This has been a busy interfaith week but one of the most interesting events was a lecture from Professor Amy-Jill Levine who is Jewish but also a scholar of the New Testament. As a Jew she is fascinated by Jesus who is perhaps the most famous Jew of all times and who has led millions of people to a knowledge and worship of the God of Israel. What Professor Levine wants to do is to set Jesus within his Jewish context which can be refreshing but also disturbing. It challenges ways of reading the New Testament that can be anti-Jewish.

For centuries Christians have believed that Jesus was unique, that he challenged the prevailing culture of his time and had a revolutionary approach to life. He was the one who liberated people from the dictates of the law to initiate a new freedom in the Spirit, he was the one who revealed a God of love compared to a God of wrath found in the Old Testament. But seen from a Jewish perspective Jesus’ uniqueness was not so much in challenging the mores of his time but in his teaching. Jesus evolved as we all have done from the dust of the earth and lived as a Jew in a particular context of time and place. The place where he lived, Galilee, was not a backwater. It was cosmopolitan, situated on the silk road route, people living there would have encountered other cultures and beliefs and it is possible that Jesus spoke Aramaic, Hebrew, Greek and Latin.

A popular notion in Christianity is that Jesus had an intimate, filial relationship with God and called God Abba unlike the Old Testament God that was distant and transcendent.  But the God of Jesus is the God of Israel, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  It is the Christian heresy of Marcionism to reject the Old Testament and to say there is a distinction between the God of the Old Testament and New is doing just that suggests Professor Levine. There are wonderful passages in the Old Testament that speak of God as Father and God’s intimate love for human beings. One of my favourites is from the Book of Wisdom “Yes, You love all that exists, you hold nothing of what you have made in abhorrence, for had you hated anything you would not have formed it. And how, had you not willed it, could a thing persist, how be conserved if not called for the by you” (Wis. 11:24-26). The God of the Old Testament is the God of Jesus and where else would Jesus have learned and developed his relationship with God if not within the Judaism of his time.

Recently christian feminist scholars, in their efforts to find a place for women in a patriarchal institution, have depicted Jesus’ relationship with women as unique and contravening the mores of his day. Jesus did have a relationship with women, they were among his followers, he taught them and they cared for him. A favourite story used to illustrate how radical Jesus was in his relationship with women is that of the Samaritan Woman. It goes like this: Jews and Samaritans were enemies; Jesus is crossing Samaria and asks a woman from Samaria for a drink – something no Jew or man would do in public; has a conversation with the women which shows he is the Messiah; the woman (who is declared to have five husbands) brings her townspeople to Jesus. Professor Levine gave us another take on the story. The woman comes to the well of Jacob at mid-day, not because she is an outcast but because she’s likely to have needed water. In the previous chapter of John there’s the story of Nicodemus who comes to Jesus by night. In contrast the Samaritan woman comes in the full light of day at the same time as Rebecca came to the well and was recognised as a fitting wife for Isaac, reflecting as so many of the stories about Jesus do a story in the Old Testament. She could not have been an outcast but must have been respected by her townspeople or they would not have accepted her message and come to Jesus to see and hear for themselves. Nor need she have been a prostitute or shamed woman because she had five husbands. We do not know her circumstances. Did she have a levirate marriage whereby she married the brother of her dead husband?  Was she widowed?

Professor Levine’s work shows a deep love and respect for Jesus. He is, she says, the first person to be called Rabbi in literature, his parables are outstanding teaching aids for adults that “are the best stories ever”. However, she also feels that if we christians get Jesus’ context wrong we get him wrong. To make Jesus out to be different from his time or a rebel against his culture and religion is inaccurate and a ruse to underline the uniqueness of Jesus. It can lead to a denigration of the Judaism of his time and a rejection of the Judaism of our time which can have terrible consequences, the worst of which we remember at the end of the month on Holocaust Memorial Day.
here to edit.

​Christmas has been different and difficult for many of us this year but we’ve survived it and we’re now in a period of recovering from card writing, parcel posting, shopping and cooking  – all of which somehow became more insistent this year.  Now we’re back to lockdown and, for some perhaps, a feeling of isolation, even with skype and zoom possibilities. It feels rather flat and quiet with no new year celebration to look forward to. It’s so different from last new year when I was invited to bring in the new year at a 1920’s themed party. We put together clothes that somehow expressed the spirit of the 20s and even attempted to dance the Charleston. There was a sense of excitement and hope as there often is at new year as we entered what might turn out to be another roaring twenties decade.  This was the  decade which followed on from the Spanish flu of 1918 and was a time of economic growth and prosperity after the devastation of the First World War. It was not to be. 

Unknown to us (but not to everyone) there was lurking a tiny, deadly virus which would disrupt the economy, cause chaos and reveal to us all the vulnerability of humanity and the cracks in our societies with the widening  gap between rich and poor.  The Coronavirus has been the topic of conversations, a motivation for social action, given us a recognition of our dependence on key workers and a growing sense of thankfulness and neighbourliness.  Now as we move into another calendar year there’s much to reflect on and hope for as we dream of a better world which will demand a change in all of us if that dream is to become a reality.

New Year is a time for resolutions and new perspectives. So what might they be?

For me one of them is to try to stand in the shoes of my brothers and sisters who are suffering because of poverty, war, abuse, discrimination, neglect, isolation. I was very aware in writing the first paragraph of this blog that the reality I described of Christmas cards and presents, family and celebrations was not everyone’s reality. Any flatness I might feel is a consequence of not having the opportunity to meet friends and family as would normally happen at Christmas. In itself that’s a sign these things are a reality for me but they’re not for everyone. There are people with whom I live cheek by jowl who have no family, no home, no money, no possibility of the kind of family and community relationships that I have. Life is flat for them all the time. There are neighbours who are lonely, friends for whom Christmas evokes sad and not happy memories and for whom all the razzmatazz around Christmas is painful. This is as true of the reality of Christmas as the joy.  Others for whom the virus has exacerbated mental health issues and the many who in this year are grieving because of the death of loved ones, made even more painful by their inability to be there as their family member died of be consoled by the presence of family and friends at funerals.

Another is to deepen my understanding of ecology. Covid 19 and its restrictions have shown us how much we humans pollute our atmosphere. We heard bird song more than we have done for a long time, we saw blue skies. Some in India saw the Himalayas for the first time in years. We rejoiced in cleaner air as airplanes were grounded and cars were left at home. But now as restrictions are easing we can see the pollution creep back again. Can I feel the pain of this world on which I depend and to which I am intimately related? Can I walk on this earth with reverence and respect doing my little bit to overcome pollution and waste?  Can I cut down my consumption to live a more simple lifestyle?  

There is so much that needs done that it can seem overwhelming. At my age and stage I can do little but I can pray a prayer that feels the pain of the world, offers compassion and hope  to a world and society that I hold in my heart, believing that this  good energy can have a positive and transforming effect. Tibetan Buddhism has a name for this kind of meditation. It’s called Tonglen and is a practice in which we breathe in the pain of others and our world, perhaps visualising this pain as a dark ribbon and breathe out compassion and love, again perhaps visualising this as a light coloured ribbon.  
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Tonglen and similar  meditations  make tangible the reality that we can never pray or meditate as isolated individuals, that we approach God or that Reality in which we live and move and have our very being united to our sisters and brothers and indeed the whole cosmos. It also reminds us that our desire for justice, love and compassion is united to that of many, many good people whose kindness and generosity have been so visible during this past year.  We are part of a great movement towards wholeness and reconciliation. We can have confidence that “the love, courtesy, generosity and beauty that is put into to the world will never vanish from the world. And when it’s time it will restore itself instantly” a quotation from Cynthia Bourgeault that can give us hope as we let go of one year and welcome another. 

Advent is a time of spiritual preparation for Christmas when Christians live in a spirit of expectation and anticipation. It’s a time to remember and to give some extra time to prayer and reflection.  This year I’ve had two interesting Advent moments.
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One was with a Shia Muslim group who wanted to show their support for Christians celebrating at a difficult time and with reduced family gatherings.  At Eid we had had a shared prayer to give support to Muslims who were unable to meet with their extended families. Our Muslim friends wanted to reciprocate by supporting us and assuring us of their prayers.
We heard about the significance of Jesus in the Qur’an and how much he is loved and respected by Muslims who see him as one of the greatest prophets and messenger to humanity.  The prophet Mohammed felt a special closeness to him and the tradition records him as saying, "Both in this world and in the hereafter, I am the nearest of all the people to Jesus, the son of Mary”.  Within the Christian tradition we are used to having different stories about Jesus, especially stories around his birth. The gospels of Mark and Luke tell different stories about the birth of Jesus though popular tradition has merged these into one so that many Christians don’t recognise the diversity in the gospels. This should make us open to the different account in the Qur’an, realising that it is the significance and truth Jesus does not belong solely to Christians though the realisation that Jesus is greater than any religious system and cannot be contained within it can deepen our understanding of the impact of Jesus in the world.
The other moment was an Advent/Hanukkah celebration with a reflection on Advent and the story behind Hanukkah.  Hanukkah is a festival recognising the importance of religious freedom when the Maccabees cleansed and rededicated the Temple that had been desecrated by the Syrian King Antiochus Epiphanes. The miracle remembered at this festival is that purified oil, enough for one day, lasted for eight until it could be replenished. A candle is lit on each day of the festival so, as it was the fifth day of the festival, we lit five candles and heard a Hanukkah blessing and song.
The advent reflection showed us once again how similar the Christian and Jewish traditions are. It came as a surprise to some that the first Sunday of Advent is the beginning of the Christian year, not 1st January.  Some were surprised that there is such a thing as a liturgical year. And like at the festival of Simchat Torah the Christian church begins a new series of gospel readings. This year it’s the gospel of Mark and it will be read on most Sundays throughout the year apart from special feasts and seasons such as lent. The gradual lighting of the hanukkah candelabra or hanukkiah is a little like the four candles on the advent wreath that are lit each Sunday during  church services or during personal prayer if there is a wreath at home.
The word Advent means ‘coming to’ and traditionally Christians think in terms of three comings of Jesus who for them is an image of the invisible God and the One who brings God near and reveals God’s presence amongst us. The season begins by remembering that at the end of time we believe that Jesus will return to bring about the establishment of God’s kingdom.  We also remember the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem in present day Palestine.   Like the Jewish tradition this is not remembering a past event but rather a recognition that through his Spirit and in his community Jesus still walks amongst us and that God comes to us in the events of our everyday lives.
Christians use each of the Sundays in Advent to focus on a theme or character from the infancy narratives as a focus for prayer and reflection.  The readings from our Sunday worship, which during advent includes the prophets, particularly the prophet Isaiah, gives us something to reflect on as well as a disposition to live by.
This year we have been aware of the effects of Covid 19. For example we’ve heard in Church the message to ‘stay awake for we know not the day not the hour when God will come and call us’. There will be few of us this year who don’t know someone who has unexpectedly been called to eternal life either because of or with the virus and we know that this is a call that we will all face some day. Are we ready? But there is also a call that comes to us in our everyday lives. Covid 19 has been such a call – it came unexpectedly but has given us the opportunity to reflect on and perhaps even change our priorities.  
For Christians the journey through Advent in a spirit of prayer and reflection affects all the practical preparations for Christmas, hopefully transforming them into acts of love. And this year an act of love will be to have reduced family celebrations  - as all other faiths have been doing throughout this unusual year. But I for one will be remembering the support of our brothers and sisters from both the Jewish and Muslim faiths. That’s something to be grateful for.   

​I was at a meeting of the religious leaders of Scotland recently. The focus of the conversation was on climate change and what faith communities are doing in the run up to COP 26 which should have been happening in Glasgow next month but now postponed until next year. We were asked to reflect on the possibility of religious leaders issuing a statement on the environment and were given a suggestion as a focus for discussion – always a good idea but sometimes difficult for the person who initially draws it up.  The thing that struck me, and others, about the statement was how secular it was. There were good things in it – welcoming people to Scotland, understanding the gravity of climate change, asking that governments respond effectively and committing the religious leaders to be agents of change. No-one could disagree with those sentiments but it lacked vision or warmth. It didn’t acknowledge the belief that religions have of reverencing and respecting the earth, of how faiths understand our interconnectedness not just with one another but with this planet on which we all depend.  It didn’t call people to see the earth as a gift to be treasured.  It was, I think, an attempt to be inclusive of all whether believers or not. And I wondered if there is a danger in that.
 
Interfaith relations have changed over the years and some Christian Churches, including the World Council of Churches, are now inclined to talk about interreligious dialogue rather than interfaith. The Catholic Church has always used the term interreligious dialogue ever since the Second Vatican Council set the Church on the path of dialogue. The body that deals with dialogue is called the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, not Interfaith Relations. This quite clearly shows the parameters of this dialogue and distinguishes it from other dialogues such as that with Marxism and New Religious Movements. What has led some of the other Christian Churches to speak of interreligious dialogue has been the development of the interfaith movement which has brought about government funding, a focus on social cohesion and security and an extension of the dialogue to include people of non- religious beliefs in keeping with equality legislation.  Interreligious dialogue differentiates the pastoral and theological concerns of religions from that of the public square.     
 
Traditionally a four –fold model of interreligious dialogue proposed by the Catholic Church in its document ‘Dialogue and Proclamation’ has been accepted by the Christian churches: the dialogue of theological experts, the dialogue of religious experience, the dialogue of action and the dialogue of living together. I’ve been lucky to engage in all of these at some level and have come to value their different contributions to expanding our understanding of others. I’ve enjoyed the challenge of some of the theological dialogues, the exploration of the similarities and differences between religions and the opening of new horizons in my own faith. It’s an area which is vital but sadly lacking in Scotland since the closure of the Centre for Interfaith Studies at Glasgow University.   
 
The Dialogue of religious experience has included inter-monastic dialogue which for decades now involved Catholic and Buddhist monastics not just in dialogue but in visiting one another’s monasteries and participating in their way of life. I’ve had my own taste of that in my visits to Samye Ling Tibetan Monastery and Holy Isle and my years of deep and honest conversation with my good friend Ani Lhamo.  So too I’ve been able to have nourishing and inspiring conversations with my  many interfaith friends and can sometimes be more honest with them about my experience of faith than I can with those who share my religion.

Then there is the dialogue of living together and sharing ordinary everyday life as neighbours or co-workers. Living as we now do in a multi-faith, pluralistic society this is a dialogue which many engage in while not naming it as such. This is the dialogue that cements friendships and is the bedrock of a respectful and open society. And finally there is dialogue of action, of engaging with one another for social justice and the common good.  This is one close to the heart of Pope Francis who for years now has spoken about the reality of fraternity (sic), of the interconnectedness of all humanity  and our need for all to work together to overcome the sufferings and injustices that afflict our world.  So is Pope Francis more interested in interfaith than interreligious dialogue? This brings us back to where we started and that statement on climate change.
 
There is no doubt that living together in a world that is not just plural but also unjust is a concern for religions. For the sake of the future of our planet and humanity it’s essential that we work together and contribute to a just and peaceful society.  We need, I think, to learn to speak a language that will be understood in the market place and not revert to traditional dogmatism.  But we need to speak from our own vision and beliefs about the sacredness of human life in all its aspects and show how our contribution to the work for justice comes from a vision that can be inspiring and liberating - but also reveals the shortcomings of those who uphold and advocate it.  Religions speaking together for the sake of justice need to be humble about how they have contributed to injustice. They should be working with people of all faiths and none but must also share, I think, their own vision and belief that shows that working for justice is an integral part of who they are. In doing this they have something significant to add to their dialogue with the world. 

I’ve recently received a copy of Lama Yeshe Losal Rinpoche’s biography, ‘From a Mountain in Tibet’.  Lama Yeshe is the Abbot of Samye Ling Tibetan Buddhist Monastery set in the valley of Eskdalemuir in the Dumfries and Galloway region of Scotland.  It’s an amazing place - a little bit of Tibet nestling in the Scottish countryside. I’ve come to know it well, having first visited it when the Temple was just beginning to be built and accommodation was sparse. I’ve taken students and teachers to visit it and spent time there engaging in Buddist- Christian dialogue with my good friend Ani Lhamo. She and I first really encountered one another when we were asked to lead a dialogue on the beautiful island of Iona. The weather was glorious and we spent hours talking and sharing our faith journey.  And as can happen on this interfaith journey we realised how much we had in common, how similar some of our experiences were in spite of the differences in our rituals and practices. 
 
Lama Yeshe’s biography tells the story of his early and carefree childhood  in Tibet though he always knew he was destined to be a monk and serve his brother Akong Rinpoche who, as a reincarnated Lama, was destined to be abbot of Dolma Lhakang Monastery.  Lama Yeshe didn’t exactly embrace monastic life finding it rather dull and restricting. He even thought that the escape from the monastery when the Chinese invaded Tibet would be a moment of freedom and adventure. Adventure it certainly was but not a pleasant one.  Nine months of crossing the Himalayas, cold, starving, not quite knowing the way, trying to outwit the Chinese, fearing they might be betrayed was an ordeal beyond anything most of us have had to endure.  Three hundred fled with Lama Yeshe and his brother but only 13 survived to arrive and find refuge in India.  Even the thought of what it must have been like to lose all those companions along the way is quite horrific.
 
For Lama Yeshe reaching India did not satisfy his restless spirit and his ventures there and in the United States describe what some might call a loose way of living – smoking, drinking, womanising – not what one would expect from a Buddhist Abbot!  His honesty in describing his rather wild life is refreshing and consoling.  But then he wasn’t a Buddhist monk or abbot at that time! He did have a conversion experience brought about by dissatisfaction with his life, the love and teaching of high lamas and a rigorous programme of meditation and retreats.  It was this that prepared him for life in Samye Ling and his subsequent appointment as abbot in succession to his brother Akong Rinpoche, the much loved founder of the monastery who was tragically murdered in China in 2013.
 
 I was born the same year as Lama Yeshe and though I’ve lived a very different life I couldn’t but reflect on my own life as I thought of what I was doing when Lama Yeshe was sowing his wild oats and delving into the spiritual life through rigorous retreats and meditation.  I was born in the final years of the Second Wold War so life would have been difficult though I was too young to know that. I was brought up in a Catholic community which was loving and protective, secure and comfortable but set apart from the rest of society, mainly because of the sectarianism that prevailed in Scotland at that time.  We Catholics kept to ourselves. It wasn’t quite Tibet but religion and Church were at the centre of our lives and separate Catholic schools meant many of our friends were Catholic. I entered the Convent when I had finished training as a Catholic teacher so was a sister all the time Lama Yeshe was living his turbulent life.  But I could resonate with a lot of what Lama Yeshe said when he talked about the process of having to face self, break out of illusions as he pursued his spiritual path.  I too have been through programmes of mediation and retreats. I too have pursued a spiritual path and have found this inner journey an adventurous and exciting one with its own struggles and difficulties.
 
Life is an amazing adventure.  How could Lama Yeshe have imagined that he would end his days in a monastery in Scotland when he was growing up in Tibet.  He wouldn’t even have known such a place existed. How could I have imagined that my life would have taken me into the world of other faiths, that my path would cross with a Tibetan Abbot whom I’ve come to know as a wise and honoured friend, that I would come to feel at home in a Buddhist monastery and happily sit with Buddhist friends in meditation.  Such is the exciting and wonderful result of embarking on this interfaith journey!