Building Bridges Blog
Talk by Fr. Carl Chudy, D.Min. Islamic Center Boston, Wayland January 10, 2026, together with Shaheen Akhtar of the Islamic Center in a dialogue on Jesus Christ (Peace be upon him) Introduction
Faith is a bridge. We create lives of an evolving faith in the merciful and compassionate Creator that embrace our families and our communities, engaging in the hard work of interfaith bridgebuilding through conversation, collaboration, and solidarity. Whatever helps us to embrace our power of pluralism, where we cooperate across our differences for the common good, is the project of building the human family. The 21st-century American community on a hill has a steeple, a mosque, a synagogue, a sangha, a ward, a temple, a gurudwara, a secular humanist society, and more. You and I are not just citizens of this diverse community — together, we are architects of it. We need to build an interfaith America, starting right here. In this light, Ekram Haque's contribution to the pluralism project among Muslims, Christians, and others focuses on the figure of Jesus/Issa, a figure that is admittedly complex among Muslims and Christians. He says: “Despite the adoring view of Jesus on the part of Muslims and their benevolent sentiments toward his followers, Islam and Christianity have been at odds for fourteen centuries.” Although this has changed much in the last hundred years and more, we continue to live in the backdrop of threats to social connectedness, civic democracy, and moral neighborliness, where our religious beliefs are often understood in the context of tensions in our culture and the politics that house our religious communities. How do we move beyond our worst history? What new vision is to be crafted of a diverse, pluralistic community where civil rights and generous civic behavior go hand in hand, where diversity and democracy mix well, building an (interfaith) community of communities. Listening to the Jesus of each other What’s at stake, it seems to me, is grounding ourselves in our unique sacred journeys with the Jesus we all love, whether we be Muslim or Christian, or any other faith that esteems Jesus in some way. The inspiration and power of Christ transforms us into our best selves, God’s original creation, if we allow it. The author says, “Given their shared love for Jesus, one would expect both Muslim and Christian communities to regard him as a unifying figure. The love of Jesus should lead us to worship one God with all our hearts and to love our neighbors as ourselves. After all, Jesus called these the greatest commandments.” From a Christian perspective, it is our passion for Christ, and our passion for humanity. But what if I, as a Christian, were to listen to the Qur’anic Jesus with an open heart? How would the fruits of that listening compel me to anchor myself not only in the Jesus I am more familiar with, but also in the image of Jesus of another faith that has something to teach me? How would it lead me to connect with my Muslim neighbors and others to build a community of peace and justice together? Holy Envy: Finding God in the faith of others Krister Stendahl coined the phrase "holy envy" at a 1985 press conference in Stockholm, where he was the bishop of the Church of Sweden. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was opening a new temple, and there was some local consternation about these newcomers from Utah. So Stendahl held a press conference to assuage people’s fears. He offered three rules for religious understanding. Number one, if you want to learn about another religion, ask its adherents and not its enemies. Number two, don’t compare your best to their worst. Number three, leave room for holy envy. Here is one example of what holy envy it may look like. It was seen at a mosque on a Friday afternoon during the Jummah prayer. Visiting Christian students who knew nothing about Islam and had never been in a mosque listened to a sermon that made a great deal of sense to them about being the change they wanted to see in the world and treating others as they wanted to be treated. They watched 600 people, including moms bending over their kids, grandmas in wheelchairs, and ordinary people bending to pray. Those students came back to the classroom and wrote papers about how they needed to take their own prayer lives more seriously. They were so touched by what they saw. At the end of another encounter where Christians were visiting a mosque, the Imam ended his meeting with them by saying, “Our deepest desire is not that you become Muslim, but that you become the best Christian, the best Jew, the best person you can be. In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful, thank you for coming.” I could do that. I could speak from the heart of my faith, wishing others well at the heart of theirs. If holy envy is about me as a Christian finding God in the practices of Islam, which inspire me and help me deepen my own faith, then I could listen to the Qur’anic Jesus and find a truth that helps me deepen my experience of Christ in the Gospels. Holy Envy frees me to listen deeply, without being defensive, judgmental, or falling into the temptation to think there is only one way of understanding the mystery of Christ. That mystery originates in the creator of all things, visible and invisible, as Paul in his letters of the New Testament intimates. The Jesus of Islam The author states: “The Qur’ān calls Jesus honored in this world and the Hereafter, and among those nearest to God.” The Prophet Muḥammad said, “I am closest to Jesus, son of Mary, in this life and the Hereafter.” What I have found among Muslim friends is that, alongside the Qur’anic Jesus, there is a diversity of understandings of Jesus in the Hadith and other traditions, which invites inspiration for pluralism. In Islam, there is a rich theological engagement with the figure of Jesus, who is integral to Islamic spirituality, literature, culture, and civilization, which the author alludes to. The Arabic Islamic tradition of the pre-modern period, for example, contains hundreds of sayings and stories ascribed to Jesus, which is the largest body of texts relating to Jesus in any non-Christian literature. Tarif Khalidi calls this the “Muslim gospel.” Such esteem for Jesus is a strong basis for important Muslim-Christian relations. In that regard, the author goes on to refer to a very important document in Christian-Muslim relations: “On October 13, 2007, nearly 140 Muslim scholars wrote an open letter to the World Council of Churches and the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, calling it a 'Common Word Between Us and You.” The letter’s title comes from the Qur’anic verse, which orders Muslims to dialogue with Christians about the command to worship one God. The letter says: “The letter said: “Muslims and Christians comprise well over half of the world’s population. Without peace and justice between these two religious communities, there can be no meaningful peace on earth. “The basis for this peace and understanding already exists. It is part of the very foundational principles of both faiths: love of the One God and love of the neighbor. These principles are found over and over again in the sacred texts of Islam and Christianity. The Unity of God, the necessity of love for Him, and the necessity of love of the neighbor is thus the common ground between Islam and Christianity.” The letter goes on to state: “Islam puts great emphasis on loving one’s neighbor. The Prophet Muhammad said, “None of you will have [true] faith until you love for your neighbor what you love for yourself.” According to another hadith, the Prophet Muhammad (unto him be peace) said Gabriel kept emphasizing the neighbor’s right to him so much that he thought God would make his neighbor his heir, like a relative. It is noteworthy that both Jesus and the Prophet Muhammad advocated love for one’s neighbor regardless of religion. The love for the neighbor must be universal and not just for co-religionists.” Jesus of the Qur’an embodied this fundamental attitude. In the Qur’an, what jumps out at me in this context are his miracles. In particular, his compassion is on display in the healing of the sick and the resurrection of the dead. The blind and lepers received not only physical healing, but a healing of body, mind, and soul, and rededication to God and neighbor. Qur’an 3:49 tells us: ‘I have come to you with a sign from your Lord: I will make for you a bird from clay, breathe into it, and it will become a ˹real˺ bird—by Allah’s Will. I will heal the blind and the leper and raise the dead to life—by Allah’s Will. And I will prophesy what you eat and store in your houses. Surely in this is a sign for you if you ˹truly˺ believe.’ For Christians, the importance of healing in Jesus continues among those inspired by him. Through Jesus, we continue his healing in a world often wounded and violent. No one religious community can dare to undertake this call alone. As Mr. Haque states: “Christians and Muslims (and by extension people of other faiths), who represent more than half of humanity, have the potential to change this world for the better. There are countless causes on which our communities can collaborate, including human rights, religious freedom, and the eradication of poverty, racism, and bigotry. The opportunities to heal humanity and heal our planet, inspired by our deepest faith convictions, are waiting for us. The Cosmic Christ in Christianity The evolution of different understandings of Jesus in Christianity since his earthly existence is extraordinarily broad, as Christianity itself spread from an exclusive Jewish culture into diverse cultures and traditions. My understanding, too, has developed over the many years I, too, have experienced Christ and the people of God in different parts of the world. In Southeast Asia, the image of Christ is often a bloodied corpse on a cross, representing the plight of the poorest. In Africa, the image of Christ is rooted in a black figure, strengthening the ties of tribe, nation, and world. In the African American community where I worked in Chicago, there is a black image of Jesus depicted as a slave and breaking the chains that bind him, and us. Today I wrestle with my understanding of Jesus as the Cosmic Christ. This term was coined in reference to the works of Fr. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Christ is more than just a historical person who walked this earth, though he is that. He is more than a great teacher, marvelous miracle-worker, and extraordinary moral exemplar, though he is that too. Indeed, Christ is even more than the God- man who died for our sins and rose from the dead, though that is a crucial part of his identity for us. Christ, the scriptures tell us, is also someone and something within the very structure of the cosmos itself, the pattern on which the universe was conceived, is built, and is now developing. As the letter to the Colossians puts it: “Christ is the firstborn of all creation (physical and spiritual); for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created ... all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” Among other things, it tells us that Christ lies not just at the root of spirituality and morality, but also at the base of physics, biology, chemistry, and cosmology. First of all, it means that the spiritual and the material, the moral and the physical, the mystical and the hormonal, and the religious and the pagan do not oppose each other but are part of one thing, one pattern, all infused by one and the same spirit, all drawn to the same end, with the same goodness and meaning. Simply put, the same force is responsible for the law of gravity and the Sermon on the Mount, and both are binding for the same reason. All reality, be it spiritual, physical, moral, mathematical, mystical, or hormonal is made and shaped according to the one, same pattern and everything (be it the universe itself hurdling through space, the blind attraction of atoms for each other, the relentless push for growth in a plant, the instinctual hunt for blood by a mosquito, the automatic impulse to put everything into his mouth by a baby, the fierce protectiveness of a young mother, the obsession to create inside an artist, or the bowig in prayer or altruism of a saint) is ultimately part of one and the same thing, the unfolding of creation as made in the image of Christ and as revealing the invisible God. Making all things new It is Christ’s divine task as well as ours to turn this fragmented world, through love of it in all of its visible and invisible dimensions, into one immense shining Being, the Body of Christ for us Christians, glowing with divine energy. Christ the Lord, the head of this Body, has promised to be with us and guide us, from start to finish. He said, “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matt 28:20). Our encounter as Muslims and Christians, listening deeply to the Jesus of each other, impels us to act together in front of the great injustices all around us. Neither of us can do much alone. Who we are together, inspired by Jesus, a community among communities. The whole body of the world’s religions expresses the solidarity of Christ and creation. Chardin’s vision of a “ultrahumanity” requires harnessing the spiritual and psychic powers of the earth and sharing these powers in a way such that we evolve toward a greater unity, that is, for Christians, toward the fullness of the cosmic Christ.
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(Representation of the Prophete Muhammad (Mohammed or Muhammad) (570-632) (face covered) preaching to members of the tribe of Abd al-Muttalib (Abd al-Muttalib) Miniature from “Siyer-i Nebi” (Siyer i Nebi) epic poem about the life of the Prophete Muhammad wr On Saturday, October 25th, the Islamic Center of Boston presented an interfaith dialogue opportunity through its Interfaith Bookclub, focusing on the book by Ekram Haque titled Muhammad: Son of Abraham, Brother of Moses, Successor of Jesus. Responses were shared by Rev. Dr. Ian Mevoarch of the Common Street Spiritual Center, Fr. Carl Chudy, D.Min., of the Metrowest Interfaith Community, and Our Lady of Fatima Shrine. Shaheen Akhtar, a member of the mosque, moderated the event. In Our Time
“In our time, as humanity is drawn closer together day by day, and the ties between different peoples become stronger, the Catholic Church examines more closely her relationship to those of faiths other than our own. In our task of promoting unity and love among all humankind, indeed among nations, we consider above all in this declaration what we have in common and what draws us to fellowship.” I begin my thoughts on the enlightening volume by Ekram Haque, Muhammad: Son of Abraham, Brother of Moses, Successor of Jesus, with the first sentence of the Vatican II document, Nostra Aetate (In our Time), which ushered a revolutionary shift in how we as Catholics connect with the broader world. We share Mr. Haque’s driving concern when he states: “To my Christian and Jewish brethren, let us build our relationship on shared faiths…” This year, we celebrate the 60th anniversary of this fundamental teaching on how Catholics, in accord with our tradition, must build solidarity with our friends of other faiths. Together with another teaching of Vatican II, Lumen Gentium (Light of the Nations), they guide us to understand some fundamentals of what I share with you:
The late Pope Francis envisioned this as an opportunity to build a new culture of encounter and connection. He goes on to say in 2013, “Indeed, situations in the world where coexistence is difficult are not lacking: often political or economic motives overlap with cultural and religious differences, which also play upon misunderstandings and mistakes of the past: this is all likely to generate suspicion and fear. There is only one road to conquer this fear: dialogue and encounter marked by friendship and respect. When we take this path, it is a human one.” There is Something More Mr. Haque relates: “We live in a time of great political and religious turmoil when fringe groups of Muslims and non-Muslims push for a clash of civilizations. Therefore, it is imperative to retell the life story— the Seerah— of Muḥammad, the Messenger of God, so we may remind Muslims of his noble legacy and inform non-Muslims about it.” I did not know the meaning of “Seerah,” but his further explanation sparked something in me. His seerah! His extraordinary life, touched so deeply and so profoundly by the God of Abraham, Isaac, Ishmael, and Jacob, and our need to retell it. Yes, it is ours; Muslim and non-Muslim. The narrative of his life that God wrote, those years of hardship, persecution, faith, and mission, expressed what I call the dreams of God in his flesh, his years, his loves and struggles, not only for him, but the legacy of the faith for us all. I am a Christian, but I am grateful for Muhammad's faith. The Prophet Muhammad & the Communion of Saints The author explains that Muslim families taught Seerah, along with the Qur’an, because it was so central to faith to know, in some way, the person of Muhammad and the words of the Qur’an he conveyed. He mentioned some of the fifty Qur’anic verses that address this. One verse in particular piqued my interest: “ Indeed, in the Messenger of Allāh, you have a good example to follow for him who hopes in Allāh and the Last Day and remembers Allāh much.” (Surah Al-Ahzab, verse 21) There are three striking assertions for me. First, “follow for him who hopes in Allah.” Submission to God requires knowing deeply the person of Muhammad. His life was indeed a life of submission against incredible odds. His life is inextricably tied to the Words of God he conveyed. Second, Muhammad witnessed and showed in concrete terms the hope of God. I, too, hunger for God’s hope, particularly in the times we live today. Lastly, the memory of Muhammad is the legacy passed on to our Muslim friends and one I seek to understand. If interfaith dialogue has any value, it is to understand the inspiration of friends whose faith is not my own to fathom more deeply the mystery of God’s hope throughout the cosmos. These thoughts strike a deep chord within me as a Catholic Christian. In my faith, too, some have gone before me, including my parents, whose faith and witness are the foundation of the faith choices I make today. Even more, we understand that our community of faith transcends space and time, reaching back many centuries, whose legacy I stand on today. That community is always present and “alive.” We call it the communion of saints. These saints, extraordinary men and women of faith, are “present” in their prayers and in our prayers for them. They are as real as you who stand before me, and the inspiration they convey, not just in the past during their lives on earth, but today in a real way. We hold a “communion” with these saints of the past, aiding us in our faith journey. Their death is no obstacle. This image of communion of saints provides me with a segway to understand what the relationship of Muhammad with Muslims worldwide may mean, and indeed with non-Muslims as well. It is:
In Omid Safi’s book, Memories of Muhammad: Why the Prophet Matters, he also speaks of the importance of imitation. The lives of saints and communion with them provide a framework for imitation. Haque reminds us that Muslims do seek to replicate the Prophet Muhammad, viewing his life as the ideal example for how to live a life pleasing to God. The Qur’an itself presents the Prophet as "an excellent example" for believers. However, this emulation focuses primarily on his character and religious practice. We, too, seek to imitate our saints. Some Christians in the past used to wear bracelets with the letters WWJD —What Would Jesus Do? For us, a good ethical guide is to put on Jesus’ sandals and contemplate what he would say and do in the struggles and doubts of life. In the Jewish tradition, Leviticus reminds us, “you shall be holy, for I the Lord your God is holy.” (Leviticus 19:2). Our gospel of Matthew underlines this, “therefore you are to be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:48) We seek to embody the loftiest ideals by imitating the most luminous souls which begs the question, WWMD, what would Muhammad do? Say: “If you love God, follow me, and God will love you.” (Ali ‘Imran 3:31) The Multifaith Collaborative of the Open Spirit Center near Fatima Shrine recently held an Interfaith Iftar, or breaking of the fast of Ramadan, to which all peoples of all faiths are invited. One of our speakers was Dr. Sadik Kassim, a scientist specializing in Gene Therapy for Cancer and chaplain of the Taha Collective, a nonprofit organization established to serve the Muslim-American and spiritually curious community of the Boston metropolitan area. Here is his talk on fasting across religious traditions. Used with permission. In every faith tradition represented in this room tonight, there is a moment when hunger becomes holy. For Muslims now observing Ramadan, dawn breaks with a prayer instead of breakfast. For Jews commemorating Yom Kippur, the body’s emptiness creates space for atonement. For Christians during Lent, each hunger pang whispers the story of forty days in the wilderness. Tonight, as we gather under one roof—Muslim, Jewish, Christian, and seekers of all kinds—we explore what divides us and what has united human spiritual experience for millennia: the transformative power of voluntary hunger. In this reflection, I want to reflect on Ramadan and the spiritual practice that binds our traditions together across time and space. Ramadan marks the month when the first verses of the Qur’an descended upon the Prophet Muhammad (عليه السلام) in the cave of Hira. What began as a solitary spiritual experience quickly blossomed into a communal practice that would transform the world. The Qur’an reminds Muslims of the ancient lineage of fasting: “O you who believe, fasting is prescribed for you as it was prescribed for those before you, so that you may develop God-consciousness (taqwa).” (Qur’an 2:183) In these words, we find an acknowledgment that Muslims are continuing a sacred practice that has shaped human spirituality for thousands of years. Ramadan transforms ordinary life From dawn until sunset, Muslims abstain not only from food and drink but also from anger, gossip, and negativity. Physical hunger awakens spiritual hunger—for righteousness, compassion, and God. Yet Ramadan’s most potent lesson may be found in its communal nature:
The prophet Isaiah reminds us that true fasting isn’t merely abstention from food but active engagement with justice: “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the houseless into your home?” (Isaiah 58:6-7). This prophetic understanding of fasting as justice-orientated resonates deeply with Ramadan’s emphasis on charity and community care. For Christians, fasting often connects to Jesus’ (عليه السلام) forty-day fast in the wilderness: “After forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. The tempter came to home…” (Matthew 4: 2-3). This fasting period prepared Jesus for his public ministry and taught resistance to temptation. Later, the early Christian communities would fast together on Wednesdays and Fridays, creating rhythms of shared spiritual discipline. The season of Lent – the forty days before Easter – continues this tradition, inviting Christians into a period of self-examination, repentance, and spiritual renewal through fasting and abstinence. As the fourth-century theologian Basil the Great wrote: “Fasting gives birth to prophets and strengthens the powerful; fasting makes lawgivers wide. Fasting is a good safeguard for the soul, a steadfast companion for the body, a weapon for the valiant, and a gymnasium for athletes.” Here in Massachusetts, our spiritual heritage includes voices like Henry David Thoreau, who recognized fasting’s transformative power even outside formal religious contexts. At Walden Pond, just miles from where we sit tight, Thoreau explored voluntary simplicity as a path of spiritual awakening. He wrote: “I believe that every man who has ever been earnest to preserve his higher or poetic faculties in the best condition has been particularly inclined to abstain from animal food… The savage (natural man) knows the luxury of fasting and feasting.” Modern science confirms what our faith traditions have known intuitively for millennia—that we thrive in the community. Just as breaking the fast in our spiritual traditions creates community bonds, research shows these bonds are essential to our well-being. The Framingham Heart Study, begun in 1948 and spanning generations, revealed profound connections between community and health. In a landmark analysis, researchers discovered that social integration – measured by marriage, contacts with friends and family, and community involvement – significantly reduced mortality risk. Those with strong social ties had a 50% greater chance of survival than those who were socially isolated. Even more revealing, the study found that social connections were as powerful predictors of health as traditional risk factors like smoking, high blood pressure, and obesity. Community bonds literally strengthened the heart—participants with greater social connections showed lower risks of cardiovascular disease, demonstrating how our relationships become inscribed in our physical being. We Need One Another Our spiritual traditions were understood long before scientists; we need one another spiritually and physiologically. The communal breaking of the fast isn’t merely cultural – it’s life-giving in the most literal sense. The shared wisdom of sacred hunger across these diverse traditions teaches us common lessons:
Closing: A Community of Sacred Hunger During the Ottoman Empire, Muslims, Christians, and Jews lived side by side in many cities. There is a beautiful account of how, during Ramadan, Christian, and Jewish neighbors would sometimes dim their lights and avoid eating in public out of respect for their fasting Muslim neighbors. In turn, Muslim neighbors would show similar consideration during Christian Lent or Jewish fast days. This wasn’t about adopting each other’s beliefs but recognizing the sacred discipline in one another’s practices and honoring the divine spark that calls us all to something higher than our appetites. Tonight, as Muslims around the world break their Ramadan fast, as Jews prepare for Passover, and as Christians journey through Lent and Holy Week, may we recognize that across our different paths, we share a common hunger—not just for food but for meaning, connection, and the divine. As the Framingham study reminds us, the connections we forge in breaking our fasts together may do more than nourish our spirits—they may literally extend our lives. When we gather to break bread after periods of sacred hunger, we participate in a practice that ancient wisdom and modern science affirm as essential to human flourishing. Dr. Sadik Kassim is a Scientist specializing in Gene Therapy and Cancer Immunology based in Boston. He is a founder of the Islamic Message Foundation of New Orleans and the Taha Collective in Boston. He has spoken at numerous universities and at Muslim, Christian, Jewish, and Hindu organizations nationwide. Among Dr. Kassim’s publications is a study entitled The Role of Religion in the Generation of Suicide Bombers, which was published by Oxford University Press and definitively dispels the notion that Islamic theology fuels terrorism.
Interfaith gathering on the Middle East Crisis through the lens of the book, The Lemon Tree11/7/2024 Hosted by Temple Beth Torah and Sponsored by the Metrowest Interfaith Community On Sunday, November 3, a diverse group of neighbors and friends gathered at Temple Beth Torah in Holliston representing Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Baha'i and Sikh faiths to engage each other on some tough but important conversations on the crisis in the Middle East and its impact for Israeli Jews and Palestinian Muslims, Christians and others. It was a time to listen to each other's stories. The Lemon Tree, by Sandy Tolan, was the vehicle by which we hoped to gather our different experiences of pain and hope in light of the war in the Middle East. The extraordinary meeting of Bashir and Dalia is the starting point for a true story of a remarkable relationship between two families, one Arab, one Jewish, amid the fraught modern history of the region. In his childhood home, in the lemon tree his father planted in the backyard, Bashir sees dispossession and occupation; Dalia, who arrived as an infant in 1948 with her family from Bulgaria, sees hope for a people devastated by the Holocaust. As both are swept up in the fates of their people, and Bashir is jailed for his alleged part in a supermarket bombing, the friends do not speak for years. They finally reconcile and convert the house in Ramle into a day-care center for Arab children of Israel, and a center for dialogue between Arabs and Jews. Rabbi Mimi Micner welcomed our gathering and spoke of not only the extraordinary opportunity this gathering afforded us, but also to acknowledge how hard this conversation is. As difficult it is to watch the relentless violence and widening war, feeling as if we have no power to do anything about it, we all seek ways to share our grief, anger, and deep-seeded hope for peace. Although the war seems far from our country in the US, our spiritual, familial, and cultural ties to the land of Israel and Palestine are shared by many in our communities. We were grateful for the presence of those who shared their voices, helping us all to put words to our own grief. Dr. Eman Ansari, a doctor and mother in the metrowest area, is Palestinian with strong connections to that land, particularly through her father. Hani Murad, who worked with the United Nations many years and lived in Gaza, also recounted his life there through several wars. Rabbi Mimi Micner of Temple Beth Torah shared the experience of her family and the trauma of World War II. Cantor Vera Broekhuysen, serving Congregation Beth El of Sudbury River Valley also shared her own family experience from the Netherlands to their migration to the United States. As is the case in all interfaith relationships, we first seek common ground in grief and anxiety we all hold in these times, although for different reasons. The Irish poet Padraig O’ Tuama truly resonates when he says we need to "find a way of navigating our differences that deepen our curiosity, deepen our friendships, deepen our capacity to disagree, deepen the argument of being alive." Shaheen Akhtar, Interfaith Liaison for the Muslim Community at Large, in her remarks emphasized the need to come together, reach out to one another, and have a dialogue, especially at this particular moment in history. This gathering of Palestinians and Jews, with the support of their co-religionists who are their neighbors and friends, is not an exercise in homogenizing distinct and painful histories, often driven by contradictory narratives and deep seeded bias. Instead, it is driven by something deeper and more profound, a need to listen and love in the search of a common ground to begin together, to be heard, and to begin to heal. It is what looms larger than our differences that beckons us all. Introduction
I am grateful for the opportunity to respond to this extraordinary resource in the faith of my Muslim friends and neighbors. This distilled work of a much larger scholarly edition of The Six Covenants of the Prophet Muhammad to the Christians of His Times provides an easy grasp of the desire of the Prophet himself to build bridges of collaboration and friendship with communities who were not Muslim. My approach is to share three elements: First, the impact of Muslims in my life that have had a profound effect on me; second, how I understand the Six Covenants from a Catholic perspective; and finally, I think the insight and prophetic vision of the Prophet in the work of honoring the religious pluralism in the communities where he found himself inspires us to understand the power of the interfaith movement in helping to create diverse and vibrant democracies in our divided world today. Some Encounters with Islam At the start of my theological studies in the early 1980s, I had the extraordinary opportunity to work an internship for two years in one of our centers in Sierra Leone, West Africa. Sierra Leone is predominantly Muslim. As a cultural and religious minority, I found myself immersed in the lives of African Muslims, woken each morning by the call to prayer and the insistent cadence of children sitting in small circles in villages and repeating lines from the Qur’an. We collaborated with our Muslim friends in the development of schools and healthcare. We prayed for each other in times of great tragedy. I came to appreciate Islam through West African eyes, intertwined with the rich, complex culture of Sierra Leone. In southeast Asia, where I worked for thirteen years, Islam and the lives of Muslims in the Philippines were quite different. There, in the middle of great injustice with landless farmers, I teamed with a local Imam to console a group of women who were on the fifteenth day of their hunger strike seeking land promised to them by the government and after a para-military group killed their husbands. I realized I needed my Muslim brother at that time to try to make a difference in the lives of these women in some way. The Covenants of the Prophet Muhammad to Christians of His Time - Early Christian Perceptions of Other Faiths My own experience brings me to empathize deeply with the desire of the Prophet Muhammad as a man of faith, who was sent by God not only to Muslims; he was, as the forward by Charles Upton states, sent as a mercy to the whole world. [21:107] The original intent of the Prophet was not to create a strict Islamic State but a confederation with the People of the Book, Jews, Christians, Zoroastrians, and others. Muslims, as the founders of this confederation, would retain their pre-eminence, but all the peoples of the greater ummah were to enjoy the rights accorded to citizens of that confederacy—rights that were extended, under certain circumstances, even to pagan polytheists. (1) In this work, these covenants were extended to the monks of Mt. Sinai, Christians in Persia, Najran in Saudi Arabia, Assyria, other Christian communities in the eastern land and its west, Arabs and non-Arabs, near or far, known or unknown. In the words of the Prophet from Sahih Bukhari, “Whoever oppresses a Jew or a Christian, I will testify against him on the Day of Judgment.” (3) The treaty of Najran, for example, is proof of how Islam conferred upon the scripturalists not only social and religious freedom but also granted them the power to decide their civil matters through establishing judicial autonomy, which was not only pertinent to personal status but also covers civil, penal and all life affairs. Religious freedom and an independent judicial system laid the foundation of a true confederacy, with a constitution through which different religious groups became integral to a political arrangement using a social contract. Integrating non-Muslims into political life and becoming real contributing players marked a milestone in the history of human rights. (25-38) Between 622 and 632 CE, the Prophet's covenants envisioned a pluralistic religious state where all faith communities who accepted the social contract in these documents would enjoy common rights and duties. This principle was the basis of actual Muslim political theory and practice for many centuries, at least until the fall of the Ottoman Empire. (6) I emphasize the bond of Muslims and non-Muslims to form a social contract based on our common faith in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Joseph. Toward the end of the Prophet’s life, he showed a mediating position where both Jews and Christians were given conditional acceptance if they submitted peacefully to Islamic rule and paid tribute to the Muslim community for their protection. (A History of Christian Muslim Relations by Hugh Goddard, p.31) The Contemporary Interfaith Movement for a Vibrant, Diverse Democracy In the 21st Century, this social contract, inspired by the Prophet Muhammad, is needed more than ever. As Christians in this country, we have a shared responsibility and influence that cannot be underestimated. I firmly believe that the transformative power of the interfaith movement is a vital part of societal transformation in the United States. It's not just about dialogue between religious believers; it's about infusing new energy into democratic ideals that respect our diversity through the evolving interfaith and religious-secular solidarity for the common good. We, as a collective of believers and nonbelievers, are the ones who shape our communities and nation. As we prepare for elections nationally and locally for 2024, where entire populations of Americans perceive the nation in starkly different ways, it is helpful to explore why religious institutions collectively are crucial to a vital democracy. Each religious community and its adherents express unique visions of the divine cosmos, the light of God reflected in everything, the spirituality and values expressed in our communities, and their unique shaping to a culture we all share. However, only one interfaith voice brings many voices together, a different and formidable power whose potential has yet to be tested. Jurgen Habermas, a secular philosopher, suggests that religion can remedy contemporary societal issues. It can inspire moral solidarity and political action, bridging social and economic divides. Members of a religious tradition share moral vocabularies (e.g., “Love your neighbor”) and narratives (e.g., parables) that impart concern for the vulnerable with profound meaning and inspire not just individuals but entire communities. The purpose of these essential encounters always begins locally, with national and global implications. The words of Irish poet Padraig O’ Tuama truly resonate when he says we need to "find a way of navigating our differences that deepen our curiosity, deepen our friendships, deepen our capacity to disagree, deepen the argument of being alive." It is not a given that pluralism leads to a more profound unity. An increase in diversity in the community ordinarily leads to a decrease in social trust. It is a work that needs to be continuously engaged positively and proactively. The covenants of Muhammad were not just written words but hard-fought relationships that were tested over time. (Robert Putnam, Diversity and Community in the 21st Century, 2007) As we look at presidential elections this year, our politics, like interfaith collaboration, require specific ground rules. First, we should not expect perfection from ourselves, others, or even the place we come from. We should not claim innocence or speak only from our scars. We should recognize that truth and love can be increased when we persist in finding ways to connect. Finally, our highest hope should be to grow together, creating a civic space to form a diverse community of hope. (From a People’s Supper, Faith Matters Network). Written as a response to a project of the Interfaith Book Club of the Islamic Center of Boston in Wayland on October 26, 2024 by Fr. Carl Chudy, D.Min Archbishop Gustavo Garcia-Siller, Bishop of the Diocese of San Antonio, Texas, profoundly stated in light of upcoming presidential elections: “Christians are not a social club that gathers on Sundays to receive nice-sounding catchphrases. We are to be a constant influence in society. Our identity as children of God involves a lifelong journey of struggle and testing. We are called to repent and continually transform our lives, thoughts, attitudes, and actions to live in a kingdom of justice, peace, mercy, fidelity, harmony, and unity.” (America: The Jesuit Review, 03/05/24) Considering our shared responsibility and influence as Christians in society, I firmly believe that the transformative power of the interfaith movement is a vital part of societal transformation in the United States. It's not just about dialogue between religious believers; it's about infusing new energy into democratic ideals that respect our diversity through the evolving interfaith and religious-secular solidarity for the common good. We, as a collective of believers and nonbelievers, are the ones who shape our communities and nation. When we view the interfaith movement in the U.S. as more than a commitment between different religious communities, we recognize its potential as a potent catalyst for reshaping our shared culture. By prioritizing the common good, we unlock the transformative power of religions. As Fr. Pawlikowski, a scholar in Jewish Christian relations, succinctly states, “Religions enable us to rise above situations where power fosters an environment of inequality.” Our National Discontent Amidst the spiritual, psychological, political, and social upheavals that have further polarized the United States, pluralistic solidarity's urgency and healing power have never been more crucial. The recent 2020 presidential elections, marred by contentious disputes over the electoral results, have inflicted deep wounds on our democracy. The threats against poll workers and the attempts by certain lawmakers to undermine the election results in Congress have eroded public trust in our electoral process, our democracy and the essential institutions that sustain it. This erosion of trust is a pressing issue, a call to immediate action for change. The tragic insurrection culminating from these events at the nation’s capital on January 6, 2021, gathered over 10,000 people in Washington, DC. Rioters smashed through barricades and ransacked the US Capitol, intending to stop the certification of President Joe Biden's election. As Trump supporters stalked the halls of Congress and lawmakers fled to safe rooms in fear, the country seemed united in its disgust. (ABCNews, Thursday, January 6, 2022) As we prepare for elections nationally and locally for 2024, where entire populations of Americans perceive the nation in starkly different ways, it is helpful to explore why religious institutions collectively are crucial to a vital democracy. Each religious community and its adherents express unique visions of the divine cosmos, the light of God reflected in everything, the spirituality and values expressed in our communities, and their unique shaping to a culture we all share. However, only one interfaith voice brings many voices together, which is a different and formidable power. Democracy Requires Interfaith Solidarity Jurgen Habermas, a secular philosopher, suggests that religion can remedy contemporary societal issues. It can inspire moral solidarity and political action, bridging social and economic divides. Members of a religious tradition share moral vocabularies (e.g., “Love your neighbor”) and narratives (e.g., parables) that impart concern for the vulnerable with profound meaning and inspire not just individuals but entire communities. On the other hand, a purely secular discourse devoid of religious influence offers a less robust foundation for collective action. It presents a more abstract view of the individual, emphasizing less the individual’s social relationships and responsibilities. In this sense, both the secular and the religious are complementary and essential in a dialogue between religious communities and secular civic institutions. (Dr. Michelle Dillon, Postsecular Catholicism, 2018) The purpose of these essential encounters always begins locally, with national and global implications. The words of Irish poet Padraig O Tuama truly resonate when he says we need to “find a way of navigating our differences that deepen our curiosity, deepen our friendships, deepen our capacity to disagree, deepen the argument of being alive.” It is not a given that pluralism leads to a more profound unity. An increase in diversity in the community ordinarily leads to a decrease in social trust. It is a work that needs to be positively and proactively engaged. (Robert Putnam, Diversity and Community in the 21st Century, 2007) As interfaith community members, how do we reconcile our profound differences while working towards a more peaceful and just world? We must not shy away from difficult questions. Two significant ways of seeing this in action are a national program, The Faith in Elections Playbook, and the other is a local program organized through the Xaverian Missionaries USA, The Metrowest Interfaith Community. A National and Local Experience Today, an essential interfaith organization in the country, Interfaith America, and a leading cross-partisan democracy nonprofit, Protect Democracy, launched the Faith in Elections Playbook. The Playbook, which will serve as an anchor for faith-based engagement throughout the 2024 primaries and into the general election, is a step-by-step guide for people of faith to bridge community divides, uplift trustworthy information; support voters with food, water, and a peaceful presence; recruit poll workers; build relationships with local election officials; and offer houses of worship as polling sites. The Faith in Elections Playbook project represents a unique partnership between one of the United States’ leading interfaith organizations and one of its most influential civic institutions, which sees faith as a foundational American strength. Its interfaith advisory council members represent a wide range of faith traditions, including Judaism, Islam, Sikhism, and multiple denominations of Christianity, including Catholicism and Evangelicalism. The work has already begun across a cluster of community groups, including faith communities, colleges and universities, and other sectors. A more local program involved in this tremendous national challenge is the Metrowest Interfaith Community, facilitated by the Xaverian Missionaries in Holliston, Massachusetts. It is a collaborative network of religious leaders, congregants, and others representing diverse faith traditions, including our friends and neighbors who don’t identify with any specific faith tradition. We attempt to unite members of our congregations, communities, and the larger public in the interfaith dialogue of life, religious experience, and the common good. In our community, Jews, Christians, Muslims, Sikhs, Hindus, Baha’i, and the “spiritual but not religious, began forming a multifaith and multi-spiritual community in 2018. Our first interfaith program occurred in the evening at our local synagogue, Temple Beth Torah. It was October 27th, and earlier that afternoon, there was an antisemitic terrorist attack that took place at the Tree of Life – Or L ‘Simcha Congregation synagogue in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States. As we filed into the synagogue that evening, our plans for the joy of interfaith solidarity turned into Shiva, a period of mourning together. Grief is often too heavy for one person or even one community. That evening, we helped lift the grief of our Jewish neighbors together. Our work in addressing the great divides of antisemitism and Islamophobia, xenophobia, and racism became an integral part of our interfaith journey together. At the heart of much of the resentment and animosity of our political divides today, as we look to electing a new president and local officials, is an expression of these deeper divides in our human community. Collaborating with our civic institutions, the interfaith movement is a healing balm in a divided country. Ground Rules As we look to presidential elections this year, our politics, like interfaith collaboration, require specific ground rules. First, we should not expect perfection from ourselves, others, or even the place we come from. We should not claim innocence or speak only from our scars. We should recognize that truth and love can be increased when we connect with people correctly. Finally, our highest hope should be to grow together, creating a civic space to form a diverse community of hope. (From a People’s Supper, Faith Matters Network). The Metrowest Interfaith Community offered a three-part opportunity to come together and study the work of Valarie Kaur, See No Stranger. It was an inspirational time that surprisingly allowed us to meet her at the end of the book discussion and to hear her speak of the times we live, not in the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb! One of the hardest things we can do as humans is to love our enemies past the harm and hurt they have caused. Valarie Kaur , author, and member of the Sikh faith has given us a book that can help us to do this work and a compass that lays out the steps in doing this. In See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love, Kaur provides us with a book that is part memoir and part how-to manual on how to practice what she describes as “revolutionary love”. She defines revolutionary love as the active decisions humans make to wonder about others, our opponents, and ourselves. This act of wonder, she says, will help make the world a better place. Failing to wonder ultimately leads to violence against people who we consider as the other. Valerie offers us a road map compass that helps us to reach new layers of dialogue. And this allows us to see beyond the hurt to a new level of forgiveness and compassion. Many members of the Sikh community were targeted in the days immediately following the attacks of 9/11. In the book, Kaur talks about the loss of her uncle, a member of the Sikh community. He was killed the day after 9/11. Why? Maybe because they looked different, maybe because they wore turbans, maybe because some people are racist, ignorant, or maybe even afraid. She writes about how the whole community came together to offer their prayers, sympathy, and support. She also writes in detail about the 2012 Oak Creek Massacre in Wisconsin. A lone gunman brutally attacked a Sikh Temple. Six people were killed, and 4 others severely injured. The motive for this was apparently white supremacy. Again, people from other religious communities, people from the area, from around the state and around the country came together to offer prayer and support. Ms. Kaur also talks frankly about the verbal, emotional, and sexual abuse that was inflicted upon her by some members of her family, a cousin, and a long-term fiancé. Despite all the hurt and harm, she is now a strong, whole, and loving person. In her book she challenges us ” to see no strangers by telling us to wonder about others, to grieve our hurts and fight through them. She challenges us to tend our wounds and the wounds of our opponents by paying attention to our rage, by listening and by reimaging what these relationships and the world might be. And then she challenges us to love ourselves. In order to love ourselves, we must learn how to breathe. Breathing is life-giving and creates space in our lives to think and see differently. Then we must learn to push through our grief, rage, and trauma. Having pushed through, we can find and transition to healing, forgiveness and even reconciliation”. A few weeks ago, our Metrowest Interfaith group was invited to a local Sikh Gurdwara to attend their worship service and participate in their Langar, a free community meal that is an important part of living out their faith. The meal is prepared and served by volunteers in the spirit of equality and hospitality. It was an amazing experience to witness their community and faith in action. Although I couldn’t understand all of the worship service; the music, movements, singing, chanting, and prayers were beautiful. The service evoked feelings of warmth, peace and well-being. One of the prayers was as follows: “I have forgotten my envy of others Since I found my sacred company. I see no enemy. I see no strangers. All of us belong to each other. What the divine does, I accept as good. I have received this wisdom from the holy. The One pervades all. Gazing upon the One, beholding the One, Nanak blossoms forth in happiness.” --Sri Guru Granth, Raag Kanarra There are 3 main beliefs of Sikhism: Remember God’s name with every breath; Work and earn by the sweat of the brow, live a family way of life and practice truthfulness and honesty in all dealings; and to share and live as an inspiration and support to the whole Community. As a person deeply interested in interfaith dialogue and relationships, the Sikh community has given me tools to make better changes in my life and to look beyond negativity and use Valerie’s compass as a way to make better connections and to look at and hear each other’s stories without judgement, and to make lasting systemic changes. Jess McGuire & Dianne Evans
On December 3, 2023, the Metrowest Interfaith Community and others gathered for a candlelight prayer and a shared meal together at Our Lady of Fatima Shrine in Holliston. Our Jewish and Muslim neighbors, Christian, Baha’i, Sikh, and others joined in as we brought together our sorrow and grief for so many uselessly killed, men, women, and children, of those still held captive, and so many others affected by this awful tragedy. From the Qur’an, teachings of the Baha’i, Christian, and Hebrew scriptures, from poetry, music, and reflection, we raised all our hopes for a peace that not only ceases violence but provides a future full of hope for everyone. Jess McGuire Recently, in the high holy days of our Jewish neighbors in town we were invited by Rabbi Mimi Micner to Temple Beth Torah’s celebration of Tashlich. For us Gentiles, that refers to casting away our sins of the past and with the new Jewish year, beginning with a clean slate and a pure heart. This is done ritually with prayer, song, the blowing of the shofar, and casting stones into a body of water, ridding ourselves of the burdens of the past year.
For me, it was one of the most spiritual experiences I ever had. My Catholic faith is often like a roller coaster with both highs and lows. My biggest battle is recovering from religious trauma and the conflicts I often feel with leadership in my own church. So, it makes sense to take the stones of burden I wish to release and let go, every stone is every hurt. As I did so Rabbi Mimi read a beautiful poem that seemed freeing to me as I cast my stones. It seemed powerful that it is possible to cast harm into deep water, that the ritual expresses a real possibility to be free of hurt, and the space it provides for something new, something hopeful. The stones sank deep into the Divine heart we all share. As a Catholic, I felt so close to Jewish friends who welcomed me, a stranger in their midst. Casting stones made me think of the possibilities peoples of all faiths hold in their hands. Casting Away We cast into the depths of the sea our sins And failures and regrets. Reflections of our imperfect selves flow away. What can we bear, With what can we bear to part? We upturn the darkness, bring what is buried to Light. What hurts still lodge, What wounds have yet to heal? We empty our hands, Release the remnants of shame, Let go fear and despair That have dug their home in us. Open hands, oping heart – The year flows out, the year flows in. (Marcia Falk) Sri Ramakrishna’s cryptic phrase, “As many faiths, so many paths” (Bengali, যত মত, তত পথ) is often cited to affirm that all religions are true and valid paths to reach life’s ultimate goal. The word, মত, refers not specifically to “faith” but to “way of thinking” (which a “faith” generally provides). What Sri Ramakrishna was saying in effect is that every way of thinking is a pathway to understanding or to knowledge. This needs some qualification, of course. It is difficult to imagine every wayward and random thought leading to any sort of profound knowledge. Only the way of thinking that (1) is backed up by an authentic source (śruti), (2) does not contradict reason (yukti), and (3) can be verified by direct experience (anubhūti) becomes a pathway to knowledge. Affirming that all religions are valid paths does not imply that every religion is a unified single path. No religion is monolithic, that is, in no religion does everyone think alike or do things in the same way. Over the course of centuries, most of the world’s religions have developed varied ways of thinking within their own traditions, hence the presence of many sects, denominations and theologies; hence also robust debates and disagreements within every religious tradition. Every world religion is better imagined as a network of crisscrossing pathways which are distinct but never stray too far from one another—and may look like a single highway from 30,000 feet high. Although Vedanta is often spoken of in the singular, there are many different schools of thought within Vedanta, every one of which identifies itself as Vedanta. The three major divisions are nondualism (advaita), qualified nondualism (viśiṣṭādvaita), and dualism (dvaita). Every one of these has its own subdivisions. The more you dig, the more intricate and nuanced the variations become. What set apart these pathways in Vedanta are the differences among them, sometimes very subtle, in the way they conceive of the embodied self (jīva), the transcendent reality (brahman), and the world (jagat). The world phenomenon (saṁsāra, literally, “that which is constantly changing”) can be viewed through different lenses. Each view provides new insights and new ways to understand ourselves, the purpose of life, and how to achieve it. These different lenses are, in other words, frameworks for easy understanding. Each presents a worldview, a kind of window, through which we can look out at the canvas of life. It is possible to look at the world around and see it as a Cosmic Mystery (māyā) or as a Cosmic Person (virāṭ) or as a Cosmic Sacrifice (yajña) or as a Cosmic Union (yoga) or as a Cosmic Play (līlā)—at least five different windows through which to look out and make sense of what we see. Not all of these windows may resonate with everyone and they don’t have to. Perhaps one way of thinking may make more sense to someone than other ways of thinking about the same thing. Whichever of these ways rings true for me (and this can be quite subjective), it ends up becoming my worldview. It makes my life meaningful and purposeful. It is helpful to recognize that a different way of thinking may be equally meaningful to someone else. The ways of thinking are many, but what is thought of is one and the same. We are free to move from window to another, enjoying the gamut of views, but over time, we may find ourselves spending more time near one window and eventually moving our desk next to it—that window, then, becomes special for us, our personal favorite! It is important to keep in mind that each of these windows is only a means to understanding saṁsāra and the way to get out of it. As Sri Ramakrishna said: “God can be realized through all paths. All religions are true. The important thing is to reach the roof. You can reach it by stone stairs or by wooden stairs or by bamboo steps or by a rope. You can also climb up by a bamboo pole.” (Gospel, 111) Every way of reaching the roof is distinct but, no matter which way we choose, the end result is the same. In precisely the same way, each of the five “windows” that provides a way of thinking about the world is distinct, but no matter through which window we see, the end result is the same—namely, a framework that helps us understand the interrelationships between the individual, the world, and the divine reality that pervades and transcends them both. Every framework suggests practices, or the kind of “stairs,” which help us “reach the roof.” We cannot of course reach the roof if we insist on taking one step on the stone stairs, the next on the wooden stairs, and then on bamboo steps. That won’t work. The stairs are different and distinct. Hence we cannot combine concepts associated with one window with those in another, or search for ways to “reconcile” one with the other. These efforts serve no useful purpose. They only result in confusion and frustration. We cannot simultaneously look through two windows which are far apart. It’s not the windows that matter but the view they provide, the Truth they reveal. That Truth is one, no matter which window we look through. |
AuthorFr. Carl Chudy, D.Min. Archives
October 2025
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