Why Not Just Sit Down With One Another?

Whether or not one wants to admit it, religion has been involved in much of the world’s wars and bloodshed through the millennia.  To be fair, the leadership of certain belief systems have often sought for personal power in their fervor, or they considered another groups’ theology to be evil or heretical and have incited their believers to take up arms to assert their beliefs.  Regardless, history is littered with corpses of religious men and women. 

As examples, the Crusades was an effort by the Christians to drive the Muslims out of Jerusalem and other lands.  The Spanish Inquisition saw the Catholic Church put believers of Islam and Judaism on trail to be executed.  In the early days of the Reformation in Europe, Catholics killed or burned at the stake hundreds of thousands who wanted that reformation.  I am keenly aware of the persecution and murders of believers of my Church’s doctrines in the 19^th Century by those who felt threatened by our presence in their lands.  The worldwide terrorism in the 21^st Century has theological underpinnings---between militant Islam and Jews and Christians.

The inability of people of different faiths to sit down with one another to discuss shared beliefs and experiences has been very frustrating to me.  As people of faith, we seem unable to make a transition from fear and suspicion to shared humanity and peace.  I don't know that such a transition can take place on a global scale, although I am proud to say that my Church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, really makes an effort to reach out to other religions to establish commonalities, especially in shared humanitarian efforts.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

I want to share an experience that I had recently with some friends of another faith.  My wife and I are Christian and the other couple are Muslim.  She and my wife got to know one another and became friends while attending graduate school together to obtain Master’s Degrees in Mathematics.  The four of us have spent time together in each others’ homes, sharing our lives, eating food, and talking about the commonalities of our different faith systems in an effort to increase our understanding.  But in my estimation, our recent visit to their home took our relationship to a whole new level.

Our friends have two adult children, a daughter and a son.  They have loved both of their children but as they talked about their son that day, they talked about him in almost reverential tones because of how seriously he has taken their religion and its beliefs.  They reported that he always has wanted to do what was good, and would study the Quran to understand its teachings in order to be a better Muslim, even waking up at 5:00 am to study it of his own free will. They talked about how sensitive he has been toward them, toward his sister, and toward anybody around him.  Sadly, the son was involved in a serious automobile accident toward the end of 2010 and was hospitalized for three months.  Unexpectedly, the son then contracted pneumonia and soon thereafter passed away, at the too young age of 20.

We have shared our grief and pain with them through the years about our son who has been addicted to drugs for much of his life.  We have talked about our frustrations, our parenting errors, our discouragement and sadness, and during our discussion that day, how we have come to learn to turn him and his life over to God.   As I sat listening to our friends discuss their grieving process over the loss of their son, I was struck by the commonality of emotions that parents feel over their children.  I was also struck by the thought of how this life is a great laboratory established by a loving God to help Christians, Muslims, and all of His children to learn what we need to learn and experience what we need to experience.   

I shared my tender feelings with them about how I believed there was purpose for them, our friends, and for us, to have these sons.  They shared with us their heartache and sadness, but also shared their faith in a life after this life, free of pain and suffering.  We shared our faith in a post-mortal existence as well.  His mom even shared with us how a few hours before he died, he apologized to her.  Based upon a previous conversation she had with him , her belief was that he had been given a choice as to whether to live or not, and that he had chosen to move on to the next world.  Upon hearing that, I felt a spiritual witness that what she had just recounted was exactly what had happened, and I felt very close to her. 

I didn’t matter in these moments of shared pain and grief that our theologies were quite different.  It didn’t matter that our concepts of deity are different and that our belief systems dictate different ways to worship.  It didn’t matter that they are from Iran and we are from the United States.  It didn’t matter that they eat halal food and that we don’t drink coffee or tea.  It didn’t matter that she wears a scarf on her head and my wife doesn’t.  None of those differences mattered!  We have been and were united in spirit in those wonderful moments together because we were willing to be vulnerable and open with one another.  I felt that we shared an incredibly intense, spiritual experience even though we supposedly were so different.  I love these two people with all of my heart and I pray to my God who I know is their God also, to give them strength and understanding as they deal with their heavy burden.  As we departed, they expressed their love and appreciation for us and we for them.  I only wish that believers of all religions would allow themselves to be secure yet vulnerable in their beliefs and to just sit down with one another.