 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.  The theology group that I go to each week has been reading Paul Knitter’s ‘Without Buddha I couldn’t be a Christian’. Overall, we’ve found the Buddhist insights helpful until this last week when the chapter was on social justice. Here the difference between a Buddhist approach and a Christian one is quite stark. For Buddhists any sense of polarisation between good and evil or taking sides one against the other is not helpful and maybe even harmful as it simply encourages division and breaks the sense of interconnectedness that is at the heart of its view of the human condition. It’s not that Buddhists are against social justice or do not desire peace, but they see wisdom and insight as the way to achieving it rather than actively working to change unjust structures. For Buddhists it is important to accept the way things are rather than having a discomfort with them so that we long for and actively work for a better world, trying to change unjust structures and establish a society which is just and peaceful.
This is the approach of Christianity and Judaism. In his book ‘To Heal a Fractured World’ Jonathan Sacks sees a religion that keeps people satisfied with life and preserves the status quo as dangerous. For him Judaism is not a religion that reconciles us to the world. Rather it is a religion of protest. God, he suggests, “does not want the people of the covenant to be one that accepts the evils and injustices of the world as the will of God. He wants the people of the covenant to hear the cry of the oppressed, the pain of the afflicted and the plaint of the lonely. He wants them not to accept the world that is because it is not the world that ought to be.” Christianity coming as it does from Judaism echoes these thoughts. In the Lord’s prayer Christians pray ‘may your Kingdom come on earth ….as it is in heaven’, suggesting an ideal situation which is not dominated by power, wealth or glory but by the values of justice, peace, service, love, compassion, integrity, reconciliation, wisdom etc - a world in which we will all have a concern for the common good and indeed the good of all sentient beings. For many Christians this means engaging in protest, challenging unjust structures, engaging in social action and politics. Not to do so would be seen as somehow failing in our commitment to build the Kingdom of God – or at least contribute to it. Buddhists too of course recognise the social injustices of our time and the need to transform the oppressive and exploitative social structures that underlie issues such as poverty, climate change, racism, war etc. It was Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist monk, suggested for the Nobel Peace Prize by Martin Luther King, who coined the phrase ‘engaged Buddhism’. And Buddhist Joanna Macey works ceaselessly to bring about and encourage others to engage in what she calls the Great Transformation of society. At the heart of Buddhism is the desire to alleviate human suffering and to promote the flourishing of all sentient beings which is what the Kingdom of God is about. The difference between Buddhism and Christianity is not in their recognition of injustice or their desire to alleviate it but in their approach for doing this. For Buddhists the approach is not to tackle the injustice head on, the way Christians might do. Rather it is to recognise and accept that life is one of suffering and dissatisfaction and so there should be an element of acceptance and detachment from it. It is also to recognise that injustice, violence and war, are caused by greed, hatred and the delusion of forgetting our interconnectedness with the oppressor and the oppressed. As Tich Nhat Hanh’s poem Call Me by my True Names says, “I am the 12-year-old girl refugee on a small boat who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving”. In doing this a Buddhist is feeling the pain of the situation and seeking to feel compassion for everyone involved. The Christian maxim when it comes to peace is ‘if you want peace, work for justice’ and the Buddhist one is ‘if you want peace, be peace’. For a Buddhist therefore the work for social justice is not so much to actively engage but rather to change oneself and try to free oneself from greed, hatred and delusion through meditation practices, recognising that this can be a contribution to a broader social transformation that involves all sentient beings. While these two approaches seem to be in stark contrast to one another and our theology group favoured one rather than the other, I have my doubts. Nicholas of Cusa talked of the coincidence of opposites and my experience of interfaith shows that sometimes apparent contradictions are complementary ways of looking at life and both contain wisdom and truth. It’s obvious, I think, that many of the ills of our society such as poverty and inequality, consumerism and fear of the stranger flow from greed; that power is involved in many of the conflicts around the globe; that we are incapable of seeing others as our brothers and sisters and contributing to the flourishing of our planet rather than exploiting its resources. A change of heart is necessary. Even Jesus said that the kingdom of God is within and that what is needed is repentance, a change of heart and perspective. It is this that will make our work for justice effective while realising that we can only do our small bit. For Christians this is one of the messages of Advent which starts this Sunday. Perhaps one of the advantages or even wisdoms of getting older is to realise with Rumi that “ yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”  This is Scottish Interfaith Week, an opportunity for interfaith groups, faith communities and other public bodies to engage in some kind of interfaith activity and alert their members to the importance of dialogue with faith communities other than their own. There will be events all over Scotland and it has the backing of Scottish Government ministers. But the events will not necessarily be religious. Some events will focus on culture and have a celebratory feel to them, inviting people of faith to enjoy one another’s company or learn about the host community’s culture and faith without any real dialogue. Others will focus on social harmony, offering an opportunity for people of faith and no faith to discuss issues that face us all as human beings whether they be global such as climate change and world peace or more local such as poverty or homelessness. For some, and I think this is true of Government, interfaith gatherings are important because they offer a possibility of peace and cooperation as a means of counteracting conflict and violence. And they give us the opportunity to get to know something of the other.
I have been involved in interfaith relations and interfaith week for decades now and have been to dialogues and gatherings that reflect all the above. I have enjoyed them, learned from them, organised them, been challenged by them but now find them rather dissatisfying. I have been to too many and have heard a lot of it all before. I feel that I have grown beyond much of it but would still consider myself an interfaith practitioner though my interfaith interest is more interior and I now think of myself as someone whose faith and spirituality encompasses and is enriched by other faiths. This is a classic case of having passed over into the world of other faiths to come back to my own with new eyes and a recognition of how the wisdom, spirituality and even practice of others can widen and deepen my own understanding of faith and spirituality. And there are others who feel the same, who see their focus as being on interspirituality as personal enrichment rather than on the more formal aspects of religious traditions that tend to be the basis of interfaith work. The term interspirituality comes from Wayne Teasdale who spent 10 years as a Cistercian monk and continued the spirit of that life as a layman when he left the monastery. He was an author, a teacher, a social activist and an interfaith practitioner who was inspired by Bede Griffiths and like Bede Griffith saw himself as a Christian sannyasa who integrated aspects of Hindu spirituality into his own life. There is a tradition of this within Christianity – Jesuits in Japan who were able to integrate Buddhism into their Christianity, Benedictines in India like Bede Griffiths who found spiritual depth and meaning in Hinduism. There is even the phenomenon today of dual belonging like theologian Paul Knitter who calls himself a Buddhist – Christian and has written a book called ‘Without Buddha I couldn’t be a Christian’ – and he is not the only one. This recognition of a common stream of spirituality and wisdom goes far back in Christianity and in the 13th cy. Meister Eckhart spoke of “a great underground river that no-one can dam up and no-one can stop.” Matthew Fox sees this river as the shared wisdom that all religions hold in common and each religion as a well that gives access to it. There is an underground stream of life and divinity that all religions can tap into it in their own unique way. And no matter what well we explore we can eventually reach the one river, the source that is beyond all names. As Nicholas of Cusa, a 15th cy cardinal of the Catholic Church said, “even though you are designated in terms of different religions, yet you presuppose in all this diversity one religion which you call wisdom.” It is because of this that we can touch and experience divinity when we pass over into the faith of another or dig deeply into the well of their spirituality for it is true that there is much in common within the mystical traditions of all faiths. And this is the reason why so many spiritual masters such as Rabbi Abraham Heschel or Tich Nhat Hanh find meaning and sustenance in the writings of Meister Eckhart. For me it is this aspect of passing over and digging deep that has been most meaningful in my interfaith journey. I was lucky to begin it when I went to university. Studying world religions and then teaching about them gave me an appreciation and respect for them as I tried to show students their inner richness and the beauty of their scriptures. I was touched by stories of the Lord Krishna and recognised the attraction of this flute player from my own attraction to things spiritual. Similarly, with some of the Upanishads such as this verse from the Chandogya Upanishad which spoke to me of the God who lives within us: In the city of Brahman is a secret dwelling, the lotus of the heart. Within this dwelling is a space, and within that space is the fulfilment of our desires. What is within that space should be longed for and realised. And so it has gone on over these years of interfaith work. I have learned so much through reading, conversations and friendships. I have come to appreciate the spirituality of others so that I feel my own religious faith has been widened and expanded to the extent that while I remain firmly a Christian it is a Christianity that relates to and interacts with other faiths.  I remember Brian McLaren, a Christian theologian, suggesting in one of his books that there is always hope that organisations and institutions can change when we see how the Second Vatican Council turned the Catholic Church round and set it on a new course of renewal and relationship with the world. It certainly did that, but it takes many years, maybe even centuries, for a Council such as that to settle down and be accepted into the life of the Church. One of the things central to the Council was that despite its hierarchical structure equality was at its heart and that the essential vocation of all the baptised was to be holy, to reflect on the signs of the times and respond accordingly.
One of the institutions established as a result of the Council by Pope Paul VI was the Synod of Bishops, a new consultative body to discuss issues of concern to the Church and provide counsel to the Pope. The most recent has just ended. But it was a synod with a difference. First, synodality was the focus of discussion so that it became a Synod on Synodality. Participation of the whole Church was paramount as it focussed on the fundamental question of how ‘journeying together’ was happening in the local church and what steps needed to be taken to grow in this journey. The process was one of listening to one another in silence, responding to what had been heard and reflecting together on hopes and possibilities for the future. It began three years ago in local diocese after which reports were collated at a national level, then continental level before being fed into the document that would form the basis for discussion at the actual month- long Synod meetings which took place in Rome in 2023 and now concluded in 2024. Significant about these meetings was the inclusion of lay men and women who formed about a quarter of the participants. This process, the first of its kind, gave ordinary Catholics the chance to talk about issues and areas of church life that they found difficult. They welcomed an opportunity to participate and were excited by the possibilities it raised. For some it raised expectations that issues they felt needed looking at would be dealt with. One of the issues that came to the fore at all levels of discussion was that of the place of women in the Church and the question of the ordination of women to the diaconate if not the priesthood – something that has been discussed and written about for many years. Much as this was recognised as an important issue there was disappointment and consternation when before the first session of the Synod Pope Francis stipulated that this and other specific issues would not be discussed. Rather study groups would be set up to continue reflection and discussion on these issues. For many women this felt like rejection and a missed opportunity to show that the rhetoric of respect for women and their place in the Church could be translated into reality. Some complained, some got discouraged and I think not a few lost interest in a process that had promised so much. While I understand this frustration I think I have come to understand the logic in this. For one thing the topic of the Synod was synodality and I know myself in teaching and leading workshops how easy it is for people’s special interests to deflect from the topic on hand. Pope Francis is trying to steer the Church to a more open and inclusive community at all levels of church life. He is trying to change a clerical mentality that sees or gives the ordained clergy excessive influence in church life. He is trying to keep the Church moving in the direction of the Second Vatican Council. Some of the issues that people hoped would be discussed are ones fraught with difficulties that could cause conflict and polarisation. I can quite understand that an 87-year-old Pope might not have the energy for that. One of the marvels of the Catholic Church and one that I have come to realise is respected by people of other faiths is the sense of unity that exists despite differing opinions. I see the official voice of the Church as centre point on a continuum that has more radical voices on one side and more conservative voices on the other. But somehow we all belong. Now the Synod is over, and the final document has been published with several calls for changes in canon law and church governance to include a synodal perspective and the involvement of lay men and women in church structures. It has been accepted by the Pope. I have not read the document but from reports it seems rather an institutional document but, as one participant reported, it is about “a structure that exists, that is being remodelled, refashioned, restructured…. so that it is able and capable of listening to the realities of our times”. This is what Pope Francis has in mind and at the end of the Synod he told delegates to be attentive to the challenges of our time, the urgency of evangelization and the many wounds that afflict humanity. "A sedentary church” he said “ that inadvertently withdraws from life and confines itself to the margins of reality, is a church that risks remaining blind and becoming comfortable with its own unease. If we remain stuck in our blindness, we will continuously fail to grasp the urgency of giving a pastoral response to the many problems of our world." If the Synod is a step in this direction it is indeed good news.  This October I will have been a sister of Notre Dame for 60 years. It’s quite a thought and a time for reflecting on what has been an amazing journey and like all human journeys it’s had its highs and lows, its joys and its sorrows.
The world I entered 60 years ago was drastically different from the way I now live. When I first joined the community life was very structured with a regular timetable of prayer, work and study and we were expected to keep silence. We wore special clothes called a habit and were given a religious name. It was a very formal, private way of life and though the sisters left the convent to teach in a number of schools they returned each evening to live what was called a religious life which was separate and different from that of the world. This began to change at the second Vatican council when the Church embraced the hopes and fears of the world and religious were asked to go back to the foundations of their community and reflect on the inspiration that had brought it into being. Gradually this led to the dismantling of that institutional way of life as religious began to realise that the charism of their community was not to leave the world but to serve it. We began to live a more normal life, going back to the name we had been given at our birth and baptism, wearing normal clothes, organising our own timetable for prayer and recreation. This all happened over a number of years and at first the changes caused some consternation in the Catholic community and some anxiety even in sisters themselves. Now I live in a neighbourhood by myself with the support and friendship of many people. Looking back on it all I am grateful that things have changed so radically and that the life I live is differentiated by the vows of poverty chastity and obedience and the ministry I am engaged in rather than being institutionally separated from the so-called world. Looking back on it all I am very grateful for the opportunities that this life has given me. It has been an adventure both inward and outward. Opportunities for retreats spiritual direction study, community reflection and support have helped me explore my inner self and hopefully become a better human being. Prayer and meditation as well as silence and retreats have been difficult at times but given me the opportunity to face up to what was going on in my heart and mind. I have had the opportunity to study and engage in a ministry that has been life giving for me and hopefully for others. This has taken me into the world of education where I learned much more than I ever taught. It has also taken me into the world of other faiths, and not only did I have the privilege of introducing others to these faiths, but I was able to work in inter religious dialogue and make many good interfaith friends. I have much to be grateful for and, as I reflect on the past 60 years, I am particularly grateful for the people who have become part of my life and part of my journey. The reason I joined the Sisters of Notre Dame was because of the strong, independent, committed women that I met when I was training to be a primary school teacher. I was privileged to be taught by them and to have come to know and to live with some amazing sisters who have encouraged, supported, loved and challenged me throughout my life. I have experienced real friendship and companionship in religious life. I have also been privileged to work with some remarkable people, first of all in the field of religious education at a time when it was exciting to work with colleagues who were committed to developing a new approach to religious education which was open to world faiths rather than Christian instruction. The work I did in inter religious dialogue both locally and nationally gave me the opportunity to engage with believers outside my own community and a sense of working together with others for the good of society and the Kingdom of God. This gave us the opportunity to share our faith in some depth which helped me enter the world of others and deepen my own faith. All of these people have become part of me and helped make me who I am today. Thich Nhat Hanh speaks about inter being and over the years I have come to feel this in my very being. I think I have come to understand a little and maybe imperfectly the Buddhist concept of no- self. There is no distinct, separate, individual me apart from my relationships and those who have been my companions on this journey of life and faith. In a sense I am never alone and when I sit to pray or to reflect they are all there with me. This interbeing extends beyond those who have physically been there in my life to those who have influenced me, challenged me, deepened and extended my knowledge through their writing. Books have been a great companion and I have learned so much from influential writers, some of whom have even become friends. They too have become part of me. And in this year as I celebrate the 60th anniversary of my joining Notre Dame I give thanks for a journey that I would describe as an adventure and for all those who knowingly and unknowingly accompanied me.  There was a story on the BBC news website this morning which shows both the worst and best of human nature. It was the story of the owner of a shop in Southport whose business was looted and almost destroyed by anti-immigrant rioters. From his home he watched the scene via the shop’s CCTV camera linked to his phone. He saw rioters hurling bricks at the windows, setting a bin alight near the shop’s entrance and emptying shelves of cigarettes and alcohol. He thought he had lost his business and his livelihood. But the story continues “The following morning Mr Balasuriya found a crowd of neighbours, some of whom he’d never spoken to, making repairs and clearing up broken glass. Support flooded in. The owner of a nearby beauty salon set up a crowdfunding campaign raising more than £11,000 towards repairs. A local builder replaced his windows for free. One of his suppliers turned up with a cabinet of ice cream. A few days later he re-opened the shop.
This unrest has taken place in several cities in England this last week after the stabbing of three young girls in Southport as they attended a summer holiday dance class. The stabbings rocked the nation but a report on social media suggested wrongly that the perpetrator was a Muslim and recent immigrant. Right wing groups responded and took to the streets, targeting mosques, refugee and asylum centres and denouncing immigration. The riots seem to spread like wildfire and police had to work hard to make sure they didn’t get out of hand. Some people interviewed on the news suggested it had all happened because people were so dissatisfied with the state of the nation but with or without dissatisfaction it was encouraged and orchestrated by right wing thugs with no concern for the grief of the family of the young girls who had been murdered. It was the kind of situation that can lead us to despair of the human race. But as can happen in these kinds of situations the good in people also comes out. The story of Mr Balasuriya is not the only heartening one. At one mosque which had been a focus for demonstrations, the imam and some members of the mosque committee waited until things had died down a bit before taking out and sharing food with the rioters, even inviting them into the mosque. And there have been many counterdemonstrations supporting refugees and immigrants, decrying racism as well as meetings of and statements from religious and community leaders stressing their commitment to social cohesion and harmony. I wonder if Michael Gove, the former Home Secretary, now doubts his wisdom in failing to give funding to the UK Interfaith Network which was so committed to good interfaith relations. As an interfaith practitioner I know that there is a whole body of people open and welcoming to those who are different from them. They are aware of the wisdom and strength that can be gained from friendships across religious and ethnic boundaries and see the value in diversity. But interreligious dialogue and interfaith engagement is still a minority sport and it would seem that some people are more energised by the negative than by the positive. I remember once hearing someone say at an interfaith conference that there is enough religion in the world for hate and not enough for love. And yet all religions would claim that love, compassion, neighbourliness is core to their faith. All of them have some rendering of the Golden Rule to do to our neighbour as we would have them do to us. It’s a message that those who took part in the lootings are closed to. I don’t know if any of them had any kind of religious affiliation but know it is possible, just as I know that many of those taking part in counterdemonstrations will not necessarily have any religious affiliation. This is a moment when it is more important to be human than it is to be religious, and my belief is that a good religion is one that brings us more into touch with our humanity which includes the recognition that our humanity is a shared one and that all those who share it are our sisters and brothers. Can the love we have for one another overcome and drive out the fear and distrust we have of one another? There is an indigenous story when an elder tells the younger members of the community that there sits a good and bad eagle on each shoulder, often struggling with one another. In reply to a question as to which one will win the elder responded whichever one we feed. Again, religion at its best will help us do this but we won’t do it perfectly. We are on a journey, we are incomplete and imperfect, we are stumbling towards a future not our own. But we can try and witness that there are signs of this future and I certainly see that in the work of interfaith relations and engagement.  Over this last week I have been listening to a series of talks by Brian Swimme and Matthew Fox, entitled ‘Science, Spirituality and the Noosphere: Hope for Humanity’s Future’. While positioning humanity within the whole history of evolution Brian Swimme suggested that human beings, although sharing the same DNA as chimpanzees, are what he called a phylum. By this he means that human beings are of a different class and even species and what makes human beings different from their chimpanzee cousins is imagination and symbolic thinking. There is a restlessness in human beings that wants to explore and develop new ways of being, a restlessness that has potential for future living together in peace and harmony, something the world badly needs.
I had a sense of this truth last evening when I was watching the opening of the 2024 Olympic Games that are taking place in Paris. The organisers and designers of the opening ceremony certainly used their imagination when they set the opening along the banks of the Seine rather than in a stadium and to have the athletes sail down the river in barges to be hailed by the crowds on the banks of the river. The usual entertainment and references to the history and culture of the city and country in which the Games are being held took place in landmarks throughout the city; the Olympic Flag was carried by a rider on a mechanical horse making its way down the Seine; the Olympic Torch was carried underground and over rooftops, brought to its final destination by a number of athletes, setting alight a gigantic cauldron around a hot air balloon that was then hoisted into the air above the city. It was all very dramatic and took place in the pouring rain which didn’t seem to dampen the enthusiasm of the athletes, the participants or the spectators. It was an attempt to be different and not everyone liked it. I suspect that it could only be viewed on television screens which must have been placed throughout the city and in the Place du Trocadero where the actual Opening Ceremony was to take place. I appreciated the attempt to be different and marvelled at the ingenuity of the organisers. There were also many aspects of it that I found moving. The sole rider riding along the Seine on his mechanical horse and the walk to the platform with the Olympic Flag while the athletes carrying flags of their nation followed behind was a symbol of how important and how global the Olympic Games are. But most of all I appreciated the speeches. There were two, apart from the declaration by President Macron that the Games were now officially opened. The first one was given by Tony Estanguet, President of the Paris 2024 Organising Committee, who acknowledged how bold they had been in “doing things that have never been done before, like having this Opening Ceremony in the city, for the first time in the history of the Olympic Games.” He put before the athletes and the world a vision of what humanity could be. He said “Even though the Games cannot solve every problem, even though discrimination and conflicts are not about to disappear tonight, you have reminded us how beautiful humanity is when we come together. And when you return to the Olympic Village, you will be sending a message of hope to the whole world: that there is a place where people of every nationality, every culture and every religion can live together. You’ll be reminding us: it is possible”. And in the second speech Thomas Bach, the President of the International Olympic Committee reiterated that vision: “Dear fellow athletes, this is the pinnacle of your Olympic journey. You have come to Paris as athletes. Now you are Olympians. Stepping into the Olympic Village, you realise like generations of Olympians before: now I am part of something bigger than myself. Now we are part of an event that unites the world in peace. In our Olympic world, there is no “global south” or “global north”. We all respect the same rules and each other. In our Olympic world, we all belong. As Olympians, we care for each other. We do not only respect each other; we live in solidarity with each other. In a world torn apart by wars and conflicts, it is thanks to this solidarity that we can all come together tonight, uniting the athletes from the territories of all 206 National Olympic Committees and the International Olympic Committee Refugee Olympic Team. Some may say, we in the Olympic world, we are dreamers. But we are not the only ones. And our dream is coming true tonight: a reality for everyone to see. Olympians from all around the globe, showing us what greatness we humans are capable of. So I invite everybody: dream with us. Like the Olympic athletes, be inspired with the joy that only sport can give us. Let us celebrate this Olympic spirit of living life in peace, as the one and only humankind, united in all our diversity. This is why tonight, with my heart full of emotions, I invite the whole world: let us celebrate this joy of sport together with all the athletes. Have faith in the future. Together, let us celebrate the best of our shared humanity” What a wonderful vision. We are not all athletes but as human beings we are part of something much bigger than ourselves. We have the capacity and the power to live together in peace. Our times need us to exercise that power and capability. Institutions like the United Nations, international meetings of governments, the European Union, are attempts to do this even if they are not always successful. What would it be if at these meetings a vision such as that presented at the Olympic Games was put before the participants, they were asked to declare their belief in it and were called to recollect it by those chairing the meetings? Would that be possible? Would it help us in this journey towards wholeness? Our world is in crisis. The future is in our hands.  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. |
AuthorI am a Catholic nun, involved in interfaith relations for many decades. For me this has been an exciting and sacred journey which I would like to share with others. 
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