30th Sep2009

Profile Video and Book Review – “It’s Really All About God: Reflections of a Muslim Atheist Jewish Christian” by Samir Selmanovic

by FaithHouseManhattan
“Samir Selmanovic is asking the right questions at the right time, and refusing the consolations of certainty at a time when strident orthodoxies–atheist as well as religious–are perilously dividing us.”
KAREN ARMSTRONG, author, A History of God and The Case for God

“On Learning to Love Well”

(a book review by Claudia Rozas Gomez, “It’s Really All About God: Reflections of a Muslim Atheist Jewish Christian,” by Samir Selmanovic, Jossey-Bass/Wiley 2009)

Samir Selmanovic is just a man and he has come to the conclusion his religion is imperfect. That this personal discovery has contributed to an unwavering faith in God may come as a surprise to some, but this is a book about faith. Although it would be cringingly cliché to say that this is a book about faith, hope and love. It is. Strikingly, it’s a bold faith that openly embraces the reality of ‘difference’ in a 21st century context and unequivocally affirms the presence of God. Not so much a ‘how to’ but a ‘why we need to’ book, Selmanovic uses autobiographical sketches to construct ontological and epistemological arguments about what it might mean to be human, what we can know about God and the nature of Divine knowledge.

His central premise is simple: “That which separates us from each other separates us from God.” Selmanovic’s call to mutuality is not new in Judaeo-Christian thought, what is distinct about his position however, is that he does not invoke this call because others need ‘us’ but because we need ‘them’. A blurring of boundaries for where ‘we’ begin and ‘they’ end, such is Selmanovic’s yearning for the Other it’s almost as though the scriptural imperative to love others as we love ourselves becomes a conviction that to love others is the only way to love ourselves. Nevertheless, the invitation is clear: seek God in others and you will find Him, “because where people dwell, God dwells.”

The personal stories range from the achingly sad: a young man is rejected by his father, a city grieves in the aftermath of 9/11; to the humorous: a Christian pastor makes futile attempts to avoid the onslaught of evangelical missionaries in a street market and a longing groom waits for a wedding night that takes two weddings to arrive. Yet despite the sad and farcical nature of some of the stories there is no hopelessness here. Instead these stories reek of affirmation, constantly reminding us that we are all just people, nothing more, but nothing less also. And, if God dwells resolutely in and around us then perhaps our preoccupation with our reward in heaven needs to be steadied by a desire for God here “in the landscape”, in our own stories and in each other.

For anyone alarmed at the increasingly frayed edges of contemporary Christianity this book provides reassurance that despite Christianity’s inevitable evolution over time, God is still here. For those who recognise the urgent need to address religious diversity this book provides a picture of what it might look like through one person’s journey. And for those of us who have had the audacity to question sanctioned truths about God and traveled the lonely path of dissent, this book is for us because Selmanovic aptly demonstrates that pain and doubt can be allies of growth and hope.

But perhaps the biggest strength of this book is that the collection of stories is held together by the author’s most compelling argument: that our religious diversity is not a problem to be overcome. Instead, diversity is the solution (read: blessing) we are offered. As he clearly states at the outset of his book, It’s Really All About God is not a discussion about religious pluralism, it is a discussion about interdependence. About recognizing that only an intentional dream which acknowledges the cumulative histories and aspirations of all of us has the hope of bringing us closer to God. In this manner, Selmanovic transforms difference from a stubborn complication to an abundant set of possibilities for coming together in community; an emphatic declaration that we must offer no more than ourselves to each other but nothing less either. (THIS REVIEW CAN BE RE-POSTED AND RE-PUBLISHED WITHOUT PERMISSION)

Claudia teaches courses in Teacher Education at the Faculty of Education, University of Auckland, Aotearoa-New Zealand. Her interests are in social justice issues in education as well as sociological and philosophical approaches to education. She has a six year old son with whom she travels the universe and back several times a week and two lovely parents of whom she is immensely proud. They are members of the Seventh-day Adventist Papatoetoe Community Church, where in spite of her outrageous ideas, they love her anyway.

Author’s Website (endorsements, reviews, links, press kit, resources): 

www.itsreallyallaboutgod.com

 

28th Sep2009

Yom Kippur at Faith House: An Awakening & Prayers

by FaithHouseManhattan

G’mar Chatimah Tovah

Last Wednesday, September 23, 2009, the Faith House Living Room gathering focused on “How to Enter the Holy of Holies: Preparing for Yom Kippur”, led by Amichai Lau-Lavie, Storahtelling Artists Shira Kline and Elana Bell, and Jill Minkoff. (image from High Holidays 5770)

Below is a powerful refection written by a Christian participant on her subway ride home after the gathering and prayers led by Jill Minkoff as part of the event.

AN AWAKENING
~ by Penny Elsley

Last Wednesday night I entered the Faith House Living Room gathering “How to Enter the Holy of Holies: Preparing for Yom Kippur” somewhat asleep to the gift of this moment in my life.  As I heard these words – “The bold invitation of these days (leading up to Yom Kippur) is to go inside…to enter the inner life” – I was immediately awoken from my slumber, just like in the ancient days when people were awoken from their slumber by the blowing of the Shofar

I am walking in a space where I do not know what the future holds and I have been too busy “making” something happen to make room to receive the gift of this uncertainty.

We just need to make room.  A lot of room. And the “living Room” experience of Faith House Manhattan was my awakening.  I realized that in fact the deepest wells of life are dug in the times when we are forced to make room. When we are vulnerable, times when we can only rely on our neighbor, when we do not and cannot know what awaits us around the next corner, these are the moments to be treasured.

In this moment I am anxious and scared and disappointed…yet there is a surprising joy, for there has been a re-connection somewhere within me. Everything is noticeable right now. Maybe its because I need help…not just to find a job or to get a visa, but help finding my way. And so I am receptive, hanging off every word of every conversation…listening for that which resonates with me, with my dreams and my passions…where are the clues?…the signposts?…the hooks on which to hang my coat?

I seek because I need.  I thirst because I feel something.  I long because I am at the threshold…again.  And the gift of all this, the richness of this liminal space, is that we realize in a very concrete way that we cannot survive without the other…and so the gloriousness of this design becomes apparent. The prayers, the encouragement, the wisdom and insights shared…all in the hope of offering me comfort…do indeed comfort… because they create a depth of space for trust, an emptiness for the new to arrive, for faith to be faith.

This is a different kind of emptiness, the kind we were created to thrive on.  At a time when I am tempted to despair, instead I feel immense gratitude and hope.  In the “living room” of Faith House, I was uplifted by companions on the journey. Being emptied and stripped of some of the false self, I have awoken to the promise of this time where there is every possibility and no possibility, coexisting. Perhaps I have arrived at the intended destination?

YOM KIPPUR PRAYERS

~ Led by Jill Minkoff at Faith House Living Room, September 23, 2009
from Gates of Repentance, by Joshua Goldman

Who among us is righteous
Enough to say: ‘I have not sinned?’
Born of love to love,
We grow weary,
Heavy with regret,
Sorry for ourselves,
And afraid to know
What might have been.

We have sinned against You, O God, and against each other.

Look now to the cities:
See the broken streets,
Poor and decayed,
And all afraid.
See them and ask:
What have we done?

Help us to turn, O God;
Help us to find forgiveness.

(more…)

17th Sep2009

My Summer of Religion

by FaithHouseManhattan

~ by Leah Varsano

I spent this summer as the Faith House Intern. I’m currently
in my senior year at Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, NY as a Religion Major.
Previous to this internship I had been vaguely interested in interfaith for
some time, and my experiences studying abroad in India strengthened my desire
to be part of this work. I was introduced to Bowie through a professor, and as
I was able to fill the position of Jewish representative to the staff, the
relationship was good for everyone.

Apart from living with a Hindu host family in India, I
didn’t have a lot of history practicing interfaith before I came to New York. I
decided to embrace the experiential, stand-in-your-neighbor’s-shoes mission of
Faith House, and spend my summer exploring and experiencing as many different
faith traditions as I could find.
As Faith House likes to say, there is a “holy
awkwardness” in this sort of encounter, and I began entering into religious
spaces not my own by tip-toeing, cautiously, often journeying with curious
friends who could provide support. In some ways I felt very ill-equipped for
these forays. I’ve studied anthropology, where the participant-observer method
of research is a model for situations such as these. But that is a rather
clinical and dry approach to interfaith, and I wanted to be emotional,
compassionately open, and spiritually adventurous.

I attended services at the Faith House affiliated
communities, including the Nur Ashki Jerrahi Sufi Order, Romemu, and
Citylights. I also visited a mainstream mosque, an inter-denominational
mega-church, a Hindu temple, an emergent Protestant house church, several
different synagogues and egalitarian minyans, a Quaker meeting, a Messianic
service, and a Catholic mass.

Here is what I learned:

1. I love, unabashedly but not blindly, my own tradition.
While I don’t consider what I did this summer “religion shopping,” as a
lifelong spiritual seeker – a process I believe is unending – I truly gained
important and deeply moving lessons, spiritual and otherwise, from every
tradition I took part in. In the end, though, I also learned where my spiritual
home is. Call me a creature of habit! I’m not saying that my tradition is
perfect, because it definitely isn’t, or that it’s the only way to practice,
which it’s not. I struggle, wrestle, and debate with my tradition on a regular
basis, but I embrace this relationship as my personal faith story. A mentor of
mine once described religious resonance as a sort of “hum” – a spiritual
vibration that lets you know you’ve found your people. Well, I hum with the
Jews.

2. As an interfaith host, you should never undervalue the
importance of a smile, a handshake (or a hug!), and a personal connection. I
remember my first visit to Citylights – my absolute first encounter with Seventh-Day
Adventists – and how every single person warmly welcomed me and invited me to
sit by them. Even at the evangelical church I attended, undoubtedly my most
unsettling experience, my neighbors did not hesitate to introduce themselves
and invite me to join Young Adults, attend the next Bible Study, or accompany
them to the Hospitality Room. These experiences, and others, would have been so
much more uncomfortable and overwhelming had individuals not reached out to me
with friendship and sincerity.

3. Music creates sacrality for me. I’ve chanted to Allah,
sung to Jesus, and la-la-la-ed through Jewish melodies. Outside on the grass,
in a windowless room, or in a huge church, music creates and shapes a
participatory sacred space that defies the boundaries of wall and door. In
almost every tradition I visited, music played a central and crucial role. This
is not to say that I was left unmoved by my Quaker experience, which could not
be farther from the truth; in their meditative silence I found a deep peace and
a different sort of sacred music. 

4. When I don’t understand, it’s okay. I can’t tell you how
many times I felt hopelessly lost when visiting faith traditions I was
unfamiliar with, sometimes sneaking glances at others so I could copy whatever
they did. When I visited Nur Ashki Jerrahi, I had no idea what I was saying, or
what the meanings of the various movements were – and I imagine many who visit
a Jewish community are overwhelmed by all the Hebrew.  But I learned to let go of my need to understand the why and
what to every religious practice. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow,
and in doing so you learn the how. There is a leap of faith in letting go –
letting go of my desire for explanation, letting go of my fear of appearing
ignorant – and through this leap I was able to experience other faiths as I
wanted to: with compassion, empathy, and a receptive heart. This, as I
understand it, is the Faith House way, and I’m so glad to have  been part of the Faith House community,
even if for such a short time.

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