This sort of denominational movement has caused much strife between Presbyterian and Jewish friends, colleagues, and dialogue partners. Even Rabbinical leaders who agree with Presbyterian convictions of the Israel-Palestinian conflict have been deeply offended by the priority given to divestment vs. other, tangible avenues of ensuring change.

From what I can tell (after reading most everything the PC(USA) has put out on this issue) divesting in these companies is an attempt to demonstrate the denomination does not want to profit from violence. It is meant to be a productive, non-violent way of interacting with the situation – and I used totally agree with this reasoning.

After researching more, I started to question the effectiveness of things like “denominational statements” and “overtures”. Do people outside a small circle even care about these things? Are they productive? What is the cost vs. benefit of them? Would divestment in key companies profiting in violence actually impact corporate practices?

Then I had a conversation that further affirmed my skepticism. A few months ago a trusted Jewish friend and leader, who like me opposes Israel’s occupation in the West Bank, asked me why my denomination was wasting time divesting when it could be addressing this conflict through more productive means. After listening to him and some of his ideas, I started to ask myself similar questions. I shared this story at the Chicago Presbytery today.

From what I can discern, divestment is just an easy way to feel morally superior about a conflict that few Presbyterians[1] have any real impact on. (Also, the divestment conversation has been going on for around six years, and has yet to produce any measurable impact on the situation in question.)

I do not see how overtures for divestment are productive. The denomination divested from companies supporting the apartheid in South Africa, and that was effective because in some cases it changed corporate practices. Divestment in this situation is different because it will not ultimately impact the companies – the ones in question have not even cared enough to talk to the denomination. Also, it will continue to drive a wedge among Presbyterian and Jewish colleagues and dialogue partners.  While it may signal support to Palestinians and Jewish anti-Israel groups, it does not accomplish anything for them.

My job revolves around reporting on methods attempting to solve economic injustice. From an economic standpoint, this move is nothing short of hypocritical – it assumes some sort of economic moral superiority is possible. (As if any group of people can entirely remove themselves from “unjust” practices, or event thoroughly attempt to do so.)

The denomination’s communication about this issue has consistently been inadequate in comprehensively addressing the nuances of this situation. The inability for the denomination to effectively communicate its intentions to its external publics has seemingly caused more problems than it has attempted to solve. At least, if it has solved problems, the communication of such has been equally unacceptable.

The PC(USA) should try to commit themselves to be partners in peace. Sometimes that means ensuring relationships are built and nurtured on both sides of a conflict. This is harder then spending years engaged in hypothetical conversations about something that has no impact, but probably more productive.

Many in the Chicago Presbytery have strong ties with their American Jewish religious leaders and communities. I am glad that for today, at least, the need to build these complex relationships was affirmed and was not risked to appease a need for moral superiority.

(Photo used with permission from WikiCommons)

Part of the work of State of Formation is to deconstruct silos and dismantle barriers to foster conversation where it once was challenged to survive. Over the past few months, State of Formation (SoF) staff have been in conversation with those at The Interfaith Observer (TIO) to produce an inter-generational conversation around meaning making within different religious and ethical traditions. With a shared writing objective, fifteen contributors from both organizations wrote about Meaning Making from their own backgrounds. 

The Interfaith Observer is an electronic journal created to explore interreligious relations and the interfaith movement.  View supporting documents from The Interfaith Observer on Meaning Making by clicking the highlighted text.

Articles from The Interfaith Observer on Meaning Making:
How I Make Meaning in Life by Jim Burklo, Christian
Ice-breakers, Dancing, and Meaning Making by Vanessa Gomez, Humanist
What is Most Meaningful in My Life as a Buddhist by Rita Gross, Buddhist
Starting with Moksha and Karma Yoga by Samir Kalra, Hindu
One Thousand Words on “Meaning” by Nancy Fuchs Kreimer, Jewish
Faith and the Journey toward Meaning by Craig Phillips, Muslim
The Fiery Force that Sparkles in Everything by Yoland Trevino, Mayan

Articles from State of Formation on Meaning Making:
Internal Diversity & Intra-Faith Conversations
Tradition: Sikh
By Simran Jeet Singh, a doctoral student in the Department of Religion at Columbia University

Finding Meaning Within Judaism
Tradition: Judaism
By Lauren Tuchman has M.A. from Jewish Theological Seminary

Meaning Making: The Religion that lets you live and let live
Tradition: Hinduism
By Sai Santosh Kolluru, a senior at Case Western Reserve University majoring in Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering

The Ocean of My Words
Tradition: Baha’i
By Phillipe Copeland, a graduate of Harvard Divinity School and a Ph.D candidate in social work at Simmons College

Meaning and meaning: An Important Difference
Tradition: atheism, secular humanism, and Unitarian Universalism
By Kile Jones, a Ph.D. student at Claremont Lincoln University

The Search for Meaning
Tradition: Muslim
By Myriam Francois-Cerrah, a Doctor of Philosophy candidate at Oxford University

Meaning vs. Hope
Tradition: Jewish
By Yaira Robinson, Coordinator, Texas Interfaith Power & Light and Master of Theological Studies student at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary

Making Sense of the Bible: What Grandma and Seminary Taught Me
Tradition: Christian
By Kit Evans, a third year Master of Divinity candidate at the Pacific School of Religion

As many who provided reflections did, Mr. Sahloul begin by telling those assembled about his memories of the tragedy ten years ago. After learning of the news, he continued through his day at work treating patients (he is a physician) and made calls to donate blood, offer his services in New York to the victims and began to organize a blood drive at his local mosque. At nightfall, he returned home to his family but found his neighborhood drastically altered: dozens of police cars were surrounding his neighborhood and the Bridgeview Mosque while almost five hundred protestors waved American flags and shouted anti-Islamic slurs.

While being familiar with the realities of Islamophobia in America I was still stunned by this account. I knew there had been many instances of prejudice, racism and even hate crimes within the Chicagoland area towards Muslims, but I had no idea this began literally hours after the 9/11 attacks. Something about how the hatred had developed so instantaneously struck me as particularly heartbreaking. America was founded in part on acceptance of religious pluralism and yet this tenent was quickly forgotten when unchecked fear and hatred of the “religious other” was accepted.

Mr. Sahloul continued his story by detailing his surprise by and eventual resignation to the racial profiling that many within his community experienced. He explained how he realized quickly that he would need to prove to his neighbors that he was patriotic, when it had not been a question the day before. While acknowledging the pain that had occurred, there were no hint of anger or judgment in Mr. Sahloul’s tone towards a culture that had discriminated against Muslims. His narrative concluded by affirming the friendships and alliances that had formed to protect the civil rights of Muslims and increase interfaith partnerships across the city.

Earlier that morning in my own community of worship at Edgewater Presbyterian, I, along with other church members, offered a confession as Christians for the discrimination our Muslim neighbors had experienced. Later on in the service, as I was helping distribute communion, I thought of the last moments of the life of Jesus – a man who healed one of his captives hours before he was killed. Jesus, even in his last hours, demonstrated peace and love, not fear and hatred, towards his enemies. I thought of the contrast between the peaceful actions of Jesus and the hatred many Christians had towards Muslims, the vast majority of whom are peaceful. I thought, perhaps with more personal conviction, of how I have been mostly ignorant of these realities within my backyard and my role in alleviating them.

The ten-year anniversary of September 11th is a reminder that my lack of hatred and discrimination should not justify my passivity. It is a humble reminder of the need for increased interfaith relations and understanding between people of diverse religious and ethical conviction. As a Christian, my identity is deeply connected to the promotion of peace and love to my neighbor; as an American, my identity is connected to the constitutional norm that fellow neighbors should be respected regardless of their religious or ethical tradition. So, to my Muslim neighbors (both in Chicago and elsewhere): I promise to be a better Christian and better American in the future, which means I promise to be more aware of discrimination towards your community and my active role in countering it.

We are excited to announce that we have started our annual call for nominations and self- nominations for Contributing Scholars for our online forum, State of Formation.

State of Formation is a community conversation between young leaders in formation. Together, a cohort of seminarians, rabbinical students, graduate students and the like – the future religious and moral leaders of tomorrow – will work to redefine the ethical discourse today, particularly as it is used to refract current events and personal experiences. This initiative is supported by a partnership between the Council for a Parliament of the World's Religions (CPWR), Journal of Inter-Religious Dialogue (JIRD), Hebrew College, and Andover Newton Theological School.

Over the past year, emerging religious and ethical leaders from around the country have engaged readers around the world by sharing their stories and views on State of Formation. Conversations once dominated by established leaders are now readily embraced by the up-and-comers, and accessible to contributors from many different moral, faith, political, economic, and social backgrounds.

We are thrilled to introduce a new element to the State of Formation program: Regional Associations. These groups strive to showcase the strong work happening within local communities across the country while fostering better relationships between emerging leaders. Currently, State of Formation is working to partner with groups in the following cities to create Regional Associations: Chicago, Boston, New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, and San Francisco. We plan to create additional Regional Associations in Nashville, Atlanta, Cincinnati, and Houston within six months. We hope the robust and constructive exchange among our contributors will continue and highlight the progress being made at the local level across the nation.

Contributing Scholars to State of Formation will be able to take advantage of the numerous benefits to participating in the State of Formation Contributing Scholars Fellowship. In addition to being recognized as a Contributing Scholar by JIRD and CPWR, they may be eligible for travel grants and may have their work featured in articles on additional platforms like CPWR's website, PeaceNext, The Huffington Post, Sojourners, and Tikkun.

Nominees should be currently enrolled in a seminary, rabbinical school, graduate program, or another institution for theological or philosophical formation -- or up to three years out of their graduate program in a professional setting. (On rare occasions, exceptions will be made to these guidelines in order to increase the diversity of the writers.)  Emerging leaders from both within and outside of the regional groups are encouraged to apply.

Does this describe you or an emerging leader you know? Please take a moment to fill out our brief nomination form. Nominations are due October 15, 2011 and will be accepted on a rolling basis.

Sincerely,

Honna Eichler, Managing Director of State of Formation at the Journal for Inter-Religious Dialogue.

The book in question was published in 2010 and is entitled: "Whose Gospel: A Concise Guide to Progressive Protestantism." Being one of the many people on this blog who is on (what one favorite professor termed) a "bibliographic restraining order," I was initially concerned when asked: "What is the most important book on your shelf?" But this concern lasted only seconds as I remembered I recently finished this book by Forbes.

Honestly, if you are looking for a balanced, quick and substantial read on progressive Christianity, this is a must read. Through moving stories and truly inspiring illustrations, Forbes addresses LGBTQ rights, gender equality, racial politics, economic justice, war and peace and developing an ecological consciousness. He speaks out of deep conviction and honesty about many topics Christians are quick to shy away from. I am deeply thankful for his contribution.

Last month, the org I work for (Interfaith Worker Justice) had invited Forbes to be the closing plenary speaker during our national conference. Forbes could have easily showed up and talked about anything remotely related to economic justice and the day would have ended well. Instead, he came early and spoke with staff about what main points his talk needed to convey. Then he spent about an hour in quite reflection and proceeded to stand up and give a powerfully moving keynote that eloquently engaged the IWJ context in unique way. Half of what he said he prepared during that hour of reflection. It may seem as though he had procrastinated finishing his talk, but it was evident to those listening to his words that he wanted what he said to be as fresh and relevant as possible. I, along with everyone else I talked to, was amazed at his humility and dedication. Secretly, I wished he was a prolific writer. You can find his book at New Press.

Commentary that could not fit elsewhere:

- The artwork in the picture was created by a friend of mine named (Rev.) Shawna Bowman. Shawna does a lot of live worship art and is amazing. You can see more of her work here.

- My personal equation for good preaching is as follows: IF Presbyterians are making noise during a sermon THEN it must be awesome. (Presbys generally do not make noise, ever. Kidding. Sort of.)

- Forbes first book was published in 1973 and was about the Holy Spirit and Preaching - I haven't read this, but I will soon.

While many Presbyterians accept and affirm, if not happily embrace, the ordination of LGBTQ brothers and sisters, there is a significant amount of disagreement on this issue. As a straight woman, I’ve never had any sort of “coming out” experience, but my friends have shared their experiences with me. Unsurprisingly, I have learned there is a huge difference between coming out and having people accept and affirm that true identity. There seem to be parallels in the PC(USA)’s coming out story.

That the PC (USA) came out as a denomination that affirms the God given gifts of its LGBTQ members brought hope to many, but the actual affirmation and acceptance of this decision by the whole denomination is a long way off. The thing is, while the shift in language is more inclusive of LGBTQ individuals, the exclusion of people who identify as such, even in subversive forms, is still normative.

I spent some time reading through some of the comments and articles in opposition of this move towards inclusion. I did not need to do this – I am familiar with all of the arguments, having previously believed many of them myself.  Reading some of the comments was heartbreaking. It is not the disagreement that I found so sobering - disagreement will always exist. I was struck, again, by the idea that becoming more inclusive as a denomination equated becoming less Christian or less Christ-like. There were all sorts of arguments for this claim, many of them stemming from various literal interpretations of the Bible.

(Nevermind that the ministry of Jesus was primarily concerned with making “the promise” more inclusive - especially to those society deemed unworthy.  Is the church less Christian when it promotes standards that openly include more within the promise of God than it excludes? Apparently that question is still up for debate among the Presbyterians. I digress. )

I know there are different interpretations of this issue, but I cannot get my mind around how one interpretation makes someone less Christian. I thought about writing my own interpretation about Biblical sexuality but decided aganist it. This has been done before – and probably by people who have a much wider “conservative” readership than I could ever hope to have. Constructing Biblical arguments supporting inclusive ordination standards are needed and necessary, but they are not the key, in my mind, to overcoming the current challenges in order to make the change that is warranted.

This shift in Presbyterian polity changed policy but not practice, yet:  churches that opposed LGBTQ ministers will still oppose them, and the bodies that affirmed them a few weeks ago will continue to do the same. This constitutional language shift does not require churches to accept ordained clergy regardless of their sexual orientation, it just provides a way for open and affirming communities to now honestly ordain those they would approved for ministry anyway.  Many churches will probably leave the PC(USA) because of the decision - because they believe the denomination has gone "astray."

Change will happen once the challenge to affirm LGBTQ clergy (or at least respect those who do affirm it as equally Christian) has been taken up by advocates and allies around the country. It will come only as people become better acquainted with the ministry, talents and skills of ministers who identify as LGBTQ. It will happen as a theology is preached that demonstrates God’s continual commitment to God’s creation. I wish dearly this sort of change would occur absent many congregations leaving the PC(USA), but this does not seem likely.

This challenge that is ahead must be met through fostering relationships between opposing parties on this issue, as painful as that may be. I can think of plenty of people who either oppose or support the ordination of LGBTQ clergy, but few of them are on speaking terms, much less in relationship with one another. It is just easier to only make nice with people you like and agree with – it is safe, comfortable and known.  This is a big problem. Maintaining only comfortable modes of interacting will prevent growth needed to sustain any community.

Eventually, and I am not sure when, the shift towards inclusion of LGBTQ clergy will be normative not innovative. I believe that, similar to the civil rights movement or giving women the right to vote, people will eventually come around to the idea of equality and inclusion– even within ordained offices.

And I share this here because I know this sort of struggle exists in other communities of faith, secularism and humanism. I write this here because on this blog there are allies, people who disagree with allies and those who identify as LGBTQ - all who are wonderfully talented. I wish more people knew you all and I think it is people like you that will make the difference and inspire the sort of change that needs to occur.

At Interfaith Worker Justice, where I work, I am running a graduate level call for papers around this question: what about your faith tradition inspires a commitment to worker justice? The intriguing responses (which will be published later this year) have provoked me to re-consider this question myself.

Does my aversion to blindly implementing social policy from an ancient community to my own context totally impede my ability to grant said policy influence in the development of relevant and ethical positions? I hope not.

Take, for example, Deuteronomy 24.14-18, which reads:

“You shall not withhold the wages of poor and needy labourers, whether other Israelites or aliens who reside in your land in one of your towns. You shall pay them their wages daily before sunset, because they are poor and their livelihood depends on them; otherwise they might cry to the Lord against you, and you would incur guilt. Parents shall not be put to death for their children, nor shall children be put to death for their parents; only for their own crimes may persons be put to death. You shall not deprive a resident alien or an orphan of justice; you shall not take a widow’s garment in pledge. Remember that you were a slave in Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you from there; therefore I command you to do this.” (NRSV)

Historical context

Deuteronomy contains much of the teachings of Moses, who was the leader that brought the Israelites out of a few hundred years of slavery in Egypt. Moses, both within these passages and elsewhere in this book, attempts to explain the covenant between YHWH and the Israelites. Much of this covenant contained instructions for how to live as an independent, healthy and sustainable community within that historical context. Moses not only had to teach the Israelites how to live in community with one another, he also had to continue to reinforce the desire of YHWH to be in a covenant with YHWH’s people.

While there is a clear covenant between YHWH and the Israelites that is established earlier on in this book, the guidelines Moses presents also have positive implications for non-Israelites. In the quoted scripture, it is clear the Israelites are to cultivate new practices that are different from the Egyptians. Unlike the Egyptians who afforded non-Egyptians with less legal and financial agency, the Israelites are instructed to pay wages to Israelites, non-Israelites and aliens. This is a shift from the social structure within the Egyptian community to one acceptable for the Israelites.

Major themes within the text:

• Equality of pay between Israelites and aliens: “You shall not withhold the wages of poor and needy labourers, whether other Israelites or aliens who reside in your land in one of your towns.”(14)
• Timely payment of wages: ‘You shall pay them their wages daily before sunset, because they are poor and their livelihood depends on them…”(15a)
• Just treatment of those who are non-Israelite: (You shall not deprive a resident alien or an orphan of justice…”(17a)

Conclusion:

There is a mandate within these Hebrew passages (contained in the textual foundation for both the Jewish and Christian traditions) to treat workers fairly. I am not an ancient Israelite nor am I an expert on ancient cultural practices within that context, but I see a framework for economic justice for workers here. From this study, I now am considering the following parallel questions:

• Should there be a fundamental economic equality despite residency status? How do I balance the current political reality within my context while considering answering this question?
• Do I privilege an interpretation concerning political/socio-economic policy above a theological one? Or are they implicitly connected?

Perhaps, more importantly, through this analysis I am reminded that I can find examples within my religious tradition that workers should be paid fairly regardless of their cultural background.

Photo credit: Drawing by Rini Templeton

Milcah works through RECONCILE International, an organization that is attempting to pick up the pieces in Sudan after the recent civil war, which killed nearly 2 million people and devastated the country. The basic aim of RECONCILE is to “equip communities with knowledge and skills for peace-building.”

I first learned of Milcah’s work through listening to her speak at an event hosted by Presbyterian Women at the United Nation’s 55^th CSW this past February. Her voice and stories were as intriguing as her method for treatment: she utilizes art as a form of trauma therapy for South Sudanese women.

Just as she does in villages and towns across South Sudan, Milcah distributed pieces of paper with blank paper mandalas to those gathered in the UN Church Center to hear her speak. She asked those present to listen to her stories while filling in the elaborate designs as she spoke.

Later, during an interview with me, she explained, “It (art) helps people to be free and open without being afraid. Words limited because of language barriers - or because the pain is too deep to be spoken - can be said through art.”

While transformative, Milcah’s work encounters many challenges. Milcah noted the greatest obstacle to her work is the absence of pre-existing structures to support the change she implements. “For example,” she begins, “women experiencing violence have no appropriate police system to protect them. Perpetrators may commit crimes and walk freely.”

She concluded with a sobering thought, “When I know all the work I have done can be undone in a matter of minutes or days, it is very discouraging.”

I asked Milcah what gave her the most hope in her work and she explained that, “Receiving a phone call or a letter from a woman or a man or a community who went through our training and now feels like their life has changed. Knowing that they are better able to engage in economic activity, a trade and they are helping others to heal –that gives me hope.”

She explained that these small instances encourage her that the work is having an effect.

Milcah’s straightforward methods contrasted sharply with the bureaucratic ideas I heard in high-level panels with official delegates, across the street in the UN’s North Lawn building. And yet, despite the simplicity, her methods worked and do provide needed space for women – both at the UN and in South Sudan.

Further details: I met and became friends with Milcah Lalam while attending the United Nation’s 55^th Commission on the Status of Women. Milcah works as the Program Manager for RECONCILE Peace Institute - an organization that is a partner in mission with the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) The side event I mentioned was hosted by the Presbyterian Women of the PC (U.S.A.) and was called: “The Empowerment of Rural Women and Their Role in Poverty and Hunger Eradication, Development and Current Challenges.” All quotes are from an interview I conducted on February 25, 2011.

The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) has posted videos of Milcah addressing additional questions on its Peacemaking Chanel on YouTube.

Photo credit: Mandala drawn by Jackie Spycher.

• How is the voice and presence of those who are disabled valued in my community?
• How does the interfaith movement incorporate these voices?
• How do different communities value these voices?

In order to address some of these questions, I want to share a few memories from a person narrative.

***

“Something is wrong.” I was too young to comprehend, but I remember experiencing those emotions while waiting at the hospital to meet my new baby brother, Chris. Right after Chris was born, my parents took him to the University of Chicago Children’s Memorial Hospital to be evaluated. The specialists said the combination physical, emotional, cognitive and developmental disabilities had never been documented before and my parents should prepare for the worst.

My parents learned that Chris would never be able to walk and or have precision with his motor skills. He would not be able to talk. His emotional and cognitive development would be very limited. He would never be able to take care of himself. But all of this was secondary when they were told he would not live more than a year, maybe two. That was twenty-four years ago. While much of what the doctors said is still true, Chris has always been very much alive.

My parents did everything possible to ensure Chris was treated equally, if not more favorably, than their other children. As a child, I remember learning from my parents that nothing was wrong with Chris - he was just different. Everyone, I learned, was different and this was to be appreciated. I think this a challenging concept to teach children through example and I am still in awe that my parents were able to pull it off. Their sacrifice, looking back, was huge. It is something I respect dearly. They were promoting a culture within our home that valued my brother for who he was.

***

I did not realize how different Chris was until I was old enough to comprehend how different he was to other people. To others, something was “wrong” with him. People would ask my parents, “What is wrong with him?” It was an honest question and usually came from the right place, but it stemmed from a culture that was totally unprepared to engage with those who are disabled.

From that point on, it was a struggle to balance how other people saw Chris and how I was taught to see Chris. It was hard to balance the culture of judgment and marginalization and one of appreciation and inclusion.

***

Growing up, I was most aware of how Chris was perceived at the different churches we attended. Chris does not feel particularly compelled to remain silent during public worship services: he yells and or cheers during church at inappropriate times. With his social intelligence being that of a very young child, he has no idea that anyone would take issue with this. While a sermon on humankind’s depravity could be hilarious to Chris, a baptism might be reason for cries of deep sorrow. Frozen chosen? Not my brother.

At each congregation we worshiped at as a family, there was conversation around if Chris should be allowed to remain in the service. With each new congregation, the community had to decide if they wanted to work to form a culture of inclusion for Chris. Many people throughout the years lovingly adored Chris and wanted him to be part of the community. He always made special friends with older ladies who would sit and talk to him and listen to him laugh. Frequently, there were people within these congregations that would help my parents out with Chris during services. This, however, was not always the case.

There were others who looked at my brother and saw an uncontrolled distraction. As Chris approached his later teen years and continued to make noise during services, the feeling grew stronger that he should be removed from public worship just as a crying baby might. Occasionally, when Chris was especially vocal, people would take my brother outside. It was hard, many claimed, to understand the complexity of the gospel with Chris making noise. I'd like to say that I always had a problem with this, but I didn't. If anything, I was indifferent.  I too, sometimes, wished Chris could just be a little quieter.

***

Years past and one crisp fall day my indifference changed to conviction. It was the day another brother was married, the one in-between Chris and I. We were seating in the sanctuary, waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle, and the music stopped. There our brother was, standing at the front of the church waiting, in silence. No one really knew quite what to do.

Then Chris started laughing, really, really loudly. At first, I was nervous - here we go, again. But then I realized he was putting every person in the room to ease in a way no one else could - and it seemed he knew what he was doing. Everyone in the room knew Chris, and many close family and friends joined in the laughter. I remember thinking it was perfect. The brother waiting to be married just smiled. The music started, we all stopped laughing and the wedding proceeded.

That moment was one of the most beautiful and convicting of my life:  I would never question Chris’ presence in a worship service again. I had found a culture, for however brief a period of time, where Chris’ voice was appreciated in a church setting. I wondered how I could have ever reduced Chris to a distraction in worship when I should be valuing his voice as uniquely created? Did Jesus ever ask children to stop talking in his ministry? Was not Jesus most concerned with lifting up those who were marginalized and isolated from community? How could I not seek to build the same culture for my brother? These questions plagued me, but probably not as much as they should have.

***

I have come to the very deep conviction that space should be made for Chris, and those like him, in public worship and community. Not just because it is fair or the right thing to do, but because it is invaluable. There needs to be a culture of inclusion and appreciation for disability. These are questions I am continuing to ask myself: What does this look like in my own community of worship and how can I make it happen? What would it look like to value the voices of those who are disabled on State of Formation and how can I help that happen?

Chris will never be able to post on this blog, but without him – without learning how to appreciate difference – I probably wouldn’t be able to, either. I have slowly realized that even though Chris has never spoken a word to me, his presence in my life has taught me more about acceptance for others than anything else I can think of. I am scared to think of a world where people like Chris are silenced. Even though Chris cannot talk, I am deeply grateful for his voice.

While working on the program for the 2009 Parliament in Melbourne, I realized that, even though the Council provides some economic resources for those at the margins to attend with the event, it is easiest for those who are privileged to attend. I worked with hundreds of presenters from across the world, and it became evident that I was dealing with people who had high levels of education and economic resources. This experience connected to me on a deeply personal level.

I have been haunted by this question for the last year and a half: does interfaith organizing subvert or support structures of discrimination?  I usually think of discrimination in terms of racial identity, but there are many forms. Interfaith organizing can support existing structures of oppression both implicitly and explicitly.

An example of explicit discrimination is seen when people are blatantly excluded based upon economic resources, racial identity or sexual orientation. The classic example of this is noted in the 1893 World Parliament of Religions, where Native Americans and all but two African Americans were excluded from official proceedings. As Kelly Figueroa-Ray in Blessed are ... points out, discrimination can exist based on sexual orientation as well.

Implicit discrimination occurs when interfaith organizers do nothing to work against existing forms of exclusion based upon orientation, racial identity or economic status. It occurs when they conveniently ignore the impact of their privilege. My favorite example of this is when I go to an interfaith exchange and there is only one person of color at the event, especially when the context of the interfaith exchange is multi-racial.

Providing an example from my immediate context: this can occur when official dialogues between Christians and Muslims when the Muslim perspective is limited to either Arabic communities or African American communities and not both.  Chicago has a large population of both Arabic and African American Muslims, so to entirely ignore one segment would be a form of discrimination.

After the Parliament concluded, I started to do a little research exploring how local interfaith organizers work against systems of oppression. I interviewed Chicago interfaith leaders, most notably at the Interfaith Youth Core, the Council for a Parliament of the World’s Religions and Faith in Place. I had a specific objective: I wanted to discover and document if these organizations had methods of working against the racial segregation within their contexts of operation.

I found these organizations worked to include those who were racially and economically discriminated against, but this work often included competing massive systems of discrimination and economic resources. This work of inclusion is hard, but necessary.

I am not criticizing those who are privileged. I am privileged and I know that developing a guilt complex about this isn’t going to do anything for anyone. However, I do think I need to become aware of this privilege and take responsibility for it, especially in interfaith organizing. For me this responsibility has turned in to a calling: I cannot not look around and wonder who is being excluded, question normative modes of inclusion (a method I learned through conversation on this topic with Dr. David Daniels) and work to establish ways to be more inclusive.

Part of the reason why I am involved with State of Formation is because of the commitment to continually increase the contributions from a diverse range of people. There is a vibrant awareness that this conversation is good, but needs to include more people from different backgrounds. Part of my work on the executive committee is to take some responsibility for making this happen.

The interfaith movement was born within the consciousness of academic arena, and thrives too frequently only among those with academic degrees; however, the future of the movement must grow in the hearts and minds of community members across the world. Interfaith organizers need to fight against the existing systems of discrimination in order to be inclusive of the diversity within their contexts. We are all privileged here with education, time and technological resources, and it is necessary for us to consider what taking responsibility for this looks like.