The end of the year is the time many of us pause to reflect on all that has happened over the course of the year—both good and not so good. It is also a time to look forward to what the coming year may bring. Reflecting on my time thus far with the Boston Bridges program, I must note, first and foremost, how affirming it is to be among peers doing this work, rather than being the lone person interested in interreligious engagement or having to play the role of leader, facilitator, or educator. I simply get to be, and share, and listen without having to plan, or worry about what is next, or be “on.” It is such a gift that I did not fully appreciate until I found myself in the middle of it.
What a gift the simple creation of space is. Bringing together people with common interests or a common purpose is powerful. Even more, blocking out some regularly scheduled time without a to-do list or specific tasks that must be the focus of the time together is a rare and beautiful thing. And it has reminded me of one of my favorite things about interreligious or cross-cultural experiences: they teach us as much or more about ourselves and our own cultures, beliefs, or religious traditions as they do about the other(s) with whom we are engaging.
I was also reminded, while reading a recent blog post published by Rabbi Michael Lerner on his Tikkun Magazine’s website, how what we can learn from each other can be an invaluable realty check on our ability to live out our respective faiths most fully. Rabbi Lerner references a colleague who years ago made a passionate plea for his fellow Jews to help Christians reclaim the Christian-ness of Christmas from the clutches of the profit-driven capitalist marketplace—to put the Christ back in Christmas, as I have often heard it phrased. Lerner offers his take on what Christmas should truly be about: “in the darkness of the darkest time of the year, we affirm that goodness and light will shine through, defeating all the forces of evil in the world.’’ And Rabbi Lerner recognizes the role Jews play in helping to subvert what the focus of Christmas should be. Instead, this message is replaced with a focus on family togetherness and love expressed through buying. “Loving relationships,” Lerner writes, “get affirmed by how much one spends, so that love is reduced to a market transaction.”
A rabbi is able to name the sadness I, a Christian, increasingly feel in relation to a Christian season and holiday that I love and which should speak to the heart of what Christianity is all about. It is a rabbi who is able to affect me in a way that the countless cries from my fellow Christians have not. Moreover, he astutely navigates Christian theology and connects with Jewish tradition, values, and experience, making a powerful argument not just for his fellow Jews, but for Christians as well. This interreligious or intercultural moment is a wonderful example of the beauty and power of interreligious education and engagement. The better we can understand each other and our respective traditions, the better practitioners of our own faith we can be and the better friends we can be to our neighbors.
Understanding how our friends see the world and helping them to live more fully into that worldview can be a tremendous help to them, and to us, and to the world. That is the sort of work I feel the Miller Center is doing and precisely what Boston Bridges is attempting to do: familiarize ourselves with who we are and who our fellow religious and community leaders are so that we can be friends first, cheering on our peers in this difficult and life-giving work. Getting glimpses of what motivates a Buddhist chaplain, or a native American educator and activist, or a non-religious person working in higher education has helped me see the world in new ways. It has also helped me see the differences as well as understand the similarities we share in experience, motivation, and even frustrations. Most of all, those of us who engage in interreligious spaces get to share the feelings of otherness we sometimes experience within our own communities and traditions by being the ones with “one foot in and one foot outside” them. It can be lonely, at times, feeling more at home with those whom we have been told are the most different. Perhaps we should think of it as having more than one home rather than “either/or.”
Yet, how wonderful the world would be if we could all take the time to create this kind of space, to hear questions and observations from the vantage point of our neighbors. We have much to learn about ourselves, our cultures, and our traditions. Thanks to Boston Bridges, I am getting to see and hear more of that and am building a group of peers with whom I can share those experiences. And I am continuing to learn about perhaps the most important spiritual practice of all—the simple practice of asking questions and listening deeply. My new year’s resolution for Boston Bridges, therefore, is to continue this work for the remainder of my time in the program, to relish the time and space we get to share together, and to hone further my listening and questioning skills with an open heart and mind.