This spring, when I invited members of the congregation to submit ideas for our "uncommon lectionary" series, two responses were very similar, both along the same lines of how to relate to people who believe differently than we do:
I have been thinking about the story of Elijah's contest with the priests of Baal. What does this say to us about relationships with Muslims, Jews,Hindus, etc.-- Do we have to “win”? How about our relationships with “the evangelicals.” Are we right and they wrong, or visa versa? Or does that miss the point of the story? (Dorothy L.)
“No one comes to the father but by me.” Fundamentalists often throw this up when someone suggests Gandhi might be in heaven (or Nirvana?). There are a few other verses like this that people use to justify mission work that resembles more the crusades than the work of Jesus. (Erik S.)
We opened our worship with one of Stan Lundberg's favorite hymns: "Immortal, invisible, God, only wise, in light inaccessible hid from our eyes...." This was not one of my favorites, but Stan convinced me of the brilliance of this hymn, which evokes humility and wonder, both of which are necessary postures when we approach the unknowable God. Time and again in scripture, when people think they have the last word on God, God interrupts their story to assure them that they don't know even the first thing. For example, when God needed to let people know that God is more merciful than they could imagine, God spoke through the prophet Isaiah, "Your thoughts are not my thoughts, and your ways are not my ways. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so much higher are my thoughts than your thoughts, and my ways than your ways."
And you know how the story of Job ended. Job and each of his three friends thought they knew what was what, they thought they knew the be all and end all of God, but at the end of the story God spoke from the whirlwind and said, "You think you know me? You don't know me! Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?"
Which is why we should approach all questions about God with great humility. Because God is so much larger than any language can describe. We have our language, our story, our customs, handed down from the ages, and all of these are limited. But God is limitless. That is why we relate to people of different faiths as brothers and sisters, all children of God. Because who are we to say that God has not spoken through Buddha or Mohammed?
So what do we do with stories like Elijah and the prophets of Baal? We must remember that the Bible is a collection of stories, handed down through the ages, and the stories are not told in a unified voice. In the scriptures we hear many voices. Some of those voices in the Hebrew scriptures say, "It would be better if the Jews were the only people in Israel." These voices tell stories that imagine genocide as an answer to the problem of foreign influence. (The prophets of Baal were brought to Israel by the foreign Queen Jezebel, wife of King Ahab.) But there are other voices too, voices of faithful foreigners, like Ruth the Moabite, an ancestor of king David. The story of Ruth tells us that a foreigner can be righteous and faithful and Godly.
Whenever we read the Hebrew scriptures, we really ought to remember that they don't belong to us. We borrowed them from the Jewish faith, and so we really ought to consult the people who have the primary claim to the scripture. Rabbinic traditions recognize that scripture is full of arguments... the scriptures argue with each other. And in reading and studying, we join in on a longstanding family argument. The voices of dissent are not silenced, they are preserved, because they come from family. Working it out, finding the balance, that is part of practicing the faith.
In the United Church of Christ, and in many other mainline progressive Christian faith communities, at this point in time, we choose to honor-- no! conscience calls us to honor-- the faith practices of others. We do not seek to convert faithful Muslims, or Jews, or Hindus or Buddhists, or American Indians, though we once did, we do not do that anymore. Instead of preaching Christ and forcing conversion, we practice what Jesus taught, doing unto others as we would have them do unto us. We seek to imitate Christ: to feed the hungry, heal the sick, teach those who have no one else to teach them, work for justice, walk the path of peace.
So, more often, our problem is not how to relate to people of other faiths or no faith, but how, how do we relate to others who claim the same name, Christian, but who condemn us for failing to live up to their expectations of what Christian means to them. Some Christians think that converting souls to Christ is the primary moral obligation of the Christian. And, as Erik pointed out, one of the scriptures they cite is from the 14th chapter of John's gospel.
"I am the way." To me, that means "follow me." Walk this way. Do what I do. To me that means that in every nation, whoever does what is righteous and merciful and, well, Christ-like, is "on the way." Take Erik's example of Gandhi. Born into a good family, trained in the West as a solicitor (what we Americans call a lawyer), he could have had a very comfortable life. But, moved by the suffering of others, he gave it all up, and put on the clothes of a servant. He touched the untouchables, and ate with them. He worked with them and he bled with them.
The apostle Paul described Jesus as the one who though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, and being found in human form he was obedient to death (Philippians 2:6-8).
So, who is more Christ-like, I want to ask, Gandhi, or the American televangelist?
I also think it is important to remember that the "I am the way" statement comes right after Jesus speaks of God's house having "many rooms." If there is room for you and me, why not room for all God's children, all over the world?
That's what I want to ask, but, that would not be helpful, when talking with an evangelist, trained to follow the script, given a flow chart of scripture verses to answer every protest. That remark would not bring peace, but further division. How can we respond in a Christ-like way to someone who uses scripture like a weapon? Probably not by doing as they do.
This is not a new problem. A Quaker Friend, Steve Long and I were discussing this after we finished a worship service at Bethany, where I was preaching and Steve was playing the piano. When I have the nursing home marathon (five worship services, five locations, in two mornings), as I did last week, I consider it an opportunity to give the upcoming Sunday's sermon a practice run, so Steve heard this sermon and he could relate to this problem. How does a pacifist respond to hostility?
Faithfully. Patiently. Balancing certitude and openness. Balancing self-regard with regard for others. Remembering that the opposition are children of God, and so are we. Sometimes it feels like a high-wire walk, all this balancing.
Do we always have to win? What does winning have to do with the Christian faith? Was Jesus a winner?
Do we have to be right? Do we have to prove others wrong? No, I don't think so. We are called to be faithful followers. Don't look down, don't look behind: let's keep our eyes upon the one who calls us to follow in the servant way, and walk on.
