“There can be no peace in the world until there is peace between the religions.” – Hans Kung
When I was 17, I spent some time in British Guyana as a missionary. I didn’t know why at the time, but I was “called.” I thought I was called to be a missionary, but looking back on it, I believe I was “called” to BE witnessed to. It was an eye opening experience. To be honest, I didn’t actually ‘witness’ to many people. There were a great deal of catholic and protestant missionaries there at the time, and something just didn’t feel right. I didn’t understand what was happening then, but I felt an awakening in me. My experience was “doubt.”
As we drove through a small town, I noticed a small corner merchant that was pretty typical for the area. It wasn’t a lightning bolt moment, but I saw a nun walking down the street while simultaneously noticing the religious wares being sold at this little shop.
He was selling religion.
And as I watched the nun, I wondered to myself, “is my religion the right one?” I cannot remember if it was before this or after this that I witnessed to the only person I really recall witnessing to. She was Hindu, and she listened with curiosity. We talked for a while, and she informed me of her own religion, and I informed her why my God was a better God. I tried to sell her Jesus. She thanked me for taking the time to talk to her, and we parted ways. I felt pretty proud of myself at the time for having the courage to talk to her, but secretly… I think I was just killing time so I could sit in the air conditioning of this building. There were very few air conditioned buildings… and Guyana is HOT.
I often wondered why I vividly remembered that experience. There wasn’t anything particularly exciting about it. Sure I was nervous, but I wasn’t scared… so why do I remember so many tiny details of that moment?
I wish I could thank the nameless woman that spoke to me that day. She witnessed to me far more than I did to her. I spoke to her with conviction, and urged her to convert to Christianity lest she be damned. She returned my conviction and hellfire witnessing with kindness and curiosity. It was a beautiful moment, which I promptly ruined with my feelings of failure for not saving her soul… but it was beautiful nonetheless.
And 10 years later, I can still see the look of openness and curiosity in her eyes. And it wasn’t until just recently that I realized what made her religion so different from mine… And truthfully, it’s not a lot. Aside from the animal sacrifice that still took place in some areas, of course. Each religion sold its religious icons – both literally and metaphorically. Each had rituals, superstitions, fears, and both felt like if they didn’t do A and B, they were somehow doomed.
So what makes them really different? If you identify with a particular religion, then you are probably saying to yourself, “the difference is mine is the right one.” Which is funny, because almost every single person that reads this – as long as they have a strong attachment to a particular religion – would say something similar.
Well, the difference is clearly that Hinduism is very brutal, there is much bloodshed and the Gods are angry, jealous and must be appeased. Right? I could point out many instances within the Judeo-Christianity faith where there was a great deal of rage, jealousy and bloodshed, but that really isn’t where I want to go.
The difference is simply, and always will be – Traditions. What her family passed to her. What their ancestors passed to them. What new idol was “sold” to them. What idea was “sold” to us.
The woman I spoke with that day felt comfortable with her faith, because that was her families tradition. She identified with that faith because that is the one she was raised in. She could have chosen to “convert” to a different tradition – and her personality might have identified with it more. But the point is that she was born in Guyana, by any twist of fate, and because of where she was born and when she was born she picked up on the traditions that her ancestors passed down to her. The rituals she follows today don’t necessarily reflect the heart of the religion – what it really reflected was how her ancestors interpreted it, and how they passed it on to her.
Does that make her right or wrong? Does that make her any different than those that follow the Judeo-Christian traditions?
Aren’t most of us comfortable in the traditions that we know and identify with (whether we were raised in them or converted to another)? Don’t we try to sell them to each other?
The merchant I saw that day, obviously, didn’t feel attached to any particular tradition. He sold crosses and statues of Jesus to the Christians, and Rosaries and statues of Mary, and incense and statues of Gods to the Hindus. Perhaps he didn’t care and just wanted to make a buck. Or perhaps he believed it didn’t really matter what you identified with, that they were just Traditions.
What traditions do we follow today, blindly yet convicted? Are we really so different? Hasn’t there been a time when something just didn’t feel right but you suppress that feeling because your scripture/pastor/preist told you it was so?
“Question everything.” – Karl Marx, Buddha, Einstein, etc.
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