FAITH HOUSE Manhattan

Interreligious Prayer: Suggestions from Catholics

~ by Father Francis V. Tiso. Father Tiso is Associate Director of the Secretariat for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops, where he serves as liaison to Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, the Sikhs, and Traditional religions as well as the Reformed confessions. A New York native, Father Tiso holds the A.B. in Medieval Studies from Cornell University.  He earned a Master of Divinity degree (cum laude) at Harvard University and holds a doctorate from Columbia University and Union Theological Seminary where his specialization was Buddhist studies. He translated several early biographies of the Tibetan yogi and poet, Milarepa, for his dissertation on sanctity in Indo-Tibetan Buddhism.  He has led research expeditions in South Asia, Tibet and the Far East, and his teaching interests include Christian theology, history of religions, spirituality, ecumenism and interreligious dialogue. Father Tiso has written and lectured widely. He is the recipient of grants from the American Academy of Religion, the American Philosophical Society, the Palmers Fund in Switzerland, and the Institute of Noetic Sciences in Petaluma, CA.  He is a musician and paints in acrylics and watercolors.

Samir Selmanovic: When people ask me how to begin an interfaith ministry I usually direct them to their family members, neighbors and friends (where life is), and then to Interfaith Youth Core (where action is). Here is another way to begin. Where prayer is. I meet wonderful Father Tiso at our regular gatherings of National Council of Churches (Interfaith Relations Commission). Following are suggestion for churches (and other faith communities) that want to organize a meaningful interfaith prayer service.These suggestions were drafted by Father Tiso with consultation from a large number of theologians, practitioners, and diocesan officers for ecumenical and interreligious relations. They have been published in Walking Together series by USCCB.

- Interreligious ceremonies grow out of and reflect respect for all traditions present.  This respect should find expression in collaboration in the planning as well as in the actual event.  If it is not planned interreligiously, it is not a genuinely interreligious event, but a service planned by one group with others invited as guests.-We advise in any interreligious worship event that each group present clearly distinct and separate moments of prayer, meditation, or reflection.  Those preparing the event should communicate clearly the amount of time allowed for each contribution to those who are invited to lead the different parts of the service.

-We advise careful attention to those prayers that come from one tradition, but which refer in some way to other traditions, present or absent.  Only those prayers that refer to other traditions in a respectful way should be used.

-Presentations should avoid proselytizing or "advertising" one's religion to the attendees.

-Ritual gestures that are alien to the presenters and/or to the congregation should be avoided.  Whereas some groups have the practice of using silent prayer at interreligious events, long periods of silence at a large public event might evoke distraction rather than unity.   Music is an integral part of prayer for many religious communities, but not for all.  Therefore, musical contributions should be agreed upon in the planning process by all participating groups.

-Participants should be informed before they arrive about dress requirements such as head coverings, shawls, or whether they are to remove their shoes. 

-Key positive beliefs of the traditions present are allowed (Christians can mention Jesus as God, Trinity; Jews and Muslims can speak clearly but non-polemically about the unity of God, etc.) as long as others who do not so believe are not singled out for disagreement, etc.  Some prayers express particular, creedal beliefs with which some participants may not agree.  However, such prayers may also offer valuable insights into the worldviews of the various traditions present.

-In the use of symbolic objects, there needs to be sensitivity to traditions that avoid iconic forms; this is particularly true of the house of worship in which the event is held.  The house of worship does not need to change its configuration, but the groups hosted by a particular house of worship should respect the sensitivities of the host community.  The treatment, handling, and position of sacred books or scrolls are important to many religious traditions.  Care should be taken to see that scriptures are handled only by those authorized to do so. 

- A printed order of service is recommended because the content and sequence of the celebration will most likely be unfamiliar to many of the attendees.  Translations of prayers said in languages other than English should be provided.

- Attention to political repercussions, through consulting with leadership.

-There is to be respect for people who have chosen freely to convert to another religion, but there is also to be a sensitive "reserve" towards them in dialogue and public events.  Normally persons who have changed religious affiliation do not lead ecumenical or interreligious prayer events, nor do they represent their communities in dialogue with representatives of their former community of religious adherence.

-Inclusive language is acceptable only if the participating religious bodies are in agreement on this concern; no one should be required to use inclusive language in violation of religious beliefs or liturgical norms.

-If there is a reception after the event, those preparing the refreshments should assure that the dietary regulations of different communities are respected and, if necessary, that the foods be clearly labeled so that their contents are known.

-Whenever possible, the Catholic portion of an interreligious prayer event should make use of the approved liturgical resources.  Some interfaith prayers are given in the Book of Blessings, sections 570-573.  The Orders for the Blessing of Pilgrims (Book of Blessings sections 590 – 616), the Liturgy of the Hours, and the votive Masses for Peace and Justice are recommended resources. 

Bless Your Pharaoh

~ by Amichai Lau-Lavie, Faith House Advisory Council member, and founder, executive, and artistic director of Storahtelling Inc.

"God Bless You"– this common post-sneeze sacred invocation that has gone completely secular is uttered endlessly and mindlessly around the world. Just like 'God Bless America,' this is often simply a polite figure of speech, a civic, civil nicety. In Hebrew you say "La'brioot" – "to health."

The cultural differences are interesting but either way, these are expressions of empathy, and I've been intrigued by this word/concept--empathy--for about a week now. How come there is no word for "empathy" in Hebrew? No exact translation, that is – Israelis say "empatia," one of many foreign words that migrated into Modern Hebrew and stuck. It's a telling fact, though, that words like 'empathy' or 'pluralism' or 'text' do not have an Israeli life of their own. These days, I wonder not only about the missing word in Hebrew but also about the collective ability to exercise the word's imperative: to feel empathy towards others, esp. others in distress, and esp. others in distress who are very much 'the other.'

Ten days since the ceasefire in Gaza, and many efforts at rehabilitation take place– physical, emotional, political and diplomatic. But for many here in Israel, the anger remains. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Merely suggesting the expression of empathy towards the people of Gaza, alongside support for the IDF soldiers and the people of Sdeort, gets many Israelis – including family members and close friends – furious. Calls for empathy and care for the estimated 20,000 Gaza residents who are now homeless is met with pursed lips: "let Hamas help them, its their own fault." Empathy, generally recognized as "the ability to sense and understand someone else's feelings as if they were one's own," seems to take a backseat to her fierce and frugal sister -- survival. "I just can't afford to be thinking about them right now" M. tells me. I get this approach but it drives me nuts. ‘You’ve been in NY for too long’ B. tells me ‘this is how we roll here, remember?’ This isn’t helping either.

There are, thankfully, other voices, and other initiatives that think and do otherwise. L., for instance, a 27 year old student from Jerusalem who teamed up with another student and organized within 5 days a 7 truck convey of emergency supplies to Gaza, thousands of Israeli donations of clothes, food, blankets and personal letters from Israeli citizens to the families beyond the border. I met L. at the weekly Zohar class we attend at the Hartman Institute – who knew she was such an organizer? She didn't sleep for a week and offered many of us a way to be really helpful. I helped by carrying boxes. The story hit the media two days ago -- even Al Jazeera wanted to interview her…

And meanwhile, I've been asking people for Hebrew translation for 'empathy' – heads are scratched, options offered, all admit that there is no one single perfect Hebrew word for it. Yet. How long has it been missing? How come there isn't one?

"In essence," L. tells me, mid-carrying-boxes, "'love your neighbor as you love yourself' is the root of empathy – and Judaism's core concept – but I guess it got lost in translation. isn’t this in the Bible somewhere?"

So I turn to search for empathy in Exodus and check the tale out this week's Torah reading. It’s got the Prime Time coverage of the actual moment of the Exodus – the last midnight in Egypt. The firstborn of Egypt are slain – and there isn't a home in the land that has not been struck by death. Amid the screams, the king relents – demands that they leave the land – and offers the most audacious invitation for empathy:

"Take both your flocks and your herds and be gone; and bless me also" (Ex.12:32).

He's asking them for a blessing?

How can he expect Moses and his people to have anything but hatred in their hearts towards him? And yet he asks. And we are invited to consider, seriously, his request. Can we bless the enemy – then, now?

And let's say we do decide to grant him a blessing – let's pretend that empathy swims in our veins – what blessing would he receive? What blessing would you offer the ruler who has ruled over your misery?

This past Sunday evening, right after the Zohar class (in which L. updates us that the convoy of trucks, courtesy of the UN, made it into Gaza and that the supplies have already been delivered) I walk over to my parents’ house to have dinner. it’s a 10 minute walk, the evening is cold and crisp, and on the way I ponder this question – who is my Pharaoh? Would, could, should I bless him? I recall the psychological/mystical reading that the Zohar offers the Exodus saga – this is all a description of our inner drama. The oppressed slaves are within me – yearning for more freedom, for more autonomy, for more self expression, Moses is my inner drive for growth, my connection to the Higher Self, and sometimes this inner Moses will resort to strange tricks or fierce strikes to get its point across. And Pharaoh – Freud would call him ‘ego’, and I see him as that part of me that refuses to change, yet knows he – I – have to change in order to grow. Can I have empathy towards my inner resistance? Can I have empathy towards my fellow Israelis who have no empathy?

After dinner with my father (my mother is out at some lecture) I sit with him and open a Torah and read the verses with him and ask – what blessing would you have given the king?

My father, who is no Pollyanna, may or may not be thinking of his Nazi jailers, or the Hamas fighters or any other mythic or historical 'Pharaoh' as he quietly, and with great empathy, offers this version of a blessing to the King of Egypt: "May your river continue to flow."

God Bless him.

(And, If you were to bless the Pharaoh – what would your blessing be?)

Answering Christian Critics of Faith House (Part 2): God Our Stranger

~ by Samir Selmanovic

Throughout the history of human interaction, we have been faced with the problem of the stranger. For every “us” there has to be “them.” To describe ourselves, we have to differentiate ourselves—me and you, kin and non-kin, friends and enemies, neighbors and foreigners. Without dividing the world, we would have no identity. Since the beginning of humanity, belonging to a group has been a matter of survival and, over the ages, multiple identity boundaries have been drawn—gender, tribe, race, religions, nations, possessions, political parties. The stranger is different from us.

We are engaged with strangers in inverse proportion to the distance that separates us. With globalisation, however, the distance between “us” and “them” has been rapidly vanishing. Through the media, in our workplace and in our families, the stranger has come close. Now, the other is not only “out there.” They have moved into our physical, intellectual and emotional neighborhoods. The distance that used to separate us is being abolished and our perspectives are changing.

In this new relationship, we are confronted not only with a new view of those we used to consider “outsiders” but with a new view of ourselves. They see in us what we could not recognize in ourselves and, when we let them, they tell us what we cannot tell ourselves. They have arrived into our daily lives with their beauty, wisdom, and vulnerabilities, as well as their suffering, grievances and aspirations. Like an uninvited company consultant who can see what the company cannot see, the stranger reveals. And that’s the problem of the stranger. To survive we need to protect ourselves from the stranger; to survive we need the stranger to help us see.

In the Scripture, this problem has been inversed and transformed into one of the most potent commandments for God’s people. While the Hebrew Bible commands, “you shall love your neighbor” only once, it commands no less than 36 times to “love the stranger.” For example, it demands, “When a stranger lives with you in your land, do not ill-treat him. The stranger who lives with you shall be treated like the native-born. Love him as yourself” (Leviticus 19:33). In the New Testament, Jesus insists the ultimate judgment of our acts will come from the way we treat the stranger (see Matthew 25:31-46). In the Muslim world, informed by the Quranic texts, one is expected to take a stranger into one’s home and treat him with honor and care no less than three days, even when one is considered an enemy. This may seem as nothing but a simple invitation to a virtue of neighborly love, but there is far more to this insistent call of God.

Abraham, the father of three monotheistic faiths, was ordained by the priest Melchizedek, an outsider to the covenantal family. Although a stranger, he was called “the priest of the Most High.” We have no idea where and how he became a priest before Abraham was called to follow God. Later, Abraham and Sarah were visited in their tent by three strangers to whom they offered hospitality, only to discover they were God’s angels. In what is generally known as the Christmas story, “wise men” from the East who look to the stars for answers—outsiders to the race and religion of Israel—after following an unusual star to Bethlehem, visited baby Jesus to confirm the identity of Jesus as Messiah. The entire history of people who follow God has been held together by the visits, wisdom and care of strangers, people who were not “us” but “them”—the other. Why the other? Why does God insist on speaking to his followers through strangers?

Because understanding our relationship and life with the Divine Other—the Holy One who will always confound us—is inextricably intertwined with our relationship and life with the human other—humanity that also confounds us. God comes in the form of and works through a stranger because the otherness of a stranger is akin to the otherness of God. The human other is a trace of the Divine Other in whose image the stranger has been made. The challenge God poses to us is to see God’s image in one who is not in our image. The less strangers we know the more truncated out vision of God will be.

The blessings and corrections of God come to us from the outside of the boundaries we have made for our groups, through those who can tell us the truths we cannot tell ourselves.  If we could know these truths on our own, they would not be strangers. Strangers bring not only danger to us, but also advice, solutions, beauty, opening for us new vistas into understanding the humanity, the world and God. But the blessing of the stranger goes deeper. When encountering another, we also encounter ourselves in a new way. Each encounter challenges our isolated and ingrown ideas and helps us become our better selves. And this is where the grand invitation of God to humanity lies: without knowing and caring for the other, we cannot know neither God nor ourselves.

Religion has been one of the most potent identity-forming mechanisms. It has bound people together in common purpose, joy and action as well as contributed to the prejudice, exclusion and violence toward the outsider. Now when globalization has turned our societies into societies of strangers, every religion has a chance to transcend its own limitations. We live in a society where relativism—claim that no differences really matter—is too weak to stop the aberrations of religious or anti-religious fervor. Mere tolerance of the other will not do. As Jonathan Sacks, chief rabbi of England, points out, “Only an equal and opposite fervor can do that. Healing . . . must come, if anywhere, from the heart of the whirlwind itself.”

We are all part of a larger web of life in which “the other” is part of our own life. Those not in our image are, however, in the image of God. In the past, the whirlwind of religious passion came from our experiences of being visited, corrected, and blessed by God. Today, God has not withdrawn Himself. He is calling us to a profound experience of meeting Him in a stranger. For those open to the strangers, the whirlwind never stops.

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

A Jew's Prayer for the Children of Gaza

This past Friday, I (Samir) went to welcome Sabbath and worship with our Jewish brothers and sisters of Romemu community on the Upper West Side. It was four hours of singing, dancing, food, tears, laughter, hugging, wisdom and compassion. Here is a prayer by Rabbi Levi Weiman-Kelman of Kol HaNeshama, Jerusalem, that we prayed together. You might want to read it in your churches, mosques, or synagogues. Imagine, you can have Christians reading a Jewish prayer for Muslims. God will hear.

If there has ever been a place forsaken, Gaza is that place.

Lord who is the creator of all children, hear our prayer this accursed day. God whom we call Blessed, turn your face to these, the children of Gaza, that they may know your blessings, and your shelter, that they may know light and warmth, where there is now only blackness and smoke, and a cold which cuts and clenches the skin.

Almighty who makes exceptions, which we call miracles, make an exception of the children of Gaza. Shield them from us and from their own. Spare them. Heal them. Let them stand in safety. Deliver them from hunger and horror and fury and grief. Deliver them from us, and from their own.

Restore to them their stolen childhoods, their birthright, which is a taste of heaven.

Remind us, O Lord, of the child Ishmael, who is the father of all the children of Gaza. How the child Ishmael was without water and left for dead in the wilderness of Beer-Sheba, so robbed of all hope, that his own mother could not bear to watch his life drain away.

Be that Lord, the God of our kinsman Ishmael, who heard his cry and sent His angel to comfort his mother Hagar.

Be that Lord, who was with Ishmael that day, and all the days after. Be that God, the All-Merciful, who opened Hagar's eyes that day, and showed her the well of water, that she could give the boy Ishmael to drink, and save his life.

Allah, whose name we call Elohim, who gives life, who knows the value and the fragility of every life, send these children your angels. Save them, the children of this place, Gaza the most beautiful, and Gaza the damned.

In this day, when the trepidation and rage and mourning that is called war, seizes our hearts and patches them in scars, we call to you, the Lord whose name is Peace:

Bless these children, and keep them from harm.

Turn Your face toward them, O Lord. Show them, as if for the first time, light and kindness, and overwhelming graciousness.

Look up at them, O Lord. Let them see your face.

And, as if for the first time, grant them peace.

Ramadan Begins

~ by journalist David Crumm

On Monday, on the first day of Ramadan, a new month-long Web page launched at www.SharingRamadan.info to share uplifting stories about everyday Muslim life during Ramadan. The site is part of the larger and extraordinary online magazine www.ReadTheSpirit.com co-founded by longtime journalist David Crumm. David writes:

    Can you feel it in the air?
    A major portion of the world -- a billion of our neighbors -- are spiritually on the move this month. Their faith calls on them to devote this entire month to prayer and fasting and kindness toward everyone they meet. And, in the end, the month is supposed to draw people closer to God and to compassionate concern for the world's neediest men, women and children.
    If you're not Muslim, this is a wonderful time to wish your Muslim friend, neighbor or co-worker well during the next four weeks. Keep an eye out for colleagues who may be trying to fast right through a challenging day at school or work. Lend a friendly word of encouragement -- and ask a question, if you're curious. I have spent more than two decades visiting Muslims around the world and I have yet to meet a Muslim who wasn't gracious in responding to sincere questions. 

David emailed us today at Faith House and welcomed our sharing a sample of this new series with you. The team behind SharingRamadan invites readers to visit the site and add their comments or contribute their own stories.

Faith is the strongest glue in our lives. It forms our values, connects us with other people and builds strong communities. I am not a Muslim, but I have devoted more than 30 years to reporting on the changing lives of Americans and occasionally on cultures in other parts of the globe as well. I know first hand that the world’s 2 billion Christians, who form the majority of the population in the U.S., and 1 billion Muslims, millions of whom are Americans as well, all play major roles in shaping our future.

In this rapidly changing era, we have the impression that we can connect with the latest news 24 hours a day. In fact, what we see is mostly American pop culture, sports and the latest violent news rocketing from some corner of our planet. In fact, with the crumbling of traditional news media, it is becoming harder and harder to see our world clearly – and it is often just as tough to see and hear our own neighbors much closer to home.

That is why I was thrilled to work with Raad Alawan in collecting stories for this first-of-its-kind Ramadan project, which we will be publishing online at www.SharingRamadan.info On that Web site, we welcome you to add your own stories and your own reflections about the series. As a longtime journalist himself, Raad immediately understood the need for all of us to explore this life-affirming month that is experienced each year by our Muslim neighbors here and in distant lands, as well.

Visiting mosques with Raad and other journalists, we were warmly greeted by men, women and young people wherever we traveled. These neighbors were proud to share their inspiring stories with us – and with you as well. They described their prayers in this holy month as focusing on patience, compassion, kindness and opportunities to serve others – values we all can celebrate, whatever our individual approach to faith.

So, enjoy these uplifting stories and think about all the ways that these men, women and young people are as eager as you are to strengthen our communities.

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A Sample from SharingRamadan.info:

Bruce Kadoura: "I guess you can call me a born-again Muslim ..."

RAMADAN begins September 1 for more than a billion of our Muslim neighbors around the world. Each day throughout the month-long fast, you'll find uplifting stories here from the lives of Muslim men, women and young people. Please, enjoy these voices -- and share your own comments and stories (we've got convenient links at the top of this page to help you). We begin, today, with a story from Bruce Kadoura, a business consultant living in St. Pete Beach, Florida. Here are Bruce's words ...

You’ve heard of born-again Christians? Well I guess you can call me a born-again Muslim. I’m 60 and like a lot of Muslim people my age in this country, I had the experience of growing up at a time in the 1950s and early 1960s when our Islamic education wasn’t the best.

I’m part of one of the older families that moved originally to Dearborn, Michigan. My father was involved in building one of the first mosques near the Rouge plant in the southeast end of Dearborn. Back then, everything had to be within walking distance of our homes because nobody owned cars. The mosque was a very small building. My family had a two-story flat and we lived in the lower floor, but rented out the upper floor, which was a prudent thing for families to do back then.

Growing up at that time, our religious teaching came partly from various people who would come from other countries and try to enforce their rules about our schools or how we should learn Arabic or how we should follow Islam. They would come and go and this system didn’t work very well. I remember fasting back then during Ramadan, but it was hit or miss. I really didn’t understand it completely.

The Other: The Origin and Meaning of the Term

~ Zane Yi was raised in the Christian tradition and is fascinated by the interplay of philosophical and theological thought through history. He teaches and studies philosophy at Fordham University, where he is a graduate student. Zane and his wife, Angela, live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

If you’ve browsed this website, you’ve most likely come across the frequent use of the term “the Other.” You may have wondered, “What does it mean? Where does it come from?”

The term has been developed by European philosophers and came into usage through the work of Jewish/French philosopher Emmanuel Levinas (1906-1995), an extremely influential, some might call quintessentially “post-modern”, thinker. Levinas fought in World War II, taught philosophy at the University of Paris, and is also known for his Talmudic scholarship. Levinas’ extensive writings are permeated with this term, but are notoriously hard to digest. Here is a short overview of the meaning of the term.

According to Levinas, when we encounter another human being, the face of the Other speaks to us and ethically obligates us.

The innovative nature of this claim becomes more evident when Levinas’ thought is compared with the thought of a Frenchman that is more familiar to many people--Rene Descartes. In his quest for absolute certainty, Descartes infamously describes his method of radical doubt. One must doubt everything—the beliefs inherited from one’s parents and teacher, and even one’s own senses!  After demolishing this shaky edifice of beliefs, one can reconstruct a stable building of knowledge built from indubitable facts.

What is the indubitable and, therefore, foundational fact? Descartes claims that he cannot doubt the fact that he is doubting. “I think, therefore I am,” he purportedly claimed. Starting from this point, one begins to work one’s way to other certain facts.

Following Descartes’ lead, many philosophers seem to think that the primary task of philosophy is an epistemological or metaphysical one. What we desire most is absolutely certain knowledge. How do I know that the external world and others exist? (Believe it or not, philosophers have spent much time and energy trying to answer this question!) With the proper method of acquiring knowledge (epistemology), one can ascertain what is real (metaphysics).

Ethics, or “practical philosophy”, is a secondary concern; “knowing” (epistemology) and “reality” (metaphysics) take priority. Once we know what is real, we can find out what is good and right. Furthermore, figuring out the good and right is reduced to the derivation of principles or maxims from abstractions. 

In contrast to this, Levinas treats ethics as a "first philosophy."  According to Levinas, we are immediately aware of the Other through our encounters with him/her (and their "face") and the Other places obligations of care and respect on us, before we begin to theoretically speculate on things, people, life, truth, ourselves, or anything at all! This obligation towards the Other cannot be reduced to linguistic formulations and commands, and transcends race, gender, or religion.

Levinas’ innovative claim is powerfully illustrated by one of my professors, Merold Westphal, who uses an excerpt from Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front to help readers understand Levinas’ insight.

The following is taken from Westphal’s new book Levinas and Kierkegaard in Dialogue (p. 3-4). (The pagination is from Remarque’s book.) 

On a foray between the trenches, I have become separated from my comrades and have found refuge in a crater filled with water and mud. Suddenly a question occurs to me. "What will you do if someone jumps into your shell-hole? Swiftly I pull out my little dagger, grasp it fast and bury it in my hand once again under the mud. If anyone jumps in here I will go for him...stab him clean through the throat, so that he  cannot call out; that's the only way; he will be just as frightened as I am;  then in terror we fall upon another, then I must be first"  (184).

As suddenly as the question arises, a body falls on top of me. "I do not think at all, I make no decision--I strike madly home, and feel only how the body suddenly convulses, then becomes limp and collapses. When I recover myself, my hand is sticky and wet. The man gurgles....It sounds to me as though he bellows....I want to stop  his mouth, stuff it with earth, stab him again, he must be quite, but [I] have  suddenly become so feeble that I cannot anymore lift my hand against him"  (185).

Overcome by the desire to get away, I move as far away as possible in the shell-hole, watching and listening.  Morning comes, and the gurgling continues, drawing first my unwilling gaze and then my whole body is a crawling journey to the side of the dying man. "At last I am beside him. Then he opens his eyes. He must have heard me, for he gazes at me with a look of utter terror. The body lies still, but in the eyes  there is such an extraordinary expression of fright that for a moment I think  they have the power enough to carry the body off with them...the gurgle has  ceased, but the eyes cry out, yell, all the life is gathered together in  them....The eyes follow me. I am powerless to move so long as they are there" (187).

When I am finally able to move, I strain some muddy water from the bottom of the crater, give it to my dying enemy, and then dress his wounds as best I can. The gurgling resumes. After the passing of an eternity, the young Frenchmen passes into eternity at about three in the afternoon. "I prop the dead man up again so that he lies comfortably...I close his eyes. They are brown, his hair is black and a bit curly at the sides. The mouth is full and soft beneath his moustache; the nose is slightly arched, the skin brownish; it is now not so pale as it was before, when he was alive. For a moment the face seems almost  healthy;--then it collapses suddenly into the strange face of the dead that I  have so often seen, strange faces, all alike" (190).

Just as the compulsion to help had followed the compulsion to flee, now the compulsion to speak takes over. "Comrade, I did not want to kill you. If you jumped in here again, I would not do it, if you would be sensible, too. But you were only an idea to me before, an abstraction that lived in my mind. But now, for the first time, I see you are a man like me. I thought of your hand-grenades, of you bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late...I will write to your wife" (191).

Who is the Other in a religious context? We have many terms for her. The unbeliever. The religious fanatic. The liberal. The fundamentalist. The pagan. The goy. The kafir.

Such labels are usually based on a theoretical understanding of the Other (often a misconception), but actually prevent us from a genuine encounter with her. Sadly, in the end, this only impoverishes our own humanity and our experience of the depth and power of our own religious traditions.

We know ourselves most fully in the presence of the Other.

It’s my hope and prayer that Faith House will become a place where encountering the Other, not thinking or talking about him or her or them, is “first philosophy.”

New Frontiers: The Act of Hyphenation

~ Kyle Fischer works with not-for-profit organizations (www.reserveinc.blogspot.com) and in music (www.endup.org). He will attend Union Theological Seminary in New York City in the fall of 2008.

In yoga class at the YMCA the instructor says, “Now reach forward, place your palms face down on your mat, and pull the floor toward you.” Contemporary thinking about space and time tells me I do not have to understand her instruction as metaphor. Standing outside the door of Faith House, I am cheered by the idea that parts of our theology could take similar forms, contemplative strategies along the lines of asking your yoga students to pull the floor towards them.

My girlfriend is a Hindu, definitely a polytheist. She is Australian, raised without religious affiliation of any kind, matrilineally Jewish (but non-practicing), mostly of English extraction, also Malaysian and Indian. But to all appearances, she is a white girl whose skin tone might indicate a passion for carrots, with striking red hair. She talked with me on our first date about her internal struggles with adopting a Hindu religious practice. At first it looked so aesthetically other, so foreign, that is was hard for her to get her head wrapped around something her heart already understood. She found it got easier with practice.

She was surprised, and moved, when I responded by asking her if she wanted to pray together. I would have been happy to adapt my prayer to her idiom. And in fact we didn’t, not then. We got to talking instead.

In sharing our practices since then, and listening to Hindu teachers explain their views on their own terms, I am beginning to feel comfortable with a multifaith religious identity of my own. This requires an act of hyphenation that baffles some. Those of us raised in a particular faith can be very resistant to this kind of plurality. I know because I feel it in myself sometimes, despite the repeated assurances of my parents to their inquisitive little boy that Buddhists and Hindus were not going to hell.

Since considering seminary, I’ve been thinking about my family background in the Disciples of Christ denomination. My dad was a Disciples minister, as was my grandfather, and my great-grandmother.

Dad always explained the denomination in two words, “mainline, liberal.” The Disciples story was explained to me in shorthand – as a frontier church, originally, the Disciples’ formation came out of a need for people of diverse Christian backgrounds to meet together under one tent. Therefore they adopted only very limited doctrinal beliefs.

Is there a lesson in the Disciples model to be applied to our multifaith discussion about religious practice without doctrinal borders, as love draws us out onto new cultural frontiers?

Is there a way to write that sentence in about a third as many words? And what do we call such a practice?

From a universalist Hindu perspective, I am a Jesus devotee. Y’all don’t mind if I call myself a Christian though, do you?

Jesus taught us to look for him in other people. I’ve felt his presence in teachings from other faiths. You never know where the One Love is gonna pop up.

Have a Cup of Delicious Peace

~ by Ben Corey-Moran who is the Director of Strategic Partnerships and Coffee Development at Thanksgiving, and is a former member of the Specialty Coffee Association of America’s Sustainability Committee, as well as chair of United Student’s for Fair Trade’s National Advisory Board. He is inspired by his Jewish tradition's insights into justice, relationship, and deeply moved by the task of bringing his tradition to life in our time, especially in matters of food, farming, and trade. Ben lives in Northern California.

Sharing a dedication to the deepest expression of our faiths' values, Thanksgiving Coffee Company and Faith House are exploring the possibilities of global interfaith partnership for environmental justice, and an opportunity to support the 754-member Peace Kawomera Cooperative in Uganda. We hope to work together to bring this story of peace from Uganda and inspire individuals and communities here in the US.

In 2003, Joab Keki, a Ugandan farmer, walked door-to-door asking his Muslim, Christian, and Jewish neighbors to leave behind a history of conflict and face their challenges together. This community of third and fourth generation coffee farmers was struggling to make a living off the low prices offered by the local market. They faced a situation confronting millions like them around the world: struggle with low prices, or cut down the coffee trees, and surrounding forest for lumber, and try to make it with another crop. On the one hand, they had the hope for a sustainable farming future; on the other, they faced the dire consequences of poverty, both social and environmental. With the assistance of Thanksgiving Coffee Company, a family-run coffee roaster in Northern California, these Jewish, Christian and Muslim farmers formed a cooperative. They named their coffee Peace Kawomera, which means, “Delicious Peace” in the Luganda language.

Now in 2008, the Peace Kawomera Cooperative has grown to over 750 members. Thanks to their collective effort, the farmers sell directly to Thanksgiving Coffee Company, and receive $2.60 per pound, a price four times higher than what they were previously paid. This has enabled farmers to send their children to school, start savings accounts, and reinvest in their farms.

Somaili Bissaso, one of the Peace Kawomera Cooperative’s most prominent members was instrumental in convincing his Muslim community to join the cooperative, and has since led the growth and development of the interfaith peace effort. When asked about his thoughts on Thanksgiving Coffee, Bissaso responded,  “We are very grateful, and glad that you have come. You have encouraged us, and you have given us energy to love our coffee trees. Even our youth—my grandsons included—now have the hope to be coffee farmers one day. We pray that, Insha’allah, God gives us more time, luck, and energy.”

Together, the farmers have succeeded in doing something that none could have done alone. As they face the many challenges of life in rural Uganda, they look to their cooperative for hope and strength. In the coming years, the Cooperative plans to invest in land and equipment, offer microfinance to members and contribute to a variety of public health and education projects. That’s where communities like Faith House can help. Please visit our Community Development section to learn more about the Cooperative’s struggles and successes.

On the slopes of Mount Elgon, in Eastern Uganda, Muslim, Jewish, and Christian coffee farmers are struggling to heal a history of violence. Theirs is the story of farmers united by a shared struggle for fair and a sustainable economy. Their fair trade, organic and certified Kosher and Halal coffee is purchased by a growing network of churches, synagogues and mosques across the United States. We invite you to join efforts like this and harness the buying power of your community for peace and justice, and to heal the broken relationships of our world. 

To learn more about this story of peace, economic justice, and environmental sustainability, and to find out how you, your institution, or congregation can get involved, please visit Thanksgiving Coffee’s website, www.deliciouspeace.com.

An Article by Martin Marty: Differentism

 ~ from Sightings (2/26/08), by Martin Marty, author of more than 50 books, speaker, columnist, pastor, teacher, and professor of religion at University of Chicago for 35 years. "Marty" is one of the most prominent interpretors of religion today. Martin E. Marty's biography, current projects, upcoming events, publications, and contact information can be found at www.illuminos.com. In this brief essay he looks at two women, one Jewish and the other Muslim, who received advanced degrees fro Chicago's Catholic Theological Union. Both sought to explore faith in the context of an institution of another faith.

"Women Blaze an Interfaith Trail: Two teachers become first Jewish female and first Muslim female to receive advanced degrees from Catholic Theological Union," and "She's First Jewish Graduate of Catholic Theological Union" were headlines in The Chicago Tribune and The Chicago Sun-Times on May 15. These are local news items, but they represent trends that are growing in the religious cosmopolis. At least two Lutheran seminaries have Islamic Study offerings. The presence of Jews on Christian faculties is common. Time to yawn and head back to presidential campaign obsessions for excitement?

What is going on is a revolution in theological education and inter-religious relations on a scale that a religious-warring world ought to cherish. The trend or revolution has its detractors. Some Catholics are building small but well-financed colleges in which Catholic truth is set in amber or hermetically sealed: non-Catholics or Catholics of other kinds are excluded or unwelcome. That's one way of fighting "indifferentism", which The Catholic Encyclopedia defines as "the term given, in general, to all those theories, which, for one reason or another, deny that it is the duty of man to worship God by believing and practicing the one true religion."

For New Yorkers: 92nd St. Y Event

TO REGISTER FOR THIS EVENT, CLICK HERE

TO REGISTER FOR THIS EVENT, CLICK HERE

Islam: Three YouTube Videos to Begin

~ by Samir Selmanovic

The more deeply people know about religions and cultures other than their own, the less perturbed they are be about the idea of Faith House. Our recent Sabbath poem by William Stafford begins with the words:

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star

The chasm of ignorance about our religions as well as our cultures at times seem insurmountable, even to those who are eager to learn. Those of us in the west might know more about the fantasy worlds of reality shows, Lord of the Rings, or Desperate Housewives than about real communities that surround us.

However, to love our friends, family, neighbors, enemies, anyone at all, we have to know them. One cannot respect what one does not know. So it is with our religious worlds. We fear what we don't understand, and what we fear we avoid. This isolation is a form of spiritual laziness, a failure to become fully human by learning about humanity through humans other than ourselves, it is subsistence really. When we don’t know the Other, we fear the Other, and when we fear the Other, even their words of blessing sound harsh and their words of peace threaten us.

This chasm between cultures is so huge that for many of us this learning task that comes with globalization seems too daunting to start.

But a start is much more than just a beginning. I realize this every time I find the courage to step into an experience with the Other. Most of the time, awkwardness quickly gives way to kindness, generosity, laughter, and blessing. So when I found a saying from Horace (65 B.C.E.) printed on a tea bag paper tag, I tore the tag and put it into my wallet to remind me that entering the experience of a relationship with the Other goes much farther than merely crossing a starting line. Wise old Horace wrote :

    "He who has begun has half done. Dare to be wise; begin!"

The beauty and depth of our individual lives, cultures, and religions is so vast, I don't think we will ever be anything but beginners. But again, to begin is to make a great progress. If you have never begun learning about Islam (or any of our religions) and people who embody it, reject fear. I invite you to take some time to begin by seeing these three short videos. They are not expensive productions designed to wow you, but simple samples of spiritual, social, and global experience of the Muslim members of our human family.

VIDEO 1: One of the ways we learn about the Other is through their songs. Congregational hymns tell us about the heart of a congregation. Popular songs tell us about the heart of a population. Here is a song video I got from Lauralea Banks, titled Al Mu'allim, which means Teacher, by Sami Yusuf. The video is followed by the lyrics. As you listen and read, feel free to enter a new experience. You don't have to agree with everything you hear in order to feel empathy, get inspiration, and thus finally begin to know!

VIDEO 2: In December 2007, over 2,000 American Muslims were asked what they wished they could say to the world and this is their reply. This informative and at times humorous production is an unofficial music video for Kareem Salama's A Land Called Paradise, produced and directed by Lena Khan.

VIDEO 3: This is a song by Yusuf Islam, known as Cat Stevens. This grand performance of Peace Train was recorded at the Nobel Peace Prize Concert in Oslo, Norway, December 11, 2006.

AL MU'ALLIM

Al-Mu'allim (Teacher)

We once had a Teacher
The Teacher of teachers,
He changed the world for the better
And made us better creatures,
Oh Allah we’ve shamed ourselves
We’ve strayed from Al-Mu'allim,
Surely we’ve wronged ourselves
What will we say in front of him?
Oh Mu'allim...

He was Muhammad salla Allahu 'alayhi wa sallam,
Muhammad, mercy upon Mankind,
He was Muhammad salla Allahu 'alayhi wa sallam,
Muhammad, mercy upon Mankind,
Teacher of all Mankind.
Abal Qasim [one of the names of the Prophet]

Chorus:
Ya Habibi ya Muhammad
(My beloved O Muhammad)
Ya Shafi'i ya Muhammad
(My intercessor O Muhammad)
Khayru khalqillahi Muhammad
(The best of Allah’s creation is Muhammad)
Ya Mustafa ya Imamal Mursalina
(O Chosen One, O Imam of the Messengers)
Ya Mustafa ya Shafi'al 'Alamina
(O Chosen One, O intercessor of the worlds)

He prayed while others slept
While others ate he’d fast,
While they would laugh he wept
Until he breathed his last,
His only wish was for us to be
Among the ones who prosper,
Ya Mu'allim peace be upon you,
Truly you are our Teacher,
Oh Mu'allim..

Chorus . . .

He taught us to be just and kind
And to feed the poor and hungry,
Help the wayfarer and the orphan child
And to not be cruel and miserly,
His speech was soft and gentle,
Like a mother stroking her child,
His mercy and compassion,
Were most radiant when he smiled

Chorus . . .

Lyrics and Composition: Sami Yusuf
Producer: Sami Yusuf

FOR VIDEOS 1 AND 2 CLICK THE LINK BELOW

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).

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  

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!

Struggle with Our Sacred Texts

~ by Samir Selmanovic

I have received a link to an interesting L.A. Times article from my friend Todd Chobotar, titled Scholars Try to Reconcile 'Problematic' Religious Texts. It discusses the struggle we have with the "dark side" of three faith traditions, sacred texts that have been used to exclude or even justify violence against the The Other.

Reflecting on the struggle we have with our sacred texts, I have written a poem (first one in a long time!).  I have been inspired by a quote of one of the Californian based professors of Islamic Law, Khaled Abou El-Fadl who said: "The meaning of the text is often as moral as its reader. If the reader is intolerant, hateful, or oppressive, so will the interpretation of the text" (article in Boston Review 2/25/2002).  My poem is followed by a sampling of another kind of sacred texts.

 

UNDER OUR DAUGHTERS' GAZE
~ by Samir Selmanovic

God watches our religions
through the eyes of people
that will inherit the earth
after three of us are gone.

Why not hear
now
the questions
they will ask
then?

"Those three mighty defenders of God,
did they love, or did they love to be right?"

I am making a turn here.
I will interpret my Sacred Text
not in the quiet of my room
not in the glory of my temple
not to preserve my past
not to prove anything at all.

I will study The Word
under the gaze
of my daughters
and yours,

my Muslim and Jewish
brothers.

And the words of God
will make me run to you.
We will talk, cry,
eat, and dance,

three of us,
fathers.

 

God is our Lord and your Lord. We have our works, and you have your works. There is no disputing between us and you. God brings us together, and to him belongs the final destiny. -  Qur'an, Surat al-Shura (42):15

Bring about reconciliation between your brothers, and fear God, that you may receive mercy. -  Qur'an, Surat al-Hujurat (49):10 

~ ~ ~

Jesus said: Blessed are the peacemakers. -  New Testament, Matthew 5:9.

God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them. / And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. -  New Testament, 2 Corinthians 5:19

~ ~ ~

You shall be a blessing and through you all peoples on earth shall be blessed. - Torah, Genesis 12:2-3

You shall not take vengeance nor bear any grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself. - Torah, Leviticus 19:18

Spiritual Discipline of Receiving

~ by Samir Selmanovic

On a steamy hot summer day, after our Christian worship gathering, a group of us went to one of the New York city parks with gallons of homemade ice-cold lemonade, offering it to anyone who wanted it—for free. But people did not want it. That is, until we asked them to pay for it. Only then they would take it and happily guzzle it down.

People know that a gift is almost never just that, a gift. Philosopher Jacques Derrida argues that what we have historically regarded as a gift was actually never a gift. We give to gain. In return, we covet a favor, thankfulness, a sense of satisfaction in seeing ourselves as a giving person or simply the warm sensation of buying something for someone we love. Our gifts are a form of exchange. We give something obvious, to receive something subtle.

Sensing this dynamic, people who stand to lose anything don’t easily accept free help, advice, favors or money from others. To receive means to lose control. Gifts change relationships.  The recipient becomes a “weaker part” in the transaction.

Accordingly, receiving anything associated with someone else's religion is far more difficult than receiving a glass of lemonade.  That's why this reluctance to receive has become a grave problem among religious people today. Yes, we have learned to tolerate one another to some extent. Jews, Christians, Muslims and atheists have learned to live parallel lives and have parallel monologues, like toddlers who enjoy parallel play. But in order to make progress toward peace and justice in the world and in order to increase joy and beauty of human life, we must learn to appreciate, and at times receive what others have to give us. 

For many, this amounts to recanting of one’s own faith. Religion is an expression of what we hold as true, valuable and beautiful. Because religion—or any other worldview (including atheist varieties)—holds the meaning of our life together, accepting a gift of insight, truth, or beauty from other groups feels like losing face, control or power over life we think we have mastered through our religion. It potentially exposes the weaknesses of our faith structure, casting us as weaker and therefore dependent on the relationship with others.

That’s why many people who are sure about everything don’t know how to recognize their needs or receive a blessing from others.  Even within groups that want to learn to love others, we say to each other, “Love people, in your school, in your neighborhood, in your workplace. And then give them the truth.” We call each other to ministry, which always means serving people, caring for their needs, teaching them what they need to know to live better lives. Giving, giving, giving. Giving keeps us in control, subtly communicating the superiority of our worldview not only to others, but to ourselves as well.

And we like to be in control—even of God, goodness and love.

Our giving is actually becoming a way of taking.  We exalt the virtue of giving, saying, “It is in giving that we receive.” This is true and the world would perish without people who understand this law of life of any human community. But, how about giving up the role of being the sole giver of truth to the world?  That would be the ultimate act of giving, expressed (paradoxically) through receiving. In the relationship between religions, the attitude of being a sole dispenser of the blessing is becoming terribly counter-productive.  When it comes to God and truth, every group wants to teach and no group wants to learn. Everyone wants to stay in control by giving and nobody wants to seem weak by receiving. That’s why, for example, religions often don’t know how to repent of their historical failures. Repentance means one needs to receive forgiveness. And receiving means our religion is not as perfect as we think it must be. 

Religion (or a worldview) that will matter in the future will not pretend to be faultless, self-sufficient and above the frailties of human existence. In my Christian tradition, for example, concept of sin revolves around self-sufficiency. And this should include matters of spirituality. To grow spiritually should mean to journey to a place where we get better and better at receiving goodness, grace, and God from others. God is in others, even in the enemy. God is in a stranger. That’s why in the Bible hospitality is of such value, not just as a custom of the day but as a way God visits us, unexpectedly.

Love knows how to take what others have to offer even when that is something we think we are in charge of! That’s why evangelism—sharing the good news of Christianity—at its best is primarily a process of receiving, in humility, before the mystery of God, thus acknowledging our creaturehood to other creatures, becoming their sojourner.  When we receive from others, we celebrate the wisdom God has given them, we affirm grace in their experience, and we find footsteps of God in their life. Rewards are far greater than a cup of lemonade. 

It is often by giving that we control or take and by receiving that we actually love and give. In the matters of God, only learners can be safe teachers. “Teachers of others” who are not “learners from others,” will sooner or later lose their authority. It is already happening. And the world will be better for it.

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

Evangelicals and Other Religions

~ link to CrossCurrents Magazine, an interview of Tony Campolo by Shane Claiborne

Shane pointed me to this article, entitled On Evangelicals and Interfaith Cooperation.  I think it gives honest, constructive, and Biblically sound reflection about how a fruitful relationship between progressive evangelical Christians and other religions could look like.  True gems, both the article and the magazine.    

Tony Campolo is a friend of Faith House (as one of our endorsers), an ordained minister in the American Baptist Church, and professor emeritus of Sociology at Eastern University in St. Davids, Pennsylvania. Shane Claiborne is a founder of the Simple Way Community in Philadelphia and a prominent Christian activist.  Check out his great book Irresistible Revolution.

Here is an excerpt from the interview, enough to entice you to click through and read the whole thing:

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Shane C: Community seems to form most naturally during times of struggle. Most of the times I have felt deeply connected to people of other faiths were during times where our survival required interdependence. I remember when our peace team was leaving Iraq, in the middle of the bombing. The car I was in had a bad accident, all of us were injured, planes were still flying over. And the first car of Iraqi civilians stopped. Waving a white sheet at the planes overhead, risking their lives, they drove us into the nearest town called Rutba. The doctors and townspeople gathered. One of the doctors was pleading, "Why, why, why is your country doing this?" He said that they could not take us into the hospital, because three days before the bombs hit their hospital, the children's ward. In the same breath he said, "But we will take care of you. Because here, in Rutba, it does not matter if you are American or Iraqi, Christian or Muslim. We take care of you as our friends." And they did, they set up a little shanty clinic outside the bombed out hospital, and they literally saved my friend's life. These are the times when I think cooperation and community are inevitable.

Tony C: Peter Arnett used to be with CNN. I know him and I met him in an airport in Chicago, and I said, "Peter so glad to see you, I'm running out of stories. Tell me a story." He said, "I've got one . . . I'm in the West bank, a bomb goes off and bodies are blown through the air. The Israeli troops seal off the whole area. A man comes running up to me with a bloody little girl in his arms, and says, 'You are press, you can get us out of here. If I don't get her into a hospital then immediately she's going to die. You can get us out of here. You are press'. Peter said, "I put them in the back seat and threw a blanket over them."

And I did get through the lines. As I rushed towards Tel Aviv in the car, I could hear him in the back seat, as he rocked this little girl in his arms whispering, "Go faster, oh God help him to go faster. God help him to go faster. Then he starts moaning, I'm losing her! I'm losing her! Oh God I'm losing her, I'm losing her!" Peter said by the time I got to the hospital I was emotionally drained. They took the little girl into the operating room, and the two of us sat down on a bench in the waiting room, exhausted. We must have sat there a half hour, silent, exhausted from the emotion. The doctor came out and said, "I'm sorry. She's dead." This man dissolved in tears. I put my arm around him and said, I'm not married. I don't have any children. I don't know what it's like to lose a daughter. The man snapped his head back and said, "My daughter? That little girl is not my child. I'm an Israeli settler, she's a Muslim girl. But maybe the time has come for us to recognize every child as our child."

What can we learn about that kind of spirituality that can help us find common ground? No theological statements were made, no compromising beliefs, no attempts to come to a common denominator. And yet, a kind of spiritual oneness.

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To read the entire interview, click here.

Faith Houses (part 2 of 2)

~ by Melvin Bray

In the previous edition:

Disheartened with apartheid in South Africa, a young man went to a remote area of his continent as a missionary seeking to bring the gospel to the people there. He had considerable success. However, in order to protect his small group of faithful believers from "evil" influences, he excluded both an Islamic trader and a traditional African medicine man from the community. His supervisor back home instructed him to find these two men, and listen to what they had to say.

Now read on . . .

The missionary sought to do as his supervisor instructed. It was not as difficult as he had imagined. Many in his parish knew exactly how to find both men. In fact, some in his congregation had been quietly practicing the devotions of Islam while learning to walk in the way of Jesus, and some had sought out the medicine man when they were sick. Through these parishioners, the missionary visited each man.

The missionary was surprised at the grace and generosity each man extended to him. He had not expected to be welcomed. He spent some 30 days with each and joined in celebrations and holy days as they came, listening and laughing, sharing meals and dreams. They spoke about the African continent and its challenges and exchanged many hopes. It was an intimacy he had thought impossible between those of such drastically different beliefs.

Upon his return to his African parishioners, the missionary began to share anew the story of the gospel in light of the things he had learned. When he spoke of the way of Jesus as “unavoidable forgiveness,” the people of his community saw this forgiveness being extended to the missionary by Nikondeha, the medicine man. When he spoke of being a peacemaker, the face of Abijar the trader, and the quarrel he had with the missionary which he had abandoned became their frame of reference. And the oft-forgotten sacraments of confession and humility became far more tangible in the life of the missionary himself, as he realized that there was no virtue in feigning certainty in his choices or long-held beliefs.

Notwithstanding, this was no longer enough for the South African Dutch missionary. He wanted more than just to better understand the things of God, like repentance, peacemaking, confession and humility. He wanted to live these truths the way Jesus had. He wanted, as he would later speak of it, to walk "in the way of Jesus"—a way of "others-interestedness"—to "seek first the kingdom of God and God's justice" in the earth, beginning with his beloved Africa. Yet he had no idea of how to make this happen.

He decided to share his questions with his two new friends. Trader Abijar immediately voiced his growing concern for orphans in territories in which he and his fellow merchants traveled. Many of them were compelled to run for their lives to avoid conscription and sexual assault. This prompted medicine man Nikondeha—whom the missionary learned to refer to by his appropriate title, "laibon," meaning "spiritual leader"—to propose that his people were known for their generous hearts. Why couldn't they be inspired to give these wandering orphans refuge? The missionary noted that if Abijar and his colleagues could smuggle the children into Maasai territory, with Nikondeha's people's nomadic tendencies, the children would be difficult to track. With Nikondeha and Abijar's help the missionary thought that they might even be able to convince the elders to modify the community's seasonal travel path in order to intersect more frequently with smuggling merchants. The wandering orphans that they would take in would be Enkai's (God's) new "cattle" that she had charged them to shepherd and keep.

And they did this and many other things together. Not the least of which involved the Maasai parish sending a delegation of Il-murran (warriors) to a neighboring territory to create protected space for peace talks between warring factions that Abijar, as a trusted third-party, was able to bring together. Creating such space for Africans to dream their way forward was something the missionary had been touting as the Western world's continuing responsibility to a formerly colonized Africa. It was Nikondeha's suggestion that, as followers of Enkai in the way of Jesus, his people had no excuse to wait for the West while more died. Thus, in this spirit, more and more people in and around Maasai ancestral territory journeyed with God: more orphans were given homes, more hungry were fed, more wells dug, more sick healed, more injustice removed, more peace waged and all the Christians in the South African Dutch missionary's small nomadic parish grew more committed and more in love with the way of Jesus.

In the midst of his many new endeavors, the missionary wrote to his supervisor:

I am beginning to believe that those who promote life and live goodness are all striving to get to the same place, we've just given different paths to take (with varying nomenclature, understandings and sensibilities), but we're all headed the same "way." Once we get there, I imagine that whatever misunderstandings, errors, oughts and hurts that remain will be satisfied, and the Truth will be unmistakable and irresistible. Thus, I was able to appreciate the faith walks of these two men as not in the least bit threatening to my own or threatening to the God who initiates all walks of faith. In addition, I now suspect that should we learn to walk in love for one another, there shall be far fewer confusions and misunderstandings for God to satisfy than there are now. Nonetheless, I am glad to report that this Sabbath I will be baptizing the first ten people who are dedicating their lives to “the way of Jesus” as practiced by our new kind of Christian community. Nikondeha and Abijar are coming as well, to celebrate and bless us all.

And in revising his memoir he included this passage that would have seemed so foreign or heretical to him just a few short years before:

People of faith change the world, and it is, I believe, for the good of the world that we discover the commonality inherent in our hopes, instead of living out of the disparity between them. If our religions remain sets of exclusive, immutable propositions, then of course they will exist in contradiction and conflict with one another. In such a climate, war seems inevitable. However, if religion is seen as our best attempts to embody God's dreams for humanity as partially as we may understand them, then it becomes easy to seek peace and justice for one another—together.

The kingdom of God is like unto a South African Dutch missionary who went deep into the bush to not only to reveal, but also to find God.

Faith Houses (part 1 of 2)

~ by Melvin Bray

"He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches." Revelation 2:7

The kingdom of God is like unto a South African Dutch missionary who went deep into the bush and served God faithfully for 20 years.  He was fed up with the apartheid of his homeland, saw little hope of bringing it to an end, and refused to be in collusion with it any longer. So he went to share Good News with Africans outside of his country, determined to treat them as his brothers and sisters.

The missionary achieved notable success in his endeavors, so much so that he was asked to write a memoir as a teaching tool for other missionaries.  Because of the remoteness of his location, mail only came and went every 6 months. Notwithstanding, he faithfully wrote everyday.

When the next mail arrived after he had sent his initial submission, he was eager to hear what his supervisor thought.  Exchanging mail with the courier, he immediately spotted the package from his supervisor.  It was large.  Opening it with sweaty hands, he saw that she had read his draft with eagerness and she praised his courage living amongst the bush people.  Two incidents in particular stood out to her.  One was the missionary's "need" (she wrote, quoting him) to expel the local "witch-doctor before the message of Christ could really take root in the hearts of the tribe's people."  The second was the showdown the missionary had with a Muslim tradesman who had begun to make converts to Islam on his regular visits to the village.

The South African Dutchman's supervisor then made what she called "a strange request."  She wanted him to read up on certain major world events that had taken place since the beginning of his missionary endeavors.  She listed the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the end of Apartheid in South Africa, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, the war in Rwanda, 9-11 in the US, the great Pacific Ocean tsunami, the Sudan conflict, and Hurricane Katrina. To this end she enclosed a gift, "probably the most significant change that had taken place in the industrialized world since his departure: a laptop computer with a mobile broadband card and satellite signal booster." He didn't know what any of those words meant, but her instructions were clear enough that he eventually got the equipment to work, and he began his research on what his supervisor called "the Internet."

The missionary did not write much during the next six months because of his research.  Much more had taken place during the previous 20 years than his supervisor's list suggested, but her list was a great start.  Many nights he read and read.  His little generator required increasing fuel to serve his growing appetite for world events.  The world had evolved in dramatic ways since he had come to the bush where time stands still.

By the time his supervisor's next letter arrived six months later, he was a changed man.  Thus, her next request did not come as much of a shock as it would have, had it come a year earlier.  She gave the South African Dutch missionary an assignment.  She wanted him to track down the medicine man he had ostracized 19 years earlier to seek his forgiveness for the way he had been treated and to ask permission to spend a month learning from him.  Under no circumstances was he to attempt to convert or teach the medicine man religion or anything else.  He could participate in conversation if questions were asked of him, but not as one self-assured.  His task was primarily to observe and to listen.  After that he was to seek the Muslim merchant he had interdicted from trading with his parishioners, and do the same.  Then write about it.  And he did.

To be continued . . .

Melvin Bray is a grateful husband and a proud father, living and working in Atlanta, GA, with his wife, Leslie and 3 kids.  He is a learner, teacher, writer, storyteller, lover of people, connoisseur of creativity, believer in possibilities, director of a US Dream Academy learning center and founder of Kid Cultivators.

In Defense of the Faith?

~ by Nathan Brown, Editor, Signs of the Times, Australia/New Zealand

I like to think of myself as a mild-mannered editor by day—something of a Clark Kent, perhaps. But a couple of nights each week I play in a local basketball league. Sadly, I don’t become a Superman character—it’s generally uglier than that. Too often, it seems I’m a bad sport—I spend too much of my time complaining to the referees about the referees. Each week I challenge myself not to say anything to the referees and consider I have had a good game if I just play the game without backchat.

Bit it isn’t easy. We play in a pretty rough league. Players get hurt. In the past season alone, our team injury list included a broken arm, broken ribs and many lesser bruises and scrapes. Some of my team members have jobs that require them to be fit; they can’t afford to be injured or they will be unable to work. With this kind of play being allowed, there is also a greater risk of aggression between the players on the court and push-and-shove late in an unrestrained game has the potential to flare into something uglier—and sometimes does.

And my sense of “justice” is offended when referees allow this kind of play to continue when they have the authority—the whistle—to keep the games cleaner, fairer and safer.

I believe I have a good case when I try to point this out to the referees. I believe that even some of them would agree with my championing the cause of fairness on behalf of my team, if only they would consider my arguments. The problem, of course, is context.