January 31, 2017
In December 1994, I published a journal - a one-shot thing as it turned out - called "The Toronto Journal of Interfaith Dialogue." This was the year I was a stay-at-home dad with David, and this was my project. Had I been a better businessman at the time, it would have survived, but I was relatively clueless about anything other than how to get it written, illustrated and printed.
In its introductory essay, I explained that interfaith dialogue was like an oratorio. The idea was inspired by watching a brilliant performance of Handel's Messiah by the Peterborough Singers and Peterborough Symphony Orchestra at All Saints Anglican Church in that town. It was a truly stunning performance and I was rapt with an awareness of the essential elements of the composition in a way that hadn't happened to me before. What I saw, for the first time, was the interaction and dialogue amongst the various major parts - the orchestra, the choir and the soloists - each having their turns to shine, their gifts to lend and to blend, under the direction of a single conductor. I recognized how the dynamics of the music also taught moral principles about unity and diversity, about times for being apart and times for being together, and about what differences those times manifested.
In an oratorio such as The Messiah, the goal of the music is not for one instrument, one soloist, or even one melody or theme, to dominate or give direction to the others. Rather, it is in the culmination and combination of all its elements that the power, majesty and ideal impression of the music is achieved.
The comparisons to effective interfaith dialogue are evident to anyone who has experienced it.
Participating for the past several years in the meetings and administration of Interfaith Grand River, I see this regularly, as anywhere from one- to two-dozen individuals, representing a broad assortment of local faith groups and spiritual perspectives, come together monthly to share thoughts, feelings and experiences of living out their disparate yet comparable faiths in the world. IGR's purpose is not to debate or to challenge, to diminish or to laud, to distinguish or to harmonize, but solely to share and to strengthen. We meet in that oratorio spirit, recognizing that every path has its unique gifts and insights, that every individual can both teach and learn. In every meeting, each seeks to give and to receive, recognizing that we speak from our own hearts, minds and experiences, under the guiding light of the faith each has in that which is divine, foundational and inspirational for all.
February 1, 2017
One of the first great opportunities I had when preparing the first (only) issue of The Toronto Journal of Interfaith Dialogue was to interview the Very Reverend Dr. Lois Miriam Wilson (CC OOnt), who had been moderator of The United Church of Canada from 1980-1982 - it's first female moderator - and before that president of The Canadian Council of Churches (1976-79) and after that president of the World Council of Churches (1983-1991). She was chancellor of Lakehead University when we met, and her career has continued in fascinating directions since then, including 14 years of service on the Senate of Canada.
In the introduction to the interview I describe Dr. Wilson as dignified, refined, and good humoured. She exuded intelligence and thoughtfulness.
In the interview, we discussed many significant things from feminism and the role and expression of women, to the nature of interfaith dialogue and encounter, to the spirituality of Canada's First Nations, to the role of the family in society, to the nature of faith, to the necessity of the commitment of each person to respect and affirm every other.
For the purposes of today's entry, I will just share this part of her comments on the term "ecumenism":
I work from the Greek, oikoumene, which is 'the whole inhabited world'. Christians have narrowed it to mean... 'inter-church'. That's a legitimate use of it, but nobody else in the wide world uses it for that... [T\he root meaning of the word, meaning the whole inhabited world, is the human condition...: what is the faith stance towards, and in situations of development, population control, reproductive rights, all the things that are troubling us? Because, if faith's going to have any impact at all, let's talk about our contribution to those issues; not 'is my God better than your God.' |
I consider myself fortunate to have met Lois, and hope to have the chance again before she passes on from this world. Given that she turns 90 this year, I might want to get a move on that.
February 2, 2017
This image is from the back-cover of the first and only issue of The Toronto Journal of Interfaith Dialogue, and represents a significant part of my intent in making the journal.
The question is sometimes asked, "who defines culture?" The answer is somewhat simpler, I think, than we often suppose. It is, most likely (or, for the most part), whoever controls the narrative.
Each of us, in some way, participates in the creation and continuation of culture, but it is those to whom we give the power of communication who have the greatest opportunity to dictate the tastes, preferences, policies, attitudes, rituals and practices that ultimately define who we are. It has always been this way. The storytellers, the singers, the poets, the priests, the teachers and the trainers are the ones who form the context and express the thoughts through which our experiences of the world are primarily directed and interpreted.
There is little question that, today, the most effective means of controlling the narrative is to control the media through which it is shared. Social media, television, movies, publishing, the arts of all sorts, are crucial and defining contributors of contemporary cultural perspectives.
This quotation from James Fleck (the philanthropist? the filmmaker? I no longer know who he was) reminds the religious-minded that it is not good enough to rest on their self-righteous laurels, presuming that the universe will reward them with safety and spirituality solely on account of their private devotions, but to be active in the world, representing the narrative of faith, interpreting for all the conditions and circumstances of the world through the lens, or from the perspective, of an acknowledgement of a 'higher power' and a 'greater good' than merely human nature and desire.
February 3, 2017
And, at the same time, we have entered into #BlackHistoryMonth.
At the time that I published the Toronto Journal of Interfaith Dialogue, I was also a member of a group called The Metro Toronto Multifaith Antiracism Committee. The committee was initiated in 1992, in response to shock over the Rodney King riots that reminded America racism was not over after the '70's and the popularity of the Dynamite Kid. The goal of the committee, around the time I joined it, was "a commitment to foster and promote a more just and equitable society free from the evil of racism."
Well, I moved away from Toronto almost two decades ago now, and I have no idea if the committee is still active. I know that some members or associates of it, like Avvy Go, Clinic Director of Metro Toronto Chinese & Southeast Asian Legal Clinic, have been notably active in championing those kinds of ideals. Others, like me, have wandered on in more regular lives, doing our "bits" without necessarily making significant changes in the world or achieving high honours. But we still hold those values dear.
In addition to spotlighting the committee in the first (and only) issue of my journal, I also had a feature that highlighted The Family, with illustrations by a young art student named Mark Graham (he was a high school student then, and wanted to pursue a career in art - I have no idea what's happened to him since). One section is pictured here.
On these pages, the feature referenced two characteristics of successful families: inclusion and differences. The comparison with characteristics of successful societies is entirely unsubtle. On these pages are highlighted principles like these:
- That differences are to be celebrated.
- That differences can require us to change and adjust for one another.
- That failing to do so, we fail to be in either family or community together.
- That, in large part because differences are both essential and inevitable, the project of being inclusive develops more perfectly the full range and depth of our moral character, compassion, empathy, love and understanding.
I am not a big fan of months or weeks or days that are designated celebrate this or that ethnic, cultural, racial or religious identity; but, as ensampled in this post and others, I do not reject or ignore them. They are useful stepping stones toward a more inclusive acknowledgement of all humanity, with all its differences.
February 4, 2017
One of the great things about engaging in cross-cultural, or cross-divide, dialogue of any kind, is the great people you get to meet.
I mentioned already getting to interview Lois Miriam Wilson, that amazing first female moderator of the United Church of Canada, and borrowing the budding talents of a high school art student, Mark Graham. In filling up the journal's "Expressions" section (it was divided into the sections, "Dialogue", "Expressions", and "Media & Information"), I also got to meet a young composer named Kwan-Su Park - a South Korean then studying at the Berklee College of Music in Boston - and got to be acquainted with the then deceased Francois Gerard, a professor at St. Paul's University College at University of Waterloo, whose son happened to have married one of my close high school friends.
Kwan-Su Park is a Mormon, and I have the good fortune of a wife who is also South Korean and fluent in Korean and English, so on two levels it was easy to connect with him. Of him, I wrote, "Like many artists and musicians who are also people of faith, Park has not been able to divide his devotion to music from his devotion to God." It's a simple truism that some of the greatest art emerges out of our deepest loves and commitments. Park's arrangement of the famous and moving hymn, "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief," (a favourite of Joseph Smith, The Prophet, and sung here - below - by another LDS singer, Sharon Hopkins, in an video made for a youth conference of the church, ) was a stirring example of this, in which he drew deeply not only on the words and original music of the song, but also on the gratitude he felt for grace and love in his own life. "The Lord has loved me so much," he told me, "despite my weaknesses and shortcomings...The truest joy and honour in my life is to be able to serve ...with my music."
There are so many ideas I should leave behind before I disembark this plane," he wrote, somewhat presciently, on July 11, 1991. "Particularly I should let go of that obsession that this travel to India should open the door to a great enlightenment experience. Whatever I could discover is already in me. India may point my attention to my inner self...but it will not give me what I am. I do not go to India to find God... God alone in my soul is the way. ...I go to India to share an experience but only God in me can give it meaning. |
Each of us is on that journey, and like Prof. Gerard, we can each come to the realization that whatever we experience in life, in whatever culture and context we find ourselves, there is God, with us and within us, to cast light and purpose on all that we experience and do. While they have their place and value, our discoveries of meaning and lasting joy will not actually be in the baubles and bangles of iconography, the reverent drama and dicta of liturgy, or the impressive awe of priesthood, but in the awesome inner experience of the revelation of the divine light that exists within us. Whatever and wherever your journey takes you, I hope that experience is also, and continually, yours.
Thanks for reading these long reflections this week. I'm sure it has done me more good than you to return to this old journal, but I hope that it has at least been of some interest and value. God bless.