping together, we can learn from each other, grow with each other, and perhaps, just perhaps, help to nudge humanity towards living with justice and in peace.

 

My beloved Interfaith Community Church (where I will remain an Associate Minister until June), has chosen as its spiritual discernment for 2010 The Charter for Compassion.  This is a wonderful document and a truly noble effort.

 

For myself, I have chosen a somewhat more focused expression of the Charter for Compassion.  Throughout our history we have divided ourselves into “us” and “them”  What I hope to explore, in mind, thought, prayer and, yes sermons, is my belief that there is no “them.”  There is no “them.”  There is only “us.” 

The Prophetic Voice

 

I’m reading a most interesting book.  It was recommended to me by a member of my Interfaith choir.  The author is Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel.  I’d read several books by Heschel, but not this one.  The title is simply “The Prophets.”  And it’s gotten me thinking – always somewhat dangerous, but also fun and from time to time actually helpful!

 

The prophets in Hebrew Scripture talk about how we have moved away from God, how we must come back to God.  We’ve heard the words so often that they’ve become clichés.  But what do the prophets mean?  What are they getting at?  Worship?  I don’t think so.  Ritual?  Again, don’t think so.  This is where so many may be missing the point, including, I believe, many of the pious, both in politics and religion.

 

Listen to Amos who talks about those who carefully abide by worship and ritual but then abuse those who have no power:

 

If you offer Me your burnt offerings – or your meal offerings – I will not accept them; I will pay no heed to your gifts of fatlings.  Spare Me the sound of your hymns … But let justice well up like water, and righteousness like an unfailing stream.  (5:22-24)

 

And also

 

Listen to this you who devour the needy, annihilating the poor of the land, saying “If only the new moon were over, so that we could sell grain, the Sabbath, so that we could offer wheat for sale, using an ephah [a unit of dry measure] that is too small, and a shekel that is too big, tilting a dishonest scale, and sell grain refuse as grain!  We will buy the poor for silver, the needy for a pair of sandals.”  (8:4-6)

 

And one of my personal favorite passages from Scripture:

 

What does the Lord require of you?  Only this: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)

 

It’s not our rituals.  It’s not how we worship.  It’s what we do. 

 

God calls us to justice.  Thus, “Come back to God” means “Take care of the poor.  Feed the hungry.  Clothe the naked.”  Or, in today’s world, pass a health care bill with real and substantial reform in it! 

 

Thus “forsaking God” is forsaking a life that promotes justice, compassion and peace.

 

Does this mean I believe that the prophet’s believed only in a “metaphorical” God?  No.  From everything I can read and learn it is clear that they believed in the God of their fathers.  And some of the prophets do talk about the importance of ritual and how we worship.  But it seems clear that the point of the ritual and worship is to bring us back to justice, compassion and peace.  Ritual and worship are guides, not icons, and we make them icons at our peril.

 

To be “godly” according to the prophets means to be active in the world on behalf of the poor and the powerless, to promote justice and compassion. 

 

And they are not alone in their call.

 

What does Jesus tell us?  “You that are accursed, depart from me … for when I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.”  (Matthew 25: 41-43).  And when it is protested that the accused acted in no such way Jesus replies, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.”

 

And do we not recall that what moved the pampered prince who would become the Buddha to a life that led to enlightenment was discovering just how much suffering there was in the world?

 

The bitter truth is that today the prophetic call continues to be voices crying out in the wilderness.  Why?  Because we still haven’t learned.  We still attempt what the Buddha’s father attempted: to keep the suffering of others out of our sight.  We seek our own safety, our own health and our own comfort at the expense of our neighbor’s.  We are eager to perfect the ritual and to say whatever words may be required, but we are ever so reluctant to act.

 

In this context, as I am beginning to ponder my sermon for January 24^th (which will be a celebration of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.), I realize that besides being a leader and a dreamer, Dr. King was very much a prophet. 

 

Interfaith, as I have written before, took substantive root in the United States when people from all faiths and walks of life, including, as it turns out, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, answered Dr. King’s call to action, his call to compassion and to justice – his call to non-violent but very vocal action for compassion and justice.

 

We celebrate Dr. King’s life every year.  But are we not called to do more than that?  We celebrate Dr. King’s dream every year.  But are we not called to answer the cry of the prophet?  Dr. King called us to active lives of compassion and justice.  Christian, Atheist, Jew, Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu … whatever our spiritual path, the prophet Martin Luther King called us to come back to God.  The U.S. and indeed the world is still trying to decide whether to answer that call with more than a three-day weekend.