On Giving Thanks

As a student of history, and as any descendant of the multicultural movement, I tend to be ambivalent about national holidays. However, as is appropriate to this occasion, I am thankful for our week-long vacation. For me, these betweentimes are for repose and reflection; a reprieve from the exaggerated sense of self-importance I carry around too often. The fact that I am inside and warm on these frigid nights reminds me of the constant need for gratitude and humility. As the lyrics to one of my favorite devotional songs runs:

My Lord, my guide, take me to that shore.
After all, you brought me this far;
Won't you take me from here?

I was also raised in a religious setting with an emphasis on worship of the Divine Mother: always compassionate, always giving. It would be our privilege, in this life, to attempt to return the favor; to make of our lives a continuous expression of gratitude. The Mother's grace was a constant presence in the way our values were shaped; we could not be angry with others, be cruel to others, when we were being forgiven at every moment. Rumi says: We are here to be a forgiveness door through which freedom comes.

Gratitude, humility, compassion, forgiveness--these form the core of my own religious vocabulary. But I am most thankful for the diverse people who share them with me, each in their own particular language, their own unique beauty. I remember them--all of you, and other friends yet to be made--in my prayers this Thanksgiving, alongside the poor and homeless and wartorn and unloved. May the efforts of our group the rest of this year continue to put our shared values into direct action.

Love,
Anand

Thoughts on the Eve of Children’s Day in India (Jawaharlal Nehru Day)

“The only alternative to coexistence is codestruction.” –Jawaharlal Nehru

I feel it appropriate to remind ourselves that for an interfaith movement to be successful we must reach out to humans of all religious beliefs and to those who lack them. As an atheist I often feel caught between the spheres of belief and skepticism. On one hand I have such an immense appreciation for religious thought; it provides solace in times of loneliness, it promulgates human goodness, and is often incredibly selfless in the service it renders to the marginalized. These are all products of the sphere in which I don’t inhabit.

Or do I? My own set of morals, my set of beliefs, the very foundations of my identity are born from the sphere I do not claim as my own. My vegetarianism stems from my close friendship with a Jain. In high school I was highly involved in the Honor Code – a stance that directly reflects the 9^th Commandment in Christianity, two branches of the Eightfold Path, and Allah’s forewarning for the Day of Judgment in the Quran (to name just a few). To say that my ethics are not influenced by a variety of faiths would be an ironic contradiction of my commitment to honesty. In this light, I am very much a religious man.

The reason I often find myself caught between these two spheres is the virulence these bodies emanate within and towards each other. Even in this increasingly globalized world, people of faith often go out of their way to hunt the differences between their faiths rather than relish in their similarities. So many core values are shared between religious groups – why do we not seek the beauty in this path? But it doesn’t stop here. Atheists can be just as guilty. The virulence with which some atheists attack religion can be equal or worse than their religious counterparts. Yet once again, I find that at the core of their being, in the depths of their heart, atheists are no different from theists.

I wish to live in conflict no more. I don’t want to join a sphere; rather, I want the spheres to join in a pluralistic, peaceful coexistence. On this day we must remember the caution offered by Nehru: that we must live in a peaceful coexistence or, as Martin Luther King said, “perish together as fools”. It comes with little surprise to me that an atheist and a Baptist minister share, quite literally, an identical worldview.

I leave you with the 14 Precepts of Thich Nhat Hanh, a source of great inspiration to me.

I remain optimistic about our ability to reconcile our similarities and appreciate rather than oppose our differences. I am hopeful because I know that intrinsically we are overwhelmingly similar – we belong together in a single, loving sphere.

Happy Jawaharlal Nehru Day!

In harmony,

Alex

What do we stand for?

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said, "To be is to stand for something". One of the many quests of our lives is to find that thing for which we stand. Almost a week after our Day of Interfaith Youth Service, I have been thinking a lot about this group and what we value in our mission and how we can extent these values above and beyond this Stanford community. How awesome it was to have a group of college students get together to serve the greater good (especially when Stanford football was playing!) and to share the experience of having personal interactions with those we were helping was really quite powerful.

At Sacred Heart during our volunteer introduction, the coordinator mentioned that last year the organization served 3,300 families. This year, due to the economic troubles, they would be serving 4,000 families. On average, each of the families I registered had three children and two adults. If that were to be true for each family, that is 20,000 people who would have not had enough to eat at their holiday table, or maybe could not afford toys for their children at Christmas. The sheer numbers were astonishing to think about. The 20,000 people we helped register live in about 12 zip codes in California, and is certainly not indicative of all the people who need assistance. In our discussion afterwards, Anand prompted, "Why is it that in the wealthiest country in the world, we have so many people who still go hungry?". This is a very important question, but seems so daunting. There are so many infrastructural, educational, socio-economic problems that would need to be dealt with in order to answer that question; however, I think an equally important question (although perhaps easier to answer) is "How can we use what influence, power, funds, or resources we do have to make a difference in the lives of others?". This, is one reason I am drawn to F.A.I.T.H. Each religion has its own history of feeding the hungry, and clothing the naked, and it's own customs for hospitality. It is in recognition of this solidarity in thinking that unites us together and makes us stronger. It is in this way that we can, in Heschel's words, "be" and stand for something.

Stanford Interfaith Blog!!

Apparently our F.A.I.T.H. group hasn't made it clear yet that we have our own website now! In addition to receiving e-mails over the interfaith@lists.stanford.edu chat-list, you can also post, read, and comment on our new blog. The site is: http://stanfordinterfaith.blogspot.com/ If you would like to post on the blog (as a "contributor" not just a "follower") e-mail me (wolochow@stanford.edu) and I will invite you to contribute! ~ ~ Much love, Jenny

Of Sacrifice and Service

When I was growing up in a predominantly Hindu community in the South Bay Area, the spiritual organization in which I was most deeply engaged would have a weekly Sunday school, much like other religious communities around us. We would learn various hymns, stories, rituals, and songs in our individual classes; but in the large assembly, before everyone dispersed in a flurry of gossip and sports scores, we would recite our organization's Pledge. It began: We stand as one family, bound to each other with love and respect, and went on to affirm: We live a life of sacrifice and service, producing more than what we consume and giving more than what we take.

It was this dual ethic of love and service which I was fortunate to share with ten other religiously diverse young people on Saturday, during our Day of Interfaith Youth Service (DIYS). We volunteered in various capacities at Sacred Heart Community Service in Downtown San Jose, as part of their annual program to register the homeless and low income families to receive food and toy boxes for Thanksgiving and Christmas. After a little over three hours of sharing in the lives of Sacred Heart's clients--whose disenfranchisement spans ethnicities and languages, genders and ages--we returned to the Stanford campus for a brief reflective dialogue. There were a whole host of things we could have discussed: why the richest nation in the world allows for scandalous disparities in income, what systemic injustices cast people into poverty, how disproportionate numbers of those in the lines to register were women and children. But over sugar cookies and muffins at Hillel, in the fading light of evening, we spoke instead of ourselves, and learned of one another.

What inspires us to serve? What draws six freshmen, from Bangladesh to Kenya to San Francisco, to spend a day working together with total strangers to help the disadvantaged? For some it was an ethic embedded from a young age to repair the world, symbolized as pieces of shattered glass. For some it was a spiritual leader, advocating for the marginalized and the oppressed. For some it was our grandmothers: so generous, so compassionate, with never a thought for themselves. Everyone had a tradition; a tradition enriched by the stories of others.

In the wake of the recent attacks on Fort Hood, I'd been hearing a lot of the rhetoric flowing over the airwaves. But for a few poignant reminders of the tragedy's immediate victims, the attacker's religious identity was the only thing on everyone's mind. And the implications were not just about Muslims; the implications were: if you know someone who is devout, or who takes their religious identity seriously, you'd better watch out. I have a different vision of the world: a world in which a murderer is a murderer, and "does not deserve," as Eboo Patel says, "the honor of a religious label." That world was in front of me on Saturday. Our small gathering may not be on the evening news any time soon, but I sure hope people are paying attention. We were Hindus and Muslims and secularists, volunteering at a Catholic organization, and sharing a meal in a Jewish house.

For another take on this event, check out this post from our good friend Tim Brauhn of the Faiths Act Fellows. Please join us for the next meeting of Stanford F.A.I.T.H on Wednesday, Nov. 11th, at 7:30 PM in the Common Room (CIRCLE). Come and watch a video compilation and more pictures from the DIYS! Our meetings will now be weekly affairs, open to everyone to share their ideas, projects, and hopes for a future of consistent interfaith service on campus. The agenda for this meeting will be sent out soon. Please do forward the story of this event far and wide; we hope to see many of you on Wednesday!

Love,
Anand

“Shall the Fundamentalists Win?”

“Shall the Fundamentalists Win?” (Harry, Emerson Fosdick, a sermon from 1922)

Has been described as a call “for an open-minded, intellectual, and tolerant ‘Christian fellowship.’”

Thankfully, my studies often resonate with my genuine interests because I am able to pursue a major (Religious Studies) that I enjoy (regardless of next year’s job opportunities, or lack thereof). This week’s assignment “Shall the Fundamentalists Win?” sparked something unusual in me – enough so that I felt inspired to write about it for the Stanford Interfaith Blog. I read Fosdick’s sermon this weekend because it was assigned as homework for my History class about Religion in America (HISTORY 154A) but as I was reading through the short document (only 8 pages!) I couldn’t help thinking how the sermon is a wonderful defense of the interfaith movement as I see it.

Fosdick makes the claim that Fundamentalism jeopardizes not only Christian unity and fellowship, but also tolerance and peaceful solutions to problem-solving in general. In this blog post, I want to share with you some of the quotes that I found most relevant to our mission as interfaith activists and discuss the reasons why I find his sermon inspirational. Its still difficult for me to comprehend how a sermon over eighty years old can still be relevant today. Have we progressed at all since then? How can we win the fight in the future?

1. “We should not identify the Fundamentalists with the conservatives. All Fundamentalists are conservatives, but not all conservatives are Fundamentalists. The best conservatives can often give lessons to the liberals in true liberality of spirit, but the Fundamentalist program is essentially illiberal and intolerant.”

This sermon sets out from the very beginning to identify the particular group of Christians with whom Fosdick has problems: the Fundamentalists – who are conservative in nature, but unique in that they are “essentially illiberal and intolerant.” I consider myself to be a liberal and tolerant person, and therefore flatter myself by imagining Fosdick on my side. But my identity aside, I am very glad that Fosdick makes the distinction between conservatives in general and the particular brand of conservatives that are Fundamentalist – since we often wrongly equate the two still today.

2. “This is a free country and anybody has a right to hold these opinions or any others if he is sincerely convinced of them. The question is—Has anybody a right to deny the Christian name to those who differ with him on such points and to shut against them the doors of the Christian fellowship? The Fundamentalists say that this must be done.”

Great point! How can we really look someone in the eye and say “Well, I don’t think you’re a Christian because you don’t believe x, y, and z! Stop calling yourself a Christian! Only people like me are real Christians!” How is it our place to judge others so harshly and shut them out from our brotherhood? [I believe same argument can be made for many other religions, by the way.]

3. “Here in the Christian churches are these two groups of people and the question which the Fundamentalists raise is this—Shall one of them throw the other out? ... Is not the Christian Church large enough to hold within her hospitable fellowship people who differ on points like this and agree to differ until the fuller truth be manifested? The Fundamentalists say not.”

Why can’t they just “agree to disagree” about the small points until the “fuller truth” is revealed? I guess one objection is that the Fundamentalist groups consider these “small points” to actually be “big points” deserving of such hatred and animosity. However, it would take a lot of arguing to convince me that anything is worth this kind of judgment and conviction. But if even one side of the debate sees it in terms of “who will win and get to throw the loser out of the ‘church’ officially”… then there will be a lot of ‘churches’ in existence. Too bad unity is so hard!

4. “The first element that is necessary is a spirit of tolerance and Christian liberty. When will the world learn that intolerance solves no problems?”

Genius: “intolerance solves no problems.” I agree. Enough said.

5. “…there is one thing I am sure of: courtesy and kindliness and tolerance and humility and fairness are right. Opinions may be mistaken; love never is.”

Another touching line: love is never mistaken. Why can’t we all love each other and get along? Boo reality; w00t idealists.

6. “Science treats a young man’s mind as though it were really important. A scientist says to a young man, “Here is the universe challenging our investigation. Here are the truths which we have seen, so far. Come, study with us! See what we already have seen and then look further to see more, for science is an intellectual adventure for the truth.” Can you imagine any man who is worthwhile turning from that call to the church if the church seems to him to say, ‘Come, and we will feed you opinions from a spoon. No thinking is allowed here except such as brings you to certain specified, predetermined conclusions. These prescribed opinions we will give you in advance of your thinking; now think, but only so as to reach these results.’”

This part of the sermon was extremely moving for me because I very much enjoyed Fosdick’s portrait of Science vs. Fundamentalist Religion. In this story, science is portrayed as a welcoming and challenging field of study with open-ended results. On the other side, Fundamentalist religion is portrayed as a confining and prescribed set of beliefs that minimize actual thinking. No wonder one is more attractive than the other (to me, at least, who likes to use my mind).

7. “The second element which is needed if we are to reach a happy solution of this problem is a clear insight into the main issues of modern Christianity and a sense of penitent shame that the Christian Church should be quarreling over little matters when the world is dying of great needs.”

I think that these lines will be particularly inspiring to those people who feel the call of social action and want to solve the world’s great problems together instead of arguing over each other’s minute differences. This quote forces me to broaden my perspective and realize that the little debates between sects are just the small problems in this world; and that instead we should focus our energy on solving the big problems --> like Malaria! (that one’s for you, Anand!)

8. “God keep us always so and ever increasing areas of the Christian fellowship; intellectually hospitable, open-minded, liberty-loving, fair, tolerant, not with the tolerance of indifference, as though we did not care about the faith, but because always our major emphasis is upon the weightier matters of the law.”

What a great ending note: let us be tolerant in a caring way.

Feel free to comment on the blog :-)

With love,

~ Jenny

More Like Hope

After a whirlwind week in Chicago, and some frantic planning for our upcoming Day of Interfaith Youth Service (REMINDER--Saturday, Nov. 7th--please see the flyer on the blog homepage, and RSVP to doria@stanford.edu!), it feels strange to have spent this weekend in relative solitude, catching up on midterm papers and exam preparations. I've been looking over some of my old writings, and it's difficult to recognize the same person in those words. They seem so exquisitely crafted, elegant, opening to the heavens and receiving their waters. I am not so fluent in that language of heart any longer; I burn too much with the world's injustices, and those dark energies within of which they are reflections. At such times, prayer and surrender are my closest friends. I am more Catholic than I imagine.

How do we stimulate hope in our lives? This was a central question of a class I took last year called "Hope and Prophetic Politics: Abraham Joshua Heschel and Martin Luther King, Jr." To hear them re-appropriate that prophetic narrative of love and justice, as emerging from the worst depths of the worst indignity and degradation, shining out in the thick of the traumatic and the catastrophic, challenged me deeply. Their hope was, as Cornel West would say, "a blues-inflected, jazz-saturated, tragicomic hope." I came to realize slowly that my own hope was grounded in a specific context: namely, that religiously motivated violence can end through interfaith cooperation for social justice; and moreover, that I myself represented the potential and the proof.

Our identities are fluid things, whether or not we consider ourselves religious. They constantly fall outside the rigid roles we are taught—these sad, meaningless assignations of societies and civilizations. Young people of our generation are forever on the borders of things; the question for us is: can we of multiple narratives, while acknowledging that they are not juxtaposed equally (for the legacies of white supremacy, patriarchy, and other power structures remain strong), still find them in mutual enrichment? Eboo Patel dares to say Yes, as does President Obama. My heart agrees. I understand the third chapter of the Bhagavad Gita better because I have read Kierkegaard's Works of Love, but I understand Kierkegaard precisely because I have studied the Bhagavad Gita.

These happy encounters are part of what gives me hope: the hope that our history is still being written, and is for us to redeem. Hope is unapologetic, once wrote a dear friend of mine. We should try to be more like hope.

Love,
Anand

P.S. If you would like to post to this blog, or link it to other websites, please contact Jenny Wolochow (wolochow@stanford.edu).