Answers in Action

Freshman Kathryn Kemp explores the question, “Why Interfaith?” 

Since the time you first began to talk, questions have been inescapable.   Your first words may have included “mama, papa”, or some convoluted form of the family pet’s name, and surely your parents were in awe of how much you learned as well as making a point to tell every living relative.  But one day the show-stopping word came along that jumpstarted learning for the rest of your life:

“Why?”

While back then you were probably more concerned with the reasons why ice cream wasn’t a major food group rather than with the nature of the known universe, this pesky little question lies at the root of academic inquiry and the root of religious faith for countless people around the globe in our the search for ultimate explanations about the world around us.  Over four days in early October, I joined a group of fellow Davidson students as we abandoned the how’s and why’s of academics and instead dove into the realm of religion, faith, and ultimate questions.  Through visiting the various houses of worship in Washington, DC, I gained a renewed respect for the ways that all religious faith traditions provide not only an avenue for answers but a sense of connection, community, and purpose for each individual within their life.

In addition to exploring the Jewish, Hindu, Orthodox and Islamic traditions, we participated in multiple service projects throughout the city, including preparing food at a homeless shelter and volunteering at the elderly community center.  As I thought about how these projects connected to my own faith journey, I began to realize how service and action in the face of pain are inextricably connected to any expression of faith.  As we grow, face hardships, and recognize the struggles of others all around us, that pesky little question rears it’s head again; “Why does this happen?  How can such pain exist in a divine universe? Where was God?”

Well, maybe a better question is… where were we?

Often times having complete and infallible answers to these ultimate questions becomes so important in our minds that we forget that how crucial our own action is to their resolution.  We can ask and ponder all day long, but it is only in taking action for the good of others that we are truly responding to this divine challenge of humanity.  While wandering through the church that served as our our home base throughout the trip, I came across a passage posted on the wall which related perfectly to our journey in the city.  Written by Rachel Remen, it read: “Service rests on the basic premise that the nature of life is sacred, that life is a holy mystery which has an unknown purpose. When we serve, we know that we belong to life and to that purpose. Fundamentally, helping, fixing and service are ways of seeing life. When you help you see life as weak, when you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole.”

Interfaith learning and action embodies this mission of service, as it honors the “whole-ness” of others, no matter their differences in daily hardships, cultural practices or religious views.  Revering the common connections within humanity is the foundation of compassion and of the healing process, and with this attitude of service we recognize that the work of our hands is a fundamental way we express the divine good.   Yes, at the end of the day, we might still have questions.   We might choose to answer them differently.  But rather than a pop quiz in which we hope to earn a gold star, faith is a journey, a holy mystery in which we all take part.  And it is often the hardships in life that force us to look past our own opinions, beliefs, and disagreements, and instead work together to end the struggle, honoring life as whole.

“Why” might you ask?

Because in order to overcome it, we all have to believe that love, compassion and community are stronger than anything that makes us different.

That’s why.

Chaplains Wanted For Atheists in Foxholes

The NPR Staff presented this article on their Radio Show, All Things Considered, on December 4, 2011.  

Retired Army captain and Iraqi war veteran Jason Torpy says the chaplains employed by the U.S. military can’t relate to people like him. He’s an atheist.

He’s also the president of a group that’s trying to get the armed forces to become more inclusive by  hiring atheist chaplains.  The Military Association of Atheists and Freethinkers wants the military to provide for the estimated 40,000 atheists,  agnostics and humanists who serve in U.S. forces.

Military chaplains, most of whom are Protestant Christians, are assigned  many secular advising duties, including marriage, family and suicide  counseling, Torpy  tells weekends on All Things Considered guest host Rachel Martin. They touch so many parts of service members’ lives, he says, they can help improve what he sees as an environment of exclusion.

“That lack of connection to atheist and humanist communities, the lack of recognition or support for atheists and humanists — that implication can be solved primarily through the chaplains’ corps,” he says.

Torpy says he has felt excluded in the military because of his beliefs. Once, before his unit deployed on a mission, the commander gathered everyone together for a Christian prayer.

“So I had to opt myself out of that situation, to out myself because this commander took it upon himself to have a personal religious activity in the midst of a military mission,” he says.

While some might wonder what role atheists could fill in the chaplaincy, Torpy says they would be able to do the same job as any other chaplain who assists someone with different beliefs.

“There are individuals that, they don’t have those traditional religious perspectives, and some of those individuals want to serve as officers in the military,” he says. “That’s how they want to serve the nation, to do chaplain work, and they can do that in a way that Christians can’t do it.”

So far, he says, he’s gotten a tepid response from the Chaplain Corps generals. They haven’t shown any interest in seriously pursuing his proposal, but they haven’t made a flat-out refusal.

“If they do that,” he says, “they’re saying that we are going to exclude and take no time to understand a certain subset of the population.”

If I am not for myself, then who will be for me?  If I am only for myself, then who am I? –Hillel

Sophomore Alexis Grant considers the spiritual gray area that coexists with interfaith.

Interfaith is complicated. Even after participating in almost a semester’s worth of interfaith service, event planning, and research, I still find it difficult to define the word with certainty. Is interfaith a movement or a belief? A floaty, unrealized concept, or a vision of a reality that might be worth working towards? It seems to me that these difficulties stem from what might initially look like an inherent contradiction in the term ‘interfaith’.

How can a cohesive movement rightly stand for honoring both the similarities and the distinctions between different faiths? How can something logically call for a simultaneous togetherness and apartness? The interfaith relationship, one can assume, must be complex in order to encapsulate such oppositional concepts as generalization and distinction at the same time. I must admit that throughout this semester working as an interfaith scholar in the Chaplain’s Office, I have sometimes allowed my idea of interfaith to be reduced as such—as a complex term laden with insupportable contradictions. Somehow, though, in spite of this, interfaith exists, is in motion, and is progressing. So, how?

I think medieval Jewish philosopher Hillel said it best when he said, “If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? If I am only for myself, then who am I?” Basically, Hillel calls on the grey area between individual identity and membership within a pluralistic society. He posits that individual existence depends wholly on this middle-of-the-road relationship between pure self-interest and connection to the common good. Interfaith exists in this grey area—in this principle gap.

I can’t define interfaith. But I think it’s possible that I don’t need to in order to walk in this spiritual grey area, assisted by tolerance, appreciation for the beliefs of others and love for my own traditions. Through interfaith I can be for myself and others.

Junior Jaime Dybuncio explores the relationship between religion and community.

I was raised Catholic.  This is no coincidence due to my parents’ home country being over 80% Catholic.  But while my parents brought their Filipino culture with them when they immigrated to the United States, they left behind a lot of their friends, family, and traditions that shaped their Catholicism.

Growing up in Los Angeles, I had the fortune to live in a generally open and accepting environment that celebrated difference. While I did accompany my parents to church, my parents never attempted to accelerate the strength or direction of my faith.  I was allowed to explore this space on my own.  Despite never feeling compelled or called to a specific creed, I always knew I needed to explore my personal faith further.

When I came to Davidson, I was in an environment for the first time where it was obvious that people’s religious beliefs were so clearly interwoven into their everyday lives.  I never had friends back home who met to discuss God’s teachings for example, nor were Sundays ever an occasion for my friends and me to get dressed up and go to church.  While this contributed to some initial culture shock, I found myself with more questions about my faith and about religion in general.  I never was able to connect the dots and understand the appeal of ascribing to a certain religion. From my limited experiences, I never understood what else my Church offered outside of moral guidance.   I’ve always held the notion that being a moral citizen is an intrinsic responsibility we bear as human beings, not something connected to following someone’s teachings. Therefore, for me, if religion just represented an outlet for how to
become a wholesome person, I never understood why I would limit myself to the teachings of only one religion. While having these questions, I always knew deeply that I was greatly simplifying religion, and seeing my peers so committed to their own faiths only emphasized this fact.

Luckily for me, I was afforded the opportunity to go on Davidson’s Interfaith Fall Break trip to Washington D.C.  During our 4 day trip, we got to take part in a Yom Kippur, Greek Orthodox, and Hindu service.  What mmediately was apparent to me were the communities within each house of worship we visited.  In my experiences at the church I would attend as a kid, I never remember befriending people my age or even talking to anyone else but my family.  I never associated community with religion.  Yet the Interfaith trip made it so clear and obvious that they go hand in hand.  After each service we went to, we were invited to some type of reception where the congregation met in a more relaxed setting.   Not only were the people we met incredibly welcoming and warm, but it was also obvious that if we were not there, nothing would change.  There was something about these communities we met that was different than a regular friend group.  You could sense in the room a certain warmth and love for each other that was very unique.

My favorite thing about visiting the Philippines is seeing my parents interact with their friends and family.  It never occurred to me, but so often these interactions happen in similar settings than the ones I encountered on the Interfaith trip.  Mass is always a time where the whole family goes together and sees old friends.  This sense of community in the church was lost when my parents moved to Los Angeles, and is something I did not experience first-hand.  But during my short stay in D.C., I was able to see how special this aspect is to religion, and I dive back into my personal faith journey with a renewed vigor and
excitement.

Reflections on Room in the Inn

Davidson students reflect on their experience volunteering with Room in the Inn as part of Davidson College’s Better Together campaign.

“Although there is religious diversity on campus, Davidson doesn’t always do the best job at promoting dialogue and cooperation in religious life. Room in the Inn has been a really tremendous experience because it has centered people from different religious/spiritual backgrounds around a common cause. I’ve met so many incredible neighbors over the past months and have enjoyed listening and sharing stories. It’s been wonderful knowing that at least once a week, I’d have the chance to get outside the routine of Davidson life and engage a different community. Our campus needs more service-projects like Room in the Inn, where students have the opportunity to talk about faith and service in an active, experiential environment.”

-James Johnson

Davidson students volunteering at Room in the Inn

“Participating in and running Room in the Inn really opened my eyes to both the similarities and differences between my homeless neighbors and myself, and between my peers and myself.  Individual, written reflections allowed those participating in and those running Room in the Inn to consider what brought us to Room in the Inn and what home means to us. Group reflections allowed us to share our faith, values, concerns, ideas and motivations with each other.  It helped me realize that I am not alone in my struggles to understand and rectify the injustices of the world.”

-Sarah Jordan

Working with our Hands

Davidson junior, Lindsay Beck, reflects on how her faith inspires her service.

One of the things I appreciated most about the Reformed University Fellowship (RUF) service project in South Carolina was the ability to simply disengage my mind and work with my hands. I was reminded of the fact that in Genesis 2, God gives man two jobs: to name the animals and “to work [the land] and take care of it” (v. 15). As humans, we are not called just to do intellectual “heavy lifting,” but also to use our bodies and their power for God’s glory. Being a Davidson student–often so consumed in my work that I might not budge from my desk for several hours–my humanity can become completely wrapped up in and defined by my mind, my brain, and my intellect. No matter how hard physically I found yanking disobedient, rusty nails out of old wood or mixing cement, these tasks felt innately right for my body, and brought rest for my mind.

Reflecting now on our trip, I am also struck by the difference between what God originally instructed Adam to do in the Garden of Eden with what we were doing on Johns Island. After Adam and Eve sinned, God punished them; cursing the ground and proclaiming that humankind would thereafter have to work against it for their living (Genesis 3:17-19). Where Adam and Eve might have had a comparatively easier or more enjoyable time working the land, we now have to effectively wage war against it. Though it “feels right,” as I said previously, to use our physical strength to accomplish tasks, it is also difficult and never produces perfect results.

We currently inhabit a “waiting period” between Jesus’ first coming, which began God’s work of redemption on earth, and his second, which will bring it to completion. During this interim period, as the apostle Paul described, “The creation waits in eager expectation . . . [hoping] that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay” (Romans 8:19, 21a). It is no secret, especially in light of the recent natural disasters in Japan and manmade crises in Libya, that the world is decaying. As Paul goes on to say, “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time” (v. 23).

While nothing will bring an end to this decay and pain except for the complete renewal and rebirth of the earth when Jesus returns, that does not mean we should throw our hands up and despair. As Christians, we are called to be the hands and feet of Christ, to work towards redemption for all of creation. During the RUF trip, I got to witness and participate in this work of redemption: bringing good out of a bad situation, beauty out of ugliness. Mrs. Gathers’ previous house had been demolished because it was no longer safe to inhabit (the project supervisor told me that it was so rotten from the inside that heavy winds could have eventually caused its collapse), and Rural Missions had built her a new one. We constructed for her a new screened-in porch, shed, and step, and each accomplished task brought with it the feeling that we were restoring some order to this individual’s life.

Finally, I am reminded of the privilege it is that God desires us to carry forward his mission of redemption until he comes again—or “Kingdom Work,” as I have heard some people refer to it. Though God, as sovereign creator, could easily and quickly set things right himself, he calls Christians to demonstrate the grace and love that has been extended to us through Christ, and to in turn extend that to others. To quote 1 John 4:19, “we love because he first loved us.” Service comes from the overflow of the love that we have been bestowed; it is “faith with deeds” to accompany (James 2:14-26).

Lessons on Truth and God

“Jalal-ud-Din Rumi used to tell a story about a far-distant country, somewhere to the north of Afghanistan. In this country there was a city inhabited entirely by the blind. One day the news came that an elephant was passing outside the walls of this city.

“The citizens called a meeting and decided to send a delegation of three men outside the gates so that they could report back what an elephant was. In due course, the three men left the town and stumbled forwards until they eventually found the elephant. The three reached out, felt the animal with their hands, then they all headed back to town as quickly as they could to report what they had felt.

“The first man said: ‘An elephant is a marvellous creature! It is like a vast snake, but it can stand vertically upright in the air!’ The second man was indignant at hearing this: ‘What nonsense!’ he said. ‘This man is misleading you. I felt the elephant and what it most resembles is a pillar. It is firm and solid and however hard you push against it you could never knock it over.’ The third man shook his head and said: ‘Both of these men are liars! I felt the elephant and it resembles a broad pankah (fan). It is wide and flat and leathery and when you shake it it wobbles around like the sail of a dhow.” All three of the men stuck by their stories and for the rest of their lives they refused to speak to each other. Each professed that they and only they knew the whole truth.

“Now of course all three of the blind men had a measure of insight. The first man felt the trunk, the second the leg, the third the ear. All had part of the truth, but not one of them had even begun to grasp the totality or greatness of the beast they had encountered. If only they had listened to one another and meditated on the facets of the elephant, they might have realized the true nature of the beast. But they were too proud and stead preferred to keep their on half-truths.

“So it is with us. We see Allah one way, the Hindus have a different conception, and the Christians a third. To us, all our different visions seem incompatible and irreconcilable. But what we forget is that  before God we are like blind men stumbling around in total blackness…”

-William Dalrymple, City of Djinns (280)

What Does Interfaith Mean To You?

Davidson junior, Nina Anand, shares a personal reflection about what interfaith means to her.

I will never forget that afternoon, sitting in the gray-walled room  at Ascension Lutheran Church with my 8^th grade communion class. I asked my lifelong pastor during a discussion about Heaven and Hell, “What about my dad?  Will he be “saved” too, even though he is Hindu?”

Moreover, I will never forget the reaction of my pastor, who had baptized my sister and me as babies, and watched my father, whom he considered a friend, come to church with us on most Sundays.  He was left speechless, pausing with a confused look on his face before ultimately changing the subject.

My mother is American and grew up in the Midwest with a strong Lutheran upbringing.  My father is Indian and grew up in New Delhi with a pious Hindu family.  I grew up surrounded by both religions but mainly followed the rituals of Christianity and took active leadership in the Lutheran church and Episcopal school that I attended.

When I left home for college I became intrigued by my Indian heritage, and attempted to learn Hindi and study South Asian religions at NYU, before I transferred to Davidson.  I have gained remarkable insight from both religions and respect different customs from each of them.

Furthermore, I find many similarities in both religions.  For instance, the dharma (or duty) of a Hindu consists in fulfilling a proper role, such as father, son, wife, or king.  These duties are measured in values extremely similar to the virtues that Jesus Christ stressed, like selflessness, compassion, and truthfulness.

But the question still puzzles me.  How can you have faith in something that would consider your own father a heretic?  In Hinduism, one of the most fascinating things I learned is that believers can ascribe to many faiths.  Mohandas K. Gandhi exemplified this religious pluralism in his practice of Buddhist thought and beliefs and readings of the New Testament.

Through interfaith, I am beginning to understand that it is possible to learn about and respect other faiths even if you do not choose to ascribe to every particular belief.  Personally I believe that my father is a wonderful person who serves God and others through his work and good deeds.  I think my pastor agrees, which is why he could not come up with an explicit answer.

Through the study of religion in college, I am able to learn about other views and remain open to their pertinence in every path of life.