“Dueling Protests over Ground Zero Mosque” CBS Evening News today comes with my tiny tiny contribution to the truth about Imam Feisal (BTW, my 15 sec of fame came out of a 30 min interview). The whole story is that Imam Feisal is a wonderful man and that Muslims had their mosque in the area even before the WTC was there. They are innocent people. Please friends ponder that. Innocent. Their expulsion from the neighborhood would be a terrible mistake.

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Over the years I have managed to collect pictures with most of the characters from my book.  Here is the photo of Sue Lee and her son Tristan and an excerpt from  “It’s Really All About God.”

Remembering good old times with Sue and Tristan at a recent birthday party in Korea Town, year 2010.

- – – book excerpt – – –

On a cold Saturday morning in December 2001, Soo Lee waited for her already-late friend on a busy street corner in Manhattan. She discovered she was standing in front of the doors of an old limestone church off Park Avenue where I was the pastor. Its large red doors were symbols of the large hands of God embracing everyone who ventured inside. That’s what God was all about, I thought—inviting people in.

For Soo and most of her friends, church was a treacherous place. But the cold was biting, and the doors were unlocked. It was Christmas, and I had titled my sermon “The Magic of Christianity.” Soo was a lively and tender young Korean woman who followed the spiritual path of White Magic and the Wicca religion, and the words “magic” and “Christianity” together drew her from the foyer into the sanctuary. She sat and listened to a story about a stable in Bethlehem, a magical moment in human history when, as Christians believe, the physical world as it appears to us humans and the spiritual world of God’s Kingdom—the world as it really is—interpenetrated and became one.

Soo, as I later learned, is a person of uncommon stamina, a single mom, an urbanite who had learned to handle the grind of New York City with the smile of a marathon runner who has found a groove in the midst of pain. My wife and I loved spending time with her. We liked the way she thoughtfully constructed her sentences. We liked the way she paid attention to what we didn’t say as much as to what we said. And we liked the way she treated everyone and everything around her. With compassion. Over the next several months, Soo and her little son, Tristan, became family friends. Soon we were caring for her boy and she was caring for our little daughters.

Some months after we met Soo, my church hosted the annual gathering of a national network I belonged to that consisted of mostly professional clergy and church leaders. The main service was going to include a closing segment we titled “Testimonies of Failure,” with six leaders who would tell us how they had failed in their religious work. It was not to be “how God turned things around for me” or “how my failure has actually been a blessing.” There would be no explanations, no justifications—just standing up, sharing the misery, and sitting down. I had a month to find someone who could address these hurting people with some healing words.

I thought of people who had cared for and encouraged me, and Soo immediately came to mind. But the thought seemed preposterous. Soo? How could I ask a witch to pray over a group of pastors? She could neither defend nor advocate for our religion—she was an outsider. But the experience of being a part of Soo’s life had opened a crack in the wall that separates “us” (those on the inside) from “them” (those on the outside). Then a thought broke through, a possibility that I found both burdensome and exhilarating. What if God is on the outside too? Does God have to be absent out there in order to be present in here?

The thought of inviting Soo into the inner sanctum of our Christian experience ripened like wine, intoxicating my orthodox faith. Everything I had been taught told me that God, in God’s infinite wisdom and love, has chosen to dwell in our religion. It was a kind of certainty one can stake one’s life on. But then everything I had experienced with Soo—and, as I began recalling, others like her over the years—told me that God dwells in the lives of people. All people. Drunk with these thoughts, I hesitated. Which should win? Religion? Or life? Should I use life to prop up my religion? Or should I use my religion to honor life?

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Soo said with a smile when I asked her. Then she added, “But only if I can pray to God as Mother.”

“Soo,” I said, and paused, taking time to swallow a momentary feeling of regret for approaching her at all, “some of these religious leaders are worn out and beaten down, and on that day, our goal is not to expand their theology but to comfort them.”

“I understand, Pastor Samir. That’s all right. For now. Let’s leave the discussion about the Christian obsession with phallic power for some other time,” she said with a gracious smile. “Is it okay if I pray to God as Holy Spirit?”

“Wonderful,” I said, relieved.

On the day of the gathering, after the six “losers” had shared their stories, the congregation was quiet, stunned by tales of the stark reality behind much of religious work and community organizing. Most of us religious people who go to our places of worship to receive religious goods and services assume that our faith is triumphantly marching forward on all fronts. Nobody wants to be a part of a losing battle. So talking about failures devoid of happy endings created an unbearably empty space in our hearts.

The sacred Scriptures say that in emptiness, God creates.

Then it was Soo’s turn to pray. After introducing her to the crowd, I stepped aside, regretting my choice again, my jaws tightening, my palms sweating. How did I get myself into a situation of bringing a witch to bless a conservative Christian crowd? Did I want to lose my job?

Or was I heeding the call of Jesus—losing my life in order to find it?

With the steady voice of a person who has no doubts that our ordinary lives are saturated with the Presence, she said, “Dear Holy Spirit, I am not a Christian. But I and my son are cared for in this church. These people who follow you work very hard to make a difference in the world and love people like us. Now they are tired, disoriented, discouraged. Please, make them see how important their work really is. What would our world be without people like them? Help them continue caring so that people like me might find a better way.”

There are religious experiences that have the power to restart our hearts, when fresh faith in God, humanity, and world is uploaded into our soul systems. This was one of those moments. A hush fell over the crowd, and Soo’s words lingered in the air like a sweet heathen scent. While some sat there paralyzed by the offense of her presence at the church pulpit, many of us basked in her compassion for us. We were hoping that if we just stayed quiet, there would be more words from her, interceding to our God on our behalf.

Life won.

After the crowd dispersed, I sat on a pew in the empty sanctuary to jot down these words in my notebook: “We are scared of finding our God in the other. Why do we fear something so wonderful?”

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~ by Ryan Bell who is the Senior Pastor of the Hollywood Seventh-day Adventist Church. You can learn more by reading his blog, Intersections.

Why should Christians participate in the Faith House project?  I believe that Jews, Muslims, atheist, and others will each generate solid reasons for their participation.  Such reasons will be rooted in their story/worldview. For us Christians, it is the incarnation that can most powerfully and creatively shape our imagination towards an answer.

For generations missionaries from the West (the US, UK, Australia & New Zealand) have entered communities of people profoundly different from themselves. These missionaries were taught to enter these communities as learners. This learning encompassed everything from language to food to social norms. Our short hand for this is “culture.” In short, these missionaries knew they were entering a world of which they had almost no understanding. As they learned about the people to whom God had sent them they were engaging the profound theological practice of “paying attention” – paying attention to God’s Spirit, being attentive to their own hearts and souls, and watching for evidence of God’s initiatives in the community.

Naturally, missionary engagements almost never went that smoothly. The modern missionary movement has become known for its arrogance and colonialism. Nevertheless, missiologists and responsible missionaries the world over know that they must be, at some level, anthropologists as well as theologians.

We have assumed that a learning posture toward our own native culture is unnecessary. After all, this is our home. However, as the world has come to us (especially in the urban centers) and the social fabric of Western societies has worn thin and come apart, we find ourselves in a vastly different world than that of our parents and grandparents.

In the midst of the church’s confusion about its place in this unhinged world, we are (or should be) driven back to our core narratives. And, at the very outset of those narratives we find the story of God showing up in our world at the most unlikely time and the most unlikely place. Theologians call this the Incarnation – divine become human. St. John said this about this mystery: “The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.”

So, the primary mission question of our time is, can we live among the people of our neighborhoods? Can we “pitch our tent” in the pluralistic village as a neighbor and learner without coming with all the answers in our pocket? Can we open ourselves to the possibility of learning as much from our neighbors as they will learn from us? My contention is that much that has passed for evangelism and/or mission work in the US and elsewhere has been shaped more by a colonial than by an incarnational imagination. It’s high time we have our imaginations shaped by the story of God’s missionary encounter with us.

Why then should those of us who are Christians participate in the Faith House project? First, to learn and to receive, and then perhaps to teach and to give.

Ways to Donate to Faith House Manhattan

• SEND A CHECK
  written to “Faith House Manhattan”
  PO Box 552, New York, NY 10028

• GIVE ONLINE through our Fiscal Sponsor
  (AMM) Select  “Faith House”

• GIVE ONLINE through our  Facebook Cause

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When two young men, Moez, a Muslim, and David, an Orthodox Jew, strike up a friendship by engaging in serious thinking, good humor, and mutual support before, during, and after our Living Room Gatherings, Faith House happens. When our leaders talk to groups from all over the world who come to the city to learn the ways of interdependence, like a recent group of students from Denmark, Faith House happens (next year they are bringing the teachers from their entire school region). When we bring together GreenFaith, Bill McKibben, 350-dot-org and “green” Muslims to join together in a life-sustaining event in the largest cathedral in the USA, that’s Faith House too (September 18, 2010, full details coming soon!). When we direct people to our numerous and amazing allies such as the Interfaith Youth Core in Chicago and Union Theological Seminary or Intersections International in New York, Faith House happens. When we stand for and consult with our Muslim friends in Cordoba Initiative in New York who are daring to open a new front against radicalism by building Park51, a Muslim Community Center in downtown Manhattan, serving all Americans, Faith House happens. And on and on it goes.

We are all very busy in our own circles of belonging. We have our own people and our own affairs to take care of. Yet, the wellbeing of our own circles and our own affairs is now intertwined with the wellbeing of others. The time when we could leave issues of freedom, religion, and politics to those with the loudest voices is now over. We cannot live well if we know more about brands of consumer products than we know about the amazing treasures of history, stories, and spirituality of people who live across the street or work across the office or a members of our family. This must, can, and will change. In fact, investing in interdependence is not a risk but a safe investment into our future. A failure to invest in it would be a reckless course of action.

We have set a modest goal that we have to meet in order to survive as an organization. We are one-third of the way there. Risk with us. Contribute generously now.

In Faith,

Samir Selmanovic, Ph.D.
Founder and President of the Board, Faith House Manhattan

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By TheOOZEtv:

Let’s step over the threshold of “stalemate” and create new stories, says Samir Selmanovic, in an interview with ThinkFWD host, Spencer Burke. Selmanovic’s book, It’s really all about God, was born out his faith journey that began with childhood in a Muslim family where belief in God was considered a crutch, although the traditional religious holy days and celebrations were observed. When he became a Christian, he was expelled from his home and spent two years sleeping on the couches of church members who took him in. He confesses he spent many years stridently arguing for the “rightness” of his particular religious beliefs—“My beliefs are true; yours are not.”

Today, Samir encourages us to rethink our faith and move from “It’s all about me.” to “It’s all about God.” Muslim, atheist, Jew –these are adjectives to the name “Christian,” he says. Samir is part of a gathering called Faith House which invites the community to share a common space (a living room) and experience their neighbor’s faith. All of our different faiths, and the different “mysteries” that each of us are, affect each other. Learning about my neighbor’s faith and experience, allows me to see new beauty, and poses questions that help me deepen and broaden my faith.

We need to encounter brothers, neighbors, even strangers of different faiths. We need a perspective that says, “There must be more about you, about others, than just to serve MY story.” Samir says, “I cannot argue for the absence of grace and say that YOUR story must be a lie for mine to be true. We are called to judge things by their fruit. Take a close look at our theology and if it sounds reprehensible, then we need to admit that.”

For Samir, humility and hospitality IS the doctrine, the dogma, and to practice it is to go deeper, not to water down, our faith. Christianity exists to serve the Kingdom of God, not the other way around. Look around you, says Samir. The Kingdom of God is here—enter it!

For Personal Reflections and Small Group Questions click HERE.

“Experiencing Your Neighbor’s Faith” is a tagline of Faith House Manhattan. We really do this!  If you would like to help us, click HERE.

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On a hot Sunday, three days ago, I took my younger daughter Leta downtown to observe with me the protest held by those who oppose the Muslim Community Center. I told her that this is part of history, that in US there is always current “other” that people are taught to fear. Current position of “other” in the United States has been assigned to Muslim community. I told her that supporting them in their endeavor is an issue of human rights, and therefore our issue too, as Christians. Plus I bought her her favorite ice-cream.  We sat on a bench in a shade then took some pictures of about 300 protesters. Here is what we saw.

About 300 protesters, mostly from outside of New York, with many signs, American flags, and a line up of dozens of speakers speaking fear and asking for action.

All I need to know about Christianity I learned from KKK?

This sign does not need a comment. The Bible says, "a righteouss person does not assemble with mockers."

Dispersed among the words of fear and hate were some legitimate hurts and concerns expressed. Knowing many Muslims through my work in the city and nationally, I am utterly confident American Muslims will rise to this moment of history and make the United States an even better country than it is today.

My daughter and I stood with Jesus there. We stood shoulder to shoulder with true Muslims. And we shall not be moved.

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This article was written last summer and published in the Winter 2010 issue of the Anglican Theological Review.  It captures my thoughts about Faith House’s first year and this community’s larger contribution.  Although it was written for an Episcopal (Christian) audience, it makes central use of a text from the Qur’an and would be of interest to anyone in the Faith House and interfaith community.
* Download formatted PDF of published article, with footnotes

Anglican Theological Review
Winter 2010 • Pages 175-181
Volume 92 • Number 1

“Has the story reached thee, of the honored guests of Abraham?”

Bowie Snodgrass

Has the story reached thee, of the honored guests of Abraham? Behold, they entered his presence, and said: “Peace!” He said, “Peace!” (and thought, “These seem) unusual people.” Then he turned quickly to his household, brought out a fatted calf, And placed it before them . . . he said, “Will ye not eat?” (When they did not eat), He conceived a fear of them. They said, “Fear not,” and they gave him glad tidings of a son endowed with knowledge. But his wife came forward (laughing) aloud: she smote her forehead and said: “A barren old woman!” They said, “Even so has thy Lord spoken: and He is full of Wisdom and Knowledge.”

Being a guest in the home or religious space of the “other” can be awkward. The story of the visit of the honored guests to Abraham’s tent (Gen. 18:1–15) reminds us of the awkwardness that can also accompany being a host. In Genesis, Abraham has to hurry about after offering food to the strangers, asking Sarah to make bread and the servant to hurriedly prepare a tender calf. In Surah 51 of the Qur’an, Abraham becomes fearful when the guests do not eat the slain calf. In both stories, the hostess, Sarah, laughs aloud when the guests foretell that she will bear a son.

In interfaith relations, whether we are present as guest, host, or on neutral ground, there is at first a degree of awkwardness. At Faith House Manhattan, “an experiential inter-religious community that comes together to deepen our personal and communal journeys, share ritual life and devotional space, and foster a commitment to social justice and healing the world,” we embrace the gift of encountering God in the other as “holy awkwardness” and an indispensable spiritual discipline of the twenty-first century.

TO READ THE ENTIRE ARTICLE, CLICK HERE.

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