The Path and Challenge of Interfaith

I was at an interfaith Conversation Café this past Tuesday.  It was a lot of fun.  Good people.  Good conversation.  But one comment particularly stays in my head.  I had just mentioned my involvement with the Living Interfaith Church.  The fellow sitting across the table from me said, “You all worship together?  Christian, Jew, Muslim?”  It was said with a smile.  But it was a smile of astonishment.  I could have answered, “Buddhist, Baha’i, and Humanist too.”  But I just smiled back and nodded.

 

It was a reminder.  The Living Interfaith Church has had two services.  We will have our third this Sunday.  I believe that what we are doing, what we’ve begun in this seedling of an Interfaith church, is important.  And so far at least it has happened so seamlessly that it might be easy to take it for granted.  That is not something we should do.  The astonishment of that gentleman sitting across from me, good natured as it was, reminds me that our path ahead will not be an easy one.  Yet as we grow, slowly, as we model that Interfaith worship can not only not only succeed, but nourish, not only inform but enliven – we can be a light.  A light of healing.  A light of justice.  A light of hope.  That is truly exciting.  Challenging, but exciting.

 

We have created, with intention, a “safe space,” a “sacred space.”  We have created, and I say we, for it is indeed something we do together, a space where each of us is not only “allowed” but indeed invited to share our spiritual paths.  Not to convert.  Not to convince.  But in the joy of acknowledging our diverse paths that have led to this, our new church.

 

At that “conversation café,” I was asked to self-identify.  I said my faith is Interfaith.  My spiritual path is Judaism. 

 

Your path may be Baha’i, or Islam, or Christianity, or Humanism, or that of a Seeker.  And yet I believe we can not only come together, we can come together with joy and common purpose: to bring about the world that each of our paths call us to, a world of compassion, love and mutual respect.  That is the wonder of it.  That is the paradigm-shattering wonder of it. 

 

I believe that to live Interfaith is to live a life that truly respects the spiritual core of others.  To live an Interfaith life is to feel and to experience our common humanity, even when we can’t see it.  To respect, not merely “tolerate” our differences. 

 

Yet the walls that we have built to separate ourselves, walls  religious, racial, ethnic, gendered  and others, weren’t built arbitrarily.  They were erected because these walls provide a sense of security.  And identity.  "I am who I am because I’m on this side of the wall."  "I can take comfort, and all too often pride, because I’m on this side of the wall." 

 

Us and them.  Yet again, “us” and “them.”  In many ways the history of humanity is the ebb and flow of how we define who “we” are and who “they” are. 

 

Maybe that’s why actually living Interfaith can be so hard.  As a philosophy, Interfaith is  tempting to many, I think,.   But can we, do we truly want to listen to each other?  Hear each other?  Respect each other?  And are we sure?  That is the challenge and the hope of Interfaith. 

Engaged Optimism

 

Yesterday was the 40^th anniversary of Earth Day.  If we choose to be discouraged, there’s certainly plenty to be discouraged about.  James Lovelock, the person who came up with a “planetary control system” that he called “Gaia”, has stated that we’re probably past the point of no return.  And if we not, surely we’re closing in fast.

 

Meanwhile, “Climate Change” has become a political football.  Just as no one religion has “all the answers,” neither does any political party.  What is deeply troubling to me is that right now it appears only one party is even looking for answers.  The other is saying “Problem?  What problem?”  Can you spell: “Titanic”?

 

Two thousand years ago a Roman naturalist wrote, “Such is the audacity of man, that he has learned to counterfeit Nature, and indeed is so bold as to challenge Nature in her work.”

 

Even before then, Taoism preached that “Both a horse and a cow have four feet.  That is Nature.  Put a halter around the horse’s head or a string through a cow’s nose: that is man.  Therefore it is said: ‘Do not let man destroy Nature.  Do not allow cleverness to destroy Nature’s intent.’”

 

But in the name of progress, riches, comfort and convenience we haven’t paid attention.  And now the weather is changing, the polar caps are melting, and the eco-system we rely on for such mundane things as food and air is in danger of imploding.  What to do??

 

Some I know have given in to despair.  I can’t embrace that.  Some I know proclaim confidently that, “Somebody will invent something” or, “God won’t let it happen” and refuse to worry.  I can’t embrace that either. 

 

So what should we do?

 

That’s always the driving question.  Not, “What should we think?” or, “What should we believe?” or even the ever-popular, “Whom should we blame!?” but “What should we do?”  Now.  And tomorrow.  And next week.

 

I would like to offer one possibility: “engaged optimism.” 

 

What can an engaged optimist do?  Rather than preach what someone else should be doing, let me share a few things I’m working on in my own life.

 

By definition, if you will, the engaged optimist believes that we CAN make things better, but only if we are willing to act.  For me, one of the prime actions is weaning myself from the cultural norm I was raised in.

 

I want to move my life more completely from “faster and cheaper is better,” to “sustainable and healing is better.”  I already believe it.  But belief is not action.  And the “lure of the bargain” is deeply ingrained.

 

I want to think less of myself for driving my car an extra mile to save a dollar, not more.  Part of this is moving from a Consumer Reports driven “consumerism” (where what counts is what’s the best made, least expensive) to a Better World Shopping Guide driven “consumerism” (where “every dollar you spend is a vote for the world you want to live in”).  I will “vote” for a socially and environmentally responsible consumerism.  The further an item has travelled (even if it’s cheaper), the more resources were used to transport it.  I don’t want to “vote” for that.  And I want to buy “organic”, because whether or not it is healthier for me, it is surely healthier for my home planet.  These are things I can do.  Right now.

 

And yet, it is important to understand that whatever I do on my own is not enough.  Last year, if nothing else (and there was plenty else) we all learned just how truly vicious politics can be.  There are so many screamers out there that it’s enough to make a sane person want to stay away.  But think for a moment what that implies: leaving our future and our children’s future, and the earth’s future in the hands of the screamers and those who for whatever reason seem … well … truth-challenged.  We live in a democracy.  Like it or not (and frankly right about now I don’t much like it) that carries with it a responsibility to be involved.  Engaged optimism means staying in contact with my elected representatives, urging them to pass legislation that is socially and environmentally responsible, even if (when?) they seem to ignore me. 

 

Bottom line.  I recognize that our earth home is in trouble and I am committed to helping to turn things around.  I won’t give up.  Not on my watch.  And I won’t stop trying.  Not on my watch.  And I won’t stop hoping.  No thank you.  In religion, as well as ecology, I shall remain an engaged optimist.  And I welcome all who would join me.

Starting an Interfiath Church – Continued

 

Wow.  Last Sunday we had our second service.  It was a tough one.  We talked about Holocaust Remembrance Day.  We talked about the folly of dividing into “them” and “us.”  I felt compelled to do it; but also had a worry that maybe no one would show up.  I was wrong.  It was a good service, a good discussion.  These are good people.

 

On Sunday we talked of our common humanity.  We worshiped together: Baha’i, Christian, Muslim, Humanist, Jew, Questioners and other seekers who have not yet shared how they encounter the sacred.  We did it without talking down to each other.  We did it without trying to convert or convince each other.  We shared a service, a meaningful service, an Interfaith service, on the need for a Holocaust Remembrance Day.

 

Good service, good potluck, and people who take living their Interfaith seriously.  It doesn’t get much better than that.  The box for food donations was filled.  I took it to the Lynnwood Food Bank on Tuesday.  Next month we’ll continue to collect food for the Food Bank, but we’ll do more.  We’re going over the Food Bank to help out.

 

This is what it’s about.  This is what brings a smile to my face.  This is what gives me hope. 

 

The people who scream seem to get all the press.  It can be easy to forget that it doesn’t have to be all screaming.  And we don’t have to be at each other’s throats over whose interpretation of the sacred is “right.” 

 

We can leave a world worth living in to our kids and grandkids – all our kids and grandkids.  Indeed, I believe it to be a moral imperative that we do so.

 

It can be hard.  The world can be hard.  Just speaking personally, there are days when I wonder why on earth am I doing this?!  Starting a new church does not come under the category of easy!

 

But the truth of it is, I am not doing this – at least not alone.  I owe so much to so many.  Particularly, and I hope this doesn’t embarrass them, I owe so much to Steve Crawford and Dilara Hafiz, who have been working with me on building this community of faiths called the Living Interfaith Church for over six months.  They are giving, thoughtful, tireless and wise.  It is heartwarming and affirming to realize that this has been a we not me project from the beginning.

 

And there are new faces.  New commitments.  Additional wisdom.  Each week!

 

It is good to come together as a family, as a human family: diverse in age, gender, and religion.  It is good and reassuring and affirming to come together and know that not only are we all different, but we are all welcome.  We come together realizing that how each of us encounters the sacred is deeply personal, and that sharing our diverse encounters can be deeply rewarding.  We come together realizing that we can act together, without screaming, without hatred, in a positive way to change our world: to bring about the love that Jesus, the Buddha, Hillel, Mohammed, Black Elk, Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and so many other prophets, ancient and modern have urged us to seek.

 

We can do it.  We are doing it. 

(title edited 4/18)

The Destructiveness of “Them” and “Us”

 

This Sunday is “Holocaust Remembrance Day.”  It will largely go by unnoticed.  Particularly, it will go unnoticed in those places where I believe it should be of prime importance: our pulpits. 

 

Holocaust Remembrance Day is not a day that should be important simply to Jews.  It ought to be important to all of us. 

 

“But it happened over sixty-years ago.  Lots of people died in World War II.  Get over it.”  I’ve actually heard that statement.

 

I’ve also heard the comment that,  “Slavery happened over 150 years ago.  Why don’t African Americans get over it!?”

 

Armenians are still calling for recognition that the horror wrought by the Turks in 1915 was genocide.  “Why don’t they get over it?”

 

And, of course, we’ve to look no further than our own country’s treatment of the Native Americans, or First Peoples.  The wholesale slaughter of a race.  But that was nearly a 150 years ago.  “Why don’t they get over it?”

 

We have this all too human ability to isolate ourselves, to divide ourselves into “them” and “us.”  And what is fascinating is that we remember forever what happened to “us.”  But as for “them?”  We frequently say, “Why don’t they get over it?”

 

For me, Holocaust Remembrance Day is so vital because it can show us, if we will let it, just how destructive dividing ourselves into “them” and “us” can be.

 

Martin Niemoller’s famous quote, “They came for the .. but I wasn’t a … so I said nothing” has become such a cliché and so totally overused as to have been rendered all but meaningless.  Yet the essence of what he seems to be trying to say is something we still need to learn.  We divide ourselves into “them” and “us” at our peril.  The truth of it is, there is no “them,” there is only “us.” 

 

This is the essence of Interfaith.  This is what we who believe in Interfaith must shout, if not from the rooftops, then at least our pulpits.  There is no them.  There is no them!  There is only us.

 

This disease of “them” and “us” is not, of course, limited to our religious proclamations.  It poisons our politics.  It has rendered “civil discourse” all but an oxymoron. 

 

And this relates to Holocaust Remembrance Day how??? 

 

Hitler succeeded in uniting his country behind him by enlarging the “us” and singling out three rather defenseless groups as “them”: Gypsies, homosexuals, and Jews.  And of the three, Hitler was the most successful in destroying Jews.  Two out of three of the Jews of Europe, one out of every three Jews on the planet murdered by Hitler’s classic embrace of “them” and “us.”

 

If Holocaust Remembrance Day remains solely about what happened to the Jews, it loses much of its universality and true importance.  Yes, there are still “Holocaust deniers” who need to be shown the facts, the horrible, horrible facts.  But for me, as a Jew, Holocaust Remembrance Day is at its heart about the evil we can do when we divide ourselves into “them” and “us.”

 

When we say “Never again,” we must say it about Jews, Armenians, Native Americans, African Americans and so many others.

 

When we observe Holocaust Remembrance Day, IF we observe Holocaust Remembrance Day, let us observe it with prayers and with the firm determination NEVER AGAIN to divide ourselves into “them” and “us.”  Never again!  Never again!

 

It will not come easily.  And it will take work.  But our very humanity is at stake.

Holy Day Thoughts

 

Forgive me, I seem to have been felled by a rather nasty bug.  I lieu, then, of the usual blog entry for Friday, just an observation.

 

Monday evening, Passover began.  I will freely confess it – Passover is my favorite Jewish holiday.  This Sunday, Easter arrives.  It is certainly not only a festive Christian holiday, but one writ large with significance.

 

Yet it seems to me, in following the news, that Passover this year was largely forgotten by those not Jewish.  The Thursday and Sunday before Passover, the markets were already pushing Easter items.  And it’s not yet Easter, so I can’t be sure, but thus far Easter seems, for those who won’t enter a Christian church, once again, to be mostly about candy, bunnies and egg hunts.

 

Easter and resurrection are far more profound than that.  And Passover, perhaps the oldest holiday on earth celebrating the right of a people not only to be free but to worship in freedom, deserves more than the resounding silence it received.

 

As I consider the beauty and profundity of Easter and Passover, not to mention the Baha’i remembrance of Ridvan later in the month, and so many other religious holy days, I am ever more committed to Interfaith as a faith.   If would ever get to know each other, then when must get to know each other.  As self-evident as this may sound, it is something I fear we have not yet learned.