This morning I had a email notification that my friend Jessa had written another blog. Jessa is currently on the World Race. It's an amazing missions trip where volunteers travel to eleven countries in eleven months. This morning Jessa's blog was short and simple. It's message resonated with the peace of someone who has found profound rest. Jessa and I have had many conversations over the years about faith and religion and the church and Christianity and our lives and our calling. Torment, as opposed to rest, was a word I would have used to describe my beloved friend during some of these talks. My beautiful friend seemed at war with her very soul. She was paralyzed by fear and uncertainty while a desperate longing tantalized her to find the more she craved. Eventually the longing overcame the fear, and this morning, I smiled as I read Jessa's blog titled, "Seeing Clearly Again." Maybe we can all agree for just this one moment that at our core, we all want to see clearly. We want to view ourselves and the world around us accurately and truthfully.
I saw the same look the next evening at Christ Church Cathedral. Built in the late 1800's, this Anglican Cathedral weathered the test of time and stands as a beautiful monument of Gothic architecture in the heart of down town Vancouver. Jesse and I attended a candle light service on Sunday night at nine thirty. As we stepped out of a drizzling evening and into the majestic space, a deep quiet took hold of us and all who entered. We tip-toed down the aisles of erect wooden chairs and past pews that could have been a hundred years old. The lighting was dim, and if it weren't for a few speakers and three red exit signs, we could have traveled back in time. Jesse and I sat near the front and waited for the service to begin. Eventually a woman garbed in white robes appeared carrying a long chain attached to a small vessel of incense. She walked purposely, spreading sweet smelling smoke with every slow step. A line of similarly attired men and women followed her trail and fanned out around the alter. Finally, a pope looking, white haired man, joined the others and the service began. The men and women eventually walked to the back of the sanctuary and sang from above us, while the pope man and incense woman remained seated by the alter. And then I saw it, that look of pure contentment, and wise rest on the man's face as he listened to the holy voices and breathed in the smoke's aroma: peace.
Yesterday, I got together with friend for lunch here in Fernie. She had expressed concern over my negligent church attendance. My friend was worried about my faith and my marriage. The last service I attended discussed the issue of "Pluralism" the belief that all roads or paths of truth lead to the same end- thus making all religions equal and insignificant at the same time. It wasn't my first encounter with the word. In Kansas City last December, I was reading "Eat Pray Love" at a Starbucks during the "One Thing Conference". A random boy looked up from a nearby table and asked, "Have you seen the movie?" "Yes," I answered. "Are you with the One Thing Conference?" he questioned. Technically it was why I was in Kansas City, but I had spent most of my time in coffee shops reading Liz Gilbert's journey for the second time. But to simplify things I nodded yes. "I thought the movie had an agenda of pluralism, but I haven't read the book." He stated. I smiled and said something to the effect that the book was a story of one woman's quest to make sense of it all. He returned to his friends and I returned to Liz. The truth is, while reading "Eat Pray Love," I was struck with the familiarity of Liz's encounters with God. Often I found myself smiling at her stories with the thought of, "Yeah, that sounds like the God I know."
Although I understand the arguments against Pluralism, I can't ignore what I have seen and what I have read. I can't ignore the similarity of peace that resonated out from Jessa's blog this morning and the Falun Gong demonstrators and the Anglican Priest. Nor can I pass off Liz Gilbert's experience as coincidence to my own encounters with God. Too often, it seems to me, that we lump respect, tolerance, and even humility into the concept of pluralism. When the truth is, I want to respect all faiths, tolerate all beliefs and approach others with the humble idea that I could learn something from them, rather than "save" them to my own ideology. I don't want to question the validity of someone's path because it looks different than mine (but that starts getting a bit pluralistic- insert blind men and elephant analogy here).
After writing this blog earlier today, (which ended a couple paragraphs before this) I went to two different Yoga classes (power flow and restorative yoga). At the end of Restorative Yoga, Heather, our instructor, mentioned this thought as we rested. "Remember that the point is not to master these poses, but to grow." As I lay on my mat and breathed deeply, I considered Heather's words and the application to this blog and my life. Maybe faith could be approached in this manner. Instead of seeking to master theology, we could simply grow and keep growing for the rest of our lives. To repeat Jessa, I am hoping to see clearly as I grow in my understanding of my own faith and the beliefs of all people.
