The Future of the Interreligious Movement

A 27-year-old Buddhist monk, when asked how he was feeling at the Parliament of the World's Religions, replied "overwhelmed and overinspired." There is so much going on here, and one has to make such difficult choices about what to do, that it's actually stressful.

As the week progresses, it seems like there are two major ways of looking at interfaith dialogue. One is to want to be as inclusive as possible and therefore not to enter into disputes about sensitive social or political issues. The emphasis, as Executive Director Dirk Ficca says, is on relationships, not issues.

The other major point of view is that the human community has urgent needs and that action is needed right now, action that will inevitably ruffle some feathers and make some people unwilling to participate. Rabbi Michael Lerner and Sister Joan Chittister of the Network of Spiritual Progressives are prophets with this sense of urgency.

Exactly the same issue of how to approach interfaith dialogue is present in Unitarian Universalist congregations and other religious communities. And in some ways, both views are right.

The Street Theology of Anger

Here is a photo of Imam Abdul Malik Mujahid, the incoming Chair of the Council for the Parliament. He gave a fascinating talk on why young Muslims are drawn into what he calls a "street theology of anger." Particularly in Afghanistan, these young people have never known any reality other than war.

Dr. Mujahid asked us what we would do if someone injured us or our property. Most of us would call the police. He then asked what we would do if we had no phone with which to call, or if the police were actually good friends of our attackers. And what if there were no elections to get rid of the corrupt police chief? What would you do? Such is the reality of the people of Afghanistan.

(In the photo above, some of you may recognize Lynnda White, who is asking Dr. Mujahid to come and speak in Peoria. He said yes!)

Paul Carus Award

Last night the Parliament presented the Paul Carus Award. Paul Carus, of LaSalle, Illinois, was one of the founders of the 1893 Parliament and tried for the next thirty years to organize a second Parliament. After his death, his family endowed a yearly $100,000 award for a person or group that is doing outstanding interfaith work.

This year the award went to an organization called IFAPA, or Interfaith Action for Peace in Africa. They are a coalition of eight major religious groups in Africa who have joined together to try to prevent wars on that continent. The gentleman at right is a member of IFAPA. We had the pleasure to meet him and converse briefly with him in French, our only common language.

Charter for Compassion

There is also a major movement here to support the Charter for Compassion, a global ethics statement developed by Karen Armstrong. For more on the Charter for Compassion, see my earlier blog post on that subject.

All good wishes to my readers! Please comment if you wish.

Bela Fleck and Toumani Diabate—The Banjo Crosses the Great Divide

Bela Fleck, one of the finest musicians of our time, has done it again. Beginning in 2005, Bela packed up his banjo and set out for Africa in search of the roots of the oft-maligned instrument of which he is such a master. He journeyed across the African continent playing with many excellent musicians, particularly those who play instruments that belong to the same family as the banjo. His musical encounters are now beautifully recorded in an exquisite documentary film called Throw Down Your Heart, which I recommend wholeheartedly. A CD with the same name is also available.

Now Bela is touring with one of the musicians he encountered in Africa, Toumani Diabate from Mali. Toumani is a master of the kora, a 21-string instrument that clearly shares roots with the banjo. He plays the kora as well as Bela plays the banjo, if one can even imagine that. The two of them are magnificent together, sharing a musical dialogue of depth, improvisational complexity, and extraordinary beauty. Don't miss an opportunity to see them if you have the chance.

As an aspiring banjo player myself, I am very aware of the troubling symbolism of my adopted instrument. To many people it is a reminder of racism, of slavery, of some of the worst elements in American history. And yet the banjo is an authentic African instrument. According to one of the musicians Bela met in Africa, the banjo lifted the spirits of the people who were hijacked to America under horrible conditions and helped them survive the tragic and painful journey. The banjo may symbolize troubling dimensions of America, but it stands for Africa as well. Bela demonstrates this truth and brings the banjo back full circle to its home. There is an unmistakable feeling of redemption about this journey.

To watch Bela and Toumani play together is to see some of the wounds of the world healed, if only for an evening. They laugh together, improvise together, and delight in each giving the praise to the other. When they join hands, as they often do after a song, we feel the transcendence of boundaries, as issues of language, nationality, religion, race, and for a moment even the tragedy of slavery are overcome by the musical partnership. When they playfully weave together a medley of traditional African tunes with "Oh Susanna" and "Dueling Banjos," we have a sense of experiencing a reconciliation that is almost unimaginable.

Several readers of this blog have asked me how we can go about making the world more inclusive. What can we actually do? Transformation comes about through individual acts of creativity and courage. If Bela Fleck can redeem the symbolism of the banjo and reunite this ancient instrument, stolen from its roots by oppressors, with its deeper identity in African music, then perhaps any problem is capable of transformation. Together Bela Fleck and Toumani Diabate create marvelous, uplifting music, but they also do more. They apply healing sounds to a deep wound and give us hope that other wounds can be healed as well. We have cause to be grateful to them.

If you have other stories of overcoming boundaries, with or without music, or if this story resonates with you, leave me a comment.