Interfaith As A Spiritual Practice

I was blessed, as a young man, that my first church choir job after attaining a Masters in Choral Music was at the First United Methodist Church of Monterey Park. The Minister there was Fred Rogers. No, not THAT Fred Rogers, not Mr. Rogers whose neighborhood was on PBS (and who was a Presbyterian minister, by the way, not Methodist). But my Fred Rogers had answered Dr. King’s call and had, at great risk, been one of the early Freedom Riders, some twenty years before I knew him.

I remember vividly, as if it were yesterday … and it wasn’t! … that I met with Fred and the committee that was to decide yes or no about hiring me to direct the choir. I was up front. I told Fred and the committee, “You do understand. I’m Jewish.” Fred replied without missing a beat. “Great. Then hopefully our choir will be singing some Jewish music as well.”

I learned a lot as a Jewish choir director at a Methodist Church. I learned for one thing that 90% of what was preached on Sunday in church could have just as easily been heard on Friday night at temple or synagogue.

For example, as a Jew, growing up I was subjected every year to what I called the High Holy Days harangue. “I look out over the congregation,” the Rabbi would say, “and I see faces I only see twice a year. Once at Rosh Hashanah. The other at Yom Kippur. I thought I’d let you know that actually we have services every week!” Low and behold, I am now choir director at the Methodist Church and what do I hear as December 25th rolls around? “I look out over the congregation,” says the minister, “and I see faces I only see twice a year. Once at Christmas. The other at Easter. I thought I’d let you know that actually we have services every week!” It was then that I realized our varying religions share even in their harangues.

But there are other similarities, more significant similarities. For example, that love and compassion are the foundation stones of our faith. Yet, of course, there are differences too. I learned something very important as I led the choir in Monterey Park. I could have studied Methodists and Methodism for years; but never learned nearly so much nor so profoundly as I did by worshiping with them. People of differing faiths worshipping together is powerful.

That understanding has affected who I am, and how I see ministry. I believe that if we are ever to learn to love each other, we must learn to worship together. NOT to convert. Not to convince. But out of love, and respect and the desire truly to know one another.

This is the light, and the hope and the gift that is possible with Interfaith.

Last month we took a look at the roots of Interfaith. How it blossomed during the civil rights movement of the 1960’s. And what I believe was the pivotal role played by the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr.. And since that time, Interfaith, not entirely, but by and large has been confined to social justice issues.

“Interfaith Voices For Peace And Justice,” “Interfaith Worker Justice,” “Interfaith Youth Core,” “The Interfaith Alliance,” “The Interfaith Council of Washington” and so many other wonderful Interfaith organizations.

That is what makes this church, here, so special. Yes, we are involved in social justice, and the Ethiopia Project is just one incredibly powerful example. But here we also come together as a spiritual community: and not just two services a year, but week after week. Three weeks ago, Karen led a Convocation of the Divine Feminine. Two weeks ago, Debra led a service, informed by her First Peoples spirituality. Last week Jamal led a service informed by his Sufi Muslim spirituality. And now, here I am, leading a service informed by my Jewish Unitarian Universalist spirituality.

That we need to share what happens here with others beyond the walls of this church, we’ll be discussing in more depth in two months. Today, we want to explore Interfaith as a spiritual practice. This is in keeping with our desire in our services this year to develop within us the universal values of our First Peoples. The value we are exploring this month is spirituality.

So let us explore today Interfaith not only as a way to get together for a homeless project, though that is important and we must never lose it, but also Interfaith as spirituality. In looking at it we are answering in a different way the same question we asked ourselves last month: why are we here?

A spiritual practice. So what does that mean? Spiritus. Breath. In many ways, our spiritual practice is how we go about breathing … how we live.

How do we live Interfaith? How do we embody it? Project Ethiopia is a part. Coming here on Sundays is a part. But what about the rest of our lives?

Is there an Interfaith spiritual practice, an Interfaith way of living, an Interfaith approach to how we regard each other? That question demands that we get a better handle on what we mean by Interfaith.

When Jamal is here he does not give up his spiritual heritage. Nor does Debra. Nor does Karen. Nor do I, or anyone else who speaks here or who comes here. Each of us, each of us seated here is informed by our own spirituality. None of us gives up our spiritual selves. Rather, we share in our differing spiritualities – our differing ways of breathing. So Interfaith, however it might look, clearly cannot be based on right belief – the idea that there is one right answer to the question of God. In this room, right now, I would venture to say, that there are Atheists, Christians, Muslims, and least one Jewish Unitarian Universalist and who knows who else? Here. Today. Together.

Is it, then, “anything goes?” I don’t think so. If you know Debra, and Karen, and Jamal, you know that these are all deeply spiritual people. They are different. Yet we come here, recognizing that one isn’t right and the others wrong. And I wonder if we understand how truly revolutionary and important that is?

For so long, humanity has suffered under a tyranny that says there must be one and only one right answer to the question of God. This is a complex subject, not to be taken lightly. And we’ll take more time with it next month. But for now, if we say no, that there is no one right answer, does that mean that there are no answers?

Sometimes I’ve had to face this problem in speaking with a few of my teachers in seminary. There’s this idea that if there isn’t one “right” belief, then there can’t be any real belief. Either there’s one truth, they tell me, or there’s no truth. That is the paradigm of “right belief” that we humans have lived by for thousands of years. I don’t accept it. I don’t believe it. And I don’t think you believe it, or you wouldn’t be here.

Yet it is important for us to understand and reflect on how deeply engrained and tragic the paradigm has been. From it we have drawn not only the rationale for crusades and inquisitions, but of a Master Race, and countries that think themselves so special unto God that they may do whatever they will to whomever they wish.

To my mind, “right belief” is the unspoken engine behind the vehemence, and all too often the violence that has accompanied fundamentalism in our world.

And it infects even those who would be tolerant. Consider, if I accept that there can only be one “right belief,” then however “tolerant” I may strive to be, I really can’t afford to understand you and your beliefs. I don’t dare understand: because if I allow that there is any validity to your beliefs, and there’s only one right belief, then my beliefs are called into question.

I think that’s why so many have stopped at tolerance, and never gotten to respect. I will tolerate your belief. I will tolerate your being different. That keeps the wall between us in place. And I never really have to respect our differences.

So how do we break-through the veneer of “tolerance”? How do we help others … and perhaps ourselves break free of this paradigm that there is but one right belief? By odd coincidence, I just happen to have a thought or two on the matter.

I’d like to offer a different paradigm…just to consider. Dinner table conversation. If you’ve ever looked at a diamond you know that it has many sides. Many facets. Each facet a little different. Each facet reflects light just a bit differently. What if our spiritual practice, how we live, is based on a paradigm that is not one of “right belief” but rather of God or Spirit as a cosmic diamond. A diamond of infinite facets, and, if we’re fortunate, we are able to see, even if not with perfect clarity, one of those infinite facets. The person next to us may perceive a different facet. Is that person wrong? Perhaps, just perhaps, Judaism is a reaction to seeing the light of Spirit reflected in one facet of this cosmic diamond. And Christianity a reaction to light reflected in a different facet, and Islam, and Earth Spirituality, and Humanism.

If we embrace this, then we realize that each of us views a precious part of the whole. We can sustain and nourish our own light, as we see it, and yet welcome and respect the differing light that nourishes the person seated next to us…we can both thrive. And we can delight in the difference between us, rather than fight over it. And this spiritual practice is what we call…Interfaith. It is a gift beyond measure.

At the front of this church, as you enter, is a quote from the Dali Lama. I urge you to read it before you leave today, even if you’ve read it before. It begins, “All religions share a common root which is limitless compassion.” The Interfaith Council of Washington, on its web site quotes Gandhi saying, “Religions are different roads converging upon the same point.” Last month I spoke of a similar thought from the Japanese folk saying that says there are many roads to the top of Mount Fuji.

It is one thing, however, to proclaim this. It is another to live it. To live it is to make Interfaith a spiritual practice. It is to respect the breath, the spirit, of the other. It is to say that what you believe is important to you, as what I believe is important to me. It makes us who we are. But what is important to us, to us is how we act, and that we act in the world with compassion and with love.

Last month we talked about humanity’s propensity for building walls. Walls between races, genders, generations. Walls between religions. With Interfaith we have the chance to breach those walls. We can truly hold close the love that each of our religions tell us is the fundamental commandment of God, however a person views God to be.

A few minutes ago, we all sang the anthem “Oh Yes We Come.” The first verse bears repeating. “Look to the prophets and the holy books; Ancient voices pointing the way. Words of wisdom come in every time and tongue, And every faith has something to say.”

Profound words. Simple, but profound.

The Beatles once sang, “All you need is love.” But that’s no secret. Jesus taught it. The Buddha taught it. Hillel taught it. Mohammed taught it. Thich Nhat Han taught it. Mother Teresa taught it. And, of course, they not only taught it, they lived it. The problem is: how do we live it? How do we live our truth that teaches love, without trampling on our neighbor’s truth, that may also teach love but from a different tradition, from viewing a different facet of the cosmic diamond. We’ll talk much more about that next month as well. But Interfaith, Interfaith, as a spiritual practice, an Interfaith that is our breath, that embraces and respects the differing facets of the cosmic diamond, this Interfaith can be a vehicle for helping the world not only to preach love, but to act with love. I can think of nothing more important. Nothing.

Let us enter quiet meditation, and think on it a while.