This year in our religious education program, all of the grade levels from kindergarten through 6th grade are focusing in some way on world religions and the spectrum of cultural expressions.
The pre-kindergarten/kindergarten class is loosely following the curriculum "We Are Many, We Are One," which explores individuality in community and the theme of interdependence. It provides an early anti-bias and multicultural education.
The 1st/2nd grade class is learning "Stories About God": The children hear and explore a wide variety of stories about the mystery that underlies the physical, mental, and spiritual dimensions of life, stories from the world religions, feminist perspectives, science, and from the ordinary and extraordinary experiences in life.
The 3rd/4th grade class is doing the curriculum "Holidays and Holy Days: A Whole Year of Celebrations." In this program, kids are able to create and experience and enjoy the colorful decorations, costumes, dances, songs, foods, pageantry, solemnity, ceremonies, and celebrations of other cultures.
The 5th/6th grade class is doing a focused study of Islam, Buddhism, and Native American spiritualities.
Last year the 7th graders worked with the "Church Across the Street" concept, visiting not only churches of other denominations but also a mosque, a Hindu temple, and a synagogue. They always feel exhilarated when they experience the rocking, praising energy of African-American praise worship, even though the theology feels uncomfortable, and they tend to wonder, why don't we rock out in our church? Could we bring some of that excitement to what we do? And that is a very good question!
Unitarian Universalism has a highly unique and intentional approach in helping kids (and adults) to understand the religious beliefs and practices of other traditions and other worshiping communities. We have also built right into our own statement of identity that one of the sources from which we draw in our living tradition is "the wisdom of the world's religions that inspire us to our ethical and spiritual life."
This is a beautiful dimension of our path, and yet it also presents some complexities. How do we teach, experientially, a deep appreciation of the incredible beauty, power, and richness of the world's traditions, without implying that Unitarian Universalism is made by throwing all these different traditions into a big pot and stirring until you get a rather incomprehensible mishmash?
How do we appreciate and glean wisdom from the particular colors contained in the songs, prayers, and rituals and practices of other traditions, while honoring the boundaried integrity of those other traditions—and our own?
Sometimes I worry that we're a bit like the nemesis of Star Trek, Next Generation: the Borg. If you're unfamiliar with Star Trek, Next Generation, the Borg is a single organism made up of a multitude of beings that share one consciousness, like a beehive. It flies through space in a gigantic cube, meeting every civilization it encounters with the words, "Prepare to be assimilated. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own in the quest for perfection. Resistance is futile."
We don't want to be like the Borg: "Prepare to be assimilated. We will add your religious and cultural distinctiveness to our own in pursuit of perfection. We're going to absorb what we like about you whether you want us to or not."
I had an experience many years back that taught me a great deal about how different traditions can meet one another while honoring each other's unique integrity.
In March 1994 I was a second-year student at Andover Newton Theological School. Day after day, news was flowing in of the ethnic and religious killing in former Yugoslavia. There was a growing sense of horror and helplessness in the community. The members of the Andover Newton Peace Fellowship gathered to discuss how we might respond in some way, how we might at least create an opportunity for people to come together to grieve over what was happening and join in a prayerful vigil for peace.
We decided to hold an interfaith worship service for peace on campus, followed by a 24-hour candlelight vigil. We know it was only a small and symbolic act, but we had to do something to publicly acknowledge what was happening.
I volunteered to coordinate this interfaith worship service, and got to work contacting representatives from the many religious communities in the Boston area who had been recommended to me as possibly being open to interfaith dialogue and community. Soon I was in conversation with a Japanese Buddhist priest, an East Indian Sikh, a rabbi, an Irish Catholic nun, a black Baptist activist minister, a Serbian East Orthodox Christian, and a Muslim imam.
I had in my mind the notion of a kind of "universal" worship, where we could open the service with some sort of unifying ritual. I pictured several candles, one for each of the traditions being represented, and each representative stepping forward to light a flame of peace and saying a few words from his or her tradition on this theme. Soon the gathered congregation would see a dazzling cluster of lights, symbolically representing our solidarity as an interfaith community.
But as soon as I began presenting this charming idea to the various representatives, it began to break down. The Buddhist monk said, "Well, you see, in Buddhism, the candle is thought of as a symbol of the burning of the ego, of individual self, while the experience of enlightenment is likened to the snuffing out of the candle." Hmmm….
The gentleman representing the Sikh community said, "'No, no, we don't use any candles or any such symbols in our worship. As Sikhs, we believe that such material props distract from the presence of God within. Lighting a candle would actually be a meaningless gesture for us and would have no connection to our practice. " Hmmm … I see….
The Muslim imam clarified that the candle is never used in Islamic worship either; but as a gesture of harmony with the other traditions he was willing to participate in such a ritual.
Further conversation exposed, to my embarrassment, how the whole structure I had imagined for the worship service presumed the Protestant order of service as normative for all the cultures present. You know that folded piece of paper you were given as you came in today that tells you everything that will happen during the hour? A program like that is entirely alien to most of the worshipping communities that were to be represented in the service.
Other awkward differences continued to get stirred up. I actually found myself chafing with the inconvenience of all these seemingly non-negotiable differences. How was I going to bring all these folks together in one celebration, one sacred, worshipful event that expressed the shared desire for peace, harmony, and unity, but without watering everyone's practices down to a colorless mush, or without requiring anyone to partake in activities that would feel disingenuous or offensive to them?
Then I had an idea. I asked if the various participants would agree to the symbolic candle ritual, but with a twist. When the service finally took place, seven unlit candles were set upon an altar. I welcomed everyone on behalf of the Andover Newton Peace Fellowship, and I shared with them that I had imagined our interfaith worship service for peace beginning with the lighting of these seven candles representing our different faiths. I explained how I had received a crash course in inter-religious dialogue.
Then each representative stepped forward, one by one. The Buddhist priest came forward, lit his candle and, holding its light up before the gathering, explained how, in Buddhist thought, the flame represents the illusion of a permanent, individual self, which burns with desires and fears, memories and fantasies, and how this is understood as the source of human suffering and conflict. He explained that peace, liberation, enlightenment, could be likened to the flame being extinguished. With a quick exhale, he blew the candle out and set it, still smoking, back into its holder.
The Sikh stepped forward, and pulling the candle out of its stand, explained that it had no religious or symbolic significance in his tradition, and how, for Sikhs, God's very being is peace and bliss, and is all-pervasive; therefore material symbols, such as candles, are a distraction from experience of God within. "This object has no religious meaning for us." He set the candle loosely back in its holder, where it leaned over and finally toppled onto the altar.
And so, each representative, in turn, greeted the gathering in the words or language or gesture of their tradition. And each spoke about how they understand the symbol of light and fire, and its relation to peace, and how the candle is, or is not, a part of their worship.
What was demonstrated in all this was that peace between different people and cultures is as much a matter of understanding and respecting the differences as it is about sharing common ideals. As the service unfolded, all those present were challenged to stretch their horizons by engaging in practices that were not like their own. The rabbi led us in a rousing Hebrew song; the Buddhist priest guided us through a long, quiet meditation on loving kindness; and when the time came for the Sikhs to play their instruments and sing their sacred chants, everyone was asked to take off their shoes and sit on the floor, as is done in their tradition, so that no one would be sitting higher than anyone else.
Given the opportunity to speak for themselves and for their traditions, given the freedom to disagree and to contest and clarify, it was not possible to smooth over inconvenient differences. The final message was not so much, "We are all the same; we're all one," but rather, "We are very different, and yet we stand together."
Another story comes to mind about the appropriation of one religion's symbols by another. Diana Eck, professor of comparative religion at Harvard University, tells the story of how she was invited to participate in the inaugural celebration of the then newly-built Sri Lakshmi Hindu Temple in Ashland, Massachusetts.
Dr. Eck is a world-renowned spokesperson for the inter religious dialogue movement, a respected scholar of Indian and Hindu studies, and she is a Christian. Her Hindu hosts were greatly honored by her presence at their celebration, and they said they had a special surprise for her. As the inaugural ceremonies progressed, statues of the major Hindu deities were unveiled. Finally, one more icon was to be revealed, and they asked Dr. Eck to do the honors. As she pulled away the cloth, there stood a statue of Jesus. Diana confesses that, while she tried to remain gracious, inside she felt shocked and even a bit offended.
She understood that, for Hindus, all deities are considered different aspects of the supreme Cosmic Spirit, Brahman. She understood that, from their perspective, it would be a natural step to see Jesus, the God-Man, as yet another avatar, another aspect of the Divine. They could integrate him into the Hindu pantheon without a sense of conflict. She understood that this particular community had intended to demonstrate their appreciation for the figure of Jesus and the sacred qualities he represented.
What her hosts had not recognized was that they had interpreted the figure of Jesus entirely from within their own tradition. They hadn't taken into account the Christian understanding of Christ as a unique and historical incarnation of God. The differences between their faith and her faith had been diminished in an attempt to establish unity between them.
In Forrester Church's extended metaphor of the Cathedral of the World, he acknowledges the dangers of reductive, smorgasbord Universalism, the dangers of trivializing the faiths of others by failing to understand them in their own integrity. But he only mentions this in passing, and then returns to the grand picture.
We need to be careful in our longing to understand and experience humanity as one family, in our desire to imagine that, at the root, all religions are really saying the same thing, all paths lead to the same place. In some senses, we are not all one. There are deep differences which cannot be blurred over if we are actually committed to mutual understanding.
For example, there is growing concern that we may be using elements from Native American traditions without appreciating that such rituals are not meaningful except within an entire way of life. Some native elders are even beginning to discourage their own people from certain ritual practices, because their original way of life has become so eroded that the ritual itself can no longer be considered meaningful. How authentic can it be, then, for us?
Last year and the year before, we had a visit from Claudia Fox Tree, a Native American educator who came as our guest speaker, and she addressed some of the challenges of our traditions' coming together. As we were developing the order of service, she was very clear that the prayers and songs of her tradition did not belong in our opening words, or our chalice lighting or words of meditation. She wanted us to do what we do, from our tradition, in creating the framework of our service. Only for the central segment would she would bring an uninterrupted presentation that expressed something of her tradition.
Another pitfall lies in our turning to other traditions for religious insight as a substitute for cultivating our own religious identity. I have heard, often enough to pay attention, the query, "You Unitarian Universalists worship all the world religions, right?" We appear to others, and perhaps even to ourselves, as an eclectic mix of various religions rather than a distinct tradition.
We do in fact have a religious and intellectual tradition that can stand on its own and be understood as something distinct from the imports from other religions. The Unitarian Universalist tradition is the unfolding of a liberal religious perspective, emerging out of the ground of the Judeo-Christian tradition, informed by transcendentalism and science and humanism.
I feel proud of the UU commitment to educating ourselves and our children about the practices and beliefs of other peoples. I feel deeply enriched by tasting the flavors and experiencing the light of other traditions. So, how do we do this while guarding against appropriation? When we are about to use an element from another tradition, we might ask ourselves some of these questions:
Asking these questions encourages us to simply notice things we had not seen before about our perspectives and assumptions. We may want to adjust our approach. We may realize it is really not appropriate to try to take a particular fragment from another tradition.
Unitarian Universalism is caught in the enlivening paradox of standing, on the one hand, for world community, unity, peace and universal values, and, on the other hand, standing also for the beauty of diversity.
We can trust that we human beings do in fact live within the same ultimate context. Our physical existence is governed by the same laws of physics and nature. Our optic nerves register light in the same way. We all acquire language in the same basic process because of the way that the human brain is wired. We all feel fear and affection, anger and hunger, longing and wonder. And there is some kind of ultimate Reality that weaves and holds everyone and everything together, but its nature is mostly veiled to us—veiled from our science, and veiled from direct perception.
These ultimate things, these fundamental things—this is the pure light of unified reality which shines through the cathedral windows in Forrester Church's metaphor. But then it hits the prism of the world, where it refracts and splits into a multitude of colors. Truth with a capital "T" fragments into a myriad perceptions of truth with a small "t."
In the realm of absolutes we are all one, and occasionally we can glimpse and know that oneness. But in the relative world—the world we inhabit in most of the time—we live within different constructions of truth, and must strive to be in relationship with one another across those challenging differences.
We can be very, very different, and still stand together, for the sake of our highest values, for the sake of our shared world.
May it be so.