If God is a god who chooses sides, pits one child against another, then there is no God. But, if, as I suppose, as I try and live my life, God is a god who has no need to pit his children one against another and who offers the same amount of love to either, that is the God I serve. — P.K. McCary
Conversations on interfaith relations can often take a strange and tension-filled turn. Even one faith, one group of people, can be at odds with one another if one or more individuals branch out to commune with other faiths. People get upset with one another not only because of the choices they make or are making, but because they are not agreeing. One of the questions raised in interfaith communities is whether to allow groups or individuals that espouse fundamentalist beliefs into the (or that particular) interfaith arena. They say things like, They’re not ready. You can’t change ‘em. They do more harm than good.
I’m not sure I like the word—fundamentalist—to describe narrowly interpreted adherence to a faith. I understand intellectually that we’re speaking of narrowly interpreted traditions that create an attitude of supremacy. I get that, but fundamentally, I’m Christian. Because I believe in the virgin birth and in salvation through Jesus Christ, I’m sometimes grouped with those narrow-minded groups headed by leaders such as Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell. While I don’t proselytize my faith to others, I am hopefully living it. And perhaps that is where the comparison should end. I should just get over it. But, what can I say? I’m sensitive! Oddly enough, many of my friends of other different faith traditions honor my commitment to my faith as I honor theirs. So, where is the tension coming from? Where is the discord in our interfaith work?
I believe that most of us have experiences that obscure our objectivity when it comes to interfaith work. Perhaps we’ve seen the damage that comes from the bigoted and prejudicial thinking of some individuals of their faith tradition. We know the kind of talk that decrees that we have the answer or that God speaks to us alone. For instance, I find it difficult sometimes to talk with my fellow Christian brothers and sisters about my work, but I never give up trying. I tell them that it is important to be committed to your faith, to practice your faith traditions and doctrines. I also tell them that the commitment to one’s faith does not negate another’s commitment to theirs or makes one faith superior to the other. There is no conflict for me in that thinking, but I see the confused look on some faces and fortunately, I understand. I’ve been there. I’m not trying to change their minds about the faith. I’m trying to encourage them to broaden their faith with a respect for other traditions. But, there are those who would believe that we shouldn’t invite the dialogue with those who have a narrow view of this world and the many religions and spiritual expressions if they are not ready to come around. NOW!
We’re up against a mountain of human stubbornness and, of course, fear. Interfaith work is difficult. And rewarding. It is badly represented by some and an awesome experience with others. It seems all we do is talk. We don’t talk enough. We’re working together on some incredible projects. People have been nourished, nurtured and cared for in spectacular circumstances. Interfaith communities around the globe have met challenges. So, should we limit who participates by some criteria? Then one has to ask by what criteria? ‘Who sets the standards?’ This is not a rhetorical question. I’m genuinely asking here. Is there a time when you refuse someone entry into the ‘club’ of the growing interfaith community? Are there some people who just cannot be allowed in? When is it ok to be exclusive? What does being inclusive entail? Who is right about the direction we take in interfaith dialogue? And who gets to decide? What is wrong withthe questions we ask? Questions like: Where should we go? How do we get there? Who gets to answer them? Zora Neale Hurston said once, “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”
This is the half-way mark of the Decade of Non-Violence. We are definitely in the years of the questions. However, we will have the answers to our questions soon enough and we may not like those answers. If we are asking who can belong to the club, who can participate in the building of this better word, the answer will be in what we create or worse—what we fail to create. I want to build a better world. And I’m tired of looking under rocks and beating the bushes for the snakes. True, I don’t want to be bitten. But, I’d rather die knowing that I didn’t let the threat of snakes deter me from the work that needs to be done? I also know something else. There is another Me waiting in the wings to continue where I left off. I’m finding that I am part of a growing circle of interfaith workers who love this planet. Tenacious. Yes, stubborn, but loving. AND We’re not giving up.
My enemy and I came nigh.
He drew a circle that shut me out.
Heretic, rebel and thing to flout.
But love and I had the wit to win.
We drew a circle that took him in.
Edward Markum emphasizes the need to create a world that includes all. But, I believe some of us want to include all ONLY if and when they change to our way of thinking. In reciting this poem to others, I’ve come to realize that the first line of the poem is often not recited. The first line is telling—‘My enemy and I came nigh’—and reminds me that at this stage of our planet’s metamorphosis, we are currently made up of friends and foes. But, as Pogo once quipped, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” So, I guess we are our own worst enemy. Perhaps we’re standing so close to the enemy (‘us’), that we fail to grasp that it more of the reason why we aren’t building this world we say we want. We’re getting in our own way of building these bridges and making that difference.
There’s a story I love about two brothers who were feuding. A river ran through their property. If that wasn’t enough to separate them, the brothers wanted a clearer line of demarcation. They each decided to build a fence. Since it was such a large task, they both had trouble getting good help, but one brother found a man that not only was willing to work for him, but to start right away. Later, when the brother came to inspect the work, he was livid to find that his precious lumber had been used, not for fences, but to build a bridge. But, just when he was going to give the carpenter a ‘what for,’ he sees his brother running across that bridge, tears streaming down his face. Before he knows it, his brother throws himself into his brother’s arms, tearfully exclaiming, “You are the better brother. You were the first to mend the rift between us. How can I ever measure up?”
Indeed! How can we measure up? By emulating those who are willing to build bridges instead of guarded fences. I believe that we are the carpenters for this better world. What that means is that the feuding, fighting, warring factions will probably continue UNTIL someone builds a bridge that one of them will cross. OK, I can hear the rumblings now. But, some will tear down that bridge. Some will shoot the first person that crosses that bridge. The bridge won’t even get finished! But, I’m hear to tell you that while some of that may happen, other miraculous things will happen, too. We just have to change the percentages. Keep building bridges.
Where are the stories about the real models of peace. I love these stories. I love to tell the stories. Every natural disaster of the year 2005 has been witness to some wonderful interfaith work. Disasters in Louisiana, Sri Lanka, Somalia—to name a few—have shown us what people from different faiths can do. When it is time to help a brother or sister from the depths of such disasters, no one stops to ask—are you a Christian? A Muslim? (OK, maybe some groups asked, but that has not been my experience concerning Hurricane Katrina.) Why can’t we see that we have the capacity to work together and build a better world no matter the faith tradition?
I’m tired, but not so tired that I’ll give up building bridges that sometimes take more time than I’ve been given on this earth to build. But, I know this. There are a lot more bridge builders than we know. We just gotta get to know one another. And there are bridges being built. How do I know? I’ve crossed them. And, it may not look like, feel like, be like, what you envision, but I believe that it will be better!
It has been said that there are some of us who have to see it to believe it. To those I say, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet!’ And then there are those who believe it so that they might see it. They already believe that ‘We ain’t seen nothing yet!’ Just wait. It’s coming—the bridges, that is. Whole lots of ‘em. Mighty, well-built bridges. You might be surprised who you see coming your way.
I’ll teach my children that bridge building
Will help them to see the world
Across a bridge to foreign places
The world will be strange no more
I’ll teach my children to teach their children
That building bridges is grand
Because the person on the other side
Can often become a friend
I’ll reach my children’s children’s children
Who will no longer fear the others
They’ll see the handiwork of bridges we’ve built
A world united—finally—bridges to one another
Conversations on interfaith relations can often take a strange and tension-filled turn. Even one faith, one group of people, can be at odds with one another if one or more individuals branch out to commune with other faiths. People get upset with one another not only because of the choices they make or are making, but because they are not agreeing. One of the questions raised in interfaith communities is whether to allow groups or individuals that espouse fundamentalist beliefs into the (or that particular) interfaith arena. They say things like, They’re not ready. You can’t change ‘em. They do more harm than good.
I’m not sure I like the word—fundamentalist—to describe narrowly interpreted adherence to a faith. I understand intellectually that we’re speaking of narrowly interpreted traditions that create an attitude of supremacy. I get that, but fundamentally, I’m Christian. Because I believe in the virgin birth and in salvation through Jesus Christ, I’m sometimes grouped with those narrow-minded groups headed by leaders such as Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell. While I don’t proselytize my faith to others, I am hopefully living it. And perhaps that is where the comparison should end. I should just get over it. But, what can I say? I’m sensitive! Oddly enough, many of my friends of other different faith traditions honor my commitment to my faith as I honor theirs. So, where is the tension coming from? Where is the discord in our interfaith work?
I believe that most of us have experiences that obscure our objectivity when it comes to interfaith work. Perhaps we’ve seen the damage that comes from the bigoted and prejudicial thinking of some individuals of their faith tradition. We know the kind of talk that decrees that we have the answer or that God speaks to us alone. For instance, I find it difficult sometimes to talk with my fellow Christian brothers and sisters about my work, but I never give up trying. I tell them that it is important to be committed to your faith, to practice your faith traditions and doctrines. I also tell them that the commitment to one’s faith does not negate another’s commitment to theirs or makes one faith superior to the other. There is no conflict for me in that thinking, but I see the confused look on some faces and fortunately, I understand. I’ve been there. I’m not trying to change their minds about the faith. I’m trying to encourage them to broaden their faith with a respect for other traditions. But, there are those who would believe that we shouldn’t invite the dialogue with those who have a narrow view of this world and the many religions and spiritual expressions if they are not ready to come around. NOW!
We’re up against a mountain of human stubbornness and, of course, fear. Interfaith work is difficult. And rewarding. It is badly represented by some and an awesome experience with others. It seems all we do is talk. We don’t talk enough. We’re working together on some incredible projects. People have been nourished, nurtured and cared for in spectacular circumstances. Interfaith communities around the globe have met challenges. So, should we limit who participates by some criteria? Then one has to ask by what criteria? ‘Who sets the standards?’ This is not a rhetorical question. I’m genuinely asking here. Is there a time when you refuse someone entry into the ‘club’ of the growing interfaith community? Are there some people who just cannot be allowed in? When is it ok to be exclusive? What does being inclusive entail? Who is right about the direction we take in interfaith dialogue? And who gets to decide? What is wrong withthe questions we ask? Questions like: Where should we go? How do we get there? Who gets to answer them? Zora Neale Hurston said once, “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”
This is the half-way mark of the Decade of Non-Violence. We are definitely in the years of the questions. However, we will have the answers to our questions soon enough and we may not like those answers. If we are asking who can belong to the club, who can participate in the building of this better word, the answer will be in what we create or worse—what we fail to create. I want to build a better world. And I’m tired of looking under rocks and beating the bushes for the snakes. True, I don’t want to be bitten. But, I’d rather die knowing that I didn’t let the threat of snakes deter me from the work that needs to be done? I also know something else. There is another Me waiting in the wings to continue where I left off. I’m finding that I am part of a growing circle of interfaith workers who love this planet. Tenacious. Yes, stubborn, but loving. AND We’re not giving up.
My enemy and I came nigh.
He drew a circle that shut me out.
Heretic, rebel and thing to flout.
But love and I had the wit to win.
We drew a circle that took him in.
Edward Markum emphasizes the need to create a world that includes all. But, I believe some of us want to include all ONLY if and when they change to our way of thinking. In reciting this poem to others, I’ve come to realize that the first line of the poem is often not recited. The first line is telling—‘My enemy and I came nigh’—and reminds me that at this stage of our planet’s metamorphosis, we are currently made up of friends and foes. But, as Pogo once quipped, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” So, I guess we are our own worst enemy. Perhaps we’re standing so close to the enemy (‘us’), that we fail to grasp that it more of the reason why we aren’t building this world we say we want. We’re getting in our own way of building these bridges and making that difference.
There’s a story I love about two brothers who were feuding. A river ran through their property. If that wasn’t enough to separate them, the brothers wanted a clearer line of demarcation. They each decided to build a fence. Since it was such a large task, they both had trouble getting good help, but one brother found a man that not only was willing to work for him, but to start right away. Later, when the brother came to inspect the work, he was livid to find that his precious lumber had been used, not for fences, but to build a bridge. But, just when he was going to give the carpenter a ‘what for,’ he sees his brother running across that bridge, tears streaming down his face. Before he knows it, his brother throws himself into his brother’s arms, tearfully exclaiming, “You are the better brother. You were the first to mend the rift between us. How can I ever measure up?”
Indeed! How can we measure up? By emulating those who are willing to build bridges instead of guarded fences. I believe that we are the carpenters for this better world. What that means is that the feuding, fighting, warring factions will probably continue UNTIL someone builds a bridge that one of them will cross. OK, I can hear the rumblings now. But, some will tear down that bridge. Some will shoot the first person that crosses that bridge. The bridge won’t even get finished! But, I’m hear to tell you that while some of that may happen, other miraculous things will happen, too. We just have to change the percentages. Keep building bridges.
Where are the stories about the real models of peace. I love these stories. I love to tell the stories. Every natural disaster of the year 2005 has been witness to some wonderful interfaith work. Disasters in Louisiana, Sri Lanka, Somalia—to name a few—have shown us what people from different faiths can do. When it is time to help a brother or sister from the depths of such disasters, no one stops to ask—are you a Christian? A Muslim? (OK, maybe some groups asked, but that has not been my experience concerning Hurricane Katrina.) Why can’t we see that we have the capacity to work together and build a better world no matter the faith tradition?
I’m tired, but not so tired that I’ll give up building bridges that sometimes take more time than I’ve been given on this earth to build. But, I know this. There are a lot more bridge builders than we know. We just gotta get to know one another. And there are bridges being built. How do I know? I’ve crossed them. And, it may not look like, feel like, be like, what you envision, but I believe that it will be better!
It has been said that there are some of us who have to see it to believe it. To those I say, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet!’ And then there are those who believe it so that they might see it. They already believe that ‘We ain’t seen nothing yet!’ Just wait. It’s coming—the bridges, that is. Whole lots of ‘em. Mighty, well-built bridges. You might be surprised who you see coming your way.
I’ll teach my children that bridge building
Will help them to see the world
Across a bridge to foreign places
The world will be strange no more
I’ll teach my children to teach their children
That building bridges is grand
Because the person on the other side
Can often become a friend
I’ll reach my children’s children’s children
Who will no longer fear the others
They’ll see the handiwork of bridges we’ve built
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