Interfaith Dialogue, the Lutheran "Simuls" and Gender Justice

College Dustin.

Friends,

What follows is a paper I recently wrote for a Scriptures of the World course at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. I'd love to hear what you think!

God's peace,

Dustin

With only three weeks to go before I graduate from seminary, I’ve been reflecting a great deal about the struggles, learnings and growth I’ve experienced here over the last four years. When I first arrived in Philadelphia, I had just experienced two years of immense anger at God following my mother’s death. Furthermore, my journey into early adulthood had left me dumbfounded about, if not at times openly hostile towards Christianity. Although I grew up in a Lutheran congregation, I had only gone under compulsion as a child and then primarily just to hang out with my friends as a teenager. I always figured I was deeply spiritual, but following a specific religion seemed like such an antiquated idea in progressive New England, and certainly not a good enough reason to wake up early on Sunday morning. Upon beginning undergraduate studies at the George Washington University and experiencing what I cannot help but view as the hateful positions of some American evangelicals (I somehow never knew that such beliefs existed before), I quickly came to a vague notion of liking the idea of Jesus while perceiving the Bible as supporting the exact opposite from his message of love and liberation. At the same time, I built on my past readings of the scriptures of other faiths, especially those of Buddhism and Sufi Islam, and thought they painted a portrait of the Divine much more in line with my views.

In response to these factors I identified my religious affiliation as “sort of Buddhist” through much of college and frequently meditated in private, but eventually began missing regular participation in a faith community. As graduation neared and my mother was in the last stages of her battle with lung cancer, I felt immensely supported by my old Lutheran networks back home. Around this time I also discovered that my own Lutheran tradition largely spoke out against the negative scriptural readings of some American evangelicals. Once I heard the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America had voted to allow the ordination of members of the LGBT community, I realized there could be a place for me in the Church and I began to actively participate in congregational life, leading youth groups and assisting in worship. I eventually felt called toward ordained ministry and found myself at seminary, where I learned a powerful set of hermeneutical tools for understanding the Bible. Throughout my seminary career and despite my “interfaith concentration” however, I was never exposed to a Lutheran theological grounding for incorporating those deeply cherished scriptural teachings of other faiths into my own Christian worldview. While I knew such teachings were important, I did not have the means to articulate how they related to my faith in Jesus Christ, and in turn felt that my understanding of the authority of the Christian scriptures was incomplete.

Luckily, in taking a "Scriptures of the World" course with Dr. J. Paul Rajashekar I had the opportunity to not only learn the contents of other scriptures (something I was already partially exposed to), but more importantly, to discern how and why I should read the Christian scriptures inter-scripturally, all the while grounded in my own Lutheran theological tradition. This year I also engaged in faith-based gender justice work as Communications Coordinator for Ecumenical Women at the United Nations. Throughout this work, and especially during my week in New York at the annual UN Commission on the Status of Women, I was reminded how the Christian scriptures are so often misappropriated by various actors (especially some American evangelicals), who wish to reverse the gains of women and girls in recent decades and in doing so export their ideas to believers around the world. Finally, I was blessed with the opportunity to read a Christian response to issues of gender justice that is deeply grounded in the liberating love of Christ, that of the Lutheran World Federation’s new Gender Justice Policy. Throughout the remainder of this paper I will discuss my newfound understanding of the authority of the Christian scriptures, their abuse in regard to the gender justice debate, and briefly cite the Lutheran World Federation’s recently published alternative.

Throughout its two-thousand year history the Church’s relationship with the beliefs and scriptures of other faiths has been marked with difficulty, but also diversity. In the biblical witness itself, especially in Paul’s mission to the Athenians, we first see the concept of a universal Logos working outside of Jewish/ Christian community (Acts 17:22-31). This notion of Divine revelation through human reason is also present in the writings of Justin Martyr, who due to what could be considered an early version of inter-scriptural reading with Greek philosophy, claimed that all who lived with the Logos were in fact Christians without knowing it.  Clement of Alexandria also held similar views, yet Cyprian, Tertullian (who was himself deemed a Montanist heretic near the end of his life) and the vehemently anti-Semitic John Chrysostom were all “Christian patriarchs” who denounced the people and scriptures of other faiths. Augustine of Hippo seemed to differ in opinion throughout his career, yet did specifically argue that the Logos worked through a variety of names and beliefs, at least before Christ’s incarnation:

… from the beginning of the human race, whosoever believed in Him, and in any way knew Him, and lived in a pious and just manner according to His precepts, was undoubtedly saved by Him, in whatever time and place he may have lived.

Furthermore, as indicated in his Confessions, Augustine was an active Manichean (and to a lesser degree a Neoplatonist) before converting to Christianity, and thus it would have been impossible for him not to read the Bible inter-scripturally with what he knew from the writings of his former traditions.

Following the Edict of Milan and the rise of Christendom in the fourth century, inter-scriptural reading largely disappeared throughout the Church, at least officially. For the vast majority of illiterate Christians and those on the periphery of the empire, spoken and visual depictions by missionaries may have allowed a sense of inter-scriptural reading, but this was increasingly absent from the academic realm. By the time of Martin Luther and his fellow reformers, Western Europe had become a homoreligious society where marginalized Jews and the Muslim invaders outside Vienna were sometimes considered heretical Christians rather than people of distinctly separate faiths. It was within this homoreligious context that Martin Luther, out of both a pastoral concern that the scriptures be available to the masses and his need for a polemical tool against the abuses of the Roman Catholic hierarchy, developed the concept of the “solas,” thereby leading to our traditional Lutheran exclusivism:

The Lutheran tendency toward exclusivism, therefore, is derived from a doctrinal interpretation of biblical texts. The absoluteness of the Christian claim is thus articulated in terms of the “Lutheran solas:” solus Deus, solus Christus, sola gratia, sola scriptura, solo verbo, sola fide and so on. The doctrinal language of “God alone,” “Christ alone,” “grace alone,” “Scripture alone,” “Word alone” and “faith alone” are all intertwined, and reinforce claims of Lutheran exclusivism.

Operating within a homoreligious context, the Lutheran solas form a powerful argument, as they free the Christian scriptures to be read solely through the lens of Christ. Indeed, when engaged in public theology one can simply say, “As read through the lens of our shared faith in Christ, the Bible says __________, so we should do __________,” and thereby make a persuasive argument.

While theologically powerful, the Lutheran solas also form a circular argument, and thus in their exclusivism cannot provide a strong basis for public theology in our now multi-scriptural world. In recent decades some have attempted to remedy this problem by employing the traditional Lutheran concepts of ‘law and gospel’ and ‘the doctrine of the two kingdoms’ to their engagement with other faiths and texts. Essentially, this line of thought states that in natural law, God is at work in this world through all individuals, no matter their faith tradition. Working within this theological framework, which is essentially a rehashing of Justin Martyr’s old idea of “anonymous Christians,” those engaged in public theology rarely refer to their scriptures or their faith at all. Throughout my engagement with faith-based gender justice work over the past two years, first as an intern at the Lutheran Office for World Community and now as Communications Coordinator for Ecumenical Women at the United Nations, the typical modus operandi was to first privately study to the Bible as an organization, and then make a public statement in almost exclusively secular language. Although still usually quite persuasive, these statements lacked the full prophetic power of a true confession of faith, as they only appealed to minds rather than the hearts of decision makers.

In a twenty-first century world where homoreligiousity is less and less the norm on even the local level, the Lutheran solas alone can no longer provide us with a persuasive means to employ our scriptures in public theology. Indeed, as feminist, womanist and post-colonial theologians have taught us, the inherent universality of the Lutheran solas were always problematic. As Rosemary Radford Ruether states,

Feminism is a new challenge to Christian claims of universalism that poses different problems from those of interreligious relationships. Interreligious relationships speak of many different ways in which experience of the divine has been localized in human experience and the mutual recognition of these historico-cultural configurations by each other. Feminism speaks of new contexts where the divine needs to be localized. By and large, not only Judaism and Christianity, Islam, and Buddhism, but even ancient tribal religions have not allowed the divine to be experienced in a way defined by women. Feminism looks back at the history of all religions as expressions of male-dominated cultures that have marginalized women to some extent, although some have been more radically and totally marginalized in some religious systems than in others.

The inherent universality of the Lutheran solas also precludes to possibility of a positive dialogue with an increasing number of nonreligious individuals as well. Furthermore, by instead solely employing a law and gospel understanding to our use of scriptures in public theology, we often end up neglecting to refer to our scriptures or faith at all. Although done with the intention of not offending non-Christians, this in the end is simply another way of dismissing the salvific power of Christ and or even simply the humanity of all individuals regardless of their specific faith tradition.

Luckily, some are beginning to discover the possibility of robustly employing another traditional Lutheran theological concept to scriptural engage in public theology, that of “simul:”

The dialectic of the simul, what we understand as “simultaneously,” is a fundamental presupposition of almost all Lutheran doctrinal affirmations. Lutheran theology understands God’s revelation as simultaneously hidden and revealed; God’s activity occurs simultaneously through the work of the left hand and right hand; Christ is simultaneously human and divine; God’s saving activity occurs simultaneously through law and gospel; the Christian is simultaneously saint and sinner; the sacrament of bread and wine is simultaneously the body and blood; the kingdom of God is simultaneously present here and now and not yet. This emphasis on the simuls in Lutheran theology opens up possibilities for a positive engagement with all people in our world. A proper understanding of the simuls, in fact, pushes us away from an exclusive stance in matters of faith and invites us into an inclusive engagement with people.

The Lutheran solas are still essential however, as they provide us with theological grounding. At that same time, when we allow the solas to exist in a dialectic with the theological paradox of the simuls, we can recognize God’s mysterious work through both law AND gospel in Christians and non-Christians alike.

In this way, we can open ourselves to the diverse peoples and scriptures of other faiths, and instead of theorizing about a “Christian theology of religions,” prioritize the praxis of actually engaging in dialogue. James L. Fredericks eloquently speaks to this point:

In the twenty-first century Christians need to find an alternative to the entire project of a theology of religions. Preoccupation with a comprehensive interpretation of the other religious paths is neither necessary nor advisable for Christians committed to developing new forms of social and religious solidarity with those who follow other religious paths. Instead of a theology that attempts to account comprehensively for the religious lives of those who follow the other paths, Christians should set for themselves a considerably more modest goal. This will entail a shift from theory to praxis… The problems attending theologies of religions make clear how dubious this project is. Instead of using theology as a theoretical basis for dialogue, I propose to let dialogue be the basis, or praxis, of doing theology. Doing theology in dialogue with the others is not an attempt to provide a foundation or rationale for dialogue. Rather, what is called for is a theology that arises through dialogue. This is not a theology about interreligious dialogue, or a theology that justifies dialogue, but rather Christian theology itself carried out in dialogue with those who follow other religious paths.

To put it in practical terms, instead of only referencing the Bible or only using secular terminology when engaging in public theology, we can instead from a place of non-anxiety in Christ state something like, “We are called to believe that we should __________ because of how we understand our scriptures through our faith in Christ. As a fellow human being, how does this teaching relate to the scriptures of your own faith or worldview? I know for sure you have something to teach me, so how can we learn from each other?”

Through our faith in Christ, we know in a general sense how God works: Our God is a god of immense love, who shows up in the most unexpected of ways in the most unexpected of places. By relying on the Lutheran solas, or even the dialectic of law and gospel alone, we further constrain our already limited possibility of understanding the immense power and love of God. Instead, we can simultaneous know that our faith in Christ grants our scriptures immense authority while at the same time living out the calling of our scriptures to see the face of God working through both law and gospel in all individuals, no matter their religious system or worldview. The point of faith is not to make us agree to dogma or a theological legalism, but rather to help us to live out the life our Creator intended and provide comfort when we fall short. As we live out such lives to the best of our limited human ability, acting in Christian hospitality towards people of other faiths and worldviews out of our love for God, we in turn embody the authority of our scriptures for all individuals. Through such actions we proclaim, “We’re okay with whatever theological beliefs you might have, and we want to learn from you. In calling us to live in such a way, the Bible definitely has something good to say.”

If we recognize the authority of our scriptures in Christ while simultaneously constructing ambivalent spaces of hybridity (to borrow a postcolonial term) within which we can dialogue with peoples of other religious and worldviews, what then can we say about how our scriptures are abused to perpetuate systems of patriarchy, particularly towards women and girls? At both the national and international levels, we repeatedly see our scriptures proof-texted to support all sorts of “traditional family values,” many which stand starkly against the cause of gender justice. Many Christian organizations lobby against providing comprehensive sex education and free access to contraceptives in communities stricken by HIV/AIDS. Others cite the Bible to refrain from ordaining women or speaking out against rape and other forms of sexual violence in their congregations. While strongly pro-choice myself, I am able to see how the scriptural witness could lead Christians to stand against universal access to abortion services. Yet at the same time, year after year at the UN Commission on the Status of Women (CSW), American evangelical groups along with conservative Muslim countries, the Holy See and others work to block language concerning women's access to a wide variety of life saving sexual and reproductive health services, all in the name of preventing abortions alone. Year after year, these same groups attempt to life up language regarding “traditional family values,” while neglecting to mention a large proportion of violence against women and girls occurs in the home. We must prophetically proclaim the sin of such behavior, yet at the same we must ask how do so many (often well meaning) Christians get such harmful ideas?

The Lutheran solas may provide us with insight on this question. As discussed above, at least in a homoreligious environment, the solas form an extremely powerful argument: “As read through the lens of our shared faith in Christ, the Bible says __________, so we should do __________.” Remember however, that the solas only work as an interconnected circle. Without “grace alone” and “Christ alone,” basing one’s thinking on “Scripture alone,” as those who abuse the scriptures to limit the rights of girls and women frequently do, inevitably leads one to some pretty harmful conclusions. Simply arguing “the Bible says __________, so we should do __________” in a multi-scriptural society while not particularly convincing is often quite harmful.

Especially since the late 1990s, such a message has unfortunately been presented by American evangelicals as the only Christian message concerning the rights of women and girls. Predominately secular individuals at the United Nations, often in a honest attempt to include the “Christian” perspective in international agreements, have in turn limited the progress of gender-justice, but at the same time probably figured Christianity as more a source of harm than good in the world (much as I initially did as college student). By prophetically promoting a more careful reading of the Christian scriptures that keeps in mind God’s liberating love in Christ, organizations like the Lutheran World Federation are now showing the international community there are multiple Christian messages regarding the rights of women and girls:

God desired to share human life fully in the flesh of a human being. God meets human beings in Jesus Christ, who shows who God is: a God who wants to liberate people out of slavery, free them from the bondage of a fallen world, empower the poor and oppressed and invite all to lead lives in freedom as children of God. This is the experience of the God “listening and coming down” to liberate the people who cry for help (Ex 2:24; 3:7). Jesus Christ called his followers into a new paradigm of God’s family, one in which the male-ruled biological family systems were transformed (Mk 3:35). The human body, in all of its realities, sufferings and joy is at the center of Christian revelation because of God’s incarnation through Jesus Christ. Thus, through incarnation God establishes a deeper relationship with human beings. The divine Word assumes a human body and inhabits us (Jn 1:14). Empowered by the Holy Spirit, the body of Christ is a new, just community of sisters and brothers. This community, the church, is the body of Christ today (1 Cor 12:26–27).

Although we must still improve on reading our scriptures in conversation with those of other faiths, the work of groups like the LWF seems to be working! At CSW57 in 2013, strong language was adopted concerning the prevention of violence against women and girls. This past March at CSW58, those on the side of gender-justice succeeded in moving the international community towards including a robust stand-alone goal concerning girls and women in the post-2015 development agenda.

After four years of struggling to find a theological basis for including the wisdom of other faiths in my understanding of the Christian message, I thoroughly believe the traditional Lutheran concept of the simuls, when grounded in dialogue with the solas, provides a powerful way forward. To put it in less academic terms, through our faith in Christ, we know in a general sense how God works: Our God is a god of immense love, who shows up in the most unexpected of ways in the most unexpected of places. Indeed, by beginning to read our scriptures in dialogue with the scriptures of other religions and worldviews, we can learn more about ourselves while living out our call to practice Christian hospitality toward all God’s children. Christian hospitality is not the only reason to read the Bible inter-scripturally however. As others seek to influence decision makers on important issues like the rights of women and girls by abusing our scriptures, we are called to develop alternative Christian messages that will hold authority in an increasingly pluralistic, multi-scriptural world.

Dustin is a recent graduate from the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia and approved candidate for ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. An evangelist, urban gardener, mountain climber, community organizer, saint and sinner, Dustin spends most of his professional time wrestling with God and proclaiming liberation in Christ. Otherwise, Dustin likes hiking, playing frisbee, hanging out with an amazing woman named Jessie and pretending to know how to sing.

Recovering Christian Mysticism through Interfaith Conversation

What follows is a reflection I wrote following my conversation with Dennis Hunter, a Buddhist writer I met last year in New York City. You can check out Dennis's writing here. This writing derives from an assignment I recently completed for a "Scriptures of the World" course at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. I'm more and more thinking about how all sorts of powerful spiritual/ mystical practices have been neglected by the Lutheran theological tradition, and how important it is to recover such practices. Interfaith conversation with our Buddhist sisters and brothers, it seems, can help greatly in this regard. What are your thoughts? I'd love to receive some feedback and thanks for reading!

I met Dennis Hunter, a Vajrayana Buddhist writer, roughly a year ago on a Sunday afternoon while on internship in New York City. Dennis and I struck up a conversation regarding his own Buddhist practice and the similarity of various forms of Christian mysticism, particularly the work of Thomas Merton. A year later while in New York for the annual United Nations Commission on the Status of Women, I got in touch with Dennis about engaging in further dialogue around his use of scripture and how this informs his daily practice. While we were not able to meet in person, we were able have a roughly forty minute phone conversation. Coming from my own past experiences as a nominal Buddhist in college and my growing interest in Christian mysticism, I thought Dennis brought up some profound points that will greatly influence how I engage both Christian and non-Christian scriptures as I minister in our increasingly pluralistic, globalized age.

We began our conversation speaking about the basics of Buddhist scripture, highlighting how sacred texts have continued to multiply across the centuries since adding to the canon (if one could even use this term in Buddhism) is much less problematic than in Christianity. Different schools of Buddhism also hold different collections of texts as sacred. The Theravada school focuses primarily on the tripitaka texts, which are considered the Buddha’s earliest teachings, while Mahayana states the Buddha went through multiple stages of teachings and thus considers additional texts canonical, including the well-known Diamond Sutra and Heart Sutra. Finally, Vajrayana (the school Dennis most closely ascribes to) sees the Buddha as having “turned the world of dharma three times” through his teachings and thus ascribes to additional texts that speak of the inherent “Buddha nature” of all beings that lies beneath the many layers of dharma that obscure reality. In this way, a central notion of Buddha nature is that you only need to become what you already are. While this large library of texts, along with secondary and tertiary commentary, is considered sacred and literally placed on the altars of many Buddhist temples, at least in Vajrayana a practitioner’s direct relationship with the scripture often takes a secondary place to her or his personal relationship with a guru.

We also dove into some fascinating conversation around the ethics/ moral implications of our respective scriptural teachings, which Dennis also supplemented later on by sending me a blog post he wrote on the subject. In his view, Buddhist ethics can be boiled down to three basic tenets: refraining from causing harm (to self or others), practicing virtue (doing good or creating benefit) and taming/ training the mind completely. Dennis also stressed that the ethical teachings of his scriptures are not the commandments of a sovereign, creator God but are rather common-sense principles that can be tested in everyday life. Actions cannot be classified in a simple right/wrong dichotomy in the Buddhist ethical system, but are rather shaped by an individual’s intentions and circumstances. These three basic tenets are further refined through various Buddhist interpretations of the Eightfold Noble Path, Ten Virtuous/ Non-Virtuous Actions and (especially for lay individuals) the Five Precepts: refraining from killing, refraining from stealing, refraining from sexual misconduct, refraining from wrong speech and refraining from abuse of intoxicants.

Conversation with Dennis concerning the ethical implications of Buddhist scriptural teachings in my mind convicts Christianity’s traditional use of the Bible to construct its moral systems, and perhaps clarifies where we are moving as a Church in the future. Although certainly not universal in Christian teaching (both Luther’s Small Catechism and Large Catechism work somewhat differently, for instance), in general practice the Bible’s ethical teachings are understood as simply commanded by God and therefore are to be unquestionably followed. The theological principle that “through faith Christ frees us from the law” allows Christians not only to get around some of God’s more difficult commandments (very few Christians are walking around without eyes and teeth) but also leads most Christians to utterly abandon those difficult texts as sources of revelation. Furthermore, when those in power have decided that certain commandments should be followed in a way that oppresses others, the results have been devastating: a historical refusal to ordain women and condonation slavery, as well as the ongoing condemnation of sexual minorities.

As a Christian I still believe that the Bible’s ethical teachings have been inspired by a sovereign, creator God. At the same time, I firmly hold to the notion that Biblical ethics should still play out as common sense principals that can be tested in everyday life and contribute to human liberation, a practice that from my perspective would be considered subjecting Biblical morality to the love of Christ. While my own faith community, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has improved a great deal in recent years on its understanding of Biblical ethics, perhaps we could consider something that is still controversial as an example: sexual relations before marriage. Interpreted through the love of Christ, throughout most of human history the Bible’s prohibition of sex before marriage could be taken at face value. In a time without modern contraceptives and without two now identified life stages (adolescence and young adulthood), this teaching works partially as a women’s rights issue, as having a society filled young, single mothers without familial support does not make common sense, nor contribute to human liberation. In our contemporary world, insisting two young adults in a loving, long-term monogamous relationship who can barely find jobs should either spend their meager resources on two rent checks (in an attempt to avoid sexual temptation) or rush into a marriage they simply cannot afford, does not make common sense nor contribute to human liberation. Rather, interpreted through the love of Christ in this specific case, Biblical ethics regarding human sexuality would rather indicate focusing on the sacredness of human sexuality and its power to distract one from relationship with God and to harm other people if abused, whether or not the couple decided to live together.

The second half of our conversation focused almost exclusively on the role scriptures have played in religious syncretism. Dennis explained how whenever Buddhism has entered a new culture throughout its long history, a new school of Buddhism and a corresponding new set of canonical texts has eventually formed. As primary examples, the Mahayana and Vajrayana schools formed as the Buddhism expanded into new parts of Asia and incorporated some aspects of Taoism, Confucianism, Shinto, and other local belief systems/ cultural characteristics. Now that Buddhism has to a great extent permeated Western thinking, there is conversation within Buddhism around what might next take shape. Indeed, as Dennis greatly emphasized, never before in the history of the world have things moved so fast and never have folks been exposed to such diverse ideas at once. While many argue Western Buddhism will primarily incorporate aspects of psychotherapy and modern science, Dennis tends to focus on how various aspects of Christianity might be incorporated as well.

In particular, there is a wealth of Christian mystical literature (some accepted by orthodoxy and some deemed “heretical”) that while largely unknown to most Western Christians (and especially Protestants), may provide great insight and revelation. Dennis once again briefly cited the writing of the 20th century Roman Catholic mystic Thomas Merton, but also spoke of an older text I had never heard of before, an anonymous work from the fourteenth century called the Cloud of Unknowing. I brought up how I was in the midst of studying the Philokalia, a collection of writings by Eastern Church mystics still read by many Orthodox believers. Dennis also discussed his interest in early Gnostic Christian writings largely excluded from the canonical Bible. In his view, many of these texts were likely deemed too empowering and thus dangerous by the Christian fathers, because if one could achieve salvation on their own, why would you still need the Church? We concluded our conversation by discussing how both the Buddha and Jesus intended for us to achieve salvation, and that the mystic tradition of both faiths may provide a strong foundation for future interfaith exploration.

My conversation with Dennis will greatly influence how I engage both Christian and non-Christian scriptures as I minister in our increasingly pluralistic, globalized age. In learning about his use and interpretation of the moral teachings in Buddhist scriptures, I was able to reconsider and better characterize my own use and interpretation of Biblical ethics. Our discussion around mysticism was also extremely helpful. Coming from my own Lutheran theological tradition, I will always be grounded in both the canonical Bible texts and the central tenets of Lutheran theology, especially “justification by faith” and “theology of the cross.” It in fact proceeds from our theology of the cross that we must humbly recognize all human creations, including religious systems, as imperfect. Such humility calls us to engage both the scriptures and believers of other faiths, both as part of our calling to love our neighbor but also in order to learn more about ourselves. Such humility also calls us to explore those Christian texts historically deemed “heretical,” for much the same reasons. Finally, such humility calls us (especially as Protestants) to carefully rediscover the rich mystical traditions of our faith that the Reformation sought largely to suppress. While I cannot help but hold to the core tenets of my Lutheran tradition, I can also recognize that other faiths and their respective scriptures may help answer questions my tradition simply does not focus upon. Such exploration and conversation can lead to both a more spiritually rich life and closer relationship between myself, the folks in my Christian congregations, and our neighbors of many faiths.

God's peace,

Dustin

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Wailing at the Western Wall

What follows is a final piece I wrote on my recent ELCA Peace Not Walls leadership training trip to Jordan, Palestine and Israel. The intention of our trip was to prepare for leading future groups of young adults to the Holy Land while also working for a just end to the Israeli occupation of Palestine. I've debated for quite a while about whether or not to post this piece, as it's a bit personal and difficult, but in the end I decided that it may be helpful in illustrating the difficult emotions and ambiguities that come with experiencing the Israeli occupation of Palestine first hand. I'd love to hear what you think, and thanks for reading.


Journal Entry | January 15, 2014

I'm now sitting near the Western Wall in Old City Jerusalem and just burst into tears. Let me explain. This place exhibits a profound sense of the sacred... contrary to what I've heard about the Western Wall in the past, most of the folks here don't seem to be mourning the destruction of the Second Temple at all but in fact are celebrating... it's really loud and joyful... Bar Mitzvahs are taking place all around me. The exuberant, celebratory sacredness of this place stands in stark contrast but feels equally sacred to the quiet, profound experience we just had in the Dome of the Rock and the solemness of al-Aqsa Mosque atop the Haram al-Sharif/ Temple Mount. Both the Jewish and Muslim holy sites similarly contrast with the equally sacred manic swarm of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher we visited a few days ago, where its easy to bump into someone penitently praying and kissing a sacred slab of stone only to turn around mess up some tourist's photo, all the while coughing yet strangely also appreciating the massive amount of incense.

All these holy sites prove equally sacred, all in their own unique way that's characteristic of their respective faiths. Yet, I can't help but crying. I can't help but crying because no matter how hard I try to sit and take in this sacred experience, the image of that case of spent bullets in the al-Aqsa Mosque, kept in memorial from when Ariel Sharon entered the Haram al-Sharif and set off the Second Intifada, is still burning in my mind. I can't help but crying because no matter how much my theological training might characterize it differently, I can't help but feel angry at God for passively letting Her children fight, betray and simply ignore one another over this place rather than joyfully sharing the unique sacredness I've experienced at all three faiths' holy sites this week. I feel angry at God for letting many of Her Christian children in America either ignore or actively work against the efforts of their Palestinian Christian sisters and brothers. I feel angry at God for letting some of Her Jewish children mix a rabid form of 19th century nationalism with their faith in a way that leads to the horrific oppression of Palestinians. I feel angry at God for letting a small radical minority of her Muslim children maim and kill in the name of their Creator while also providing a pretext for letting the occupation continue. Could God have revealed Herself in slightly different ways that would not have led to such a tragedy? I'm not sure, but I'm pretty pissed off anyway. And so I cry. I cry and angrily pray and write because I don't know what else to do. Damn glad I wore my sunglasses.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. Recently approved for ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

The Cross and the Star: A Resource for Unpacking Lutheran Anti-Semitism

What follows is a film review of "The Cross and the Star - Jews, Christians and the Holocaust" that I wrote this past week for my Church and the Holocaust course at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. The review is meant to assist educators in congregations discuss Lutheran (and general Christian) anti-Semitism, especially with young people. I hope you find this helpful and I'd love to hear what you think!

Some time ago, during my first year of seminary, a member of a youth group I was working with told me a story I will never forget. A couple years ago in history class he learned about Lutheran anti-Semitism and even outright support for Nazi policies during the 1930s and 1940s. Embarking on further research, he discovered the virulent anti-Semitism of Martin Luther, particularly in the reformer’s later writings. Being in confirmation class at the time, he brought the issue up with his teacher, who in turn simply responded by saying it was no longer a problem. From that point on, the young adult told me, he did not think he could ever again consider himself a Lutheran.

We live in a time when the Church is increasingly called to carefully and responsibly work for an end to apartheid-like conditions in the Occupied Palestinian Territories and in a time when young people are better educated with easier access to global conversations than ever before. In such a context Lutherans in particular must continually work to name, confess and move forward from the anti-Semitic elements of our collective history. Although the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America officially confessed these sins in a statement to our Jewish sisters and brothers as early as 1994, congregational resources for discussing Lutheran anti-Semitism remain somewhat limited. After reviewing a number of films, I believe The Cross and the Star - Jews, Christians and the Holocaust, a documentary released in 1994 and available on Netflix, is the best resource currently available due to its concise history of Christian anti-Semitism and its use of engaging interviews with Holocaust survivors. What follows is a synopsis of the film, an evaluation of its strengths and weaknesses and a list of suggested discussion questions for use in the congregation.

Produced by John Michalczyk, a former Jesuit priest and current Chair of the Fine Arts Department at Boston College, The Cross and the Star begins by confronting the viewer with a number of provocative statements. For example, Rabbi Harold Kushner argues Christianity has regularly throughout history improved its standing in the public by denigrating Jewish communities. Rabbi Joseph Polak, a Holocaust survivor, moves even further by suggesting the New Testament’s many anti-Judaic passages should simply be de-sanctified and removed from the Bible. He does however soften this statement with recognition that such an action would leave Christian theology “in shambles.” The film then explores anti-Judaic theology of the early Church Fathers, including John Chrysystom’s characterization of Jews as “a plague” and Augustine’s belief that there is “no salvation outside the Church.” The Lateran Council, which foreshadowed future Nazi policy by requiring Jews to wear yellow stars, is also mentioned.

Moving forward in history, The Cross and Star briefly refers to the indiscriminate murder of Jerusalem’s Jews during the Crusades before discussing the anti-Semitism of Martin Luther.* After alluding to his earlier hope that Jews could be converted, Luther’s more later, more hateful words are read as “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” plays in the background: “… next to the devil himself, a Christian has no enemy more cruel, more venomous, more violent than a true Jew.” The film then forms a link between Kristallnacht and Luther’s encouragement to burn and destroy Jewish homes and synagogues. The general theological tenets of anti-Judaic Christianity are also summarized, including the beliefs that Jews deserve to suffer because they bear “the mark of Cain” and that all Jews are guilty of deicide.

Following its summary of historic Christian anti-Judaism, the film next discusses religion under Nazi Germany in detail. Although the 1933 Concordat and the weakness of the Barmen Declaration are aptly criticized, there is a glaring overemphasis on the persecution of Christians under Nazi Germany. Most notably, the Nazis are described as “at war with the Catholic Church” and clergy are listed as a major group of victims along with Jews, Roma and differently abled persons. However, there is helpful exploration of how the faith lives of both Jews and Christians were affected by the Holocaust. Dr. Vera Laska, a Jewish resistor, gives a heart wrenching interview about how she lost her faith entirely, while the poet Sonia Wetz argues we should ask “Where was man?” rather explaining how in no way did the Jews “simply go as lambs to the slaughter.”

The final portion of The Cross and the Star begins with the stories of various Christian rescuers and resistors. For instance, Kaj Munk, a Danish Lutheran pastor and playwright, was martyred for opposing the Nazi occupation in Denmark. In France, Pastor Andre Trocme led the Huguenot villagers of Le Chambon in assisting between 3000 - 5000 Jewish refugees. Pope Pius XII, while heavily criticized for not doing more to stop the Holocaust, instructed Vatican Radio to tell Catholics in Vichy France not to make distinctions between Christians and Jews. Additionally, during the Nazi occupation of Rome, many Jews were hidden directly in the Vatican. Contemporary efforts to atone for Christian complicity with the Holocaust are also discussed, including the liturgical reforms of Vatican II and Pope John Paul II’s visit to Auschwitz. Finally, the films concludes by stating the policies of “the Final Solution” did not form in a vacuum, but rather grew out of centuries of Christian anti-Judaic and anti-Semitic sentiment.

The Cross and the Star has many strengths, particularly for use with young adults. With a short fifty-two minute runtime, the film could easily be watched and discussed over two confirmation classes or youth group sessions. In packing a great deal of history and first-hand accounts into a short timespan, it serves as a strong introduction to Christian anti-Semitism without requiring additional background knowledge. Although the focus on Luther is especially useful in a denominational context, the film could provide a basis for rich ecumenical and interfaith dialogue as well. The stories of rescuers and resistors are inspiring, as are the stories of Jewish survivors struggling with their faith. The rabbis’ statements and the film’s uncompromising conclusion will jar most Christian viewers in a useful way. In a time when so few first-generation Holocaust survivors remain, the film’s many personal accounts make it an invaluable resource.

The Cross and the Star suffers from a number of weaknesses however. There is a clear Roman Catholic bent, particularly in its neglect to mention Protestant efforts to make amends and its casting of the papacy in a decidedly over-positive light. The assertion that a stronger stand by Pius XII could not have helped prevent the Holocaust seems overly pessimistic. As mentioned above, there is an over-emphasis on Nazi persecution of the Church, and particularly its clergy. Now nearly two decades old, the film is also beginning to show its age. Since the early 1990s, the myth that Hitler “brainwashed” the German population has largely been disproven by recent historical research… most bystanders did indeed know something was wrong. Furthermore, the notion that low-level conspirators were “forced” to take part in the Holocaust is simply generally untrue.

In a time when the Church is called to carefully work for justice in the Holy Land and when our global community (and especially are young adults) are more connected than ever before, it is particularly important that we as Lutherans confess and address the anti-Semitism of our collective story. Whether viewed in confirmation class, an adult forum or in an interfaith setting, The Cross and the Star can provide the necessary basis for such confession and dialogue through its concise overview of Jewish/ Christian history and its stories from first-generation Holocaust survivors. This review concludes with related discussion questions for use in the congregation:

1. What aspects of Christian anti-Semitic history were you surprised about? What did you know before watching the film?
2. How do you affirm your Christian faith and follow Jesus’ call to share the Good News without implicitly putting down Jews and Judaism?
3. Do you think God was present amidst the Holocaust? If so, how? Is that even the right question to ask?
4. Why do you think so many Christians and Lutherans in particular, both in Germany and elsewhere, showed such complicity with Nazi policies towards the Jewish people?
5. How can we continue to make amends and strengthen our bonds with our Jewish sisters and brothers, both locally and around the world?
6. Could something like the Holocaust ever happen again? Has it or is it already? What does Christ say to us amidst such horrible events?

* Throughout this review I carefully minded the difference between anti-Judaism, the religious opposition or hatred of the Jewish faith one finds in some New Testament passages, for example, and anti-Semitism, the racial opposition or hatred for the Jewish people.  While “race” did not exist as a category for human beings until at least the 17th century, and 

the concept of “anti-Semitism” did not exist until the 19th century, many of Luther’s diatribes are squarely leveled at the Jewish people themselves (including the quote above) and thus could be described as anti-Semitic.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.