 Ten years ago, a coalition of community leaders decided to launch
an inquiry that would explore the place of religion in a democratic
society. To ground their investigation, they concentrated on one
of the most vexing and enduring chapters in western history: the
story of the Jewish-Christian encounter. Conceived with theological
daring and sustained by a commitment to translate innovative scholarship
into congregational life, the ICJS emerged in the wake of a National
Workshop that brought scholars and religious leaders to Baltimore
from around the country. The ICJS continues to build on this inheritance
through a rich variety of educational programs that are changing
the landscape of interfaith relations in this city. While firmly
rooted in local soil, the reach of our projects increasingly extends
beyond regional and even national borders. So it is with considerable
gratitude that I acknowledge the uncommonly diverse membership
that has bolstered our organization with its keen interest and
financial support. Together we have carried an educational vision
further than anyone once dreamed possible.
As the ICJS bounces out of infancy, it is vitally important to
look back and ponder what binds people to the ICJS. To be sure,
the task of confronting the legacy of contempt and disarming the
suspicions and hostilities that have accumulated over the centuries
is recognized as an ethical imperative. The commitment to replace
misunderstanding with learning, to plumb the depths of our scriptures,
and to unravel our tangled history presents us with an intellectually
and spiritually compelling opportunity to step outside of our
familiar sanctuaries and to develop the capacity to see ourselves
through the eyes of another. As important as each of these elements
may be, I am convinced that a growing number of people are bound
to the ICJS by more than duty, guilt, curiosity, or excitement.
At its best the ICJS provides a context in which Christians and
Jews can explore the possibilities of friendship that span religious
and ethnic divides, and here, too, we can discover our limits,
and the limits of our traditions.
Aristotle distinguishes three types of friendship: those based
on pleasure, on utility, and on virtue. The fragility of the first
two kinds of friendship is readily apparent, for the conditions
that produce pleasure and render the other useful are susceptible
to disruption. A crippling disease or unfortunate change in circumstances
can quickly dissolve such a relationship, and so Aristotle maintains
that the highest form of friendship is based on virtue--a quality
that is enduring. In contrast to our romantic notions, Aristotle
understands friendship as inherently triadic. If you and I develop
a lasting friendship, it is only because we are oriented to an
overarching good in which we both participate. We do not lock
our gaze on one another but direct our attention to a reality
that pulls each of us beyond our parochial interests.
Can Christians and Jews forge friendships when the good which
they seek is God? In other words, can Christians and Jews pursue
a relationship that is freighted with theological content? The
question is layered with complexities that are not easily resolved.
The better we come to know one another, the better we come to
see that we are not transparent to one another. Despite all that
we have in common, our histories, our experiences, and our core
affirmations render us, Christians and Jews, mysteries to one
another. We find the other wrapped in an enigma, and we are bound
together by questions that we are just beginning to formulate.
For those who were taught to build consensus and to take aim at
unanimity, as I was, the religious and ethnic chasms in this country
induce disappointment, denial, and even dread. If we travel on
parallel tracks, if there is no prospect for convergence, if our
differences are irreconcilable, how can we ever come to know,
trust, and be enriched by the other? Can we really share what
matters most to us? Does friendship, to refashion the maxim by
E. M. Cioran, amount to "an agreement on the part of two people
to overestimate each other?" Does interfaith understanding require
a gift for self-deception?
Heaven forbid, for we are saddled with enough delusions already!
Indeed, it is precisely with the hope of seeing ourselves, our
world, and our God more clearly that we plunge into this conversation
with our neighbors. In enmity we freeze, from the inside out;
in friendship we open ourselves to the unexpected and risk the
disorienting claims of respect and affection. We hold onto the
hope that there is a path that leads through the wilderness. No
one can go this adventure alone. Indeed, we cannot find the way
without the insights and experiences that emanate from distant
corners of the larger community. So, as the ICJS launches conversations
that use Genesis as a touchstonein congregations, schools, colleges
and universities, and, most recently, in prisons and in nursing
homeswe will no doubt learn a great deal about the formative
power of sacred story and its ability to bind together people
from every stripe. We may then discover that we are linked to
each other far more profoundly than we ever imagined. |