Thursday, November 21, 2013

A monologue about dialogue

Earlier this week, I got to go to an event that hit on two of my favorite interests: music and interfaith. In celebration of 35 years of commitment to interfaith work, the Interfaith Conference of Metropolitan Washington put on a concert combining the musical artistry embedded in eleven different faith traditions. A beautiful, diverse spectrum of people assembled in the Washington Hebrew Congregation's sanctuary. The event began with a series of sacred sounds -- first the shofar (Jewish), then the conch shell (Jain), then the gong (Buddhist), and then finally the azhan (Muslim call to prayer). The audience was hushed, recognizing the transformation of this commonplace gathering into a holy shared space. And it was with that in mind that we ventured forth into the richness of the evening.

I loved it. Loved it. And I want to establish that now before I take a turn in a different direction.

Because something happened that made me want to jump out of my chair in protest.

Our mistress of ceremonies was Greta Kreuz, a well-respected local journalist who originated the religion beat for the DC metro area's ABC station. She has covered a variety of events for a variety of traditions and has been a passionate advocate for interfaith work. After spending a little bit of time commending IFCMW and those who had convened for the event, her talk took on a different spin. Not only was our unity a powerful way of uniting against the social, political, and economic problems of the world, but it was also a source of strength in battling what she deemed to be the biggest problem facing people of faith these days: "non-believers."

I was so stunned that I nearly stood up to let out a "Hold up -- WHAT?!"

Some of my most fruitful conversations about faith have been with people who would categorize themselves as "none" when asked to identify religiously. These are the people who don't guilt me for my doubts, who ask clarifying and refining questions, who push me to articulate what I really believe without slipping into Christian-ese lingo that takes itself for granted but never asks for definition. I don't feel threatened by my non-religious friends; I feel challenged by them. And challenge is healthy.

Not to mention, excluding those folks from the opportunity to talk about faith is entirely against the principles that uphold interfaith dialogue. Interfaith dialogue is about both respecting and transcending lines of difference for the purpose of deepening our understanding of each other. We allow one another to be our distinct selves while also making room for the possibility of collaboration and mutual learning. Where in that model is there room to exclude anyone from the conversation, should they want to join it in that spirit -- even if they aren't religious?

Back in September, my supervisor gifted me with the opportunity to attend a day of the President's Interfaith and Community Service Campus Challenge event at Georgetown University. During my lunch hour, I joined in on an interfaith "speed dialogue," which places interfaith dialogue into speed dating format. I expected to meet people who spanned from Protestant Christianity to Zoroastrianism, from Buddhism to Islam, all clearly identifying with a particular and distinct tradition. Instead, I found myself instead faced with one person after another who identified as secular, atheist, or agnostic. Yet none of them seemed to think any less of me for being a person of faith (let's hope not, at least -- they were at an interfaith event, after all!). They were searching for meaning in their own lives, whether that led them to religion or not, but either way they wanted to understand people of faith more completely. They wanted to be part of the conversation. I deeply respected that.

Welcoming that dialogue will do more to smooth relations between people of faith and people not of faith into something respectful than any belligerent or defensive ideological warfare ever can, and in the process we will find ourselves with a clearer sense of who we are and what we're called to because we've been asked to articulate it. I feel that the greater danger lies in a misled sense of certainty, which often lives in extreme fundamentalism but can sneak in practically everywhere. Our danger, I believe, lies in stopping the search and thinking we have nothing left to learn.

So, Ms. Kreuz, no offense, but I respectfully disagree. However, that won't keep me from dialoguing with you.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Thinking about the future of the church

It's been weeks, I know. I'm sorry. Life has left little time for writing and revising lately, and I'm just starting to reclaim some of my free time for this blog thing that I've committed to. My apologies to those of you who have expected more regular updates.

Not to mention, I've been having a hard time figuring out what to write about. And then tonight's event just fell into my lap (or, more appropriately, into my email inbox and onto my calendar).

Tonight I got the opportunity to attend "Innovating Tradition: A Conversation with Two Urban Pastors on the Future of the Church." The event was held at Calvary Baptist Church in the heart of Washington, DC, and it featured pastor Amy Butler (AB) and special guest Nadia Bolz-Weber (NBW). While the context of the assembly was NBW's book tour, the real centerpiece of the conversation was how church in America must evolve to be a true source of relevant spiritual nourishment in the contemporary world. At the risk of oversimplifying, I want to remark quickly on three major themes I heard:

1. Rigor. People are tired of tough questions being avoided. Everyone theologizes from the conditions of their own lives to their relationship with God, and when life hands them hard questions, pat answers don't do the trick. A rigorous faith is a healthy faith, and a rigorous faith must challenge us to meet the difficult stuff with courage and with the confidence that God enters that deep searching process with us. As NBW would say, "God wasn't looking down on the cross; God was hanging on the cross." Theology needs to be real, to acknowledge and mark human pain and suffering, and it is faithful rigor that helps us to have a robust theology that can meet such challenges with integrity, even if it doesn't meet them with clear answers.

2. Authenticity. Okay, folks, let's be real. Good marketing may get people through the doors of the church, but it's not going to keep them there. And watering things down may appeal to those who don't want to commit, but healthy communities of faith bloom from genuinely sharing in life with each other. Being a "successful" church is not about corporate measurements like numbers and money and extensive programming. It's the "moments of holy grace," in the words of AB, that mark genuine community with an honest sense of who they are, keeping each other company on this messy journey of trying to live into the life Christ calls us to. Let's stop pretending to be who we aren't.

3. Participation. People need to be able to commit to and invest in their faith, and faith communities need to offer opportunities to do that in tangible, meaningful ways. Faith is an active thing when it is real. If Jesus is calling us to a radical way of living, then when we claim Jesus, let's live it. And let's make it so the participation in our communities empowers us to participate in that life outside the church as well. NBW talks about being "anti-excellence, pro-participation." The goal is not to be the best at any of this church stuff; the goal is to be deep into it, actively discerning and engaging. That's what gives church life.

I think we make these three factors into abstract, distant ideas of what we want to the church to look like, but when we actually develop "strategies" for how we want to construct congregational life, we just hope we'll end up getting to these goals eventually if we take care of our other concerns first. We figure they'll be inevitable side effects if we get the "right people" into the pews and the "right music" into the worship service. But we can't compromise these goals for anything less. They're what we need to pursue for our life together as we collectively pursue God, and they illuminate the faithful way forward into living as the Church.

I would love to hear your reflections on this! What would you add to or change about these three key points?