Credit: Creative Commons/Svadlifari.

From before I started my bar mitzvah training, I was terrified of Christians. I was born in the shadow of the Holocaust and grew up with the specter of anti-Semitism in the air. For better or worse, I didn’t actually get to know any “live” Christians throughout my childhood in an overwhelmingly Jewish part of Los Angeles, so my stereotypes of Christians as Jew-haters was left largely intact until I moved to Berkeley for college in the early 70s.

It was as much a shock to me as to my kosher-keeping grandma, then, when at the end of my college years, I was baptized Roman Catholic. I had been taught to be proud of my Jewish heritage, and I was, but the “religious” part had seemed to my youthful, arrogant mind largely obsolete and rather ridiculous. Here it was, the late 20^th century: how could one actually take seriously ancient stories of miraculous manna and mountaintop encounters with God? I was not looking for God or religion. Yet, after a pair of powerful experiences of an inbreaking Presence, I found myself on a quest to discover if and who God might be.

Christianity was about the last place I expected to end up. I grew up knowing nothing at all about Jesus or the New Testament. All I “knew” were rumors and suggestions. Discovering Jesus was an exciting surprise. And, of course, he was Jewish, from the day of his birth until the day of his death.

Demonstrators and clergy carrying a golden calf in the shape of a Wall Street bull march from Judson Memorial Church to Zuccotti Park on Sunday, October 9, 2011. / Tom Martinez and Dennis Hearn

The local chapter of NSP in Washington, D.C. has been involved in creating an alternative to the standard conservative prayer breakfast that takes place each year, and we are inviting you to do the same in your community. We’ve been working with Occupy Faith D.C. to create “the People’s Prayer Breakfast.” You can do the same in your area of the country. It doesn’t have to be this week – take your time and make sure you do outreach to Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Ba’hai, Sikh, Wicca, Buddhist, Quaker, Unitarian, Religious Science, and all other possible communities of faith to get them involved in the planning.

Our friend Rev. Jim Burklo (Center for Progressive Christianity) just visited the headquarters of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  His visit is chronicled in this latest musing that I found fascinating and wonderful, especially what happened at the very end… (read on).

Buddhist monks in orange robes chant in one corner of the Occupy Oakland encampment. Across the plaza, a reverend in a rainbow stole reads Martin Luther King Jr.’s “Six Principles of Nonviolence” at an interfaith events tent, and a rabbi gives a Jewish blessing. A block away, candles burn on an unorthodox altar to the death of capitalism, and passers-by leave flowers and notes on the concrete bench that has become a vigil area for activist Scott Olsen, whose skull was fractured by a tear gas canister on Oct. 25. Nearby, a woman wearing a hijab talks about how a tentful of anarchists kindly lent her their rug when it came time for her to pray. There is a striking cheek-by-jowl feel to the interfaith interactions here — a spontaneity and intimacy so different from the stiff pageantry that can sometimes accompany carefully orchestrated interfaith events.

Click on any image below to open this photo essay from Occupy Oakland’s general strike on Nov. 2.

by Robert Cohen

Crossposted from Micah’s Paradigm Shift.

Meir Jacob/Flickr

As we move towards a United Nations Assembly vote on the recognition of a Palestinian State later this month, Robert Cohen looks at the effect Israel is having on interfaith relations between Jews and Christians in the United Kingdom. Could the UN vote push Jews and Christians further apart or could it be the spark that kindles a radical reassessment of the Judeo-Christian mission?

Something precious

As a child growing up in a Jewish community in South East London in the 1970s and early 80s, there must have been something precious seeping through into my bones.

Perhaps that ‘something’ came from our Rabbi’s passionate, intelligent and challenging sermons especially on his favourite of the Hebrew Prophets, Jeremiah. Or perhaps it came from our shul President’s annual reading and commentary on the Book of Jonah on the afternoon of Yom Kippur. It was through Jonah and the redemption of people of Nineveh that I understood the Jewish God’s love for all of His creation. Or perhaps that ‘something’ came later, when as a teenager I first heard the words of Rabbi Hillel, the 1st century sage and scholar:

If I am not for myself
Who will be for me?
If I am only for myself
What am I?
And if not now
When?

A few months ago I had the pleasure of “meeting” Chris Stedman on Twitter. He quickly became one of those non-believers with whom I enjoy discussing topics that tend to make everyone else a little crazy. It’s a rare and beautiful thing to find someone who you can disagree with heartily and still adore for his or her personality, intellect and ability to challenge you.

Chris recently announced that he’s working on a book based on his own transition from an Evangelical Christian to an openly gay atheist: (F)a(i)theist: How One Atheist Learned to Overcome the Religious-Secular Divide, and Why Atheists and the Religious Must Work Together (working title, Beacon Press 2012). I am honored to be able to share a short excerpt with you here:

“You coming to youth group tonight?” Her voice sounded distorted coming through the phone’s speaker.

“Maybe,” I said in a kind of drawl. “I might just stay home tonight and do my own Bible study.”

“But you’ve done that the last few weeks,” she said, groaning. I could picture her on the other end – decked out in her favorite Jesus fish t-shirt, four “WWJD?” bracelets on each wrist, and a Bible by her side – running her hands through her thin brown hair, closing her eyes tight and pinching her forehead. She sounded anxious. “Are you okay, Tiffer? I feel like I never see you anymore. We all miss you at church!”

“I’m great!” I replied, too quickly. “Of course, I’m just fine!” I said, scrambling to reassure her, practically yelling.

“Well, we’re going to be talking about what makes a Christly man this week,” she said, “so I just thought you’d be interested.”

I was, of course, but it was too late for me. I knew what being a Christly man meant, and I wasn’t it. Instead of answering, I reached under my bed and pulled out a collection of childhood artifacts that my mom had assembled for me, retrieving a worksheet I’d filled out in first grade. When I grow up, it said in a passable attempt at cursive, I want to be: A dad. Because: I want a family.

At a time when people are suffering from the economic downturn, political battles are still raging over how to cut the budget and the nation is still involved in several wars, we believe our nation’s priorities need to change. FY 2011′s military budget is the largest since the end of World War II, even though the Cold War is over and there is no longer the threat of aggression from a major power. The purpose of the “Move the Money” conference is to help change our nation’s priorities by promoting the reduction of military spending by at least 25% and “Moving the Money” from nuclear weapons, their support systems and unnecessary defense items to humanitarian, social and environmental needs. Ultimately all nations will need to greatly reduce their military spending and eliminate nuclear weapons in order to address human needs and make the world safe for our children. Here’s the info:

A favorite photo of two of our favorite people: the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu. Vancouver, Canada, 2004. Credit: Carey Linde.

I was surprised when a friend told me that the well known American Buddhist nun Pema Chodron’s talk this week in a 3,000 seat Bay Area venue is sold out, considering that it’s the same week when the Dalai Lama is teaching in the area for four days, including at a sold-out 11,000 seat venue. (You can get virtual participation in Chodron’s event via live-stream video.)

The Silicon Valley newspaper the Mercury News reports:

…the Bay Area appears eager to listen. Already rich in Buddhist traditions from Japan, Vietnam and other Asian countries, the region has become a mecca for religious thinkers of other faiths who are blending Buddhist traditions with their own, as well as a beachhead for the fledgling “interfaith movement.”

I know a lot of people who are blending elements of Buddhism into their lives, without ever saying “I am a Buddhist.”

“Interfaith” is a difficult concept, because it requires a different relationship with one’s own religion, quite apart from other religions:

AAIM Meeting

As I discussed in a previous post, I recently moved to Austin Texas and started sampling some of the local community events here. This past week I attended my second meeting of the Austin Area Interreligious Ministries (AAIM). The meeting was organized as a collection of small table discussion groups. The topics for the evening were the Cordoba Islamic Cultural Center near Ground Zero in NY City, and how to respond to the fear of Islam surfacing in our society.

First, some general observations about the people I talked to there. Many of them were not presently part of any religious church or organization. They attended this interfaith dialogue because they felt a longing for the warmth and sharing that took place at an event like this. Several people mentioned that they viewed participating in this type of respectful interfaith dialogue as a very meaningful spiritual practice for them.

Many people felt that the emotional controversy over the Islamic Cultural Center is starting to wane. Any news story has a natural lifetime for remaining on the front pages before starting to fade from the public interest. This story, however, seemed fade away faster than one would expect given the strong emotions surrounding it. Why might that be happening?

AAIM Meeting in Austin

I recently moved from New York state to Austin Texas.  So far, the people I’ve meet in Austin have done a very poor job of playing the roles depicted by the standard red state stereotypes.  As an example, let me tell you about a recent interfaith event I attend here.   

The Austin Area Interreligious Ministries (AAIM) organized an event to discuss the fear generated by the  controversy over the Cordoba Islamic Cultural Center near Ground Zero in NYC.  Most of the people at our discussion table proclaimed outrage that what is basically a zoning board decision for lower Manhattan has been turned into a national issue, and is being exploited for political (or ratings) gains by stoking the flames of fear and anger.  “That is evil” stated a Jewish women at our table.    Two Muslims who joined our conversation both agreed that the Islamic cultural center doesn’t actually qualify as a mosque by the traditional standards of that term.  

There was no sign of fear of “the other” in that room, no sign of intolerance.  To me, this is an example of religion at it’s best – bringing people together in a spirit of mutual respect and tollerance.   

The leader of the AAIM, Tom Spencer, once asked an interfaith gathering what do all major religions have in common?  One person yelled out “a belief in God”.  Tom  responded that Buddhism had no such belief, and it certainly counts as one of the world’s major religions.  After some thought, the group agreed on the response “They try to make you a better person”.   The evidence I saw in that room certainly supported the notion that, at least for these people, their religion did help make them better people.

A few weeks ago, the congregants of Temple Beth Shalom in Santa Fe were honored by a visit from Bishop Gene Robinson who delivered the evening’s d’Var Torah.

Bishop Robinson is the first openly gay Episcopal Bishop. He was invited to Santa Fe as Grand Marshall of the Gay Pride parade. When Rabbi Marvin Schwab learned from a colleague at St. Bede’s that Bishop Robinson might be barred from speaking in an Episcopal Church, he invited him to deliver the Friday Night D’Var Torah at Temple Beth Shalom. I remembered the Bishop from his inaugural prayer. His sermon was an inspiration. After services, my teenage daughter, who had complained incessantly throughout the long drive from Albuquerque about being dragged, dragged to Temple for her brother’s best friend’s eruv bar mitzvah, turned to me and exclaimed, “Oh My God! I’m so glad I came!”

I asked Rabbi Schwab why he had extended the invitation and what he thought the impact would be on our congregation.

I felt that what Gene had to say was important and it was important that the community have a chance to hear it and that Temple Beth Shalom would be a neutral ground where he could speak and say anything he wanted. I think it was great. I think in terms of speaking to tolerance, respect for people as human beings, to see human beings with respect to see beyond some of the nonsense and to see that everyone has a divine spark within them… This was a message that Gene could deliver with eloquence. We are a welcoming congregation. We have members that happen to be homosexual. This was a way of reaffirming for them that they really do have a place within our congregation and the greater community.

Rabbi Schwab lent me the Temple’s DVD recording of the d’Var Torah. The instant I figure out how to upload it to the web, I will embed it in a diary. However, Bishop Robinson was kind enough to grant me this interview for Tikkun Daily. The first installment of the interview, Bishop Robinson on Obama, follows below the break.

Islam has a great tradition of appreciating and revering the earth. More than 700 verses in the Qur’an extort Muslims to reflect on the miracle of creation and make it clear that Allah views the earth as its own entity with the right to be protected and cared for. It even goes so far to say “Greater indeed than the creation of man is the creation of the heavens and the earth.” (40:57)

As Muslims, we understand that our submission to God is intrinsically tied to the way we treat His gift of life on this planet.  A peaceful, gentle reverence for plants, animals and landscapes are part of the fabric of our religion and translate beautifully through Islam’s strong foundation of social justice and activism.

Therefore, the environmental movement is one area where Muslims can make a huge contribution to society at large, and to productive interfaith dialogue.

For example, this month I contributed to a joint interfaith statement about Chemical Regulation Reform:

Interfaith Groups Speak Out on National Chemical Regulatory Reform

Amanda Quraishi, a member of Austin’s Muslim Community, said, “I think it is an ethical and moral imperative for average consumers to be informed on what we are buying and putting into our bodies. As a parent I feel an even greater responsibility to choose healthy foods and products for my children. I tend to support and buy from companies that identify, classify, and test their products for personal and environmental safety. Ideally, this kind of transparency would be the norm.”

Most concerned citizens would happily make a statement like this to voice their worries over the undisclosed exposure to unnatural chemical compounds that we are subjected to on a daily basis. But it is a great privileged to be able to make this statement as a Muslim because it lets me present the tenets of my faith in a positive, constructive and practical way. I am certain that my neighbors feel the same way, and the mutual respect and admiration that is created as we work together to protect the earth within our own faith traditions is miraculous in itself.

I had the chance to talk to Amanda Robinson, Coordinator of Texas Interfaith Power and Light, an environmental program of Texas Impact. When I asked her about her experience engaging various faith groups in environmental activism she told me, “What I see is that different communities are in different places on environmental issues – some have been very engaged and active for a long time, while others are just beginning to connect teachings from their religious tradition to concerns about the environment. Increasingly, people of all faiths are realizing that their tradition, whatever it is, has important things to say about care for the earth and care for other people, and that these concerns are interrelated.”

She continued, “There are many areas where teachings from different religious traditions converge in a shared concern, and environmental issues are one of these areas. The world’s great religious traditions all speak of care for the earth and its creatures. In the Abrahamic traditions – Judaism, Christianity and Islam – there is a call to guardianship and care of creation. In the Eastern traditions of Hinduism and Buddhism, there is a profound sense of the interconnectedness of all life on earth. Although our traditions use different terms, the message on this subject is the same – it is a unified call for humans to care for the environment. On environmental issues, then, there is a lot of room for people of different faith traditions to work together in common cause.”

Learn more about Texas Interfaith Power and Light on the main website, or check out their Facebook page for current events and news about the organization. You can also email info@txipl.org.

When most people think of Texas they probably don’t think of Muslims.  But here in the land of BBQ and bluebonnets, where the official state religion is football, is where I discovered Islam.

It’s been ten years since I’ve declared the Shahada and in that time I’ve watched the Muslim commmunity in Austin grow and flourish.  We have one of the most diverse and progressive activist Muslim communities in the country with almost a hundred nationalities represented.  There are seven Muslim houses of worship which include the Sunni, Shia, and Sufi traditions within a radius of forty miles.

Austin boasts two private Islamic elementary schools, two Sunday schools, one of the largest and most active MYNA (Muslim Youth of North America) chapters, and several other community organizations dedicated specifically to the social needs of Muslims in the area.

We also have a robust interfaith scene and the Muslim community is extremely active participating in events that promote understanding among people of various religions.  I’m proud to have been involved with such exciting events as the Annual Muslim-Jewish Hands on Housing event through Austin Area Interreligious Ministries.

From the time I became a Muslim I was intensely aware that there was a need for outreach by common everyday-Muslims to offer a real glimpse into the way we live, work and worship.  That need became even more urgent after September 11, 2001.  It has been my pleasure to work with  the Muslim community, as well as the greater community of Austin, Texas to foster understanding and goodwill.

I was extremely honored to be approached by the editors of Tikkun to contribute to Tikkun Daily blog.  In addition to my knowledge and practice of Islam and interfaith dialogue, I bring a progressive political outlook, an interest in feminism and GLBT rights, as well as a deep appreciation for the arts.

Here’s to getting to know your neighbors!

Cuatro master Roberto Fuentes. Photo: flickr/superartista

Roberto died at High Valley, our center, after a long illness. During his last weeks, his friends Karen and David cared for him there, joined by his mother Luisa from Venezuela. Until her recent move to a nursing home, Karen and David shared a house with my mother-in-law Olga, also from Venezuela. Olga’s last years at home coincided with the years Roberto, a musician from New York, stayed at High Valley frequently. Whenever he visited, he played Venezuelan folksongs on his Cuatro for Olga. In her nineties and suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, Olga knew all the words and sang along, tapping her feet to the rhythm. Olga and Roberto were more than compatriots. They came from the same island, Margarita, and spoke the same dialect. With his music, Roberto restored Olga’s memory of her earliest years.

We usually think of praying as something we do, a prayer as something we say or perhaps read, aloud or silently. But if a singer is one who sings, a writer one who writes, a dancer one who dances, and so forth, we could say that a prayer is one who prays. If we pray, we are prayers.

The daughter of an Episcopal priest, I grew up with the sonorous, sometimes terrifying language of The 1928 Book of Common Prayer. From the General Confession this phrase has always stayed with me. “We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickednesses.” (I still love that second plural.)

Quaker Meeting was my first experience of silent corporate prayer. In what I called “the womb of silence” different images of the divine emerged, especially feminine ones. In time, longing for music and ritual led me out of Quaker Meeting to form a non-institutional, earth-centered community. At length I also became an ordained interfaith minister.

Here are some things I am learning about praying/being a prayer:

If you pray for someone (or something), prepare to be part of the answer.

Sometimes as a Muslim I feel suspect that the simplest, most effective way to begin to answer the many burning questions Westerners have about Islam and Muslims isn’t to give them a Quran or even the most erudite and engaging book on Islam. For many living in our postmodern world, such a discussion needs to start far closer to home, with a crash course in Western religious history and the basic ideas of the Judeo-Christian Tradition. Not only is that often a necessary remedial measure, but in this day of –to borrow an inspired metaphor once applied to U.S.-Iranian relations–“mutual Satanization” I think it is for many probably the only way to begin this critical conversation.

As an undergrad studying French in the early 1990s, I took a class on the Francophone literature of Quebec. Until recently in most Western societies literature was riddled with references to and assumptions of familiarity with the Bible, and this was especially true of Quebec’s literary output thanks to the province’s tradition of being *plus catholique que le pape*.

I was the only non-Christian in the class and my knowledge of the Bible is anything but encyclopedic, yet it sometimes seemed that I was the only student with even a rudimentary familiarity with the famous biblical narratives, events and turns of phrase that were mined at every turn by our Quebecois authors and film makers. During one class room discussion of the wonderful 1989 world cinema classic “Jesus of Montreal”, after painfully obvious Gospel allusion after painfully obvious Gospel allusion had appeared to be zoom over most people’s heads, I remember thinking, “My God, if these guys are so ignorant of their own tradition, what hope is there of explaining the yet more unfamiliar worldview of Muslims?” (For more on this trend, see Stephen Prothero’s stimulating Religious Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know–And Doesn’t.)

In such a backdrop of abject religious illiteracy, the most effective introduction to Islam for the average American may not be a book on Islam at all, but rather an discussion of the parallels of Islam’s supposedly peculiar doctrines and practices that are to be found in one’s own culturo-religious heritage.

Classroom in Afghanistan where boys and girls would learn together, with a curriculum emphasizing peacemaking

One of my favorite things to do is wander around a school and see how teachers and students have decorated their classrooms. Beyond the basic academic stuff like maps, history charts, word drills, homework assignments, art projects, etc… many classrooms also have posters talking about how everyone should treat each other, character messages, encouragement to work hard and reach out when help is needed. The picture on the left is from my visit to Afghanistan. It was an amazing school that had a central theme of peacemaking in its curriculum. On Saturday March 20th 2010, I got to poke around inside a Muslim children’s school much closer to home in Santa Clara California and was thrilled with what I saw there.

On Sunday, March 21, 2010, a diverse coalition of veterans, scholars, and faith leaders will hold a public hearing for the Truth Commission on Conscience in War, bringing the public an opportunity for lament and interfaith dialogue on moral conscience in the military. Testifiers will offer their stories and expert testimonies on the issues of conscience facing U.S. service members in war and a group of commissioners will reflect on their contributions in order to promote further dialogue and advocacy.

The public hearing of the Truth Commission will open up a national interfaith dialogue on the moral decisions that each military service member faces. Held at the historic Riverside Church in New York City, the public hearing begins at 4:00 p.m. on Sunday and is free and open to the public.

In 1993 representatives of the Greek Orthodox Church publicly pulled out of the Parliament of World Religions (PWR) to protest the inclusion of “godless” Pagans. They haven’t come back. But that may change if Angie Buchanan has her way.

Angie, as well as two other Pagans — Andras Corban Arthen and Phyllis Curott — are on the 35-member Board of Trustees of the Council of the Parliament of World Religions. They’ve worked diligently to build bridges to other faith traditions since they were elected to the Board — Angie in 2002, Andras in 2006, and Phyllis just this year. As a result of their efforts, Pagans (in which I include Wiccans like myself) are finally coming into our own. I know it’s been a difficult road, and there’s still room for improvement.

But when people develop meaningful personal relationships while working together — as Angie, Andras, and Phyllis have with the Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Sikhs, Hindus, American Indians, Protestants, Jains, Baha’is, Zoroastrians, etc. on the Parliament’s Board — they begin to see each others’ religions through the lens of their respect for that other person. That’s a very good thing for Pagans, since so many misconceptions and prejudices exist about us among mainstream religions.

In the past the spectrum of disrespect for Paganism has extended from branding us as Satanists to dismissing us as superstitious. From the perspective of Abrahamic traditions, Paganism has essentially been viewed as a heresy. Thus the Greek Orthodox walk-out. But at this Parliament, Pagans made it very clear that we’re aligned with other indigenous religions. Wiccans and Pagans practice the remnants of the pre-Christian, indigenous religions of Europe. Like other indigenous religions, we practice an Earth-based Nature religion. And like other indigenous religions, ours was persecuted by conquerors, who forced us to go underground during the Christianization of Europe.

The sheik, the minister and the rabbi

If you are interested in interfaith work don’t miss this: “Three Clergymen, Three Faiths, One Friendship.” So many interfaith efforts involve avoiding each other’s hot buttons. This is how to do it:

The three say they became close not by avoiding or glossing over their conflicts, but by running straight at them. They put everything on the table: the verses they found offensive in one another’s holy books, anti-Semitism, violence in the name of religion, claims by each faith to have the exclusive hold on truth, and, of course, Israel.

“One of the problems in the past with interfaith dialogue is we’ve been too unwilling to upset each other,”