AJGita - theology that upsets the stomach
Homelessness: What You Can Do to Help
Posted on 19 July 2010 | No responses
Humanizing the Homeless:
I met a man who was homeless in Memphis who told me “I can handle being yelled at, being spit on, being told to get a job, but what I can’t take is people acting like I’m invisible.” The first thing we can do to help is to make sure an individual doesn’t feel invisible. Recognize a homeless person’s presence even if you don’t have them money, food or resources at the time is still important. Though its not always encouraged, use discretion when giving money to a person who is asking. This is a case where if you feel moved by your faith to give then do so. If you can it’s best to give in organized way. Support finically or with your time to organizations that are doing homeless outreach currently. Each of us has a set of skills – find your skill and use it to help those in need.
Organizations in New York that work directly with the homeless include:
Picture the Homeless – Picturethehomeless.org
The Partnership for the Homeless – Partnershipforthehomeless.org
The Coalition for the Homeless – Coalitionforthehomeless.org
The Interfaith Assembly on Homelessness and Housing – IAHH.org
Information on volunteer opportunities in NYC nycservice.org/advanced_search.php
Teaching How to Fish:
There’s an old adage: “Give a man a fish; you have fed him for today. Teach a man to fish; and you have fed him for a lifetime.” The best way to help someone is not to give money –but to provide information. Yes some individuals will purchase food or other necessities but some people may use the money to purchase drugs or alcohol. The best way you can help is to provide individuals with information about where and how they can get the specific help they need. Many organizations make pamphlets with information about shelters and other programs, for example the Interfaith Assembly on Homelessness and Housing provides free downloadable ”Street Sheets.” They may not use it today but they might tomorrow – all we can do is provide the information. It’s also a good idea to carry some food with you: pre-wrapped sandwiches or granola bars are easy to keep in your bag and can be given along with information to individuals who ask you for help on the street or on the subway. You can give a sandwich now and information to help someone experiencing homelessness in the future
The Role of Faith Groups:
People who are homeless often seek out churches, synagogues, mosques and other houses of worship for help. Historically religious communities have been the first to welcome the stranger in their midst. Religious institutions and even buildings must be a safe haven for the homeless. Houses of worship and religious institutions must be the first place that homeless people can turn to for help. Faith groups can provide a range of services from shelters, to soup kitchens, food pantries, free clothing, classes and even counseling services. Learn what your faith group and or congregation have to offer in the way of services. When a homeless person approaches you on the street or at your house of worship let them know what services your congregation has to offer and where they can find more help if they need it. Don’t just carry around information keep pamphlets at your house of worship to distribute to people in need. Faith groups can also come together across religious and denominational lines to combat homeless in their communities. We live in a pluralistic society and face many of the same problems communally. Work with other local congregations to find out how you can come together and pool your resources to help.
From Short Term Help to Long Term Assistance:
Congregations of all faiths can be the bridge between social services and homeless men and women on the streets. Because congregations are often welcoming to people who are homeless and do provide many temporary services they are often in direct contact with people who have the greatest needs. After providing temporary support: a bed for the night, a hot meal, or a coat, the congregation must direct an individual where they can get the long-term help they need. Each person who is homeless is an individual with a unique story and set of needs: are they a substance abuser, HIV positive, a person running away from an abusive family, do they have mental health issues, did they lose their job, their home or their apartment? Assess their situation first and then direct them to how they can get help. Be very careful in making referrals. Does the individual have mental or physical disabilities that will keep them from accessing certain services? For example: consider if the referral is wheel chair accessible. Many congregations that do a lot of work with the homeless have a full time caseworker of a part time caseworker that visits the congregation regularly. This individual can provide men and women who are homeless with information about how they can get the help they need from social service agencies or enroll in programs like: Medicare, single residency occupancy units (SRO), section eight housing vouchers, mental health care, etc. Congregations can do more than give people a fish they can teach people how to fish by providing them with the resources.
Critiquing Perennial Philosophers: Prothero Proves “God is Not One”
Posted on 30 May 2010 | 2 responses
In Stephen Prothero’s latest book “God is Not One” he attempts to push forward his project to make Americans religiously literate one-step further by daring to name the ways we all don’t get along. In order to do this Prothero takes aim at the so-called “Perennial Philosophers,” under this umbrella he includes such lauded ghosts of academic religion’s past as Huston Smith, Aldous Huxley and Joseph Campbell. His precise criticism doesn’t end with the academics he even has the audacity to cut holes in the arguments of many of my personal heroes including Swami Vivakenanda, William Blake and even heaven help us Ghandi! I was at first skeptical of Prothero’s audacious arguments against many of my adolescent heroes: the philosophers, poets and activists whose words first swayed to make the fiscally savvy investment in a Masters of Divinity degree. After three deep breaths and three paragraphs of Prothero’s lucid prose I had to admit he had a darn good point.
The crux of Prothero’s argument at times has less to do with the differences between religions and more to do with our own unwillingness to discern and recognize those differences (no matter how minuscule or mammoth). I am a Millennial; I am of that generation or generations (I include the Gen X’ers) that is wary of making declarative statements. Flabby modifiers precded much of my speech: “you know like,” or “probably” or “I feel like maybe.” To combat this admitted addiction I’ve made a considerable effort to be more assertive in my beliefs (or how I state them). I’ve even gone as far as making a lists of the things I hate on facebook including but not limited to: “Objectivism, Hipsters and peanut butter.” What Prothero most importantly notes is that in order to know what you believe you must first know what you don’t believe. This is not unlike the view that Christopher Morse evangelizes in his discourse on theology “Not Every Spirit;” in order for a Christian to be faithful they must also possess “faithful disbelief.” Though Morse works within the confines of Christian systematic theology his argument is of equal validity regardless of religion. Our own self-inventory of belief must also entails recognizing our disbeliefs and being unafraid to say them.
The places where Prothero is most eloquent and cogent is where the topic falls most directly under his academic sphere of influence: the Introduction, the Conclusion and his “Coda on the New Atheists.” Prothero notes that New Atheists like the outspoken Richard Dawkins represent a backlash against religion that looks an awful lot like religion. I am for lack of a more applicable term an agnostic, progressive, humanist Jew, and when I converse with a self-proclaimed Atheist they are often surprised that on most issues we agree. Do I believe the Bible to be literal fact? No. Do I believe in the value of religion and the necessity of the God possibility? Yes. In this regard Prothero is a critic of ideologues and extremists in whatever form they take in our time.
Rather than working specifically with religions Prothero is more considered with different religious modes of thought. Though Taoism and Confucism for the most part lack the infrastructure of the Abrahamic faiths they are no less imbedded in the consciousness of millions if not billions of people worldwide. This is the most radical step taken in Prothero’s conception of religion. Unlike the “perennials” he is less concerned with religions and more concerned with religious thought; for this reason he is freer to name points of disbelief. By honing in on the specific beliefs Prothero is able to effectively name points of connection and points of contention between religious systems and modes of thought. Judaism and Christianity may share the Hebrew Scriptures but for Jews the prophesies of Isaiah extend as far as Babylon where as for Christians they portend the coming of Christ Jesus. Or unbeknownst to many Christians, Jews like Elvis Costello believe “there is no such thing as an original sin.” These are simple examples but despite the fact that Jews and Christians can agree on certain shared moral principles (e.g. “thou shall not kill”) this does not mean that their views of the universe, the nature of God and the purpose of life don’t differ intrinsically.
If Prothero had served as the editor of the book rather than the sole author it would have better served the purpose of his book. Prothero is not an expert on Islam, Judaism or Hinduism and for that matter he isn’t an expert on any of the major religious schools of thought he detailed. This does not mean that Prothero writes, thinks or possess the knowledge of novice. On the contrary I believe he is effective in communicating the basic belief of a multiplicity of religions. If I were teaching an introductory course on religion I would use this book in tandem with Huston Smiths’ perennial favorite “The World Religions.” However having an academic with a focused knowledge of each religion would have presented I believe a more accurate and comprehensive picture. Despite this Prothero is current; he is aware of the needs and concerns of a contemporary audience. In preaching that “God is not one” Prothero is asking for a more honest intra and inter-religious dialogue that isn’t afraid to note that the differences as well as points of connection.
New Pew Poll Should Say “22% Say Democrats Unfriendly to Christianity”
Posted on 15 February 2010 | No responses
The Pew Research Center released a poll today stating “22% – Say Democrats Unfriendly Toward Religion.”
But, if you look at what faith backgrounds the participants came from, they were all from Christian denominations. Maybe the poll question asked specifically about “religion” in general, but the participants all came from Christian backgrounds so it is hard to tell whether they were thinking “Christianity” when it said “religion.”
I know in my experience with Christians in the Midwest, a lot of evangelical Christians who follow a Republican voting line believe Democrats are “anti-Christian.” So when the idea of “religion” comes up, they look at it (like most of us do) from their own faith perspectives. I just think Pew needs to be clear on what exactly the participants think when they use the term “religion.” Because I know that if you think your own faith beliefs and traditions are under threat, the last thing you’re going to think of is the whether the other guy’s traditions are too.
Luckily, though, as the Pew poll points out, the perspective that Democrats are unfriendly to religion is decreasing. No political party, no matter how many secular, moderate, or super-religious people stand behind it, should be “anti-religion” or unfriendly to religion or any faith for that matter. In my view, religion and the religious voter are the few areas where all politicians should be clammoring for more votes.
Beliefs vs. Common Values in Muslim-Christian Dialogue
Posted on 31 January 2010 | No responses
At first, the challenge of the concept of Christian and Islamic theology was whether it existed or not. “There is no Islamic theology,” says Tariq Ramadan. “It is meaningless, and in actual fact wrong” to compare the Islamic scholars’ conversations with Christian theology (Western Muslims and the Future of Islam 11). What is specifically wrong about it, in his opinion, is that “theology” is a specifically Christian term, and Islam as a faith does not work like this.
An “Islamic theology” is exactly what Karl Rahner and Seyyed Hossein Nasr presuppose. Some Muslims might have problems with this because “theology” is said to be a specifically Christian term, and Ramadan in particular thinks this form of theology has been imposed on understandings of Islam. As Wilfred Cantwell Smith notes, Christians ask, “What do they believe?” (On Understanding Islam 240) He suggests Christians and Muslims are not wrong in discussing theology; rather, he says they are just asking the wrong questions. The questions should not be about what one believes, but whether that belief is acted out with a sense of common values.
Regardless, the fact is, whether it exists or not, both Christians and Muslims must deal with each other’s and one’s own theological similarities and conflicts. One can meander around the existence of theology, but one inevitably comes face to face with its implications and consequences. Upon more reflection, and taking heed of Smith’s observation, a common understanding of the role of theology for both traditions is pertinent.
Rahner seems to take for granted the importance of theology in Christianity, as do most Christians, while presupposing this view onto Islam. Theology is an important part of the Christian faith, informing all parts of a Christian’s understanding of God. Christian theology, as Smith notes, is often defined by “belief,” with the question stated above: “What do they [Muslims] believe?” Sometimes starting with this can be faulty logic, since “what people believe is not always the ultimate religious question at all,” and “complicated by the confusion of using ‘belief’ also for the quite different ‘faith’” (240).
It is interesting how Smith describes Islamic theology a “philosophy of religion” in Islam. For Islam, Smith argues, the law (Sharia) is the most important element in a Muslim’s faith (241). So the focus of the role of theology is important because a common role can be found despite the differing types of theology. Smith implies that as long as one’s belief is informed by one’s faith, theologies in both faiths remain in their proper place, without imposition of one on another. The wrong thing that needs to be prevented is belief simultaneously describing one’s faith, and assuming this on the other faith. This, says Smith, is how theology goes beyond its boundaries.
With this in mind, dialogue still cannot ignore definitions. One should not cease in talking about what theology is for a particular faith: “One of the responsibilities, in our day, of comparative religion studies is that of constructing concepts…by means of which divergent religious traditions may become mutually intelligible” (235). Dialogue between Muslims and Christians cannot be set in two different modes of understanding, two different styles. They have to stem from the same framework, meaning the two faiths come to the same table for the same reasons. A “Christian” understanding of theology will not impede on Islam’s understanding of its faith.
Whether Islam “has” a theology or not, it still has beliefs and values. It still has a frame of reference where the centerpiece is God, or Allah. The challenge seems to lie in the West, where Nasr states that neither Christianity nor Islam can impose its views on the other; however, the larger and vaguer “West” “in distinction from Christianity is seeking to impose its views of politics in relation to religion upon the whole world.” Instead, Nasr believes dialogue and mutual understanding will not come if one side is set on domination, or “triumphalism” (217). For Nasr, in other words, the problem of the West is not the theological but rather the secular law that imposes itself upon other cultures, people, and worldviews.
Does this mean that theological debate between Islam and Christianity is actually getting in the way of other possibly fruitful conversations on “secular,” and more practical, discussions of economic justice, gender rights, and democracy? On the surface, it seems that way.
However, Seyyed Hossein Nasr discusses some concepts that Christians and Muslims often are conflicted over. One, partly mentioned above, is the idea of Law. For the West, which includes Christianity, “Laws” that shape the social boundaries of a society are not rooted in any theological tradition, but are somewhat secular. Laws in the West come from the State. But Islamic law in the public sphere is rooted in Divine Law: “The Divine Law molds society and not society the Divine Law” (“Islamic-Christian Dialogue: Problems and Obstacles” 217). It is not that the West does not have “sacred laws”; rather, it is that the West differentiates between laws imposed by people and laws imposed by God.
What looks like theology getting in the way for the West and/or Christianity, is actually just what Islam regards as theological, as in Divine Law. With this in mind, it would help to come to an understanding over what “Divine Law” is for both Christians and Muslims, since “many Muslims also claim that the separation of Christianity from politics in the West is only outward, and that there are hidden links between the two which are revealed from time to time” (217). Nasr gives the example of abortion where the convolution between secular and divine law is imminent.
Another challenge for Nasr between Christianity and Islam in relation to the theological is salvation, or “who is saved.” “It is important to bring the question of who is saved to the center of the stages of dialogue and discuss it vigorously” (216). Why would Nasr suggest that a subject as touchy as “who is saved” be discussed? He even admits the recent surge in fundamentalisms within both faiths, where a “narrowing of faith” has occurred. “Many Muslims, hardened by attacks against them by both Christian missionaries and secularists…propagate…the idea that all non-Muslims are kafir in the theological sense and condemned to eternal damnation” (216).
While Muslims have included in their tradition a concept of the “people of the book,” which considers Christians rightful followers of the one God, Nasr notes that “for Christians to extend the possibility of salvation beyond the redemption offered by Christ is difficult indeed” (215). Soteriological discussions on theology might only seem to create an impasse between these already colliding faiths; however, Nasr indicates the history of a “universalist perspective of Islam” that “has always answered ‘those who follow their tradition faithfully, if it be an authentic revealed religion’” (216). Nasr warns that one must be careful when reasserting this universalist perspective of salvation in Islam, but it is a step in the right direction.
However, where should a theological discussion between these faiths begin? Ramadan asserts in starting with the basic fundamentals of one’s faith, in his case, Islam. (This is easier said than done, especially regarding Christianity!) The answer, it seems, lies in all these writers’ understandings of their own faiths. Ramadan states, “the heart of the message of Islam is that a living spirituality comes at the price of willingly making the effort to come back to what is essential, to contemplate the world and to take the road back toward one’s self” (Ramadan, 122). Continually, “to this state of recollection and humility must be added another concrete dimension of spiritual teaching that requires the establishment of a constant link between the demands of a conscience and life choices” (123).
In following a message of “living spirituality,” Smith notes that Christians called to “living in Christ” is parallel to the Islamic idea of ummah, or Muslim community (Smith, 240). Christians can and should live out their faith in a “living spirituality” that is embedded in concepts of community, solidarity, and justice, if the Christian faith is really in God. Ramadan’s assertion that a “concrete dimension of spiritual teaching” is fundamental to a living spirituality is also linked to the ummah. To live spiritually and concretely, as Ramadan believes, one has to direct an ethic to society, community and the world.
Likewise, Rahner engages authentic Christianity, Trinitarianism, and Monotheism with “concrete” monotheism: the idea that Christian life and practice of faith must be rooted in “devotion in the present world” (“Oneness and Threefoldness of God in Discussion with Islam” 117). Christian ideas of monotheism are “not metaphysical” alone, but “historical,” meaning it reflects the actual “experience of salvation history” (110). He suggests a “radicalization of the Trinity,” which exemplifies the history of revelation, and thus the mystery of God.
This would bode well with Nasr, who criticizes absolutist notions of the Trinity and other dogmas: “When the Trinity is considered completely in divinis and identical with God as Unity so that unity has not significance outside of the Trinity…it is very difficult if not impossible to come to basic theological understanding with Islam” (214).
Rather, Rahner wants to retain the Trinity not as a dogma but as a practice, rooted in history. It is a Trinity “on the ground,” which recognizes the importance of salvation being more than just a metaphysical concept. There is a mystery to God, but it is revealed through concrete knowing of Jesus’ salvific event. He critiques the “theoretical monotheists” who do not base their understanding of faith in a historical context. Though the discussion is theological, it is more than just that; it must reflect a sense of ethics and values upon actions.
All writers, especially Ramadan, Rahner and Smith, are saying that faith must be rooted in a “living spirituality” that engages a contextual understanding of faith and life. It cannot be solely mystical or solely worldly. Faith must consider the real world and history of life. This is crucial for dialogue, as all authors recognize.
This supports questions raised by Nasr’s article that theology gets in the way; instead, theology must be foundational in discussing the concrete experiences and realities of those practicing and living the faith traditions of Islam and Christianity, and not just thrown out the window as if theology is totally outside concepts of economic justice, women’s rights, democracy, and pluralism.
Dialogue should engage theological differences, but these discussions must start with the communities’ needs, so that dialogue, like theology, remains “concrete:” reflecting and respecting the everyday issues of these people of faith, where parallels, shared principles, and joint actions can occur.
All the writers show that theological issues do not have to be divisive; even soteriological concepts are more open than most practitioners of these faiths realize. The question has evolved from “Does theology exist in Islam?” to “How can we mediate our common values to express our theology?” as well as “How can we come to a common understanding of the role of theology in dialogue?”
Christians and Muslims have shared values; they just have different ways of expressing them theologically, such as how each views Sacred Law. To discuss theologically different religions with the goal of understanding is an arduous task; however, it is not impossible. We must take Smith’s advice, and move beyond the particular “beliefs” of a faith to engage another on how these values are acted out in a “living spirituality” rooted in concrete experience, reality, and history that envisions a better world.
Works Cited
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. “Islamic-Christian Dialogue: Problems and Obstacles to be Pondered and Overcome.” Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations, Vol. 11(2), July 2000, pp. 213-227.
Rahner, Karl. “Oneness and Threefoldness of God in Discussion with Islam.” Theological Investigations XVIII, 1983, pp. 105-121.
Ramadan, Tariq. Western Muslims and the Future of Islam. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004.
Smith, Wilfred Cantwell. On Understanding Islam. New York: Mouton Publishers, 1981.
Jesus as an Ishta-Devata
Posted on 8 January 2010 | 1 response
Considering the Future of Hindu-Christian Dialogue
In November of 2005 the British government released a sixty-eight pence stamp depicting a 17th century painting of two Hindus worshiping an image of the infant Jesus. Many UK Hindu organizations were outraged and called for the repeal of the stamp. In examining this situation is this an example of a movement within Hinduism to become less pluralistic and more exclusionary? Or, was this an attempt to maintain a Hindu identity in the midst of the growth of Christianity within India and abroad. The exponential pace of globalization within in India has forced the issue: where is to be found the balance between dialogue and the maintenance one’s religious identity.
Framing Christ as a Hindu deity on the part of some Hindus erodes the value of their tradition; it reduces Hinduism to simply another Christian denomination rather than a separate and empowered faith unto itself. Is the attempt by some Hindus to embrace Christianity by making Jesus their ishta-devata actually acting as a catalyst for a new brand of Hindu fundamentalism? Are valiant attempts at Hindu-Christian dialogue leading to a greater polarization of the parties involved? Is Christian ignorance of the substance of the Hindu world-view hindering what could be a fruitful partnership that provides insight into the core of both faiths?
Beginnings with Portuguese merchants on through the British Raja, India has had a long-standing conversation with Christianity. What took place during the convening centuries was the formation of a unique Hindu-Christian syncretism and the creation of a distinctly Hindu Christology on the part of some Hindus. Recently there has been a trend within Hinduism to incorporate Jesus into their pantheon and into their daily worship and personal piety. Jesus is no longer the God of the Christians a foreign people, He has become one of many personal saviors to choose from as your ishta-devata.
In Hindu theology an ishta-devata is one’s personal god. An individual chooses to focus their devotional practice (bhakti) toward a specific incarnation of a god. In Vaishnavism, a major branch of Hinduism the central deity is Vishnu; in this tradition one might choose as their ishta-devata Ramah or Krishna both of whom are believed to be incarnations of Vishnu. Choosing Jesus as an ishta-devata diverges from this paradigm. Jesus is begotten of the Father but not of either Vishnu or Siva. To truly make Jesus an ishta-devata one must first assert that He is an avatar of a Hindu God.
The word avatar in Sanskrit translates as “descent.” The avatar is the incarnation of a god that descends to earth. Avatars are defined by when they appear, during what age (yuga). There is not a consensus within Hinduism as per how many avatars of Vishnu have appeared on Earth. Some school believe that there have been twenty-five. In some Hindu traditions it is believed that the historical Buddha, prince Siddhartha Gautama was an avatar of Vishnu. He is the ninth and most recent avatar of Vishnu. Some Hindu eschatological beliefs posit that there will be one more avatar of Vishnu, Kalki. Brandishing a double-edged sword in his right hand and riding a white horse, he will usher in the close of the Kali Yuga by defeat the demon Kali and set humanity back on the path of righteousness. Kalki will be the last coming.
There is controversy both within Christian and Hindu communities whether or not it is right or even spiritually beneficial to choose Jesus as an ishta-devata. Certainly, on the surface Hinduism leaves room enough for the choosing of any god as an ishta-devata. However, it is a god outside of any branch of Hinduism and outside of any of the traditional pantheons that begot Christ. People choose an ishta-devata based upon their tradition. If Jesus is an avatar he is not an incarnation of any of the personalities of the Trimurt: Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu. Jesus is “the only begotten son of the father,” which is why many Christians believe that he must be the only avatar. For a Christian to claim that Jesus is simply their ishta-devata is to tacitly affirm the existence of other avatars and or gods. Many Christians hold to the belief that there “is one way to the Father.” Might there be room within Hinduism for Christians but not the other way around?
The adopting of a Jesus as an ishta-devata reflects a historical pattern of peoples synthesizing their customs, language, imagery and pre-existent faith traditions into a new culturally based Christology. This poses the question is Jesus i Christianity? Or can he be separated out from the religion? Jesus is a prophet in Islam, why can’t he also be an avatar of Vishnu? To spread the Gospel must Christians maintain sole possession of Jesus and His status as the Christ? To have inter-religious dialogue Christians must first address the plurality of Christologies and be willing to have intra-religious dialogue.
Hinduism is non-creedal in that it doesn’t require an individual to affirm a singular statement to be a Hindu. Attempting to reduce Christianity with it’s vicissitudes over time and across cultural boundaries by way of a creed is dangerous. However, Christianity is creedal as it exists in the form of an organized religion/s. Hinduism by contrast is better defined as a “sacred canopy” rather than a religion in Western terms. This does not mean that Hinduism is without doctrine or theology, rather there are mutual beliefs that hold together the religion. Christianity may have as much variety within its denominations but the staunch statement that “Jesus Christ is Lord” cannot be assuaged. Hinduism posits a worldview where as Christianity organizes a specific methodology of salvation. The Hindu idea of salvation is not limited to the personhood of Jesus Christ.
Hindu self-understanding is something that came about after Indians encountered the monotheistic religions of Islam and Christianity. There was never an Easter Letter of Athanasius that declared what was and what was not canonical. However, to not grant Hindu religious texts the title of “scripture” degrades their spiritual value and cultural significance. If only for the benefit of Christian attempts to form a relationship of understanding and respect we might be well served to lend texts like the Vedas, the Upanishads, and the Mahabharata the Christian designation of “scripture.” We may too have to adopt Hindu terms like avatar to describe out begotten God, Christ.
There is exists amongst many Christians and Hindus an ignorance of the theological interconnectivity of the two faiths. Hindu gods are emanations of the true God; they are avenues to an encounter with the divine. This is no different than the so-called fundamentalist Christians that mistakes Jesus for God. Jesus is true God begotten of true God, but Jesus is not the only arm of God. In Hebrew Scriptures God’s power is expressed in the language and extension of His hand and the creative force of His voice. He leads Israel out of Egypt with an “outstretched arm,” the voice of God is what brings matter into being. The Word comes to the prophet and thus he is given the power to preach the message of the Lord to His people. The Holy Spirit, Christ and the Father are instruments of creation and grace given to people by a God who is in truth, “I Am.”
I have made the offhand comment that I consider Jesus to be my ishta-devata. Is a Hindu who takes Jesus as their ishta-devata engaging in inter-religious dialogue? Am I by making such an acerbic and pithy statement attempting to have inter-religious dialogue? How do we preserve our identity whilst trying to identify with other faith traditions? The trend to adopt Jesus as a Hindu ishta-devata is a striking example of how some people are trying to find a way to affirm the traditions of another people whilst holding to the veracity of their beliefs and the integrity of their cultural milieu. To divorce a religion from its cultural context is to assume that the life of a religion is its theology rather than the piety of its participants. Intra-religious dialogue is perpetually plagued by the difficulty in having a conversation between piety and theology. Need we have worship be congruent with our theology or must our theology describe our piety? These are the questions that must be asked by both Christians and Hindus in asserting and understanding their separate positions on inter-religious dialogue.
Hinduism with it’s breadth of diversity, and it’s inclusively of a myriad of belief structures is challenged by task of how to understand Christianity, in particular the religions’ name sake, Jesus Christ. There is a degree of well meaning pride that Hinduism has about its willingness to be inclusive of the beliefs of other faiths. It is an anathema to the strident Christian and Muslim rhetoric of conversion: saved in Christ or doomed to Hell, a “people of the book” or a heathen. We must ask ourselves as proponents of inter-religious dialogue what has been the Christian position historically? Might a more sobering assessment of past Christian attitudes toward Hinduism facilitate a more equitable conversation in the future?
Is choosing Christ as an ishta-devata a kind of self-protection against the dominant and the ever-encroaching cultural imperialism of the West? Hinduism is under attack from Christian missionaries and many Hindus are choosing to bend rather than break. We might see and learn from this willingness to incorporate Jesus into their religious beliefs as the living practice ahimsa. In this, might Hinduism be teaching Christianity a lesson on the oft-forgotten teachings Jesus on love and peace?
How Religious Is Your State?
Posted on 31 December 2009 | 1 response
There’s a cool new study/infographic on U.S. religiosity–always one of my favorite subjects!
The Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life just released their “state by state religious commitment analysis” on all 50 states, and, not surprisingly, a state in the “Bible Belt” came up on top: Mississippi. Eighty-two percent of Mississippi residents said “religion is very important in their lives.”
In comparison, the least religious state(s), Vermont and New Hampshire (their results were combined due to small sample sizes) have only 36 percent of residents concluding religion is “very important” to them.
Surprisingly, Alaska is near the very bottom of that list, dispelling the stereotype that conservative states tend to be more religious and liberal states tend to be more a- or even anti-religious. It racked a measly total of 37 percent who consider religion something very important in their lives.
The Pew Forum also measured the national average of religious commitment, where a majority of Americans hold this belief at 56 percent.
Despite this, the study implies that fewer Americans consider a place of worship a necessity for religiosity. Only 39 percent of Americans regularly attend worship services at least once a week, on average. And, even though Vermont and New Hampshire came in at the bottom of the religious commitment measure, over half (54 percent) of residents “believe in God with absolute certainty.” (They’re still on the bottom of that list, though.)
Regardless, America remains an anomaly among “developed” countries as a fervently religious country compared to other European and American countries in the North, Central, and South.
Creating a Punk Christianity
Posted on 16 December 2009 | No responses
Selection taken from a larger work titled:
A Voice of One Crying from the Underground:
From Calvary to CBGB – Resurrecting the Punk Jesus
By Andrew J. Rosenthal
Many Liberal Christians like to cite Constantine as the force behind Christianity selling out. But Constantine was a savvy politician who steered the empire according to prevailing winds. Christianity was moving toward the mainstream for decades, even centuries before Constantine. However, for a religion whose beginnings were counter-imperial, to be co-opted by Constantine fractured the Christian identity.
One of the greatest lessons Christianity can learn from Punk is its willingness to question itself, the obsessive fear of the overly ambiguous so called, “selling out.” The Punk ethos requires a constant changing of the guard, a reconfiguring and new perspective of its past. Beaudouin believes that Christian denominations must not prioritize their future but rather “focus on the religious message to be lived.”[1] Christianity must pay attention to the present, learn from Punk in this way and be true to the past arriving at the future by living eternally in the moment. “Genius is wisdom and youth,”[2] thus a Punk Christianity offers both imminent and transcendent hope.
Christianity and Punk both own and develop their outsider status. “Punk” is a converted derogatory term, an insult: “you’re a no good punk kid!” “So what? Your society is fucked up!” The punk kid replies. Straight Edge kids took back the “X” marked on their hand for being underage at a show and owned it – by not drinking, drugging, and fucking, they were the real adults. Similarly, Christianity took back the cross, the instrument of Roman oppression, and made it into a symbol of liberation. We’re only criminals according to your rules and your definitions, but according to our inner compass we’re following the right path. Jesus’ death on the cross was also the birth of a new relationship between God and man. Call us “punks,” we don’t care, because “I found the truth within, I’m strong”[3] Crucify us because we’re the servants of God not your emperor. A Punk Christianity utilizes feelings of marginalization and exalts it as symbol of inner, imminent and transcendent strength. In order to do this though, Christianity must take back its identity and its symbols— let the cross again make the statement that, “we’re winners because we’re losers according to your rules.”
Protestantism began well intentioned enough, seeking to expel corruption from the Catholic Church, but it sold out not long after its inception. When Martin Luther urged for the expunging of the Epistle of James from the canon, condoned the slaughter of rebellious peasants, wrote anti-Semitic tracts, the Punk spirit of Protestantism was forsaken. Left out of Protestantism were key elements of the “Jesus way.” Punk Christianity is accountable to a Punk Jesus and can put the “protest” back in Protestantism. Tillich assures us that “Protestantism can receive and transform the religious elements of the quasi-religions,”[4] and this is exactly what needs to happen.
In order for Christianity to truly bear witness to the “Jesus way,” it must learn from Punk. Metz believed that, “the relationship between the Christian faith and the world should be characterized from a theological view-point as creative and militant eschatology.”[5] This is a direct and forward-looking eschatology, functioning to enact an ethically driven kingdom in the present age – the message of Punk Christianity is that Personal salvation is always in the service of social salvation. With this in mind bellow are criteria for setting about to create a Punk Christianity:
- A Punk Christianity is a voice for marginalized people everywhere
- A Punk Christianity is distrustful of ecclesial, corporate, and political authority
- A Punk Christianity supports grass roots community building
- A Punk Christianity facilitates the internal transformation of individuals so that they can become pilgrims of peace and transform society as a whole
Punk Christianity has nothing to do with loud music, tattoos, or stage diving; it’s a worldview, a way, and a movement (accountable to Jesus). The look, which is often ancillary for Punk rock fans, is not the centerpiece of Punk Christianity. It’s not enough to look Punk one has to act Punk.
Punk Christianity must be consistent with the above categories, and become an inclusive rather than exclusive institution that values renewal and reinvestment. Elliot offers that counter-cultures serve to create liberating alternatives to the dominant cultures,
“The practice of counter-culture suggests that our major strategies, in solidarity with the marginalized will be directed towards contesting the dominant ideology and building liberating alternatives to it.”[6] Punk Christianity is a permanent counter-culture, which understands itself as in transition always. Tillich notes that quasi-religions “point back to older traditions,”[7] and can offer new answers to questions “of the meaning of life”[8] Punk Christianity is nothing new, it’s the act of passionately remembering Christian historical and theological origins; Punk Christianity is the original Christianity.
One can be both a Punk and Christian, the two terms need not be mutually exclusive; a double belonging is possible and beneficial. One’s approach to their Christian faith can be informed by their Punk ethos. Punk was always, it never began – and thus the soul of the Punk Christian is best modeled not after any lyrics but after the poem and epithet of the unknowingly Punk poet Walt Whitman:
Ever, the undiscouraged, resolute struggling
soul of man;
Have former armies failed? Then we send fresh
armies—and fresh again
Ever the grappled mystery of all earth’s ages
old or new;
Ever the eager eyes, hurrahs, the welcome-clap-
ping hands, the loud applause;
Ever the soul dissatisfied, curious, unconvinced
at last;
Struggling to-day the same—battling the same.[9]
Here is room for perpetual growth, for curiosity and reexamination of truth. The Punk Christian is “dissatisfied, curious and unconvinced,” but at the same time is committed to renewal — “undiscouraged,” “resolute,” and most of all “eager.” This is a Christianity that has learned from Punk and simultaneously taken back ownership of its identity.
There is one more essential area in which Christianity must re-evaluate its mission. Christianity needs to remember that it must always functions as an avenue for the individual and the community to participate in divinity. Tillich writes that faith is “participation in the subject of one’s ultimate concern with one’s whole being.”[10] This model must be the paradigm of what will become and understood as Christian faith, nurturing a “passion for the infinite.”[11] This is what Christianity has to offer, and this is where it fails to draw upon its own strength and history. Why go to church if you’re going to get preached at, told what to do, and called a heretic and maybe even a “punk kid.” A Christian house of worship and community must become a place where one can feel at home and be assisted in their encounter with and participation in divinity. Jesus is the place where Christians encounter God; by setting about the task of resurrecting a Punk Jesus, Christianity can be relevant for all future generations.
[1] Beaudouin, Virtual Faith: The Irreverent Spiritual Quest of Generation Xp. 59
[2] Masters, Spoon River Anthology.p. 56
[3] H2O, “Found the Truth Within” *
[4] Tillich, Christianity and the Encounters with World Religions. 1994, p. 31
[5] Metz, Theology of the World. 1969, p. 91
[6] Elliott, Freedom, Justice, & Christian Counter-Culture.p. 208
[7] Tillich, Christianity and the Encounters with World Religions. 1994, p. 9
[8] Ibid p. 62
[9] Whitman, p. 415
[10] Tillich, Dynamics of Faith. 2001, p. 38
[11] Ibid p. 10
A Diversity of Diversities in Interfaith Dialogue
Posted on 5 December 2009 | No responses
by Leigh Rogers
In the New York Times, Stanley Fish writes on the complexity of political correctness in academia. He notes that the liberal slant on many college faculties can be extreme.
In discussing a new book on the subject, Fish cites Cary Nelson’s, uber-PC example:
“His own example of absurdity (it occurred in his home department) is a faculty appointment that was derailed when it was discovered that the candidate, then teaching in New Zealand, had written a letter to a newspaper criticizing the practice of going barefoot in public places on the grounds that it promoted the spread of disease. A department member decided that the letter “was an attack on the Maori people and thus racist,” and even when it was determined that it is not the Maori, but “white hippies, who go barefoot in New Zealand, the majority voted against pursuing the candidate in order, says Nelson, to prove “themselves to colleagues of color.”
Though it sounds unrelated to interfaith dialogue, a lot about this subject has affected my participation in discussions with others of different faiths, especially within academia.
As a privileged, white, agnostic-Christian-raised participant in faith dialogues, I always felt like I wasn’t an asset to the group. Our interfaith dialogue group had plenty of white pseudo-Christian girls; instead, there always seemed to be a push for “diversity,” which meant a recruitment of those from more seemingly obscure faiths (Zoroastrianism, Baha’i, Jainism, Shinto) whose members were often people of color.
Even though I eventually became a leader of my collegiate interfaith group, I often felt like I was going to be “fired” from my role in order to meet quotas of diversity that others could fill with their religious and ethnic backgrounds. It always seemed to me like the diversity people were looking for was only the religious or racial kind. Those are obviously important for an interfaith group, but what about diversities of political viewpoints, cultural values, gender, or sexual orientation?
Of all the religious groups we recruited to attend our interfaith dialogue group, there was never an active push to recruit those attending Campus Crusade for Christ. The reason? I believe it stemmed from the fear that the discussion would turn into a proselytizing session by those who believe they can lead us to heaven if we believe in “Him,” and thus need to “save” as many souls as possible.
I was briefly a part of Campus Crusade for Christ and had many friends and acquaintances that attended. No one from Campus Crusade really took my offer to attend our interfaith dialogues seriously. But for me it was unlikely it would turn into a soul-saving rally. And yet, within the dialogue group, there seemed to be an unspoken fear of messianic religion and of the presence of political and intellectual difference of opinions on non-religious matters.
While we were perfectly fine and accepting of religious difference of belief and opinion, we were not so tolerant of strict political difference. Evangelical Christians convey more than evangelizing fervor to other faiths; they also convey a sense of secular conservatism that has a checklist of values meant to keep the cause pure.
Evangelical Christianity believes that it is the only means of salvation and that other religions are hocus-pocus. This, of course, was a problem for us. We seemed to have a preempted the tacit rule that all religions were not just valuable in their own right but also other roads to salvation. This made us contradictory to our own cause. We valued the general statement of “diversity” but weren’t willing to step out of our comfort zones in case we had our own liberal biases threatened.
We in fact did have a Pentecostal Christian as a regular attendee of our interfaith dialogue group. He regularly stepped out of his comfort zone with us, and I learned a lot from him as a friend and participant in our discussions. One day, in the student union, I sat with him after one of our meetings he explained to me why he attended the dialogues, even though he felt persecuted as a convicted Christian.
“I go for the educational aspect, to learn about other religious traditions,” he said. “I also go because it makes my faith stronger; when I learn about other faiths, it tests my own faith and instead of feeling threatened by other faiths, I can respect them as I strengthen my belief in my own.”
“It is a lack of one’s own faith that makes one threatened of other faiths.” he said. My friend has now recently graduated from Harvard Divinity School.
As a Pentacostal Christian, you don’t merely need to believe that Jesus is your personal savior to go to heaven, you must also be baptized twice (once in the holy spirit and another in the name of Jesus) and have an out-of-body, tongues-speaking experience. So, for him to find value in other faiths while having such conviction in his own could be a real challenge.
As people interested in interfaith dialoguers, I hope we can channel my friend’s mentality and showcase a diversity of diversities: the welcoming of not just religious and ethnic tolerance, but also political and intellectual tolerance of viewpoints. If we work from a fear of disagreement, of offending an objective PC truth then we won’t be able to find the center of our personal beliefs and where we might meet as a group of diverse individuals.
As one tweeter said, “In groups where everybody agrees, not much deep thinking will be done.”
AJGita.com has gone blog
Posted on 2 December 2009 | No responses
Stating today AJGita.com has become a co-written blog by friends, colleagues, and fellow heretics Andrew J. Rosenthal and Leigh Rogers. We will share our thoughts on contemporary religio-political issues and also the blog as a forum for our ever developing theology and research. Currently Leigh and I are working on a article on the relationship between existential theology and inter-religious dialogue. Our thesis is that inter-religoius dialogue about shared ethics must be viewed within the context of a shared awareness of parallel religious experiences. Keep up because we’ll be posting more and more in the coming weeks.
The release of the long awaited new book from Paul Knitter
Posted on 27 October 2009 | No responses
Here’s the review of the October 9th edition of the New York Time:
A Look at Christianity, Through a Buddhist Lens
Five decades ago, Paul F. Knitter, then a novice studying to become a Roman Catholic priest, would be in the seminary chapel at 5:30 every morning, trying to stay awake and spend time in meditation before Mass.
Last Wednesday, at the same hour, he was sitting on his Zen cushion meditating in the Claremont Avenue apartment he occupies as the Paul Tillich Professor of Theology, World Religions and Culture at Union Theological Seminary in New York.
A few hours later he was talking about his pointedly titled new book, “Without Buddha I Could Not Be a Christian” (Oneworld). The book is the outcome of decades of encounters with Buddhism — and of struggles with his own faith.
Born in 1939, Mr. Knitter began his path to the Catholic priesthood at age 13, studied theology in Rome during the years of the Second Vatican Council, was ordained in 1966, completed a doctorate in Germany and began a long and influential career as a scholar addressing questions of the relationship between Christianity and other world religions.
He received permission to leave the priesthood in 1975, taught for many years at Xavier University in Cincinnati and after his retirement was invited to Union Theological.
“Am I still a Christian?” he asks in his new book. It is a question posed over the years by others, including some unhappy officials in the Vatican. But the question, he writes, is also “one I have felt in my own mind and heart.”
“Has my dialogue with Buddhism made me a Buddhist Christian?” he writes. “Or a Christian Buddhist? Am I a Christian who has understood his own identity more deeply with the help of Buddhism? Or have I become a Buddhist who still retains a stock of Christian leftovers.”
The struggles Mr. Knitter is writing about are not the familiar ones about sexual ethics, the role of women or the failures of church leaders.
His focus here is on what he calls “the big stuff”: What does it really mean for Christians to profess belief in an almighty “God the Father” personally active in the world, or in Jesus, “his only-begotten Son” who saved humanity through his death and bodily resurrection, or in eternal life, heaven and hell?
However much he tried, Mr. Knitter found that certain longstanding Christian formulations of faith “just didn’t make sense”: God as a person separate from creation and intervening in it as an external agent; individualized life after death for all and eternal punishment for some; Jesus as God’s “only Son” and the only savior of humankind; prayers that ask God to favor some people over others.
Mr. Knitter’s response, based on his long interaction with Buddhist teachers, was to “pass over” to Buddhism’s approach to each of these problems and then “pass back” to Christian tradition to see if he could retrieve or re-imagine aspects of it with this “Buddhist flashlight.”
He was not asserting, as some people have, that religions like Christianity and Buddhism are merely superficially different expressions of one underlying faith.
On the contrary, he insists they differ profoundly. Yet “Buddhism has helped me take another and deeper look at what I believe as a Christian,” he writes. “Many of the words that I had repeated or read throughout my life started to glow with new meaning.”
Those new meanings will unsettle many Christians, as Mr. Knitter recognizes, even as they address difficulties felt by many others. This will vary, of course, from issue to issue. Mr. Knitter’s translation of Buddhist meditation into a call for a Christian “sacrament of silence” may be readily welcomed. His search for a “non-dualistic” understanding of God and the world may be only leading him through Buddhism back to Thomas Aquinas.
“Perhaps I could have come onto these insights without Buddhism,” he said Wednesday. Yet even in those cases he often expresses these insights in language that will be debated, like God as “InterBeing” or “Connecting Spirit.”
When his comparison between “Jesus the Christ and Gautama the Buddha” leads him to conclude that both are “unique” saviors but not sole or final ones, he is treading, as he well knows, in a theological minefield.
One can predict that this book will receive instant condemnation from people who feel their duty is to protect Christian doctrine from wandering off course.
One can also predict that those condemnations will, in turn, make others hesitant to voice more nuanced, thoughtful criticism out of fear of piling on.
Mr. Knitter and his book deserve better. It is easy to draw up a list of substantial criticisms. For one thing, Mr. Knitter’s Christianity comes laden with all the impurities of popular piety and workaday theology while his Buddhism seems to be that of the best and the brightest.
Some readers may detect the reflex of the lifelong recovering cleric in his recoiling from whatever might appear to be patriarchal or excluding. And most important are questions about the nature and use of religious language for pointing to a mystery that can never be captured in human words.
Yet serious critics, no matter how major their differences, will not be able to ignore the enormous, almost disarming honesty of this book. Mr. Knitter admits his painful puzzlements and conducts his search for answers out in the open. He does not hide behind academic abstraction but writes clearly and personally and leaves himself open to correction.
Although he argues for a kind of religious “double-belonging,” he does not hesitate to ask whether this is ultimately a kind of promiscuity — or, as one of his students put it, “spiritual sleeping around.”
Mr. Knitter doesn’t believe so. But he has written his book in part to see whether fellow Christians agree.
Will his “double-belonging” resonate sufficiently within his own faith community that he can continue to consider himself a Buddhist Christian? Or if not, as he explained this week, will he feel obliged to recognize himself as a Christian Buddhist?
One need not have a stake in that outcome to find “Without Buddha I Could Not Be a Christian” a compelling example of religious inquiry.
