~ 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 (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 smiledChorus . . .
Lyrics and Composition: Sami Yusuf
Producer: Sami YusufFOR VIDEOS 1 AND 2 CLICK THE LINK BELOW
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).
~ 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:
~ 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 Adventure2. 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!
~ 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 SelmanovicGod 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
~ 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.
~ 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:
__________
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.
__________
To read the entire interview, click here.
~ 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.
~ 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.
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.
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