FAITH HOUSE Manhattan

A Sabbath Poem (Rumi - 3)

PROBLEM WITH HUMAN "GOD TALK"
~ by Jalaludin Rumi (1207-1273)

 
Those who don't feel this Love
                pulling them like a river,
                those who don't drink dawn
                like a cup of spring water
                or take in sunset like supper,
                those who don't want to change,  

let them sleep.  

This Love is beyond the study of theology,
                that old trickery and hypocrisy.
                If you want to improve your mind that way,  

sleep on.                  

I've given up on my brain.
                I've torn the cloth to shreds
                and thrown it away.  

             

If you're not completely naked,
                wrap your beautiful robe of words
                around you,  

and sleep.

(Like This: Rumi, versions by Coleman Barks, Maypop Books 1990)

Songs About All of Us: Sting's Fragile

~ by Samir Selmanovic

On September 11, 2001, when the terrorist attacked WTC, Sting was just ending his concert in Italy.  Upon the news, he chose to sing this song.

As you can see, he is confusedly solemn here. And the audience, unaware of the magnitude of the event that happened that day doesn't not know what to think and how to feel, still enjoying the show.

I was in Manhattan at that time, listening to the same song over and over again the following week. For years, this song has been seared into my soul. All of our religious boasting comes down to this: we are born, some of us who are lucky, sing songs, some of us have hemorrhoids or eczema, and all of us die.  We are temporary and breakable. And we say "I (or we) know everything about God?" One does not know whether to laugh about it or cry.

We are in terrible need of one another. How did we ever come to a place where we use our religions to divide ourselves and make an already difficult situation even worse? Why not being sojourners instead of competitors under the mystery and misery of human existence?

So, I invite you to listen to this song again and grieve. Those who don't know how to grieve cannot hope.

"FRAGILE"

Fragile

If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay

Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetime's argument
That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are

On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are how fragile we are

On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are how fragile we are
How fragile we are how fragile we are

My Discovery of Islamic Renewal (Part 2)

In the Part 1, Dr Mark Carr shared the story of his visit to Turkey with a group sponsored by the Gülen movement.  As a most welcome guest in several Muslim homes, he saw the healing power of being open to dialogue with Others of differing faith. What are the goals of the Gülen movement? Read on.

If I read things correctly, there is a foundation in Islam for engaging the Other in fruitful dialogue. Fethullah Gülen is leading many sincere Muslim people into a renewed (not new) emphasis of interfaith dialogue and peaceful coexistence. It is difficult to say how many people would consider themselves significantly influenced by his interpretation of Islam for our time. Suffice to say, however, there are millions who have been positively influenced. When asked by his supporters, what he would like them to do, his consistent answer is two-fold: build schools and engage in dialogue with Others.

As a result, those influenced by him have built and operate the equivalent of our K-12 schools in at least one hundred countries. They are not parochial, sectarian, Qur’an only schools. They are schools that follow the secular educational guidelines of the countries in which they are located. Organizational structure and oversight is in the hands of local people dedicated to Islam and the Gülen movement.

While touring Turkey I visited the city of Antalya, and found our local guide had been touched by the Gülen movement. A Muslim, raised in Bosnia with a Turkish mother, Lachman Kurt told us how he came to support this movement. In his ’30s and in the military in and around Sarajevo, Lachman had the duty to protect and translate for a small group of people from Turkey who had simply shown up on the borders of the city during the war. As he described the personal impressions this group made, he told of his own descent into the barbarian ways of fighting that swept the city and its people. He broke into tears as he described this small group of Gülen supporters. These dedicated Muslims proposed to build a K-12 school that would teach peace in war-torn Sarajevo. The influence of this little group teaching peace in their school grew in Lachman’s heart and in the community in which they served. They continue their work to this day.

Ibrahim Barlas, the leader of our trip, is now president of Pacifica Institute  which works in Southern California in support of the Gülen movement. Pacifica Institute, formerly known as Global Cultural Connections was established in 2003 with the express purpose of helping to “establish a better society where individuals love, respect, and accept each other as they are.” They sponsor conferences, panel discussions, public forums, and art performances in an effort to bring people together. While they are particularly supportive of enhancing interfaith dialogue, their main goal is to “serve their communities,” strengthen “civil society,” and promote the “development of human values.”

It has been true joy getting to know Ibrahim. He is a Kurd by ethnicity and a Turk in national pride. He is an international businessman who lived for years in Singapore where he married a local woman and started a family. Now he lives in Los Angeles and has a vivacious passion for sharing the beauty of Islam with Others. We also enjoy sharing Baklava together!

The Pacifica Institute is one of some fifteen associations of Gülen supporters in the U.S. and around the world. Despite the international reach of this civic movement and the vast numbers of those affected, there is no structural connections among the various groups and schools. Our trip, as well as seven others this summer involving about one hundred people, was sponsored by these people. We each paid our airfares, but the rest of the trip was paid for from the generosity of those who believe in this effort.

The sponsors were incredibly hospitable. We enjoyed many delicious meals in their homes and stayed one night in their homes as well. In each home visit we were given gifts from our hosts in an effort to share their delight of our visit. On one beautiful morning in the city of Izmir, we were hosted for breakfast by a group of local businessmen, supporters of Gülen and these interfaith dialogue trips. We shared stories around the breakfast table. One of them told the fable of the ant trying to put out a fire. When asked by another creature just what the ant thought he would be able to do to the fire with one single drop of water, the ant replied, “I am at least able to proclaim what side I am on.” The man telling the story, like the ant, wanted to be known as firmly planted on the side that advocates peace and tolerance in a global society that seems bent on cataclysm.

~ by Mark F. Carr whose love of earth and its physical beauty is surpassed only by an unquenchable desire for intellectual and emotional exploration of ideas. He loves his job as a director of the MA program in biomedical and clinical ethics for the faculty of religion, and Theological Co-Director for the Loma Linda University Center for Christian Bioethics in California. Mark has PhD in Religious Ethics from Thomas Jefferson’s University of Virginia. He is married to Colette and has two children, Tyler (19), and Melissa (16).

Enough in Common

~ by Roy Naden, an author and Professor Emeritus (Andrews University, MI) who lives, gardens, and writes in Seattle area

It’s Thanksgiving Day 2007, a beautifully warm, sunny day here on the North West Coast where I write.  Today I had to call a cab for a friend and her two little children newly arrived from Africa.  They are coming to have their first traditional American meal with us.  I called Tony’s cell phone.  He’s been taking me to and from Seattle-Tacoma airport for over a decade.  He seems to work 365 days a year.

An unrecognizable voice answers.  “Is Tony there?” I ask.  An Indian-accented male voice says, “No.”  I repeat the number I thought I had dialed and ask, “Do I have the right number?”  “Yes,” he confirms, “but Tony isn’t here.  He’s dead!”   

I stammer out the first words that come from the tip of my tongue:  “But he took me to the airport a couple of months ago just before he left for India on a business trip!”—as if that comment had any relevance.  “What happened?” I continued.   “It happened on his trip.  Someone gave him the poison.  He died.”  The conversation also seemed to die at that moment.  I had no idea who this man was, or what to say to him, or what to comment about the circumstances of his death.  What do you say to a total stranger when someone you both know has died?

Pictures of Tony began floating through my memory.  He was such a dapper Indian.  Impeccably dressed, his cab immaculately kept, and like a crown he proudly wore the turban common to all men of the Sikh religion, holding their long hair.  The practice of allowing one's hair to grow naturally is a symbol of respect for the perfection of God's creation.  He seemed to have an endless supply of brightly colored cloth with which he wove his head gear, from brilliant yellow to rich purple, and very occasionally he picked me up wearing a black turban.  But the drabness didn’t suit him.  He was always so talkative and helpful.  We got to know each other’s families over the years.  He followed my various trips around the world by taking me to my departing flight and being the first one to welcome me back to Seattle.  And when he was about to leave on an annual business trip to India, he would tell me all he hoped to accomplish.

The man on the line gave me the contact information for Tony’s family. As I sat looking at the number I had just written down on a post-it pad, I didn’t know what to do.  I had never actually met Tony’s wife; didn’t even know her name.  But I thought I should call her and express my sympathy.  That seemed like an awkward conversation.  If she had been a Christian, it would have been easy.

I’m a slow thinker.  I said to myself, “Tony was a sincere believer and spoke of his faith often.  But his beliefs were vastly different from mine.  I was accustomed to comforting Christians. What could possibly sustain a conversation with his wife?”  I called the number anyway.  Tony’s wife answered.  I told her my name, that we had never met, but that I had learned quite a lot about her and her two children from Tony.  Before I could continue, she exclaimed, “You must be the man from Australia!  Tony spoke about you often.”  And from there the conversation flowed easily.  Without hesitation I told her of my sadness at Tony’s passing, and I told her I would pray that God would comfort her and sustain her in her loss.  We talked for a quite a while. 

Afterwards, as I thought about the call, the more I realized how much we held in common.  Two human beings.  We knew about each other simply because her husband and I had been friends.  We both new the deep sadness of a loss in our families.  And we both believed in God.  The differences may have been more numerous than the likenesses, but the basics that really mattered we held in common: relationships, feelings, and desire to understand the other.  It was enough to allow meaningful conversation.  It almost always is.

A Benedictine Monk on Gratefulness

~ by Samir Selmanovic

I came across this video a while ago and have been keep coming back to it.  It is featuring the words and narration of Brother David Steindl-Rast, a highly respected Benedictine monk, author and spiritual leader.  He calls us to have "eyes to see and ears to hear."

He asks, "What makes a good day?"

Brother David reminds me of St. Francis who said that we all live in this sacred place, existence.  I believe that gratitude is the primal religious sentiment.  We did not earn our right to become or to exist. To be is to be given grace.  In fact, grace came before anything that we call Sin. Grace can exist without sin. Grace was first. And shall be last. Most fascinating implication follows: Anyone or anything that exists is experiencing grace, and can therefore be a witness of that grace to us, religious people!   

DIRECTIONS: This is one of those videos you should not rush through, thinking "Let me click this and see if it is worth my time."  Instead, decide to set aside seven minutes, perhaps this coming Thanksgiving Thursday. Breath in, and out, again, and again.  Then click the play button.  Happy Thanksgiving friends.  Thank you for being a part of Faith House adventure.

"A GOOD DAY"

My Discovery of Islamic Renewal (Part 1)

~ by Mark F. Carr whose love of earth and its physical beauty is surpassed only by an unquenchable desire for intellectual and emotional exploration of ideas. He loves his job as a director of the MA program in biomedical and clinical ethics for the faculty of religion, and Theological Co-Director for the Loma Linda University Center for Christian Bioethics in California. Mark has PhD in Religious Ethics from Thomas Jefferson’s University of Virginia. He is married to Colette and has two children, Tyler (19), and Melissa (16).

The apartment was modest for a family of such material wealth.  However, I saw something on the credenza that gave the impression they had traveled to Sydney, Australia. I asked if they had frequent opportunities to travel. Without hesitation the father spoke of seven of the world’s great cities where he had taken his family, in part because he felt they needed to learn of Others and the way they live.

Dinner was delightful, but at one point I embarrassed myself when I burst out laughing. In the middle of the conversation around the dinner table, his phone rang. Not uncommon these days, regardless of time or place, to be interrupted by a cell phone. What struck me was the ring tone, “Oh Susanna!” Here we were in Antalya, Turkey, having dinner with a Muslim family and the reach of another culture came right into the house and interrupted our dinner conversation.

During my visit to Turkey with a group sponsored by the Gülen movement I realized that no one, it seems, at any place on the globe today, can escape the reality of the interplay of culture and religion. Nor do we want to avoid it—at least most of us.  For bioethics as an academic discipline and clinical skill consulting in difficult decision making, we must pay attention to the radical new context in which we live. For those of us engaged in education and healthcare, our cloistered sectarian ways are a vestige of the past. But are we prepared for the new mix of faith and culture into which we step in our work?

In my experience of conversion to Christianity, I was taught, appropriately, an apologetic approach to all Others. While at the University of Virginia for my doctoral studies in religious ethics, I sat in the class of Abdulaziz Sachedina, professor of Islamic theology and ethics, a devout Shi’ite Muslim with whom I bonded, in part because of his belief and encouragement for the idea that God is involved in the lives of all human beings. While sitting in his class listening to his portrayal of Islamic theology, I found myself exhausted, tired of sifting all he said through the apologetic sieve of my interfaith training. Not that it wasn’t informative and enjoyable comparing and contrasting my faith with this Other. But I just couldn’t keep up the pace of this sifting process. While in class I decided to hear what my teacher felt was important to learn about Islamic theology and ethics. It was a turning point in my interaction with the Other. It was the end of an era for me; the end of the idea that the end goal of all interaction with Others was to convince them to join my Christian faith and community.

It was also the beginning of a time when I could find satisfaction in dialogue that simply brought understanding. I was finally able to discard the opinion of one of my Seminary instructors: “If the person you are visiting is not open and moving toward a positive decision to join our church, stop wasting your time and move on to someone that is.” I understand that mindset, and do not condemn it. But in the current mix of faith and culture in the global society, I had to find a place short of that in which to rest, a place where I felt sure of having made a positive contribution to the Other and our mutual society. Should the Other find joy in my belief in Jesus that would be wonderful!  But it is okay if they do not.

One of the realities for those of us who seek interfaith dialogue and cooperation is that we have little encouragement from the history of our church. Yet currently there are many positive examples of formerly opposed religions working together for the positive benefit of our global community.

One example is Centura Healthcare in Colorado. This faith-based offering of healthcare is a cooperative effort of Roman Catholic and Seventh-day Adventist hospitals and their professional care providers. As the stewards of some twenty facilities in Colorado, they looked across the gulf that separated them and realized that if they did not work together to find a positive financial way forward, they would fail and have to close their doors. They formed a central administrative office for all of their facilities. In this central office they named executive vice-presidents for “mission and ministry.” In each case, these vice-presidents cared for their side of things and continued working closely with each other. I’ve been privileged to work for them in educational sessions for their ethics committees and concerns.

Another fine example is Faith House Manhattan. I have little doubt that those of us encouraged by the mission of Faith House Manhattan will find ready reference with the supporters of Fethullah Gülen’s teachings. Although Gülen movement is just a small part of the emerging Islamic renewal movement rumbling in the background across the globe, it is an excellent place to start learning about the contours of what is to come. A good place to be introduced to Imam Gülen is a website that posts many of his essays and talks: www.fgulen.org. As I understand the nature of his work, he is focused less on writing books and more on prayer and teaching.

(to be continued, Part 2 next week)

Check out:

Books by Abdulaziz Sachedina
Books by Fethullah Gülen  

A Sabbath Poem (Rilke - 3)

LET EVERYTHING HAPPEN
~ by Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

(from Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God,
translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)

Become a Peace Instigator

~ by Samir Selmanovic

Recently, we came a across this painting by William (Bill) Papas and have obtained the permission from the artist's foundation to use this painting. The original sketch for this watercolor was drawn quickly on the streets of Jerusalem more than 25 years ago.

There they go, an Imam, a Priest, and a Rabbi, moving forward together.  My daughter Ena (12) looked at the painting and exclaimed, “Look at them, three friends prancing!”  And it looks as though they are neither walking nor dancing, but something in between, moving confidently, displaying affection for and trust in one another.  Where are they going?  To celebrate a transitional event in life?  To stop a fight?  To assist someone in need?  It could be any of them.

I imagine they know there are people in the city whose identity depends on a divided humanity.  They know their joy in “prancing” together will be needed to match the hatred of the warmongers that live around them.  But they have no fear.  There is too much joy, truth, and beauty among them, and too much at stake to be afraid. The best periods of world history that advanced culture, science, and sheer goodness happened at times when different communities decided not to live as competitors but as sojourners, competing only in doing good for each other.

There is a growing number of wonderfully hopeful Muslims, Jews, and Christians who believe (more deeply and passionately than extremists ever can) that their faith can be a source of wisdom and inspiration for turning the world around.  But who is standing in their corner?  Who is helping them?  In times past, too many of us have been “peace wishers,” waiting for the world to change.  It’s time to push back against the dark side of all religious traditions. Let’s find, protect, and support the peacemakers among “us,” and among “them.”

So much money and effort has been squandered on weaponry and propaganda, we must push back.  Join us and become a “peace instigator.”  Along with others, we can become an unstoppable force.  Instead of simply watching violent sections of world communities jerk humanity around, we can pray for, bless, and finance new communities of peace—courageous, resilient, thoughtful, patient, replicable.

Faith House will be such a community. 

Can you imagine an Imam, a Priest, and a Rabi working harmoniously together?  Well, it is going to happen at Faith House Manhattan!  While remaining faithful to the best of their own traditions, these three spiritual nurturing individuals will break the rules that have made people enemies over the centuries.  We are asking them to join us, and we want to support them for two years as they work hard to create a new kind of urban progressive community together.  Such an ambitious goal is not for the fainthearted, so we thought you would like to join us in making it happen!

You can help by financing one of these clergy.

    Each Month will cost $1000
    Each Week will cost $250
    Each Day will cost $50

From interested parties in New York, across America, and internationally, we need to fund at least two years of stipends for three dedicated and gifted clergy.  Our goal is to raise $72,000 by the end of the year.  This money will be matched by churches, mosques, synagogues, and other institutions, and by the three clergy’s network of supporters.  Thus, for every dollar you give, two dollars will be added.

Securing this funding will propel us into the networks of three monotheistic religions giving us leverage and opportunity to show a vision of peace and cooperation, a dream that too many have come to think can never become a reality.   

My family decided to do its part.  As Christians waiting for Christmas, we want to live out the blessing uttered by angels that announced the birth of Christ in these words: “Peace on earth and goodwill among people!”  What could be a better way to celebrate our holy days than by empowering the peacemakers living with communities we sometimes think of as our enemies!  Whether Christian, Jew, Muslim, or atheist, we are all meant to be the receivers of the blessing of peace and goodwill among all people.

Wherever you live on this shrinking planet, we need your help now as we face our first public challenge.   You can choose to help make this happen by making a tax-deductible contribution:

1. By writing a check to: 

Faith House Manhattan
P.O. Box 552
New York, NY 10028
payable to: Faith House - The Adventure

2. Contributing online (through AMM) by clicking HERE.  In the comment area, please write "for Faith House - The Adventure."

With gratitude from all of us here in New York!

Three Sabbath Poems (Aquinas)

~by St. Thomas Aquinas, (1225-1274)


CLOSE TO GOD

One may never have heard the sacred word “Christ,”
but be closer to God
than a priest or
nun.

LET ME EMBRACE YOU

I said to God, “Let me love you.”
And He replied, “Which part?”
“All of you, all of you,” I said.
“Dear,” God spoke, “you are as a mouse
wanting to impregnate a tiger.”

ON THE SABBATH

On the Sabbath try and make no noise that
goes beyond your
house.
Cries of passion between lovers
are exempt.


(from the Love Poems from God: Twelve Sacred Voices
from the East and West, translation Daniel Ladinsky
- Penguin Compass, 2002, on this website)

Lovedrunk

~ by Samir Selmanovic

Rumi (Jelaluddin Mevlana Rumi), arguably the greatest mystical poet of any age, was born in 1207 C.E. on the Eastern shores of the Persian Empire, then Afghanistan, and settled in present day Turkey. Over a period of 25 years, he composed over 70,000 verses of poetry about divine love, mystic passion and ecstatic illumination. In recent times, Rumi's work has experienced a renaissance across the globe, and is the most widely read poet in America today. The Year 2007 has been designated by Unesco as the International Year of Rumi. Although Rumi was a Sufi and a great scholar of the Qu’ran, his words reach across religious and social divisions. Even in his own time, he was known as a cosmopolitan. His funeral, which lasted 40 days, was attended by Christians, Muslims, Jews, Persians, and Greeks.

Last week I attended a short meditation class by a wonderful guide (Thank you Michelle!).  She taught us Square Breath, a Sufi practice. It was unlike anything else I have experienced before, centering first on one’s breathing, then on one’s heartbeat, bringing them in sync, one's own person becoming an expression of gratitude for the gift of life and love of God. Sufi's would say, "stain your prayer rug with wine." I did just that this week. I got lovedrunk with God.

After coming home, I resolved that it is time for Faith House to join other peacemakers around the world in honoring Rumi and his legacy at the 800th year anniversary of his birth.  And not only Rumi, but also all the Christian, Jewish, and Muslim mystics who stayed sane at the times when "rational" people lost their mind and warred with one another. I have to admit that my attempt to summarize Rumi's work for you has been frustrating. After years of spotty reading and now hours of collecting material about Rumi's extraordinary life, I threw up my hands and said with Attar, a Sufi master, who commented about Rumi: "There goes a river dragging an ocean behind it."

One of the most brilliant translators of Rumi into English is Coleman Barks.  With his “good ol' boy” soft Southern voice, he can, paradoxically, transport you to Persia, Afghanistan, and Turkey of the Middle Ages. This connection between contemporary American South and ancient Middle East has been one of the most fitting global matches of spirit I have ever experienced. Author Robert Bly says of Coleman: "One of the greatest pieces of good luck that has happened recently in American poetry is Coleman Barks' agreement to translate poem after poem of Rumi. Coleman's exquisite sensitivity to the flavor and turns of ordinary American speech has produced marvelous lines, full of flavor and Sufi humor, as well as the intimacy that is carried inside American speech at its best."

Here are the readings of three Rumi's poems, by Coleman.  These might lead you to the threshold between two worlds. And you will emerge on the other side of this experience first crawling, then walking, then "spreading great silent wings."

"ONLY BREATH"


"CITY OF SABA"


"I HAVE NO NAME FOR YOU"

Get lovedrunk with the mystics. Explore. There are hundreds of poems like these on the internet and in a bookstore near you. May Rumi's whole, provocative, dangling, passionate words never give you peace.   

A Sabbath Poem (African)

MY PRAYER, OUR PRAYER
~ African

One person
is not a good thing.

One person
is certainly not
a good thing.

O Lord,
please do not make me
one person.

(from Learning to Pray: How We Find Heaven on Earth,
by Wayne Muller, Bantam Book 2003)

Spiritual and Religious

~ by Samir Selmanovic

An increasing number of people identify with the statement, “I am spiritual, but not religious.” Even many of us religious people don’t exactly know how we got here, but we have to honor where our hearts have gone.

Religion is difficult. It has history—and every history has its dark ages or, at the very least, dark moments. And the entire world is the judge. Spirituality, on the other hand, is personal. It starts and ends with me. I am the judge. 

As humans we know there is more to life than what we can see and touch. That's what makes us different from other living beings. Our existence is mystical and not just physical. We are all made of this “spiritual stuff,” a dust that remembers its cosmic origins. As none of us is spared from being human, so none of us is spared from being spiritual. Spirituality is our subjective experience of our common lot of living “in between”—between dust and stardust, glory and gore, matter and spirit. Spirituality is our individual experience of the interior world we all have. 

Spirituality does not have to involve religion. It is a way of traveling freely and intimately through the journey of human life, engaging with what’s to be found there. But, the moment two people begin conversing about the meaning of their experience, the moment they begin naming experiences, thoughts, concepts, practices, convictions, anything at all, is the moment their religion germinates. We want to communicate about and pursue together what we think matters, strive for what is good, struggle against what is bad, cling to what is real and admire what is beautiful. And the moment a large number of people begin to want the same things and decide to help each other on their journeys, we have a major religion.

Religion comes from the Latin root word religio, meaning “to bind back.” We bind ourselves to what we hold as valuable and to others who value the same thing. To thrive and make a difference, every spirituality needs a community—maybe not a church, a mosque, or a synagogue as we know them, but certainly a community.

In this sense, everyone has religion. Religion will never go away, for we will always want to make our spirituality function in more than our own isolated selves. We fight over our religions because it is in religion that we fully articulate our differences. Without religion, we would be left to drift with our own meanings isolated from each other. Without religion, nothing about our inner life would be passed from generation to generation. Imagine the invention of the wheel, fire and writing, and every new generation taking up the task of inventing them again.

Spirituality, on the other hand, can be frighteningly undemanding. It can serve some kind of generic god that submits himself (or herself) to our own egos. Such a god never cuts across our will, never confronts, never frustrates, never leads us through dark places. But the world often is a dark place and, more importantly, each of us participates in making it the way it is. To change the world, one must be changed oneself, and a god who is not allowed to disagree with us cannot change us. Spirituality without religion has been as much a source of suffering as religion without spirituality.

Religion is a journey of many generations that provides us with starting point from which we can dig down to find the depth of our soul. Religious traditions—with their accumulated wisdom, practices and an extensive chart of wrong paths taken in the past—can help us stay with it until we touch the bottom, or learn to fly. Religion is here to stay, simply because human beings will always put their efforts together in making good—or evil—happen. But it is here in a religious community where a robust personal spirituality can develop and where it actually matters most. In community, our personal spiritualities cross-pollinate with one another and interact with the wisdom and strength handed down to us from our particular religious traditions. In turn, in such a community our present contribution can be shared with others and passed into the future. When our personal spiritualities are bound together, God can work through us to change each other and heal the world.

Our religions can exist for the life of the world. Our theologies can tell life-giving stories. Our communities can live out such stories. Even our organizational structures can learn (or re-learn) to be channels of systemic blessing to all of life. Like a troubled human, a troubled religion can be redeemed.

(from Signs of the Times, Australia, November 2007, adapted by the author)