Pilgrim’s process
Some Christians may feel awkward or intimidated by conversations with atheists, agnostics, or people of other religious faiths. Their commitment levels and logic can challenge our own. But should we avoid these conversations? Encountering the “other” is always an opportunity, despite our hesitation and fear, to listen well – with respect and grace. Truly listening to others can sharpen our own faith, Christian walk, and witness.
Last year’s study conference on Christology reminded us what the Bible teaches about Jesus. He is our anchor. From this foundation, we can step out and interact with others, though we won’t always agree with everything they say.
So, in the spirit of dialogue, MB Herald editor Laura Kalmar sat down with Vancouver writer and activist Tyee Bridge. A self-described mystic, Bridge answers questions about his spiritual journey, being married to a Christian woman, and the recent tragedy in Haiti.
MBH: In your work as a journalist, you’ve explored many different faiths and beliefs. How would you define your own spirituality?
TB: Although I’m not sure how most Christians would refer to me – perhaps as a universalist or perennialist – I don’t define myself as agnostic. I guess I’m a very poor example of a mystic who believes that God lies at the centre of our being, and that seeking to know God is both the meaning and purpose of life.
The specific path I’ve been called to is Sufi, which developed under Islam but is a contemplative path that venerates the mystics and prophets of all traditions. In other words, I read the Bible far more than I read the Koran.
I recognize Christ as an intense light, a burning star in our midst, who was given a certain work to do in the world. I also believe there have been many others who have appeared within their own cultures to do great work, such as Buddha. Certainly Christ is one of the greatest I know of, and the work/message he gave – at least what remains of it – is extremely relevant to me personally. But I don’t think he was the only such torch that God has blessed humanity with over the ages.
For me, all of the great religions have the potential to lead to truth in a sincere seeker. Whether they do or not, whether any seeker is led nearer to God, depends on the paradox of effort and grace: the will of God, which is a mystery.
MBH: You paint Christianity and Jesus in a positive light, but what do you make of the institutional church? Are there things that keep you distanced from the Christian community?
TB: I object to any institution or congregation that uses Scripture to justify prejudice, whether against people of other races, or women, or homosexuals. This is as far from authentic religion as I can imagine. Those in the majority have often used the Bible as a means to exclude people that make them uncomfortable. As Shakespeare said, “The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.”
I don’t expect institutions to have histories free from taint. Recent authors like Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens seem to want to use the transgressions of Christians and churches of all denominations as some kind of proof that God doesn’t exist. This is, to say the least, irresponsible and sloppy.
Anger against the crimes committed in the name of God is understandable, but just because we humans have screwed it up doesn’t mean there is no reality, no truth behind the veil.
I follow a Sufi path that is rooted in both Islamic and Hindu mystic traditions, so the main thing that keeps me distanced from many Christian communities is simply the belief that Christ is the only way to God, and that all the rest of the world’s faithful – Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists – are deluded. It’s impossible for me to believe that any one religion is the right way, because I’ve known too many people who have reached a deep and real relationship with God through their sincere approach to their Jewish, Hindu, or Muslim faith.
If Christians think otherwise – that the power of God in Christ is the only power of God that transforms human hearts – it’s understandable because there is real power in Christ. But, in my opinion, God is so generous he comes to humans in many different ways.
MBH: You’re married to a Christian woman. How does this affect your spiritual views?
TB: Being married to Michele, who comes from a Christian background, has opened my eyes to the depth and reality of the Christian experience. The power of God in Christ changed her heart, and knowing her has inspired me to more deeply open my heart to God.
Before marrying Michele I discounted the reality of Christian experience, and held a lot of blanket judgments about it. The Sufi mystic tradition believes there are many ways to God. So it’s been humbling, and I’m sure amusing for Michele, to see the irony: the guy who preaches tolerance is himself prejudiced against Christians.
Along with authority issues and old anger at war-mongering Christians, I carried stereotypes of the arena-church Christian: blind followers of dogma who think dinosaurs never existed; right-wing patriots who pride themselves on being “saved” but do little to sincerely live their faith. These are some of the projections I’ve had to see and let go of.
MBH: Your perspective on spirituality is quite different from that of many Christians. How do you think a conversation between people with different points of view can happen?
TB: How such a conversation might look I’m not sure. But we might try to do the very difficult thing that underlies all real dialogue: setting aside our need to be right and opening ourselves to another person’s experience. It sounds easy, and might even sound unbearably politically correct, but it’s actually an act of spiritual courage.
MBH: Tragedies such as the Haitian earthquake cause lots of conversation about the existence and nature of God. In your opinion, what do world events like this teach us?
TB: I don’t believe that God “allows” natural disasters or human horrors like Auschwitz, Iraq, or the Rwandan genocide. At the same time, I do think God responds to prayer at times, and does take an interest in our little lives as humans. So it’s a paradox. God is not involved, not in the world, removed; and also, somehow, also very much in the world, not removed, in our hearts, in our lives.
I recently read an excellent essay by Annie Dillard called “For the Time Being” that explores this question in Christian theology. What I took from her essay was that humans exist as free agents in a world of chaos, and there are no guarantees. I agree with this. At the same time, when we remember God, a certain grace may be there, even one with a quality of protection.
Within this world of collisions and fractures, we have the chance to bring forth the light of God from within ourselves, from within our hearts. That’s our main job: to nourish that light in our hearts until it is greater than our darkness. Until we, really, are diminished, and it is God who is shining through – although our imperfections, our personal crust, will always remain.
Perhaps this is how God comes into the world, through the fragile portal of the human heart, as he did in Christ. Maybe that doesn’t stop earthquakes, but perhaps it can help prevent or allay other tragedies. And without a doubt, it does make things better for those around us.
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