We are now quarter of a century into what I still think of as the new millennium. The holiday season is coming to an end, and people are returning to work – to auld claes and porridge as we say in Scotland. Some people will have done so full of new year resolutions and good intentions to better their life in some way. Christmas greetings have been exchanged with aspirations of peace and good will towards all. But will anything change? Sociologists say that the world is less violent now than it was in the past but the destruction that we see nightly on our television sets and the sophistication of the weapons that are used today leave me with a sense of foreboding, so much so that many of our Christmas carols, focussing as they do on Bethlehem, seemed very empty this year. However, I have found some hope in last week’s  daily meditations that come from the Centre for Action and Contemplation in New Mexico set up by Richard Rohr.

This week these mediations have focussed on the theme of salt and light, reflecting on two verses from the Gospel of Matthew, “You are the salt of the earth, but if the salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything but is thrown out and trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. People do not light a lamp and put it under a bushel basket; rather, they put it on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven”
Mth 5:13-15 

Debie Thomas, one of the authors who commented on this theme, pointed out that salt and light are about identity. They express what Christians are, not just what they are to become. You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world… though there is a warning that it’s possible for salt to lose its flavour and light to be hidden under a bushel. So, what does salt do? In a meal it’s invisible but brings out the taste of the food and makes it palatable. Too much of it can embitter rather than enhance, ruin rather than preserve, irritate rather than soothe. For better or worse, Debie Thomas suggests that as Christians “we are the salt of the earth, and what we do with our saltiness matters. It matters a lot. Whether we want to or not, whether we notice or not, whether we’re intentional about it or not, we impact the world we live in.”  This sense of impacting the word I live in, trying to be intentional about it gives me some hope in situations where I feel powerless to change anything. And I can do it in small ways by trying to enhance a situation, sustaining life and meaning, and looking to the well-being of all. It reminds me of the Jewish belief in tikkun olam which I find very helpful where we are called to repair our broken world bit by bit, small steps at a time. Or the Tibetan Buddhist prophecy of Shambhala warriors who will bring about the Kingdom of Shambhala through the weapons for compassion and wisdom - both similar to the Christian belief in the Kingdom of God.
  
Like salt light too is necessary for life. The Jewish New Testament scholar Amy-Jill Levine, another scholar working with Rohr, focused on Jesus’ exhortation to his disciples to be the “light of the world”.  Without light, she suggested, “we have no plants, no warmth, no beacons. Just as salt can become so diluted that it loses its intrinsic character as salt, so light can also be snuffed out. Thus light, too, is a precious commodity that must be preserved. And just as too much salt can kill, too much light can blind. Effective light does not call attention to itself; rather, it lights up the world…. “. And this is what Christians are called to – to be lights in the world. Amy-Jill Levine goes on “Once the disciples recognize that they are light, they also recognize that their role is to shine so that others can find their way. Jesus knows that, just as salt can lose its intrinsic identity, light can be hoarded and fail to fulfil its proper function. He states first the obvious: “A city built on a hill cannot be hid” (Matthew 5:14). His followers are to become like that city: a refuge, a home, a place where there is salt and light, love and compassion….”   And again, we can do it in little ways wherever we find ourselves.

I found these images helpful and refreshing, much as I have known the scripture passages all my life. Can I be salt and light, can I see the salt and light in people and events around me? It’s like kingdom spotting and once begun its everywhere. Can it change the trajectory the world seems to be on? If I believe as I do in the deep interconnectedness of all things and all sentient beings which includes energy and intention then I can believe that the salt and the light is working away for good even in invisible ways. It’s like a great movement of which I can be a member, and which has the potential to silently transform the world. This Christmas it has given me hope. 

Christmas is almost upon us. Today marks the fourth Sunday of Advent when Christians light the fourth candle on the Advent Wreath. The time of waiting is nearly over.  But what are we waiting for? Well, we wait for the feast of Christmas when we remember the birth of Jesus and the way in which Christians believe he fulfilled the longings of his people. We wait for new experiences of his coming into our life as we try to live a life of faith, and we wait for his final coming at the end of time when at some point in the unknown future God’s kingdom will triumph and be finally established on earth. Till then we wait in faith and hope, longing for the Kingdom of God and doing our little bit to extend its influence around us.

These statements are not straightforward. They are statements of faith with a great deal of theology behind and around them. I sometimes struggle to make sense of them? Karl Rahner said that there are two ways of studying the significance of Jesus – what he called Christology from above and Christology from below. Christology from above is captured in the carol ‘at the hour of silent midnight’ where it states
         At hour of silent midnight, O mystery of love                                                                                                         
         Earth’s longed and sighed for Sav­iour, Descended from above …….          
          Lo! earth is changed to Hea­ven, For earth is Je­sus’ home:…..
         They found the God of Heaven (in) an infant meek and mild.

According to this theology the God of heaven has come down to take human form in the person of Jesus. It stresses the divinity of Jesus and makes him unique among men. Christology from below is focussed much more on the human life of Jesus. It situates him in a particular place and at a particular time, it gives him a genealogy (found in the gospels) and therefore a DNA that goes far back in the history of the people of Israel, even as far back as Adam and then back to God but not in a way that is different from other human beings.  Christians and Jews believe that all human beings are made in the image and likeness of God, share in the life and energy of God and are animated by the Spirit of God. There is a God – presence which is the source and heart of life. Sometimes in scripture it is called Wisdom, sometimes it is called Logos or Word and sometimes it is called Christ.  It is a universal presence which has expressed itself from the beginning of time in nature which also includes humanity, but for Christians in a particularly open and perfect way in Jesus. Richard Rohr puts it like this “We daringly believe that God’s presence was poured into a single human being, so that humanity and divinity can be seen to be operating as one in him—and therefore in us! Instead of saying that God came into the world through Jesus, maybe it would be better to say that Jesus came out of an already Christ-soaked world. The second incarnation flowed out of the first, out of God’s loving union with physical creation”.

  And this incarnation that we celebrate in Jesus took place at a troubled time in a troubled part of the world. He was born a Jew in Bethlehem which was that part of Israel known as Judea. Bethlehem of course is now situated in Palestine and for me it has been impossible to sing some of our carols and listen to the readings of the prophets so loved during Advent without feeling a deep pain of what is happening in that part of the world. This is not to suggest that Jesus was a Palestinian (Palestine didn’t exist in his time) or to deny the tragedy of the Israeli hostages and the pain and fear of the Israeli people but it is to honour and face up to the reality of the suffering happening in the very places that become the focus of our attention at this time.  For Christians Jesus’ presence and participation in our common humanity leads them to see him in the poor and oppressed, in those suffering because of war and violence, in those who are abused, trafficked – the list can go on and on. Often iconography depicts this.

​ It was with some sadness therefore that I learned of the controversy over the figure of the baby Jesus lying on a keffiyeh which was seen by Israelis and some Jews as a political statement – a controversy that reached even Glasgow with someone asking me what could be done about it. Each year the Vatican nativity scene is designed by an artist from a different part of the world and this year the artist was from Bethlehem so to use a keffiyeh was normal to him and he denied any political intention.  Each year the nativity is presented to the Pope and then the baby removed to be returned on Christmas Eve – will the keffiyeh be there or not when this happens this week?  I will be very sorry if it is gone because that becomes a political statement if it removed because of Israeli or Jewish pressure. Surely Christians are free to show solidarity with the suffering of their brothers and sisters in the land of Jesus birth without it being seen as political.  In doing this Christians will not be taking sides but recognising the pain that exists on all sides and longing and earnestly praying for peace. 

 Rabbi Alon Goshen-Gottstein is a well-known figure in the world of interfaith relations. He is the founding director of the Elijah Interfaith Institute in Jerusalem, a centre committed to peace and friendship among faiths. It offers educational programmes, organises regular meetings of religious leaders and regular prayers for peace. One of its most recent projects is the establishment of a Global House of Friendship and Hope in Assisi. It’s an ambitious and creative venture. The plan is to have a museum, situated in the heart of Assisi which will be the world’s first museum on prayer and spirituality. Its website sets out the vision behind it which is an attempt to go beyond interfaith relations that focus primarily on living together and working together for the good of all to “the core of the spiritual life and the life of prayer of faith traditions”.  Rabbi Alon hopes that there “the faithful can expand their sense of devotion, while broadening hearts and minds to other religions, recognizing deeper spiritual commonalities. Youth and adults alike can discover a spiritual experience and deeper appreciation of nature and of humanity. And all can return to their homes with broadened knowledge, fuller appreciation of the spiritual life and greater appreciation towards reaching out to others in friendship”.

Assisi is the ideal place for such a venture. Beginning with the initiative of Pope John Paul in 1981 when he invited leaders from the major world faiths to Assisi to pray for peace (the first meeting of its kind and one repeated by Pope Benedict and Pope Francis) Assisi has become associated with such meetings. It is also the birthplace of St Francis who has unofficially at least become a champion or, as we say in the Catholic Church, the patron saint of interreligious dialogue. This is based on a story from the life of Francis which recounts how in 1219 when Christian and Muslim forces were locked in combat in Egypt during the 5th Crusade, Francis crossed enemy lines hoping to meet Sultan al-Malik al-Kamil, perhaps hoping to preach the gospel and convert the Sultan and his army but certainly looking for peace. When eventually Francis is admitted to the Sultan’s presence the story goes that both recognised in the other a man of faith and spirituality and spent days if not weeks conversing with one another about God. The visit didn’t bring about peace, but the Sultan gave Francis his protection and the gift of a horn used for the Muslim call to prayer which can still be seen in Assisi today. Frances too was affected by the visit. Not only did he write Praises of God, based on Islam’s 99 names of God but he told his brethren that it was safe to enter the world of Islam and encouraged them to preach the gospel but only sometimes to use words.
 
Rabbi Alon Goshen-Gottstein is not the only religious leader to choose Assisi as a place of prayer and encounter. Sri Madhusudan Sai is a noted Hindu leader based near Bangalore with centres worldwide, including Assisi. In a recent interview or conversation between these two leaders Sri Madhusudan explained that he was drawn to Assisi because of St Francis’ commitment to poverty and the poor as well as his love for nature. For him the message of Francis and Assisi is universal and a source of inspiration for all, especially the younger generation. St Francis is a saint for our time but for Sri Madhusudan Sai reflecting on the life of saints in all our traditions is a good way of conducting interreligious dialogue. He believes that this is a window into the spirit of our faiths which ties in very well with the intention of the Global House of Friendship and Hope. Especially for young people it is important to give them something that will inspire them to live a meaningful and purposeful life and who better to inspire than the example of men and women who have lived from the heart of faith and not just from its externals. Sri Madhusudan Sai used the analogy of a piece of fruit. The skin and the pith keep the juice intact and when squeezed it is the juice that delights and what remains can be discarded. He is not suggesting of course that religion can be discarded but showing that the life, joy, spirit of the faith is what is important and that the externals are nothing if they do not give access to this inner inspiration.  And saints are shining examples of people who have done this.
 
I like this idea of using the life of saints as a window into a religion and giving an insight into its inner core. One of my earliest memories is of my grandmother, after whom I am named and who died when I was 4 years old, reading stories of the saints to me. They captured my imagination and I felt a real attraction to God, religion and to the adventure that many of them had in their work of service and of spreading the message of Jesus. This was  the beginning no doubt of an attraction that led to me eventually entering religious life. And that has been an adventure and one that has led me into the world of other faiths, sharing the message of Jesus, yes, but in an atmosphere of dialogue and mutual learning. For I have come to realise that there are many saintly and inspiring people in all faiths and I have been inspired by them, by their devotion and dedication as much as I have been by saints in my own tradition. I found  in their life and in their teachings echoes of my own faith, in spite of the different contexts in which they lived.
 
I do like this approach and believe it could be a good way of engaging people in interreligious dialogue. It’s something I must pursue.