Overcoming the Cycle of Violence in the Holy Land

Is it possible to live in peace with others without experiencing the insights that their worldview fosters?

In our global society, people of every conceivable religion move to every conceivable corner of the globe. For us to be economically productive and ecologically prudent, we must work together in inter-religious and multi-cultural teams. For the most part, we work together peacefully. We respect our neighbors. Each great religion emphasizes the values of respect for human life and compassion for the other. Yet, there are sporadic outbreaks of violence. One of the causes is religious nationalism which understands a faith as a sacred canopy which defines a geographical territory. In the United States, we hear religious nationalism in the form of statements such as “America is a Christian nation.” Such statements misunderstand the real value of religion by equating God who is infinite with an orientation toward a finite geographical place.

If we had more reverence for the true nature of God, for God as infinite, ineffable, beyond the human attempt to name and confine, we might have more insight into the reality that God communicates with us through the religious traditions of others. I know this personally. I am a Catholic. My religion makes its ultimate claims, but I learn from more than just the Christian Scriptures and the Catholic tradition. I learn from others. When I allow them to be other, completely beyond my attempt to name or control, I am open to the wisdom that God is offering me through their own living traditions.

For example, I value forgiveness and I have had the experience of being forgiven and of forgiving others in the Catholic sacrament of reconciliation. I have also been studying Buddhist insights into reconciliation, chiefly stemming from the practice of mindfulness. I can see basic similarities between Buddhist insights and the insights of Thomas a Kempis in his Imitation of Christ, but I can also sense something radically other and revealing in the Buddhist authors, especially the gift of meditating on what they call the inherent emptiness of existence (what I as a Christian would call mystery). One also cannot help but be impressed by the examples of the Dalai Lama, Thich Naht Hanh and other Buddhist practitioners. They practice non-violence in ways that most Christians only speak about. Yet, I remain a Catholic Christian, deeply grateful for the sacramental vision of the Church.

I have learned from many traditions: I can recall a good story about Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. A friend was complaining that he—the friend--was not more like Moses. Heschel responded “God is not going to ask me ‘Why are you not Moses?’ but rather ‘Why are you not Heschel?’’—emphasizing the value of authenticity. I have also learned from Holocaust survivors who have forgiven Catholics who ignored them as they were shipped off to concentration camps (and in some cases helped ship Jews to the camps). They constantly remind us to always resist genocide. I learn from the staff and members of the Jewish Community Center of Akron as they teach my daughter and celebrate the diversity of their membership. I know the Hebrew Bible better thanks to the writing of Robert Alter and I know that Catholic Biblical scholarship would be lost without the vibrant study of Jewish scholars of both the Hebrew and the Christian Scriptures.

I will be honest and admit that I have not had the opportunity to study Islam as well as I would like to, but I vow to change that in the near future. I have had the privilege of studying with three brilliant Islamic scholars at the Catholic University of America—Sayed Reza Hejazi, Kemal Ataman, and Bahar Davary—as they were pursuing their Doctorates in Religious Studies. Reza, Kemal, and Bahar exemplified respect for the other, critical insight in the classroom, and an articulate explanation of their faith. From them and other Muslims I have developed an even deeper appreciation for prayer.

I have become more attuned to the energies of my own body—what Hindus call prana—through a Yoga class I am currently taking. Each pose activates a different line of energy and the class culminates in a very deeply peaceful relaxation of each part of my body into the present moment.

All of this makes me wonder about the current suffering in the Middle East. I know that there are geopolitical concerns and military strategies that go beyond my expertise, but I can’t help but wonder if there is some way to nurture compassion for the other and if such compassion is the key to overcoming the cycle of violence between Jews and Muslims (as well as the violent attitudes that some Christians have toward the warring parties and toward what they consider the proper partition of Palestine/Israel). Judaism, Islam and Christianity proclaim that God is compassionate and that God rewards human compassion. What if Jews, Christians and Muslims—the three religions with a history of violence toward each other concerning the Holy Land—were to pray with each others’ sacred texts and the commentaries each writes about these texts. What if we were to try to very sincerely imagine ourselves as the other and appreciate why the other truly values the sacred sites of the Holy Land? Would this give us some hesitation when we plan to harm each other over these very sites?

I am not advocating cafeteria spirituality or spirituality without healthy boundaries. We first need to develop a solid foundation in our own tradition and make sure that the younger members of our traditions receive solid foundations (what I as a Catholic would call catechesis). After that, to ensure we grow in our own faith, we need to allow others to reveal to us the depth and brilliance of God. We need to risk praying and meditating with texts from traditions different from our own and then return to our own tradition changed, more compassionate, valuing the other, even when that other threatens us. The alternative to valuing the other is terror, control and occupation which only lead to violence and entanglement. It is a vicious cycle from which we will never be free.

To become free of this cycle we need to ask God for the blessing of a sincere reverence for the religiosity of those who are different than we are and we need to pray with those who are different from us. A solid grounding in our own tradition and then acting to open ourselves to the on-going religious revelations of the other, as other, leads to peace and freedom.