Can We Talk? (Even if We Disagree)

This morning the Washington Post had an article that quoted President Bush's statement in 2001 about the events of that year's September 11; “The terrorists practice a fringe form of Islamic extremism that has been rejected by Muslim scholars and the vast majority of Muslim clerics — a fringe movement that perverts the peaceful teachings of Islam." The article asserted that this stance would be unacceptably pro-Muslim to the Republican Party of today, possibly even to the degree that it would be disqualifying in the nomination process.

In the readings for a class in "Religious Manyness" I am taking at Hartford Seminar, we looked at Rita Gross's thoughts about religious diversity and dialogue [Religious Diversity--What's the Problem (2014) Cascade Books]. In her introduction to models of religious diversity (which I find to be quite valuable, by the way) she states (sorry, reading it on a Kindle, I can't give page number); "...the solution is obvious. Exclusive truth claims must be given up. They are now untenable and extremely unethical and inappropriate for the world we inhabit."

I see in the two above perspectives a disconnect of troubling magnitude.

I could wish, with Gross, that exclusive truth claims would just go away. But I don't think that's happening anytime soon. It's too attractive to think that we know something, that we have got it right. Especially when we allow ourselves to think that we are right and they  are wrong. And, then we add into the mix the idea that God has reached into history and given us, our group, the one true revelation. Yay us! I think the attractiveness of exclusivist, absolute-truth positions is going to keep them in the world for a long time to come. If we proceed to discourage or exclude those with absolute/exclusive-truth claims from interreligious dialogue, I think we are very wide of the mark we have set for ourselves. In fact, these people may be the most crucial participants to bring into any dialogue that hopes to make a positive difference in our world. Many with these views have loud public voices and move in powerful places. And, as we can see from today's WashPost story, many of them are also woefully ignorant about the Other that they disparage. What might it take to bring more of them into the conversation?

First, a story: When I was young and contemplating marriage, a very close friend became convinced that my proposed partner was tragically wrong for me. She made her concerns known and I -- of course, being very much in love -- disagreed with her. Our friendship broke up over the disagreement, but as I told her then and still believe (although we were never able to repair the damage), the reason we could not reconcile was not because she held a different opinion of my proposed partner. In fact, she had some very good insights that did prove to be valid concerns. (But let me say that we just celebrated our 32nd anniversary, so the problems my friend foresaw were not fatal.) The thing that killed our friendship was that she insisted that her job as my friend was to ultimately convince me to agree with her. I could have tolerated that she was utterly convinced that she was right and I was wrong. But, she failed to even try to understand my feelings, could not imagine at all what I saw in my partner, had no respect for my judgement, and transgressed my boundaries. She would not allow me to make up my own mind, but insisted that I adopt hers. I would not give up my own autonomy, so we had to part ways.

I tell this story because it illustrates, although in a negative sense, the four most important ingredients that I believe are required in interreligious conversations, especially when they involve those with exclusive claims to an absolute truth. These ingredients are empathy, imagination, respect, and maintenance of boundaries.

For most of us, feelings about religion -- including feelings opposed to the notion of religion at all -- are deeply held and emotionally fraught. We humans don't enter into possibly contentious dialogue easily, and have entirely understandable apprehensions about dealing with a significantly different Other. Empathy, I think, must be a starting point to any dialogue that is to be productive. Contrary to popular opinion, even those who speak from the confidence that they hold absolute/exclusive truth find it difficult to assert that truth in the face of another's disagreement. All conversation in the face of important differences can make one vulnerable. Vulnerability, unless it is supported by an environment of openness and empathy, can make one retreat into defensiveness, shutting down the productivity of the exchange.

Along with empathy, I think it is critical to foster an environment where it is safe to imagine the world from someone else's viewpoint. Trying on a different viewpoint is not agreeing, and should not even be seen as a step towards loosening one's grip on absolute or exclusive truth. It can be an exercise in understanding only. I think sometimes those of us with pluralist perspectives (implying a positive/affirming approach to the multiplicity of religions and religious truths) try to interject pluralist paradigms into all interreligious dialogue, insisting that all paths are equal or that no one make claims to fuller or higher truths than anyone else. We are uncomfortable if others have not reached our "more enlightened" viewpoint. But, this is also being exclusivist in our "open-mindedness." We could all benefit from finding ways to invite people to imagine, while allowing them to feel safe in asking questions about rightness or wrongness, in making value judgements, in perhaps finding irreconcilable differences.

I think that to keep people at the table, respect across difference must be actively maintained and encouraged.  It's so easy to see our objective in dialogue as finding commonality and places of agreement. That is, of course, nice; but I don't think it should be our objective. Respect fosters understanding. Maybe some understanding is all that we can hope to achieve, all that we actually need. Even if we find no commonality, a better understanding at least precludes acting out of a disastrously incorrect or incomplete view of the Other. (See above -- Re: some in today's Republican Party!) If potential participants didn't anticipate feeling coerced to reject their claims to absolute/exclusive truth, perhaps more would be willing to enter into dialogue. Fostering real relationships would be nice too. And relationship, as well, does not need to insist on agreement.

Finally, boundaries that are acknowledged, maintained, and supported could only improve our interreligious conversations and activities. I think, since we human beings are so inherently self-referential, this may be the most difficult part. If something you believe makes me really uncomfortable, we have to fix it! (No, we don't.) You need to do something to make me less uncomfortable!  (No, you don't.) If what I believe is true, and you don't agree, I have to convince you! (No, I don't.) If there is even a possibility of absolute truth, we have to search for it, find it and agree on it. (Not only no, but hell no! How on earth are we, imperfect humans that we are, supposed to do that? If a transcendent God wants to intervene from the cosmos and humiliate all the prophets of Baal, that's something else, but it's out of our hands!  See I Kings 18.)

Religious difference is one of the pressing concerns of our day. It may even be THE PRESSING CONCERN of our era. Can we talk? Can we settle with the notion that our conversations are always going to involve some tension, discomfort, and uncertainty? Can we honor and preserve that, and learn to live creatively with it?

Evangel They Bring--Are We Sure?

We do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, 

by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are,

 but by showing them a light 
that is so lovely that  
they want with all their hearts  
to know the source of it.

-- Madeleine L'Engle      

If "evangel" is supposed to be good news, then why does the word trigger such a negative gut reaction to people both inside the Christian church and out? What are we actually offering? And why do so many people think it is anything but good news for either the evangelist or the target?

I have listened to one sermon too many about how "the un-churched" need to be brought into our churches, and we have to go out and bring them in. Why? How do we know what they need? Would you trust a stranger who sidled up to you on the street and said; "Hey, listen. I've got just the product for you!" I know I would say; "Get away from me, you creep! You don't know me. How do you presume to know just what I need? I don't want any of whatever it is you're selling."

But, isn't that often our attitude when we do go out and try to "share the good news," or even worse, "to save souls"? 

Hi there. I don't actually know you, but still, I am sure we've got whatever it will take to "fix" you. (Even if I don't actually know where, or even if, you're broken.) Because, you see, we know that we've got it, and you don't: we're OK, you're not-so OK.

Our attitude comes across loud and clear -- I, from my high perch of superiority, reach down to help the one who is lower; maybe not quite up to my level but up just enough so I can feel good about myself while maintaining my sense of moral superiority.

Jesus did say to go out and do good works and preach the good news. But is this what he really meant? Are our "good works" supposed to be coercive? Do we feed the poor because they are hungry, or because we want them to listen to our sermon and act properly in awe of our "Christian charity"? Is our "good news" that we have something they need, or is it that we have been changed by God, and have found new meaning? Saint Paul said that his "good news" was that "Christ lives in me, and the life I now live I live by faith" (Galatians 2:20). To me, Paul seems to be saying, "Come get to know me, work with me, check out what I'm about these days. I believe I am different -- I feel like I've been given new meaning and purpose in life. I've been discovered by something wonderful and it has changed me, reconciled me to the universe. See for yourself if I am real."This is his good news.

And then, I think both Jesus and Paul tell us to let the other decide whether or not what we have found interests them. Jesus said to shake the dust off your feet if they do not listen (Matthew 10:24, Luke 9:5); that is, let it go -- don't let it get to you, just continue to go on and share your story. Leave it up to them to decide whether what you're offering is anything worth having.

Because, you know, just maybe it's not.

I don't know about you, but I haven't got a lock on God. I can't look into someone else's heart and tell exactly what is going on there, or discern what they need. Yes, I affirm we all "need" a relationship with the God of the universe, and as a Christian, I assert that Jesus is the complete human image of God. But, I know that my understanding is only partial, and "through a glass darkly" (1 Cor. 13:12). I am quite sure that God's involvement with the world does not start and end with me, or with my church, or even with Christianity. I believe that we can all experience God, but I am not convinced we can know God, at least not very completely. Better tread carefully! Maybe the incomplete understanding I bring to the conversation just isn't the truth about God that will have any meaning for someone else's heart? In fact, they could actually have a truth about God that I need to hear, and be offering that to me.

Maybe God's good news has nothing to do with God being found in (and only in) our churches, our sermons, our creeds, our doctrines, our Bible, or even our Christian faith. Maybe the good news is that, when we work together with others to feed the poor, heal the sick, take care of the friend-less and orphans, increase justice, and reconcile the estranged, we find and experience God together--in any place, and in unexpected ways.

Evangelism. Could the "good news" be about God's presence when we vulnerably reveal ourselves, open up to one another, open up to the possibility of our own change in the encounter?

What would things look like if I went out and, with every encounter, instead of thinking that I have something they need and that they need to change, I thought:

Today, right now, I am going to meet God. God is present and, one way or another, I am going to be changed in this encounter. God has something for me in it, which I can accept or reject--help me not to reject. If it is really Christ who now lives in me, then that grace is sufficient. I will have no agenda. I don't need to presume God's intent in this encounter. I will have no expectation of "results." God, open me up -- take whatever you want, change whatever you want, replace whatever you want.

Whether others are changed in this encounter is not part of my story, that is between them and God. Maybe what I have to offer is just, simply, not what they need. And that is OK. But, for me: Please make me aware of your presence, God, and your voice, from their words and heart as from my own. Don't let me miss the good news that you have for me--in whatever wondrous or strange form it may take.

My Spring 2015 Spiritual Auto-biography

I wrote this for my parish newsletter in March, at the time we were going through one "parish leader" spiritual autobiography each month, and as the webmaster/newsletter editor I got asked to contribute my own -- as I know very well, my sense of my own story changes over time, but this is a snapshot of what I wanted to share about my sense of God at work in my life at that one moment in time (I got in trouble for it):

Meet the Newsletter Editor/Web Master

I was, as my grandmother frequently reminded me, “Born a Methodist.” And by that, she also meant that I should die a Methodist. She never saw much need for spiritual exploration, at least not when you were born into the right path from the very beginning.
Unfortunately for my grandmother’s peace of mind, I have always been a searcher. When our local Methodist church (Lawrenceville, NY) closed in the early 70’s, my mother, sister and I joined the Southern Baptist mission that went into our old Methodist church building. (My grandmother and father stayed staunchly Methodist, and stopped going to church altogether. My brother had already left for college.)

For the 4 or 5 years that I was Southern Baptist, I picked up both the best and the very worst of that denomination’s outlook. I certainly learned my Bible: memorization was emphasized and the whole Bible was read and studied. My knowledge of the Old Testament prophets and the New Testament epistles I still credit to those days, as well as my ability to look up any passage quickly and to quote many verses. But, as this was an extremely conservative version of the Southern Baptist spectrum, I also picked up the idea that we, and only we, had it right: that there is only one proper way to be a Christian. I once heard it preached that God wrote the King James version of the Bible with his own hand; thus only that version could be considered inspired by God. I was also taught that most “Christians” weren’t really Christian — particularly not Roman Catholics, who worshiped Mary and had the Antichrist as their Pope. (I wish I could say I was making this up!)

College at Clarkson didn’t actually change me, but it did expose me to some people who believed differently. I met people with equally strong faith, and lives that had also been transformed by encounters with the divine — and they weren’t even all Christian! My office-mate in the Physics Department was both a very dear friend and a devout Roman Catholic. We had many deep discussions about religion. (In my mind, these were about how his religion was wrong, which made him very sad. But he was patient with me.) I wish now I could tell him how much those conversations helped open my mind.

Jan (then John) and I met in college and got married shortly thereafter. We both got jobs at NASA Langley Research Center, and settled down in Hampton, VA. Unfortunately, our first years were pretty tough. In a few years we realized most of our problems stemmed from Jan’s life-long gender identity confusion. She eventually realized she was transsexual and, in 2004, completed the transition from male to female. Over the course of those nearly 20 years of struggle, we each went through a variety of emotional and spiritual crises. Because of the controversial nature of those crises in a culture torn in two over issues relating to sexuality and gender, we got very little help from any of the churches we attended. We found the Episcopal Church in 1990, and the denomination’s relative open-mindedness and support was invaluable. Still, there was only some support for Jan. Our local priest and bishop were fantastic, but the wars in the denomination and some fears and agitation locally about our “lifestyle” finally caused Jan to leave the church for good. She’s currently pursuing an interest in Buddhism, which I heartily endorse. I have settled on the universalist/panentheistic (look it up!) side of the liberal wing of the Episcopal Church. That can be a bit of a problem in our diocese, but I am happy to struggle along with others who are also struggling to live in an honest community of seekers, even if we come at it from very different places.

Jan and I live with our two feline children, Amí and Sophia, in Malone, NY and Yorktown, VA. I divide my time between the two houses, and I am sure you will understand why the winter months are the Virginia months! As a semi-retired engineer/scientist who spent most of my career in front of a computer, it was a natural for me to offer to serve as web master and newsletter editor for St. Mark’s. I love being able to participate even when I am not in town, and to keep in touch with what’s going on.

Only a MAN and a WOMAN -- but what about???

I am going to try once again with a topic that I have written about before.  I've never been able to get any traction on this, but that has bothered me for a very long time.

Today Episcopal Diocese of Albany Bishop Bill Love yet again issued a statement about how marriage must be understood as ordained by Jesus to be between one man and one woman. He said that "what the church should be telling partnered gay and lesbian couples is 'Do you love your partner enough not to engage in sexual intimacy? The issue before us is not about relationships but sexual intimacy.'"

I know that the idea of a homosexuality identity, as it is currently seen in our society, is a rather new development for the church to have to address. We have to move slowly and think deeply when we move into uncharted waters. But, why haven't we spent more time looking at what the Bible and the historic faith has to say concerning the closest analogy that people in biblical times did have to deal with?

I have been told over and over, by supposedly well-meaning, theologically grounded people, that God does not deny marriage to any category of people. However, that God requires that, if a person wants to marry, that person person marries a person of the opposite sex: the idea of sexual complementarity, and all that. It has, supposedly, a profound theological meaning...  I'd take that view better if God had created everyone as either male or female, but God didn't!  Or, I'd expect the Church to have an equally profound and public theological, and compassionately pastoral, response to people who are intersex. It's not like this is a new category of being, or unchartered social waters, we've had the whole of our religious formation period to ponder these questions...

What about biblical theology and instructions concerning individuals who are intersexual?  Shouldn't the Bible contain explicit instructions about sex and marriage for people who are neither (or both) man or (and) woman: instructions about whether to abstain from sexual intimacy; instructions that do or do not allow them to marry; instructions for their place in the family and community, if they cannot enter traditional marriage relationships; etc. If gender identity and sexual intimacy are so very central theologically, this should be spelled out clearly, right?

In the ancient world, it was not possible to deny or ignore that some people are born as neither male nor female, or both male and female.* Even at the lower estimates of intersex occurrence, in almost any community of a few hundred people there would be at least one person who was intersex, who visibly combined the distinguishing characteristics of each sex. This was not a secret, nor was it hidden. Moses knew about people (and animals -- Leviticus 22:23) who were born neither unambiguously male nor female, Jesus knew (Matthew 19:11), the early church knew. It has only been in recent decades, when surgical "corrections" and hormonal interventions have been available,** that we have had the luxury of convincing ourselves that sex and gender are absolute dichotomies, that there is no in-between. But that's not how God created us, and fortunately, that understanding is again changing.

Sleeping Hermaphrodite, 2nd century BCE

Different ancient cultures dealt with intersex individuals differently. We get our word "hermaphrodite" from the Greeks, who acknowledged a god, Hermaphroditus, the child of Aphrodite and Hermes. In some cultures intersex individuals were thought to be especially spiritual (Indian Hijras, for example). However, the Jews felt that that they should not be a part of "The Assembly of the Lord"-- a term scholars generally think refers to the leaders or rulers of Israel, not the wider faith community. (See Deut. 23:1, a passage that gives instructions about apparently-male individuals who have either congenitally, accidentally, or deliberately deformed male sex organs. Women and apparent-women were already, and ontologically, excluded from the leadership.)

So, with this whole class of people who are neither male nor female, or who are both male and female, there must be explicit instructions relative to sex and marriage and the theology of male and female, right?

In fact, where are the explicit, timeless, theologically-oh-so-important instructions relative to sex and marriage in the first place?

Sure, the Bible talks about God creating "them" male and female, and Jesus talks about a man leaving his father and mother and cleaving to his wife, and scripture holds up husband and wife as an analogy to Christ and the church. But it also talks about levirate marriage, about polygamy, about love between two men surpassing the love of women, about divorce being ok and about divorce being not-ok, about rapists being duty bound to marry their victims. The bible gives Abraham a pass on marrying his half-sister (his father's daughter) even though later law forbids any man marrying his father's daughter). It talks about adultery being the appropriation of another mans property. (According to the old testament definition, sex with an unmarried woman is not adultery even if the man is married. He is not his wife's property, but she is his.) Paul says (1 Cor. 7) that it is better to marry than to burn with passion -- so why doesn't he tell us how intersex people should deal with their passion, if the church did not allow them to marry***? 

When Jesus meets the woman at the well, he remarks that she has had five husbands and the man she is living with now is not, in fact, her husband. If there was ever an opportunity for him to clear up this confusion, to launch into his own views on marriage and what is or is not allowed, this seems like it would be the one! But, he does not even condemn her. Nor do they discuss the theology of marriage or whether she is "living in sin," but they talk about how one should worship God! Even when he gets asked about when and whether divorce is ok, Jesus gets confusing -- he starts talking about Eunuchs and messages being "hard for people to hear." Everywhere I look in the Bible marriage seems to be accepted as social concept -- but not always the same social concept. A man/woman, husband/wife, Christ/church archetype is acknowledged, but marriage is also taken to be whatever the culture and society accept it as. Who is or is not married, who can get married, how many people can be in a marriage, how long it lasts -- it seems to be different in different places and times. And, it never seems to bubble up to the essential, eternal, VERY THEOLOGICALLY IMPORTANT AND NO ROOM FOR ANY DISCUSSION, concept it has become for so many in recent times.

You would have thought the founders of our faith would have been more careful to leave better instruction, if it was really supposed to be so cut and dried -- wouldn't you?


*Estimates range from 0.2% to 1% or so of the population, according to research documented by the intersex society of North America (ISNA) on their website, depending on how one defines sex and gender and what conditions one considers to be "intersex." This number would significantly increase if what we now know about "brain sex" were added into the equation. Further research will continue to elucidate how much and what parts of the sexing of the brain are due to genetic factors and due to androgen exposure levels during different gestation periods.

**In general the "correction" is to render gender ambiguous infants to appear physically female, and parents are (erroneously) instructed that gender identity is a learned phenomena, so that all will be well if they were just raise the child as a girl (unfortunately, sometimes with tragic results -- see Colapinto's As Nature Made Him).

***I cannot, in my wildest dreams, imagine that God would require, nor the true church endorse, requiring intersex individuals to "just pick a gender and stick to it," and thereafter lie about themselves and their truth, in order to fit in with the congregation.

All Roads? (What I Believe)

I wasted a lot of time in my early life trying to make myself believe what I don't actually believe. I tried -- hard -- for years, even deluded myself and paid the price in internal anguish, but I couldn't make it work.  At least for me, I think, belief is sort of instinctive -- the feeling, transcending words or logic, that things just are what they are. Not something you choose, but something that just is. I think we believe first, and then think up the logic and find our explanations and reasons for believing the way we do.

[This is, neurologically, not so strange as it may sound. Researchers have found that it's not so clear whether intent precedes action on a motor-neurological level (see work by Benjamin Libet or Itzhak Fried, for example), so maybe belief also preceded conscious thought or logical consistency.]

I am still a Christian (in my own mind, not in some other people's), but I no longer try to fit my head around some of the orthodox explanations of what Christian doctrine means. Instead, I try my hardest to find the truth of what I have experienced of life, of God, reflected in the creeds and doctrines I share with members of this historic faith. It is, at minimum, my cultural heritage and the framework in which I learned the language of faith and spirituality. It's a big part of who I am. And I have found that I can do that. But for others, this Christian creed doesn't seem to be the one that best fits with how they experience life and catch glimpses of what, if anything, is beyond and above. I'm OK with that truth, even if some fellow Christians are not. And, for a long time, that has been a source of discomfort for me. Is Jesus exclusive? Is Christianity "special" among the world's religions. However much I'm supposed to believe it, I don't believe it -- not the way others do, anyway. What is special or unique? What does that mean?

When my (also female) spouse started to get disillusioned with Christianity (It's hard to stay starry-eyed about the "promise of the gospel" when everyone is beating you over the head with the Bible for being different) and began to explore Buddhism, I should have felt like she was endangering her immortal soul, at least according to some people's interpretation of the teachings of my church. But I felt no such thing in my gut, which still always takes precedence over my head in matters of God. Instead, I felt a calm assurance that her desire to pursue spirituality in whatever form was most accessible to her was a good thing, and I encouraged it. The searching has certainly paid off for her--I can see a major difference in her confidence, her serenity, her connection with others--and for me. I feel so much more like we are on the same path, now that we are officially on different paths.

So, the problem was how to explain to myself what my experience was telling me is true, regardless of what I've always been taught. I got a glimpse when reading "The Shack," a book everyone in my current reading group told me they loved and that I had to read too. Mostly just OK, there were a couple gems that made up for what seemed otherwise somewhat muddled to me. In one spot, the "Father God" character was mentioning that true believers weren't all Christian and all Christians were not necessarily recognized by God as God's own, but true believers were any who had entered into a genuine relationship with God. The protagonist asks if that's not the same thing as saying that "all roads lead to God," which we all know most Christians think is the same thing as saying, "anything goes." God says no. In fact, we are told, no road leads to God, not even Christianity. However, God can travel down any road to meet a soul that is truly seeking. God refuses to be limited, and God is not Christian property.

God. Not us. We are not the gatekeepers. I don't know what/who God is (perhaps to be explored in a different post) but whatever else God is, God is in this context the attractor, and the actor, and the foundation that makes it all possible. Our faith does tell us that it is God's grace that save us, after all; that it is God that does the pursing, not anything that we can do to find God on our own. That's orthodox. We just have a difficult time living with so much uncertainty about the process, or that little control.

This is what my gut tells me I have believed all along.