On Interfaith Dialogue

There has been some discussion lately on a few blogs about Ann Holmes Redding, an Episcopal priest who has also recently become a practicing Muslim, without renouncing Christianity or her ordination. You can read about Rev. Redding in The Seattle Times and some of the blog discussion here, here, here, and here. Her situation is indeed fascinating for the issues it raises, and it prompts me to share some thoughts on interfaith dialogue.

Religion is not merely a set of beliefs about God, the meaning of human existence, the afterlife, morality and ethics. It also provides one with a community. By that I mean not simply people to socialize with, for that can be found up the street at the local bar or coffee shop if you're a regular. Religion provides community in a much bigger sense, connecting you with a history, a tradition, a culture which is and has been shared by many. I also think religion—and I have primarily the text-based religions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam in mind, but my thoughts could perhaps be applied to others as well—gives those who participate in it a narrative of which to be a part. For Christians, this narrative is the life of Jesus. Through imitatio Dei, Christians bring the grace they understand to be the message of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection into the world so that others may experience it. For Jews, Passover is a key part of the narrative, reminding them that they have been freed from slavery and inspiring them to work for the freedom of others who may be enslaved. So this narrative is not just a story, but a way of living. Although the abstract messages may often be a great deal alike, the stories and the rhythms of life they foster are quite different. The differences, it seems to me, are important not because the beliefs are fundamentally different, but because the differences foster an identity, a sense of belonging, an address in the world.

Because I view religion in this way, Rev. Redding does not really challenge me on the level of "How can you believe in Jesus and Allah at the same time?" The outward forms and the details are indeed different, but at the very root of it, a lot is the same. The question raised for me is this: "How do you form an identity? Who are you? To whom do you belong? Where is your address in the world?" The rituals we observe make us different. And the more we tap into the rich cultural traditions offered by different religions, it seems to me, the more this is true. If you doubt the importance of the sense of identity and belonging that observing Shabbat or taking communion on a weekly basis or praying five times a day provides, ask someone who knows its potential but lacks it. Perhaps a mix such as Rev. Redding's—and, more to the point, finding comfort and identity in the mix—is a matter of the postmodern world in which we live. But, as much as I have been positively influenced by postmodern thought in my work, I admit I am still a bit old fashioned. It seems to me that one has to find an address, which means making a choice.

That is not, however, to say that we cannot participate in the narratives and rituals of other groups. In fact, I think that not only can we do so, but we ought to do so. Dialogue with others helps us to understand them better, understand ourselves better, and leads us to see what, under the surface of the narratives, we have have in common. Only by engaging each other in this way can we see where collaborative action can happen. And collaborative action needs to happen in order to live peacefully and achieve important things together. I think of the efforts on behalf of Darfur as an example of this type of collaborative action. (Incidentally, it works both ways. By engaging in collaborative action, we can learn that we're not so different after all.) Going one step further, participation in the narratives and rituals of others to the extent we can builds empathy and connection. When we worship together or sit together around a seder table or Sunday dinner we do more than engage each other intellectually. We share experience that binds us to one another. Why is this important? Despite differences, it's pretty hard to stigmatize and hate your friends. Religions may provide a community which can help one find that address in the world, but membership in the larger human family operates right alongside it.

One of the potential dangers I see of "bi-religious" practice is not simply the loss of particulars that foster identity, but the use of such a position specifically in order to gain converts. In his blog post on this subject, Iyov wonders why some Christian leaders vilify Rev. Redding but turn a blind eye (if not provide outright support) to Christians who also practice Judaism while retaining their Christian beliefs. A fair point. The goal of at least some such sects is the conversion of Jews to Christianity. In such cases, the simultaneous practice of two religions is not honest, not carried out with the integrity which appears to characterize Rev. Redding's practice however confusing it may seem, but disingenuous. In my own personal experience with Messianic Jews or Jews for Jesus, the aim of conversion has been forthright and the knowledge of Judaism abysmal. Furthermore, opportunities to learn more about Judaism produced not interest and excitement but outright dismissal. I say this neither to stigmatize every Messianic Jew nor to provide a blanket characterization of Messianic Judaism. I mean simply to illustrate with an example that "bi-religious" practice is not all of a kind. Some are perhaps called to it and engage it with openness and interest in order to foster their own spiritual growth. Others use it as a tool to achieve ends, whether knowingly or out of ignorance.

The latter use flies in the face of dialogue and participation with others because it does not respect the integrity of—let alone see the beauty in—the other, but sees the other as something to be assimilated. Have you ever had a dear friend who was very different from you, through whose eyes you have the privilege to see things about the world you would not otherwise see left to your own experience of life? This type of enrichment is what is lost when we strive to neutralize or assimilate others who are different rather than rejoice in sharing the world with them. I'm personally in favor of picking an address and inviting those who live on a different street and a different town in for dinner once in a while and visiting them in their homes as well. I have a hard time understanding Rev. Redding's choices. But at least they seem to be honest. And I suspect there are many more in the world like her. Judgements aside, there may be something to learn from Ann Holmes Redding, however inconcievable her situation may seem or however ill-conceived one might think it to be. She is a mold-breaking other. I, for one, would love to sit with her one afternoon and learn to see the world through her eyes over a cup of coffee. I may not change my mind, but I would almost certainly come away enriched.