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?