Jan 23, 2010 
Two Sundays ago I invited some members of our monthly inter-faith group to share, during our Sunday worship service, their tradition’s appreciation of Jesus. The readings from their holy texts about Jesus were deeply affirming, moving, even adoring. The Story of the Magi inspired the invitation, they likely Zoroastrians, who come to “pay homage” to Jesus but with no hint in the text this is a conversation story. Many worshipers wrote to express appreciation. But others wrote to express their dismay, their feeling that Sunday worship was not the right setting for words from other religions, and that I should have reminded all present that Jesus is the only way to God and eternal life. My pondering inspired this blog posting.
The massive and magnificent Baha’i World Center located in Haifa, Israel is octagonal in shape, a magnificent door centered at each of the eight sides, one each for visiting pilgrims of the eight major world religions. Visitors are invited to enter the temple, the presence of God, by “their” door – Jews and Muslims, Christians and Hindus, Jains and Buddhists and so on. In fact, if I am not mistaken, one can become a Baha’i and remain an adherent of their present faith. (I am a “quiet appreciator” of the Baha’i faith, but that is for another time).
Images coming to mind from identical passages that appear in early chapters of both Isaiah and Micah in the Hebrew scriptures, pilgrims streaming to the holy mountain of God, I imagine an aerial view of present day pilgrims entering each by their door at Haifa – an “outside looking in” perspective. Each visitor, finding “their door,” chanting songs of their hymnody, with gestures and movements particular to their liturgy, carrying their holy texts, praying in the forms of their tradition, holding their faith in unique and singular ways. Commonalities and differences.
Allow me a moment of blatant anthropomorphism, edging, I confess, on idolatry, daring to image God in human form, divinity looking and gesturing as you and I would. My imagination dares an “inside looking out” perspective – yes, audacious enough to imagine looking through God’s eyes, aligning with God’s stream of consciousness, sensing God’s feelings, noticing God’s gestures and movements. Some would argue that God turns only to those entering through a particular passageway, that the divine welcome is extended to only one line of pilgrims, that God’s arms open ready for embrace to only one group. “Welcome to the kingdom prepared for you from the beginning of time” . . . “welcome good and faithful servants” But what of the others? “Throw them into the outer darkness, where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth” . . . “cast them into the sea of fire.”
I number myself among those who view God as brimming with delight with each one as they enter, by whatever door. The divine eyes dancing with joy, the divine arms spread wide. Rejoicing that each one – arriving by whatever path, guided by whatever practice, intoning whatever divine name, shaped by whatever beliefs – has made their way home.
A more earthy, everyday and real example: Tracy (I have changed her name) arrives at The Gathering – our bi-weekly circle of silence and solitude, spiritual support, prayer and reflection – looking noticeably different. No one failes to notice. Lighter of step and of spirit. An easy, relaxed smile. Moving with rhythm and grace. Something clearly different, it seemed wonderfully different. Someone finally asks and Tracy responds with contagious joy. She explains that recently come into the influence of an Indian guru, Amma by name (you may know her as the “hugging saint”) was attending satsang, a nearby gathering of followers of Amma. Tracy struggles to find words, but her spirit speaks the message for her. She says something like this: “Suddenly all that debris that has always cluttered the pathway between me and God has cleared away. I have never felt more profoundly the embrace of God. It is wonderful!”
Then, haltingly and hesitantly, she looks toward me. “Howard, twenty years ago I joined the church you served as pastor. I made a commitment to Jesus. And, by the way,” she hastened to say, “nothing that has happened to me has diminished my commitment to Jesus. But Amma has become an important guru for me.” Then she asks, with disarming directness, “What does Jesus think about that?” Yikes! I pause, more briefly than I might have expected, and then respond. “How dare I be so audacious to speak for Jesus” I confess. But I will say this, boldly and unapologetically, “The Jesus-I-know is thrilled.”
Jesus longed, it appears to me – he said it often, with such clarity and forcefulness – for those he met and touched, taught and healed “to know the Father the way I do.” Tracy, more than at any time in her nearly six decades of life, is “knowing the Father” in a way that seems what Jesus had in mind. Who could not smile with delight?
3 Comments 
Bill says: 
Harlan Lang 
