Matthew 16.13-20 9 November 2008
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘WE’, KEMOSABE?”
Dr. Tex Sample once attended a party with his wife. He was in the corner getting acquainted with some guy, when he saw the man give his wife the “high sign.” The high sign is that lifted eyebrow, gentle wink or subtle nod to say, “I’m talking to a minister, so please mind what you say!” Ever given the high sign before?
Anyway, she got the message in full stride crossing the room. For her first words were, “So you’re a minister. What kind?” “I’m United Methodist,” Sample said. “Oh,” she responded, “I used to be a United Methodist too, although I am not anymore. No, now I am into native American spirituality.” “Hmmm, I see.” Sam-ple said. “And which tribe do you practice with,” he asked her. “What?!” she said.
“Which tribe do you practice your native American spirituality with?” he repeated. “Lakota is differs from Hopi. Pawnee is not the same as Cherokee. Where do you go?” “My goodness,” she blushed. “I would never consider that.” “Oh,” Tex Sample said. “Maybe there is a shaman or holy seer with whom you work.” “Oh, dear God, no,” she countered. “No way I’d do that.” “I see, then perhaps there is a community with whom you worship.” “No,” she backpedalled. “Are you kidding?” “Well, ma’am,” he inquired. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Just what do you mean when you say that you’re ‘into native-American spirituality.’” “I mean,” she said, ”I read a book on it and saw Dances With Wolves. It all sounded nice.”
This sermon is about how we as Christians can best approach other religions. I begin here because it illustrates how our pluralistic secular world suggests we go about it. For me, it stands solidly as an example how not to deal with other faiths.
What is wrong with this picture? Notice three basic errors. First, we imagine if we think we are something, that makes us it, never mind our practice, never mind if we join with the community it creates. I mean, I can think of myself as an Olympic gymnast or a five-star chef or a brain surgeon. I could read a book or watch a Discovery channel program about these and think they are nice. But if I lack the discipline of the communities that practice these in real life, all I have is illusions.
Second, notice how we lump religion with leisure and entertainment options to be fawned over at parties along with films and fashions. Here God is no more than another personal consumer choice rather than the ground of our being. Others who live in devout relationship with God see such religiosity as silly and careless.
Third, we operate out of the well-meaning but demeaning cliché that all religions say essentially the same thing. We blithely take the truth claims of Native Americans, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, and Christians, put them in a blender, and press “whip.” And the resulting mish-mash is not savory and wholesome. A Buddhist, for example, tries to empty him or herself of passion. A Christian is the opposite. We follow Christ and enter into the passion of his Cross, ennobling passions like self-giving love, non-violence, and compassion. One flees all pas-sion as the path to freedom, the other seeks lofty and holy passion to deepen life.
This point is the most crucial, not reducing very real differences between faiths. Sometimes people say, “Hey, you’re a Moslem; I am a Christian. But none of that matters. We all say pretty much the same thing, right?” We don’t realize how insulting that sounds in the ears of other believers. What seems like pleasantry—the message we all see God the same—is actually arrogance. It is to say, “Hey, your Islamic faith is nothing different or more than what I already know. Nothing is unique about it. It’s all summed up elsewhere. You don’t have to tell me about your millennia of devotion or observing daily offices of prayer. I’ve seen it before.”
Think of it like this. It’s like going to
William Willimon eloquently writes, “Statements like, ‘Well, you’re Jewish, I’m black Muslim, but what really matters is that we’re all human beings’ show not that we are open-minded about religion. It shows just the opposite. One is so closed-minded about religion that one cannot imagine even conceive that a person’s religious belief is the most important thing in that person’s life (and not to be trivialized as some) quirk of human personality or a universal feeling.”
I am certain that I would never have understood that if I hadn’t lived as the sole Christian with four Jews in my college years: without having Passover Seders in our home; without the solemn, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement; without the Hanukkah menorah lights burning in the kitchen when I went down at 2 am for oj. I found one friend last spring in
I can’t tell you how good that felt. The strength of our friendship across our faiths was not erasing differences. Rather than caving to the pressures of pluralism--“Oh, they all say essentially the same thing”--we were honest about differences. Yet we also seized upon places we could agree. “Jesus was a Jew,” they insist-ed, “not a Christian.” I had to go to divinity school to realize how right they were.
So I inadequately sketched out the Trinity, and they taught me what a pogrom is.
Our Gospel lesson takes us to the heart of where we diverge with other faiths. Jesus asks Peter out of the blue, “Who do people say that I am?” Embarrassed glances are exchanged. And from that awkward silence, Peter ventured, “Some say you are Jonathon Papelbon. Others claim that you are Oprah Winfrey. Still others say that you are Robert DeNiro or Warren Buffett, or Katie Couric.”
”But who do you say that I am?” Jesus presses Peter. “You are the Christ,” Peter says. And he was the first in a line of hundreds of millions to say so. Notice what doesn’t occur after Peter’s confession. Jesus doesn’t tell Peter to go and use that news as a battering ram. Jesus tells him that his ability to recognize that truth is only pure gift, the grace of God. No room for smugness here. I wish I didn’t have to say that, but I do. Because this confession of Jesus’ Messiahship has long been used by ill-advised Christians as impetus to go after persons of other faiths.
So we have heard about our mistakes in approaching persons of other faiths. But what are some guidelines or benchmark as we do so? I have four brief words before I end. And the first of these is respect. Isn’t this always a good place to begin following a suffering servant Savior who embodied humility? A Lord who never condoned coercion or violence, but who blessed those who took his life?
By respect I mean we expect signs of God’s grace at work even in those who do not affirm the Lordship of Jesus Christ. We don’t approach them by seeing their faults. If we are fascinated by sins, we have enough of our own to keep us busy. We see how God’s light shines in them even before the news of Christ’s reign has reached them; we see them as we see ourselves, as God’s beloved children.
The second word is collaboration. C. S. Lewis once observed that Christians can agree with other faiths inasmuch as they agree with ours. Yes, differences exist, but there are overlaps too. As I said, Jesus was a Jew, not a Christian. No reason exists why we can’t work with people of other faiths and ideologies in the places where God’s purposes are unfolding. Stanley Hauerwas and Will Willimon write, “The God we worship as Christians is in the world, and we should not be surprised that we often discover there people and practices more faithful that we are in the church.” If you don’t believe that, I invite you to observe how closely the people of AA stick together or the sacrifices of Scout leaders who take eleven 13 year-old boys to camp for weekends or the volunteer workers of your Hospice.
The third word is conversation. As we first respectfully listen and learn, as we find common touch points and collaborate with other faiths, a dialogue will emerge. A conversation will ensue. Sure, we can discuss and compare different religious rites and experiences. But even deeper than that, different religions make differ-ent claims about where the world is headed and how we will get there. We don’t always have to initiate these conversations as the largest numerical religion in the world. Maybe we let should other faiths see the things we do, like stacking food in front of this table, and ask a wondrous “why?” or “what makes them tick?”
Finally, the fourth good word is proclamation. The core of our message is God is at work in Christ reconciling the world to himself, as Paul has it in Corinthians. Or God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, as Jesus has it in John. We tell our story not because we disrespect the stories embodied in other faiths. But because Jesus entrusted it to us and charged us to pass it along. We tell our story because the world is endlessly curious about Jesus and they will ask us. We tell our story not because it is up to us to make sure listeners are persuaded. That is the work of the Holy Spirit. We tell it through words of Scripture or quiet acts of selfless love because our lives are the only Bible that most will ever read. Notice, we do not begin with proclamation, it is the last step after all of the others.
How do we approach other faiths? We avoid some things that secular pluralism instills in us. We embrace respect, collaboration, conversation, and proclamation.
The former missionary to India and president of the WCC, Lesslie Newbigin says: “We must begin with the great reality made known to us in Jesus Christ, that God—the creator and sustainer of all that exists—is in his triune being an ocean of infinite love and overflowing to all his works in all creation and to all human beings. When we see Jesus eagerly welcoming signs of faith among men and women outside the house of Israel; when we see him lovingly welcoming those whom others cast out; when we see him on the cross with outstretched arms to embrace the whole world…we see the most fundamental of all realities, namely, a grace and a mercy and loving kindness which reaches to every creature.” Amen.
