Friday, December 13, 2019

National Interfaith Dialogues

Hello, friends.

Today, and every day, we sadly still see so much misunderstanding and pain and hatred around the world.

But we also see so much hope--so many people doing this multifaith work, forming relationships, defending each other against attack day after day. We need to keep that optimism, and remember that each and every one of us has the ability every day to make it better--in our speech, in how we treat others even those we just see on the streets, all of it. Please join me in being intentional in this and other good work--it's as simple as smiling at a woman in a hijab, who likely faces harassment every day. Or giving up your seat on public transit to someone who happens to be wearing a turban--just as you would for anyone else. Making it normal to see and honor diversity, even in these small ways. End rant.
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I have recently begun describing how interfaith dialogue happens on a number of levels--the local, national, and international. I've been fortunate to get to participate across these three levels, but particularly had some great opportunities recently on the national scene that I wanted to share with you. I'll share a brief look at local and international, before diving into the national scene. Please note that while these categories are inspired by some conversations I had in 2019, they're largely how I'm choosing to divide things out for my brain and not necessarily accepted ways of dividing things out.

Local Interfaith Dialogue
Perhaps this is what some of you think of most when I talk about "interfaith dialogue." I'm using this category to define things happening among people on a local level--in communities, among people who often live near each other, and may be serving as pseudo-representatives of their faith to others, but are not official "representatives" as such.

This would include bringing together a synagogue and a mosque for an iftar (break fast) meal during Ramadan. It would include having Hebrew school students visit a local church to learn from the pastor about how their congregation thinks about tzedakah (helping others, giving to charity). It might be an annual interfaith clergy meeting that takes place among religious leaders in the same geographical area. The Sisterhood of Salaam Shalom is a great one. I would include in this category, for example, when I brought together Jewish rabbinical students and Christian seminarians this past spring in Philadelphia for dinner and dialogue.

Essentially, this category is people coming together for dialogue or learning (hopefully both) around topics of mutual interest--whether that is sharing with the other group(s) more about their beliefs or holidays, coming together to do community social action, things like that. But the main thing I would say this is not is something that includes an attempt at "official" representative from a national organization--it is more based in the local community, and can include lay people and clergy.

International Interfaith Dialogue
I would define international interfaith dialogue as any dialogue happening between those who do not live in the same country.

To me, this could include such dialogues that are not "official" representatives. So this could include, for example, the various international conferences I have been fortunate to attend over the years, like in Azerbaijan in July where I was with about 70 young people interested in multifaith work from countries all around the world as part of the ACWAY project. It would include me talking to someone from Sudan, for example, about my faith when I was in Baku--even though neither of us came to the meeting as specific representatives of our religion or countries, per se.

Alternatively, international dialogues could also include officially representative dialogues--the chief rabbi of Britain meeting with the Pope, for example, because it is still a dialogue occurring between those who do not live in the same country and there is an element of dialogue and/or learning. It would include the Emerging Leaders Conference I went to in Lithuania last year, which is a dialogue between young Jews and Catholics and felt somewhat more officially representative of two different groups.

It can also include groups that are somewhat official, somewhat not. I have been fortunate to spend some time with Fr. Norbert Hofmann*--the secretary of the Vatican's Commission for Religious Relations With the Jews--but while he may be an official representative for the Catholic folks, I am slightly different in my role in those meetings (representing myself and my take on Judaism individually, not for all Jews, which would be tough). Because we live in different countries, I consider this international interfaith dialogue. So it could also be mixed with some official representatives and some not.

Due to the lack of "official" representatives of faiths in most communities (no single "Jew" represents "all Jews" in the U.S.), the amount that this happens officially beyond a few specific examples is limited, I suspect. There is a chief rabbi of Britain, a few chief rabbis in Israel, of course the Vatican for Catholics, then I suspect some official Muslim representatives in Muslim-majority countries, and more beyond that. But it is not quite the same as how essentially every country around the world has diplomats--religions tend not to be as official in that way, at least not everywhere. So, many of these international dialogues happen all the time and garner various amounts of attention, regardless of whether they are "official" or not.

National Interfaith Dialogue
Now this is the realm I have most recently been fortunate to start getting involved in more deeply. I would define national interfaith dialogue as dialogue that happens among people of different faiths who live in the same country, and can be in an official or unofficial capacity, as well.

In unofficial dialogues, my argument would be that there would need to be some broad representation of folks from different parts of the country to qualify it as national as opposed to local (so folks from a number of different states in different regions of the U.S., for example, not just states in the Northeast, which I would consider somewhere like "regional" not local, not national).

Official dialogues could include people officially representing national organizations that are somehow considered official representatives of their faith tradition. Perhaps the person working as interfaith representative at the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America), for example, being in dialogue with a representative of one of the Jewish movements.

Catholic-Jewish
In November, I was fortunate to be able to attend a dialogue that happens twice a year between the National Council of Synagogues (NCS) and the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB)--aka, the Jews and the Catholics. Chaired by Rabbi David Straus (a Reform Rabbi in Philadelphia who has kindly spoken with me about multifaith questions multiple times) and Cardinal Timothy Dolan (out of New York). I was officially representing the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association (RRA), the rabbinical union for the Reconstructionists, which was very exciting--I was not an observer, but a participant.

The theme of the day was refugees, and we met in NYC. The room had about 30 people in it, 15 on each side. The Jewish side was mostly rabbis, the Catholic side priests, with a number of bishops. About 26 of the participants were men, and 4 of us were women (2 on each side). I was one of maybe 3 representatives under the age of 50, and I would guess 95% of the room were in their 60s-80s. So I was quite out of the norm for the room--not least of all because it seemed nearly all the men opted for black suits, so it was a line of men all in black suits and mostly all in their 60s-80s. And then me, sticking out for my age, gender, navy/floral outfit. I would love a cartoon of how that table looked. Important to note, nearly everyone in the room was seemingly white (though I am also Latina, and of course folks can be people of color without appearing so).

I do not want to dive in here to the very, very important topic of the day (most of you know I worked on issues related to Syrian refugees and IDPs for a number of years with a multifaith non-profit in NYC), but instead the fact of the meeting itself. It was about building relationships. This group meets twice a year, and so many of the people have gotten to know each other over time. This is seemingly the highest-level national dialogue between the Jews and the Catholics (that is not political), with the caveat that that NCS is composed of Conservative, Reform, and Reconstructionist members so the liberal end of the Jewish spectrum. The Orthodox folks apparently have separate dialogues, likely due to differences in how we view certain things. Intrafaith dialogue, a topic for another day (though I was on a panel with a Conservative rabbi and an Orthodox rabbi this week).

As you can tell, I was struck by how out of place I was demographically--for my age, for my gender. I was grateful to be there, excited to be an official participant, and aware of dynamics of joining a group that is so established, and so dominated by people sharing so many demographics which I do not. I will continue to attend as long as I am able. Here is a quick note from the USCCB on the meeting.

Christian-Jewish
The next meeting I went to was the National Council of Synagogues and National Council of Churches (NCC) dialogue this month, a meeting which also happens twice a year and also is apparently the highest-level Jewish-Christian (Protestant/Orthodox) dialogue in the nation. (I am not sure how better to define the dialogue--Christian denominations other than Catholic? Also, Catholics are Christian but do not seem to generally attend this one, even as an observer since I think they have observer status in the NCC. But I do not enjoy defining folks by what they are not, yet the NCC seems to be many of the Christian groups outside the Catholic Church. I welcome suggestions for better phrasing around this!)

There are official representatives of a variety of Jewish and Christian organizations around the table, including me again as one of the participants representing the RRA. There were about 25 people, divided evenly between the two sides, with 5 women in total. I was once again the youngest, and even more significantly felt it in this room (my guess would be the next youngest after me was 15-20 years old than me, with most of the rest of the participants in their 50s-70s). We actually did a specific activity around self-identifying our race at this meeting, so I can say with more authority that nearly all of the room identified as white, with one gentleman who was African American, and two of us who opted to be in a category of "more than one." (#Latina)

The meeting this month took place in Pittsburgh, a decision that was made to at once learn about the tragic shooting in a synagogue there last October (seemingly the largest antisemitic attack here in the history of our country), and to stand in solidarity. We visited the outside of the Tree of Life synagogue where the horrible attack happened, with its tributes and moving art displays. I fought back tears at being there. We took a bus tour of the city, learning about the Jewish community there. We spoke in the group about antisemitism and racism and security for houses of worship.

It was an intensely emotional two days, and also a good opportunity to form deeper relationships with those in the room. Once again, the dynamics of gender were certainly present. I was grateful for the individuals who made a distinct effort to spend time learning about me and my background, since I am so new to the group and so out-of-the-norm for group demographics, but also experienced in interfaith work. I hope to also be involved in this group as long as I am able. The minutes of the meeting will be shared at some point by the organizers.
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All in all, I am so grateful to have the opportunity to participate in these dialogues. I am so young, and female--and proud to bring that perspective to these important tables. For me, it is critical to have multifaith work going on at all three of these levels--they achieve slightly different objectives.

On the local level is sometimes where the deepest relationships can generally form, because people can have regular, meaningful contact. People can find their perspectives changed on a truly deep level as they form relationships with those in their community.

The national level is important for forming these relationships, though everyone can devote less time to deepening the relationships because we are further spread out geographically and have different obligations; but beyond that on that level, showing the world that the Catholics and the Jews, the Christians and the Jews, are officially in regular dialogue, and for decades, sends a strong message. It also allows for coordination on the national scene, which can account for discussing issues facing the particular country at that particular time (like when we spoke at the meeting in Pittsburgh about racism, something very present in U.S. discussions, particularly now).

The international level of interfaith dialogue can be a mix of some deeper relationships (and I have some very close friends I've met through these opportunities), though certainly generally limited even further by space and time--though I wish I could see some of my international interfaith friends more often. But the international work is also a way of showing the world that not only are people of different faiths in dialogue and working together toward peace, but we are doing it on a global scale. There is little I can think of that is more powerful than that.

Now, as so many winter holidays of light approach, please go out and love one another. Happy holidays, chaverim.**




<3,
Allyson
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*Fr. Norbert inspired some of my thinking on these different levels of dialogue. Thank you!
**"Friends." It's Hebrew.

Monday, July 8, 2019

There Must Be Something in the Water

Hello, friends.

I'd like to draw a metaphor to think about intention and impact, if I may. Please imagine this scenario:
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You are sitting with a new acquaintance, one you barely know. It is hot out, and you are drinking sparkling water. The new person across the table from you is drinking still water.

"You should really drink this water," they say, pushing a glass towards you.

"No, thank you," you reply very simply, smiling at them.

"No, really, you should drink this--it is hot out, and I want to make sure you are going to be okay in this heat. I only have your best interests at heart," they say again, also with a big smile.

"No, thank you. I hear you, and I appreciate it, but I am drinking this sparkling water, and it is the right choice for me." You smile again and push their glass back toward them.

They look at your glass of fizzy water, then say, "You know, still water is the only option to hydrate--sparkling is not good for you. You need to drink my water, and I feel an obligation to get you to drink it. So you need to drink it, because I love you."

Fin
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How would you feel if this happened? Perhaps at first you would feel thankful--someone you have just met is concerned about your wellbeing, and willing to take the time to share their water with you; how nice. But then, as the interaction went on, you might start to get annoyed; why is this person so convinced that they know their water is better than mine? Or even if they want to think that, I am an adult and they should have respected my autonomy when I firmly said "no" several times, right? Even though the person's intention may have been kind and pure, the impact on me was negative; just let me drink my seltzer in peace.

Yes, this is probably an obvious metaphor for when two different Christian people tried to convert me this past week (one Pentecostal, one attends a megachurch so my best guess would be Evangelical). Honestly, these two attempts may have been the strongest examples of people trying to convert me that I have ever experienced in my life, and both in one week. There must be something in the water (all puns intended).

I forget about how strong folks can be in their attempt to convince you that you are wrong about your religion, because my interfaith work tends to draw people who come to the table knowing that conversion cannot be part of the upfront equation. I can understand people being deeply and passionately committed to their faith, and even feeling an obligation to share about their faith, but for someone to ignore my unwavering, polite, calm, respectful rejections several times just makes me mad. They make me mad because by doing so, they disrespect me as a person capable of making my own choices. They make me mad, because if Jesus taught them to love me, they should love me as I am. They make me mad, because even though I won't now refuse to ever interact with Christians because of these negative experiences, there are many people who, after experiencing this, would say, "Nope, I'll pass on ever talking to them again." And by not interacting with people of different faiths--including those who might try, in my opinion, too hard to convert us--we miss out on building relationship and understanding. That's why I will not give up during these tough conversations. So I wanted to share a bit more about only one of those times, as I thought the considerations running through my head were interesting.

The first occasion last week took place in a situation where I was in a pastoral position, for which I was there to care for a person's spiritual wellbeing. The person was a few decades older than me, perhaps could have been around the age of my parents. As I introduced myself to them and we began talking, they seemed pleased to meet me. We talked generally for a bit, until they brought up some concept of heaven and hell, saying that they knew where they'd be going and, "Don't you know?" I shared that I am Jewish and that we have a bit of different theology around heaven and hell, and that was when the attempt to convert me began. This person went on for a while, trying to say their way was the only way. I shared that I am studying to be a rabbi, to try to convince them of how serious I am about being Jewish and perhaps put them off from continuing down this path--they then started quoting the Bible at me, about how as a woman I cannot be a pastor because, "A pastor must be a good husband," meaning I would need to be a man who would marry a woman to be a leader. I also brought up how Jewish people focus on reading text in the original Hebrew to be able to see the translation for ourselves, and I asked them whether they know ancient Greek to do the same for the New Testament; the answer was "no." I asked if they would like to know the Hebrew word for "love," and their eyes almost popped out of their head (I told them it is "ahava," and they basically did not respond). They shared that our country started going downhill when they got rid of Bible reading in school. Despite seeming mostly friendly throughout, they jokingly said at the end, "Visit next time when you don't have so much time to talk ;)" which was peculiar as they were the one talking so much, and I was responding. Then I left.

My interactions during interfaith dialogue are not usually like this, let me be clear. Most of the time, one must come to the interfaith dialogue table under the understanding that we are all committed to our own personal faith/belief/spiritual journeys, and that explicit conversion cannot be part of the conversation in those moments. How can I truly share my beliefs if I know you are constantly trying to think of ways to counter my claims to change my mind? No, the interactions have to come from a place that respects the autonomy of each individual to follow what they decide. This was not part of my formal interfaith work, but, as I said, a moment in which I was trying to be a pastoral presence for someone in need.

That made it a slightly more interesting exchange, in my mind, because I felt committed to still accomplishing my mission of caring for this person spiritually...but also making sure they knew that I did not agree with them, and that there are things they do not know about my beliefs. Education was part of the experience, as was me intentionally staying calm and not being forceful or showing emotion in my responses. Did it bother me? For sure. But that dual pull of standing my ground and making sure I remained calm and professional (which I strive to do always anyway, but especially when I have some amount of "power" over somebody to whom I am pastoring) was fascinating. I think I did the best I could to hold my own, and to let it go afterward, but I wanted to share it here so that you all see one way interfaith interactions can go--both negatively and positively.

Because we are not always going to have interactions with people of other faiths that are all lovey-dovey. Indeed, these harder types of interaction may even be more vital, which is why I will not stop leaning into them. I think I did the best I could to educate and listen and validate and disagree respectfully. I hope that that person will go forward in life knowing that not only are there people who disagree with their point of view--but there is going to be one more lady rabbi in the world before long. And that makes it worth it to me.

I head to Azerbaijan before long. May that journey to an interfaith conference far, far away lead to steps that bring more light into our world.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

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