Easter, hidden and revealed.

“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your[a] life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.” Colossians 3:3-4

The Easter morning accounts in the Gospels recount the experience of the witnesses of Jesus’ resurrection.  Mary Magdalene, the “other Mary”, presumably Jesus’ mother, along with Peter and the other disciples, all receive special revelation of Jesus himself, risen from the tomb.  But we live by faith, as those who are “blessed, but have not seen.”  To us God’s victory in the empty tomb seems hidden.  The effects of that victory are the new life in Christ that we have, which are “hidden with Christ in God,” as St. Paul writes in the quote above.  Dealing with this hiddenness is hard, but there is wisdom in it, and the presence of the Holy Spirit to help us in our pilgrimage of faith.  Christ’s victory gives hope, and is powerful in the world.

The hiddenness of God’s victory, of God’s presence, of God’s truth helps explain the suffering, the sin and the reality of death that we experience in the world around us.  But this is a natural truth as well.  In fact, life is hidden in death all around us. Look at seeds. They die in the ground, but when the conditions are right, when there is water, and warmth, and good soil, they germinate. They sprout and grow. What seems dead actually has life hidden within it all along, waiting to appear.

This is the truth of God in Jesus Christ’s life, death and resurrection. There is the truth of what we see, and there is the truth of things that are hidden.  God is manifest in creation in Christ Jesus, hidden so to speak, in the form of a man.  For his unfailing faithfulness to God’s will, he was betrayed to human government and religious laws, was tortured, and executed.  God’s eternal life is hidden in the death of Jesus on the cross. In the resurrection, God’s eternal life is revealed, but only openly momentarily.  It is subsumed again in the growth of the church.  Since you have been baptized into Christ’s death, you have died, and like a seed, lie hidden and awaiting germination.  You and those like you in faith germinate to become the new body of Christ, a new creation.

There is a story of old WWII Prisoner of War in Japanese camp in Singapore. The atmosphere of the camp changed dramatically when the inmates heard of the collapse of the Japanese war effort in early 1945, because one of the inmates had a short wave radio.  Although they were all still imprisoned, and wouldn’t be rescued for a while, they knew that the victory had been won.  Their release was hidden from them, but they grasped it already.  Their experience of the camp, of their imprisonment, of each other changed radically.  They all began to laugh and cry, as if they were free already.

In the same way, Easter proclaims Christ’s victory over sin and death, while, for the time being, they continue to hold sway.  To our experience, to our senses, sin and death maintain their power over us.  Indeed, they seem rampant in our lives, and the world around us.  But Easter proclaims Christ’s victory!  It may be hidden from view, but it awaits its full revelation.

Your life is hidden in Christ, but Christ is risen!  And so you live, even though you die.  And the power of Christ’s life is hidden, for now, in the way life seems defeated in our world.  You who are tired, or confused, or ambivalent, or rootless, Christ’s powerful life is waiting to be born.  Hidden in the grieving heart, hidden in the overdosed body, hidden in the neglected child, hidden in the desolation of bombs and bullets, hidden in human societies run amuck, there is already God’s new life. Hidden in the destructive, selfish logic of sin, hidden in your broken heart, hidden in the grave, is the risen life of Christ.  In you, “a new creation comes to life and grows, as Christ’s new body takes on flesh and blood.”  The universe will be restored, and being made whole, will sing, Alleluia! Alleluia! Praise to the Father, and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and shall be forever. Amen.

We know that Christ is raised and dies no more.

Embraced by death, he broke its fearful hold,

And our despair he turned to blazing joy. Hallelujah!

We share by water in his saving death.

Reborn, we share with him an Easter life,

As living members of our Savior Christ. Hallelujah!

The Father’s splendor clothes the Son with life.

The Spirit’s fission shakes the church of God.

Baptized we live with God the Three in One. Hallelujah!

A new creation comes to life and grows

As Christ’s new body takes on flesh and blood.

The universe restored and whole will sing: Hallelujah!

The Violence of Good Friday

"See, my servant shall prosper; he shall be exalted and lifted up, and shall be very high. Just as there were many who were astonished at him--so marred was his appearance, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of mortals--so he shall startle many nations; kings shall shut their mouths because of him; for that which had not been told them they shall see, and that which they had not heard they shall contemplate." (Isaiah 52:13-15)

There is a part to Good Friday that has always troubled me.  On the surface of things, you have the execution of Jesus, in itself a gruesome event in a depraved situation. It wasn't a quick execution.  It was slow, painful, public, and morbidly humiliating. Why did the Romans have to do it that way? It was justice meeted out as spectacle.  Behold the power of the empire.

Dig a little deeper, and you get to the levels of meaning that the church gives to Jesus' death. As I studied theology to prepare to become a pastor, I struggled with the classic substitutionary atonement theory, which says that Jesus was the perfect life that was sacrificed to a voracious God, because sinful humanity couldn't pay that price for itself.  I grew to reject the idea of this unhappy God, who needed to be placated, satisfied with bloody justice.  I started to embrace fresh understandings of how Jesus' death was ultimately meaningful because it witnessed to the love of God for us, which was willing to sacrifice itself for our sakes, to show us the height and depth of that love.

But there is another level of Jesus' death that just won't go away.  What is it about Good Friday that continues to unsettle me?  Is it that the scene continues to play itself out?  Is it that we still must witness similar acts of bloody justice every day?  Is this what the church means when it says that Jesus continues to be crucified in our midst?  Or is it the way that violence continues to both repulse me and provoke me at the same time?  Why is one man's plight so riveting, and so repeatable?  Why does violence have to be so handy?  Why can't it be pushed farther to the margins of our human society?

I'm tired of violence. I'm tired of bloody justice, of human justice.  I'm tired of enforced rules, of retribution through control.  I'm tired of the violence of the state, and I'm tired of the violence of the enemies of the state. I'm tired of people being hounded for minor infractions.  I'm tired of people being sacrificed to perpetuate the revolution. I don't want our justice, or my justice. I want God's justice.  I want a just end to the need for justice.  I want God to come, expose it, and wipe it away.  I want kings to shut their mouths because of it.  I want Easter.

Nervous on Maundy Thursday

One night, a long time ago, the Israelites were told to prepare to leave.  But first, they should stop and have a special meal. It would necessitate certain foods, and would be prepared, consumed and left in a certain way. The people were to take a single lamb per household, or to share one with neighbors. It was to be slaughtered, then roasted and served with unleavened bread and bitter herbs.  They were to spread its blood on the door posts of their houses. They were instructed to eat the meal with their traveling clothes and shoes on. They would be leaving soon after the meal. Leaving for good.

In the background of the meal loomed Pharaoh, and the people of Egypt, who had been hounded by relentless plagues and catastrophes brought on by God. Moses said that the blood spread on the doors would protect the Israelites from the Angel of Death, who would sweep over the city that night, taking all first born children with it. The situation was unsettled, tense, and confusing.

Years later, at the birth of a movement, Jesus met with his 12 disciples, representing those 12 tribes of Israel, and instructed them to eat that Passover meal with him in his last hours. They were told that he would be with them only a short while longer, and that where he was going, they could not come. The meal was simple, but Jesus tied the bread to his broken body, and the wine to his blood, which would be poured out as the sign of a new covenant with God. He also told them that one of the 12 would betray him, though he would not say who.

In the background of this meal was the first Passover meal, that frightful night of escape and deliverance. Now, where was the deliverance? What would it look like? Also in the background of the disciples' meal were the events earlier in the week, when they entered Jerusalem with Jesus and were greeted by a crowd of joyous onlookers. And there were the antagonized Jewish leaders in the city, who the disciples knew were plotting Jesus' death. What was about to happen? What would become of Jesus? What would become of them? Just how dangerous was this situation?

Unsettled. The early Israelites are unsettled on the eve of their perilous escape from Egypt. The disciples are unsettled on the eve of Jesus' confrontation with the Jerusalem leaders. And we too live in an unsettled world, in unsettled lives, strewn with unsettled circumstances and situations. Unsettled is how you and I are invited to see our own situation, but with one caveat. Easter is on the horizon.

Whatever your unsettled situation, however it is that you relate to these unsettled circumstances, Jesus' calm actions, his focus, his understanding of his imminent betrayal and death as somehow transformative, as fulfilling something God-given, and his modeling of the role of a servant when he washed his disciples' feet, all testify to God's will for Jesus and us. They show us hope, faith, and the courage to hang in there, through the unsettledness. This is hard work, this following the king of life through all the unsettledness of our world. This is scary work, uncomfortable work. But we know now, it is also Easter work. God's richest blessings to you as you enter these holy 3 days.

Is the church biased against Trump's travel order?

This is a follow-up post to my last post on whether the church has been too political lately, especially in light of two recent statements published by our Bishops criticizing the President's travel restriction on people from 7 Muslim-majority countries.

So, you are thinking, Pastor, I can't take this anymore.  There's too much rancor on both sides, and I just don't want to think about it.  Well, I agree with you on that score.  All these issues are cutting to the core of our values as citizens.  And we can get very emotional thinking about it all.  But I encourage you to take heart!  These issues are also questioning our values as Christians, and the clarification we gain from thinking about these issues should help us in living out our baptismal covenants with God.

So, at the risk of turning off more people by addressing the church's criticism of the travel ban, I venture into one more side of it.  Some have wondered if it's true, as President Trump said, that the executive order is basically the same thing as an executive order by then President Obama in 2011.  If so, then the church is really showing it's partisan colors when it criticizes one order, but not the other, right?

Well, "basically the same as" is too imprecise to disqualify the church's response.  Reports have indicated that Trump's order is different from Obama's.  I'm not going to go into the details, but you can read a tidy review of the distinctions from this fact-checking website. The bottom line is that Obama's order was in response to credible threats, and simply slowed down the vetting process for Iraqi refugees alone.  Plus, the public didn't find out that Obama had done this until 2013.  Trump's order closes our border to all people, with exceptions for religious minorities, from the 7 countries, and is not based on any direct evidence that there may be past or future terrorists among those wanting to enter the US.  Also, in the case of Trump's travel ban, people have lost their visas, presumably for good.  And all of this with no warning to anybody that these changes in policy were about to take effect.

Bottom line: Obama's order caused some Iraqi refugees inconvenience, perhaps even frustration. Trump's order turns people away, and doesn't give any indication of what will happen to those turned away when (or if) the ban is lifted in three months.  It's pretty inhospitable.  Think of all the ways the administration could have mitigated the effects of such a temporary ban for those who already have received permission to enter the country.  That would have taken the wind out of all criticism.  But the church doesn't want refugees to suffer unfairly, and it believes that given the details of the case, the new order causes unjust suffering.  Our respectful care for foreigners is a command from God in the Bible, as in Exodus 22:21; "You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien, for you were resident aliens in Egypt."  And yes, a 'resident alien' would be someone who has been through our vetting process and received a visa.  Hence the Bishops' letters.

If you've read this far, I honor your willingness to listen to your church, even if you disagree with its actions in this case.  I add here that even evangelical church leaders, (whose interpretations of the Bible are often different from ours) have recently voiced their concern over Trump's order.  That makes for a pretty comprehensive condemnation of the order from our country's religious leaders.

Other questions might be floating in your minds, such as whether the church fears enough for the safety of the country, or whether the church is gullible with regard to the threat of Islamic terrorism.  These are good questions, and the answers to these questions lie at the heart of our political disagreements right now.  Maybe these questions would be good topics for further blog posts.  I invite you to ask questions you have in the comments below.

Finally, you may be thinking that I don't seem to have a problem with the church's position on this.  Well, that may be true, but I've been trained in the same theological tradition that the church's leaders have been trained.  Needless to say there is a lot of agreement among Lutheran pastors on this issue. Nevertheless, I humbly ask you to separate in your mind what you know of my politics from the facts of the case as the church sees it.  The church feels called to stand up for those whom God looks out for, period.  I'm trying to represent this prophetic stand to you in a way that you will at least wrestle with it in your heart.  Thanks for reading!

Church as political organization?!

The church tries to do the right thing.  On the one hand, we have what we think is God's will, and on the other, we have the world to contend with.  Trying to correctly interpret the former is difficult, but not as difficult as trying to predict the latter.

Case in point.  After President Trump's executive order stopping refugees and travelers for different periods of time from 7 Muslim-majority countries, several religious organizations wrote letters in protest of the move.  I tried to describe the rationale for such public protest from the perspective of the Lutheran church in my last blog post.  I tried to address my post to the concerns of those who might feel that such protest by the church is inappropriate, a violation of church/state boundaries, or simply political meddling.  I explained that the church tries not to participate in political posturing, but does reserve the right to publicly testify to its vision of God's will for the world, especially as it pertains to the treatment of other, more vulnerable people. This is the church's "prophetic voice" that it is obligated to heed.  And it tries to keep that voice unsullied by overt partisan affiliations.

Then President Trump did this.  At the National Prayer Breakfast this morning, he vowed to get rid of the Johnson Amendment, which prevents religious organizations that receive tax-free status from publicly endorsing politicians.  That's right.  Such a move would give churches more leeway to work on behalf of political parties and politicians, while keeping their tax-free status.  (Some would argue that all churches should lose their tax-exempt status, but that's a topic for another post.)  Moreover, as Steve Waldman writes, Americans' tax dollars could be spent to support churches, synagogues or mosques that support political candidates that they would never support themselves.

Will it happen?  I've stopped trying to predict what will happen in our country right now.  But it would certainly be a bad idea.  Letting churches become defacto political organizations would certainly jeopardize the separation of church and state, and confuse the public even more about what we believe is the proper distinction between what the world does and how God sees it. The Lutheran church would definitely be against such a move.  Not because it wouldn't want to help create political change.  On the contrary, the church is called to get involved in the messiness of the world.  Christians are called to pay attention, to pray, to participate, to vote, to picket, to protest, whatever the Holy Spirit seems to be inspiring in their hearts.  And yes, the church is willing to do this, even if it risks the impression of inappropriate meddling, so that it might bear prophetic witness to its interpretation of God's will for this messed up world.  We can't keep the church out of politics totally because it has a God-given role to play, but we can and should keep politics out of the church.  Thanks for reading.

Politics: Does the church have something to say?

So, many are wondering lately why the church seems to be sticking its nose into politics.  After all, Jesus didn't come to start a literal kingdom, but spoke about the Kingdom of God, right?!  What about separation of church and state?

This issue is hot right now because of President Trump's January 27, 2017, executive order on people coming from 7 middle Eastern countries.  The order keeps refugees out for 120 days, and visitors from the 7 countries out for 90 days.  Plus, there is an indefinite halt on entry of Syrian refugees.  On behalf of the Lutheran churches in the US, the Bishop of the ELCA wrote a public letter condemning the move, and our local New Jersey Lutheran Bishop wrote a similar letter, together with the two Episcopal Bishops in New Jersey.  Other Christian leaders and leaders of other faiths have written similarly, including the US Conference of Catholic Bishops.  Here's a link to an article that provides an overview of the response (both for and against) of many religious leaders and organizations to Trump's ban.  Basically, response to the ban from most religious organizations has been negative.

But this blog post is trying to help you understand why the Lutheran church responded the way it did.  First, why is the church critical of the ban?  Bottom line, because of the impact of the ban on people who are from those places.  Whatever the case, the church takes into account how vulnerable people are.  Are they protected by their citizen status, or does their status in their home country endanger them?  Are they part of a social majority, or a social minority?   Orphans, widows, strangers, and guests are all seen as more vulnerable, and therefore privileged in God's eyes. The Bible is pretty clear that in a toss-up, God sides with the vulnerable over those who are more secure.  The bishops' letters referred to above provide plenty of biblical examples. If this situation makes anything clearer, it is that for the church, the issue of refugees cuts to the heart of our faith in God.

You might ask, what about how vulnerable we are?  Where does the Church get off condemning a policy when the security of the US is at stake?  Answer: again, because of the impact on people.  The church wants security for all people, not just the US, so it advocates policies that best promote that security while at the same time honoring God's intention for a just and fair society.

Why doesn't the Church just let the government do its thing, in any and all cases?  You know, go with the pros?  Because of sin.  Even well-formed, thriving institutions like law enforcement, the military, education, and health services--even the church itself--can and do make--intentionally or unintentionally--mistakes or enable bad practices.  The church reserves the right to act like a conscience, chiding the social realm to clean up its act.  There are numerous biblical models for this, such as Jesus, as well as the Old Testament prophets of Israel.

Why does the Church think it can comment on governmental policy at all?  Shouldn't it stick to it's own spiritual realm, and leave the worldly realm to politicians?  It's true, Lutherans teach that the two "kingdoms", worldly and spiritual, are distinct, and not to be confused, but they are still related to each other by God for the good of creation.  Thus, the church puts its belief out there, in the form of statements, public messages, and letters from bishops and pastors.  It calls this activity "witnessing" to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The church wants to make the world better.  It doesn't believe it can make the world perfect.  That perfection lies in God's future for the world.

Well, this could go on and on.  Maybe it's helped.  Maybe not.  If you are still struggling with how you see the church responding, know that you are not alone.  The church is an imperfect vehicle for the articulation of the Gospel, and many voices within the church debate these things all the time.  Still, in this case, we should take note of the number of other religious leaders and organizations that seem to agree with the Lutheran church here.  Is there a consensus among people of faith that is being articulated in this political moment?  The next question is, does this consensus reflect the will of God?  If you are a believer, you are supposed to struggle with this question.  My job as pastor is to make people aware of the church's positions, but I'm not here to convert you.  In the future, I'll try to follow up with more posts that provide some more background on Lutheran thinking on the relation between church and state.  Thanks for reading.

A fresh start...

Looks like I've been lazy.  Last post to this blog was over a year ago.  I can't help it.  Combine the fact that I'm actually shy with a deep and abiding gift for procrastination, and you get this--a blog that says so little.  More like a 'blah-g' than a blog.

Well, I'm out to change that. Call it a new leaf.  People in my personal life, and in my work as a Lutheran pastor, are awash in information and the cacophony of our strident society.  It seems we think that people aren't real people today if they don't hold in contempt some political or ideological opponent.  I get the feeling that we are as proud of having enemies as we are of our own righteous positions.  I struggle daily to find my own balance in the political winds of change that have swirled over us in the last few months.  And it looks like it will only get better, or worse, depending on how you see it.

So for the sake of those humble souls who will join me in trying to look at the world through the lens of a progressive Lutheran theology, I offer these musings--a little theology, a little Bible study, a little culture commentary, a little comparative religion.  There, I've told you my bias.  Take it at face value and see if it is helpful.  And when my thoughts are not, God's grace is sufficient, as the good book says.

Prayer for the day-
God, you enlighten the darkness with the true Light.  Help us walk in the light of Christ, and at the last, awaken to the brightness of his glory.  Amen.

Papal Stirrings on intercommunion, Roman Catholic/Lutheran

Pope Francis recently gave a pastoral answer to a question from a woman who represented a Catholic/Lutheran marriage.  The issue was how to handle the pain of not being able officially to commune together at the same church.  The Pope essentially left the question open to one's conscience.  Personal disclosure, this is an issue close to my heart.  My wife is Roman Catholic, as are my children.  We regularly experience this pain of ruptured Christian fellowship at the Lord's Table.  We pray regularly for ecumenical reconciliation, especially on this point.

courageous hospitality

A small public media storm has erupted today (Dec 14, 2012) over the planned conference of the Muslim Public Affairs Council, which has offices in Washington D. C. and Los Angeles.  The reason is that the conference is being hosted by an Episcopal Church, All Saints Church in Pasadena. 

The New York Times article about this event uncovers the root of the controversy in the work of Ryan Mauro, who was paid by the Institute for Religion and Democracy to write a piece accusing MPAC of being connected to the Muslim Brotherhood, the Islamist political organization that is currently in power in Egypt.  The Institute for Religion and Democracy regularly attacks liberal-leaning Christian organizations for their openness and tolerance.

Laurie Goodstein, the writer of the NYT article, pushed Mauro on the nature of the connection he saw between MPAC and the Muslim Brotherhood.  Mauro's response was that the council "still promoted books written by scholars who studied with the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood."  (That person, Hassan al-Banna, was assasinated in Egypt in 1949.)

Maybe.  But that connection, even if true to some extent, is tenuous at best.  What is more important is what MPAC stands for in its civic work, and even more so, the relationship that they evidently have with their Christian brothers and sisters at All Saints.  The church’s rector, the Rev. J. Edwin Bacon Jr., has worked on interfaith issues with MPAC for years, and is not alone among other civic voices in supporting MPAC through interfaith cooperation. 

So there is a level of trust that has been established.  Public trust of this kind is highly undervalued, and regularly dismissed by those who wish to hinder progressive civic action and cooperation.  The Christians and Muslims involved in making the MPAC Conference happen are to be lauded for working against the tide of kneejerk Islamaphobia that continues to slosh around in American society today.  Courageous hospitality, of the kind All Saints Church obviously teaches and preaches, is vital to making interfaith encounters and cooperation not just a dream, but a reality.

videos, religion, and picking fights

Protests erupted in several Islamic countries this week, the anniverary of 9/11, mostly in reaction to a video denigrating Islam, and especially the prophet Muhammad.  The movie was made by an American citizen. This anti-Islamic movie, “Innocence of Muslims,” is said to portray the Prophet Muhammad as a drunken torturer of women and children.  It's been around on Youtube for two months, but it was recently dubbed into Arabic, and the trailer swept around the world on Youtube.  Suddenly, on Wednesday, four American diplomatic personel were dead because of rioting at the Libyan embassy. 

There are several angles to take, but on this blog, we focus on a Christian approach to people of other faiths. Some might ask why the violent reaction to such a video?  They might say to themselves that they would never react like that, even if someone from another culture or religion made fun of or denigrated theirs.  People should just learn to deal with the humiliation and anger they feel when offended by someone else's bigotted free speech.

But that humiliation is a big factor in driving the hot reactons to incendiary acts that sometimes come out of Western cultures.  That humilation comes out of the reality of an inequality, economically and socio-politically, between largely Muslim societies and Western ones.  So the casualness, the wanton ease with which the offending material is created in the West, and then shared and tolerated, heaps up the humiliation already present. 

On a radio program called "the Takeaway", Dr.Vijay Preshad, chair of South Asian history and director of the international studies department at Trinity College and author of "Arab Spring, Libyan Winter", explained that humiliation among Muslims in the Middle East is running high (it has for decades), even after the changes of the Arab Spring.  This is mostly because, despite the significant political changes in many countries, the vast majority of their citizens still feel disenfranchized and voiceless.  Many feel they have changed out dictators for Western educated bureaucrats, and have been shut out of the democratic processes that they expected would be open to them now. No matter what the more gentile members of the ruling class say, the political underclass feel the need to assert their voices and vent their feelings.  (Actually, there are some reports that the size of the protests around the world this week have been very small, disproportiate to the media furor they've caused.  So the political underclass is certainly more diverse than we might think.)

Some might say that this talk of Muslim humiliation only serves to justify the violence and fails to hold such people accountable.  But Preshad insists that there is a difference between taking an objective view toward gaining a better understanding, and making excuses for peoples reactions.

The question I keep coming back to is this; what does it take to stir up in people a wise forebearance and a fitting hesitancy to denigrate the religious sentiments of other people?  This is not about the laws that protect the right to free speech.  They are there.  But for people of faith, the question is the ethical use of "free speech."   I want to keep in the front of my own mind what values I bring to the decisions I have with regard to free speech.  Do I enjoy freedom of speech?  Yes.  Is it respectful or loving to use free speech in ways that just plain offend other people.  No.  It may be tempting to get stuck in a thought loop that just bemoans the actions of those we wish would calm down.  But people of faith need to reaffirm, with conviction, that regardless of what we could say as citizens protected by national laws, we are not "free" in our Christian consciences to use speech to hurt, demean, dehumanize or slander other people and the things they hold sacred. 

Humility and "cultures of debate"

One of my favorite metaphors for intellectual interaction occurs in Plato's Republic in the Allegory of the Cave [Book VII(514a–520a)].  Socrates, the great philosopher of ancient Athens, is telling this story to Glaucon, Plato's brother.  (Here's a link to the story.)  At the heart of the philosopher's dilemma is the problem of what to say to those still stuck in the cave, who are looking at shadows on walls manipulated by the cave's stewards, and thinking all along that this is reality.  Once you've been out of the cave, and experienced a "higher" reality, you know too much to ever be happy again in the cave.  Yet this knowledge obligates you to share it.  However, your new knowledge threatens those still in the cave.  Plus, your inability to adjust to the darkness (as you go back in) marks you as defficient in their eyes.  As Socrates tells it, the philosopher will be attacked and even killed by the others.  So, how will you proceed to interact with them?  Lifted to the level of intellectural exchange, how do you get people to talk about their most cherished convictions so that they can be examined, tested, and maybe even relinquished?

If we frame this in terms of interfaith dialogue, we might ask what it would take to encourage people of different faiths (Hindu, Muslim, Christian, etc) and different worldviews (theist, atheist, secular, etc) to engage with one another in healthy forms of dialogue, instead of unhealthy attacks on the beliefs of those they disagree with?  What does it take to get people to open up to the possibility that their convictions are potentially like another's convictions, i.e. that might be found lacking? 

Crucial here is the ability to humbly admit a lack of knowledge while maintaining a good faith effort to stay engaged in dialogue.  I was reminded of this intellectual position of humility in a recent NYTimes edition of the Stone, its philosophy blog.  Carlos Fraenkel, professor of Philosophy at McGill University, describes how societies might create cultures of debate in which people would be encouraged to engage with others who differ from them about their philosophical worldviews.  Of course, there is a difference between interreligious dialogue and philosophical debate, but I'm thinking of the way they overlap.  [Also, interreligious "debate" is often what interreligious "dialogue" devolves into.  If you've ever experienced this, you know how uncomfortable and frustrating it is.] 

I'm drawn to the problem that Fraenkel raises about taking our convictions for granted.  Just like those still stuck in the cave, we hate to learn that we take for granted our own philosophical worldviews and don't really examine them.   How sure are you that the world is the way you think it is?  How sure are you that your religious beliefs are viable?  When you think about it, you have to admit that many of your convictions remain simply that, convictions about a certain state of affairs.  Is there proof?  If so, they're not really convictions, but factual knowledge.  Fraenkel says if you take this idea seriously, you are a fallibilist, someone who countenances the possibility that their views might be false.  He writes, "...and if you are a fallibilist you can see why valuing the truth and valuing a culture of debate are related: because you will want to critically examine your beliefs and values, for which a culture of debate offers an excellent setting."

I believe these "cultures of debate" could entail both dialogue and debate between religious and non-religious worldviews.  The bottom line for all participants is the same: in the spirit of Socrates' story of the Cave, are you willing to submit yourself and your view's to rational scrutiny?  If you think you are, Socrates would say that you are more like the true philosopher than the crowd stuck in the cave!