My interfaith journey first began in chats with Clara, who is Mormon. She would often note how similar Christianity and Mormonism were, and I would ask questions about certain Mormon terms that I hadn’t ever heard in the Christian church. Clara would be a bit surprised that concepts like “eternal family” or “being sealed” in marriage weren’t familiar to me—she thought that because the religions were so similar, these terms should have been in my vocabulary.
I thought it was strange that our faiths had anything in common in the first place, as I had always been taught that Mormons were a very different faith, a different people. We would drive past the nearby Mormon church, and I would ask why we didn’t go there because it was so much closer. My parents would shudder and note that that building was not a Christian church. Years later, due to my friendship with Clara, I was invited to the early morning seminary, where Mormon youth study scripture every weekday morning before school—what dedication! The seminary felt odd; it was clear the leader was trying to convince the non-Mormons in the room of their truth. I felt the pressure of his eyes as he watched my reaction to the passage in Doctrine and Covenants.
This experience was different than the conversations with Clara. Was this a sign that, in the end, interfaith discussions always end in attempts to convert others?
Fast forward to college, where I happened upon the Assistant Director for the Center for Spirituality at Northeastern University. She encouraged me to come to the university’s interfaith council. I decided I would go, carrying with me an expectation of what this meeting would look like: the heads of the religious groups on campus sternly and reluctantly discussing doctrine or conflict on campus. The atmosphere would be tense, and I was prepared to defend my Christian beliefs with canned apologetic responses I had absorbed from my conservative upbringing. I entered the room with my guard up.
I entered the room with my guard up.
Instead, I was immediately disarmed by the warmth of the place—from the food provided to the way everyone sat on mats on the floor to the 20 minutes devoted in the beginning to mingling, introductions, and icebreakers. There is power in silly games to remind us of our shared humanity, our search for community and pursuit of truth. Not to give too much credit to the icebreaker, but there was something moving about the way the facilitators welcomed everyone as if they were genuinely happy each person was there and thought each story mattered. The dialogue was so good: we broke into smaller groups and simply discussed our own experiences. (That was one of the ground rules, along with listening with resilience.) Funnily enough, I found my own belief in Jesus as savior and lord being strengthened. In this safe space of encountering difference, I was forced to consider whether I was actually pursuing truth or desperately trying to maintain comfort by sticking to the worldview within which I was raised. I didn’t question how exactly this space—where such a taboo topic could be addressed so openly—was created until I went on a short trip abroad to study religion in Spain.
A group of 17 students, a professor, and a guide walked the Camino de Santiago to study its past, steeped in Catholic tradition and the act of pilgrimage. The actual course never sparked controversy, but the long hours walking with people of different faiths—from Catholic to Protestant, from Atheist to Jewish—did. I was excited for these hours on end walking and talking, myself being an extrovert and having just come off well-facilitated interfaith discussions. Much to my surprise, these talks on the Camino were volatile. People challenged each other’s beliefs, asking questions in an attempt to expose fallacies, not hearing each other, and talking out of turn. All of this left people feeling personally hurt, disgruntled, and even less inclined to listen to others’ deeply held truths.
What went so wrong? Was it because we didn’t set ground rules? That these conversations were held in an academic setting, which is prone to seeking a conclusion of wrong and right? Was it that people didn’t have good enough relationships? I think it might have been a combination of all of these. The discussions were, in reality, debates of what was true in selfish attempts to convert others to their own way of thinking. They weren’t dialogues in which the other person’s point of view was genuinely considered, and goals had not been set beforehand.
Debate doesn’t spark friendship but instigates divide; it has its place, but that place is not in interfaith communities.
These experiences make me contemplate the point of interfaith dialogue. It is clear that the purpose is not to convert others—it’s not about debate. Debate doesn’t spark friendship but instigates divide; it has its place, but that place is not in interfaith communities. It was in realizing commonalities with the Mormon religion that I was more open to attending seminary, and it was having fun and enjoying a meal with others in interfaith council that made me realize shared humanity.
That being said, the most important part of my discussions with Clara, and in interfaith council, was how we addressed our differences. When we identified our differences, we could discuss them from our own perspectives—in the ways that we’ve experienced or lived out certain principles of our faiths. These differences weren’t mentioned and pushed under the rug in an attempt to bring surface-level harmony. They were addressed head on, but without trying to prove who was right. Disagreements were acknowledged with the goal of promoting greater understanding and respect for one another, so that we can move forward together.
It takes work, hard conversations, and time to develop relationships, and it’s messy. But in the end, we are striving for a world where we can be our full selves and be seen as our full selves—faith included. That is the point of interfaith dialogue.
This article was written for the 2017-2018 cohort of the Boston Interfaith Leadership Initiative. Learn more about the program and how to get involved here.