Several weeks ago Pastor Gill asked me to share a few comments about my trip to Melbourne for the Parliament of World Religions. I had just arrived home a few days earlier, and was leaving again that afternoon for my last class of the fall semester. Having slept well Thursday and Friday nights, I thought I had escaped the ravages of jet lag; however, I was awake most of Saturday night, and arrived in your midst exhausted. I remember a few of the words I shared that morning.

Thankfully I still have a week from tomorrow to “finalize” my thoughts and reflections for the Chapel’s monthly breakfast club.

The easiest approach that morning was to mention “who” was not in attendance at the Parliament. I noted that members of a Baptist church stood outside the convention center as part of a daily vigil. They held up two signs. One read, “Jesus: the only way to God.” The other read, “Don’t trust religions: Trust Jesus only.” Apparently, Jesus – as Lord above all lords – transcends religion – whether of the mind or of the heart. If nothing else, they were faithful in their witness – as they kept at a safe distance from the exchange of thoughts and ideas happening inside.

As I thought about their presence, I was reminded of the illustration of three monkeys, with one holding his hands over his eyes, another holding his hands over his years, and the last holding his hands over his mouth. The caption reads, “See no evil; hear no evil; and speak no evil.” We understand – and probably connect – with the sentiment, but doesn’t is also render us blind, deaf, and dumb?

According to one of the students in my program, a Muslim group had also kept a vigil outside following one of the evening sessions of the Parliament. Their witness was directed toward the members of their own faith community – to other Muslims who had the audacity to engage in interfaith dialogue, who might imagine a world larger than themselves as well as the arenas of engagement that have been created for us.

To the best of my knowledge, there were no Seventh Day Adventists, nor any of the pastors of the American mega churches, such as Rick Warren, Joel Osteen, or Franklin Graham. I did not see any Mormon missionaries, though I understand there were at least a few in attendance. For whatever reason, these brothers and sisters found little value in engaging in dialogue with women and men of other faiths.

They were probably not alone, as their counterparts could likely be found among the Hindus, and the Buddhists, and the Muslims, among the Jews and the Jains, but perhaps not among the Sikhs. Guru Nanak, the spiritual leader of the Sikhs, is remembered for having consulted with the religious leaders of his generation, drawing upon a variety of faith traditions to reflect upon, and cultivate, his own Hindu experience of the world. Comparatively, Sikhism is still young, its history dating back only about 500 years. Christopher Columbus had already sailed the ocean blue.

In contrast to those who absented themselves from the dialogue, I did have an opportunity to meet with an elder of the Cochiti Pueblo in New Mexico , who shared how his people preserved their culture despite the introduction of Catholicism by the Spaniards, and the imposition of “American” values by our very own forefathers and mothers. I was inspired by a woman seeking to preserve – and celebrate – her Celtic culture with its deep connection to the land and the creatures that inhabit it. And I was moved by an eye-witness account of the Stolen Generations – the forced removal of Aboriginal children from their parents who had been deemed en mass as unfit to parent by the Australian government, a removal that began in the late 1800s and continued through 1969.

In Paul’s letter to the Colossians, he does not write about the Christian witness merely in terms about what we believe about Christ or affirmations about his divinity or theoretical concepts about the trinity. Rather than tell them about what they should believe about God in Christ, he writes to this early Christian community to describe how they should relate to one another. He describes what it means to be community of faith. “As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other…”

At least within this text, being a good Christian is not about professing the right beliefs, but practicing the right attributes as the children of God.

Over the years, I have come to believe that we cannot be “good” Christians if we are not engaged with the world in which we live. Indeed, we cannot be “good” Christians if we are unable to embrace an openness towards others that Jesus himself modeled by welcoming sinners and strangers, the broken and the poor. Jesus was not marginalized by his generation, Jesus was not ostracized by his community, Jesus was not crucified by the ruling authorities, for being a model citizen. On the contrary, he challenged the assumption that God’s grace was limited – whether by right action or right belief. He dared to widen the arena of God’s activity to those who were not a part of the faith community – to the Samaritans and even the Rom an guard. Though the prophets may claim that God’s yoke is easy, that God’s burden is light, it’s not that easy to embrace those whom we have determined to be strangers, and quite possibly, “the enemy”.

Some might claim that Paul was writing only to the Christian community – that there is a difference in which a Christian relates to the wider community than the members of his or her own church. There are – and there has always been – real threats to human existence, to the way of life of each passing generation. The Colossians, those early Christians, as well as their Jewish sisters and brothers, could not ignore the brutality of Rom an imperialism. Neither can we cannot ignore the threat of suicide bombers, nor the signs of a radically changing environment. While we have reason to be concerned, we cannot allow these threats to cause us to withdraw from the world, to live in fear, to shy away from cultivating a relationship with a stranger, or, more importantly, to set limits on the grace of God.

Perhaps it’s my own, self-understanding as an outsider within Christianity that has allowed me to engage interfaith dialogue. Through my struggle to claim a Christian identity I’ve been implanted with a sense of possibility, that the world is much larger than I can imagine, that there is yet “more light” to shine forth upon the world. Irrespective of what I have learned about other faith traditions, my studies these past few months have enriched my own spiritual journey, as well as provided a framework in which to be in relationship with others who follow a different path. At the heart of this journey are not merely words or ideas about God, but feelings, emotions, curiosity…

For Paul, what holds everything together – a relationship, a community, the universe – is love. Love “binds everything together in perfect harmony.” We all know that love isn’t easy; it takes practice. We practice love in our homes. We practice love at the Chapel. Sometimes we succeed, and sometimes we fail. But as Christians, or rather, for those of us who identify as Christians, we are called to practice that love in the world. To take what we practice in this place and give it life in our condo associations and townships and state governments. Perhaps this is where I draw upon my evangelical roots, not to protect a world or a life-style as I know it, but to nurture a world where everyone has a place at the table.

Some of you know that I’ve been reflecting upon our Statement of Interfaith, which reads, “It is an open door through which all may pass and be understood; to share their faith with anyone else without fear of ridicule or censure.” While I am clearly not opposed to this statement, I wonder what it means for us as a community. Does it provide us with a sense of direction, or does it simply serve to help us feel good about whom we are as a community of faith?

In one of the books I read in preparation for the Parliament of World Religions I came across the assertion that within most of the religions of the world there is an equivalent to the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” This would suggest, at least for me, that at the heart of most religions is not a particular system of beliefs – but a call to love one another. Despite the language barriers, despite the cultural differences, despite our different theologies and concepts of God, we have all received a similar challenge to practice love within the world.

Then again, maybe it’s not a challenge but the recognition of our own hunger for love.

While I was primarily focused on the practice of interfaith dialogue at the Parliament, there were several “tracks” – series of seminars and presentations focused upon specific issues affecting all of humanity, such as poverty, climate change, the nurture of children, and the role of women within society. The emphasis of these tracks was to find common ground as communities of faith to ensure a future for our world. These tracks moved beyond the exchange of ideas, seeking to practice what we believe about God within the world. Whatever the words – compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, love – the Parliament provide models of engagement with the world – drawing upon the best of what we are to address the harm we have afflicted upon the world.

Perhaps that is the greatest challenge of the Parliament of World Religions. It doesn’t offer a shortcut to salvation; otherwise, we would all find ourselves on the sidewalk holding signs of exclusivity. Instead, the Parliament extends invitation to roll up our sleeves and be instruments of peace, instruments of healing, and bearers of hope for tomorrow. As Paul encouraged the Colossians, “Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”