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We tend to think of interreligious dialogue as a modern phenomenon.  Certainly, in the Catholic Church we can trace our modern commitment to dialogue to the 1960s, with the papal encyclical Ecclesiam Suam of Pope Paul VI and the document Nostra Aetate of the Second Vatican Council.

Dialogue in Scripture

However, the idea of dialogue among people of various religions is much older, and Christians and Muslims can find a strong basis for it in their respective Scriptures.  The Greek word dialegomenos, meaning “to discuss, dispute, engage in dialogue,” appears four times in the New Testament, three times in Chapter 19 of the Acts of the Apostles, which describes Paul’s stay in Ephesus.  There it says that in Ephesus Paul “engaged in dialogue” every day for two years at the pagan philosophical school of Tyrannus.  In doing so, he made good friends with some of the Asiarchs, who were pagan officials in charge of the sacred Asian Games athletic events.  When the silversmiths in Ephesus were demonstrating against Paul, the town clerk could speak publicly about Paul and say with confidentce that “this man has not spoken badly about our goddess.”

Similarly, in the Qur’an, Muslims are taught to “not dispute with the People of the Book except in a way that is better” (29: 46) and to “come to common terms” or “an agreement between us and you” (3: 64).  The Qur’an affirms that “The goal of all of you is to God, it is He what will show you the truth of the matters about which you have disagreed” (5: 48).  In other words, we don’t have to belabor and be divided by those matters on which we disagree, for we will all learn the truth soon enough when we return to God.

Dialogue in Medieval times

In medieval times, there were periods of excellent cooperation and discussion between Christians and Muslims.  The Abbasid rule in 9th Century Baghdad, the interaction between Muslims, Christians, and Jews in Andalucia, Islamic Spain, and the healthy interaction under Norman rule in Sicily that produced the first translations of the Muslim philosophers from Arabic into Latin that so influenced the theology of Saints Albert and Thomas were some of these moments of positive encounter and dialogue.

At times, there was a recognition on both sides that what God wanted was for us Christians and Muslims to live in mutual respect and love.  There is the case of Emir Al-Nasir of Bejaya in modern Algeria and Pope Gregory VII.  In 1976, Al-Nasir sent presents to Pope Gregory and asked him to send a bishop for the Christians in Bijaya, who were without one.  Gregory wrote back his famous letter, which was quoted recently by Pope Benedict XVI in speaking to Mr. Ali Bardakoğlu, head of the Office for Religious Affairs in Turkey.  In his letter, Pope Gregory said that Christians and Muslims owe a special love to one another “because we believe in one God, even though in a different manner, and because we praise and worship Him every day as Creator and Ruler of the world.”

However, down through the ages it has been the saints who, being so continually conscious of God’s burning love for people that they were unable to view any human being as an enemy.  On the Christian side, we remember Francis of Assisi, who at the time of the Crusades in the 13th century, visited the Sultan in Egypt, undertook dialogue in friendship with him, and was well-received and even defended by the Sultan.

Mevlana, Jalal al-Din Rumi

On the Muslim side, one of the most outstanding examples of this commitment to dialogue was a 13th Century contemporary of Francis, the famous mystical poet, Jalal al-din Rumi, known in the Muslim world simply as “Mevlana,” that is, “Our Master.”  Originally from a region of modern Tajikistan near the border with modern Afghanistan, Rumi spent the last forty years of his life in the city of Konya, the ancient Iconium, in modern-day Turkey.

Rumi started off as a typical scholar of religious studies, but his life changed dramatically when at the age of 37 he met a wandering dervish, Shams al-Din Tabrizi.  The two men became fast friends and became inseparable companions for years until Shams disappeared one evening.  Some biographers say that he was murdered on the orders of Rumi’s son who was jealous of the dervish’s friendship with his father.  Rumi wrote his first diwan or collection of poems while in mourning for the loss of his friend.

Through his encounter with Shams, Rumi came to understand God above all as the Divine Lover and as the true Beloved or object of human desire and commitment.  He understood human life as an upward spiral into the ever-higher reaches of intimacy with God, and at the same time a downward spiral to the Divine Guest residing at the depths of the soul.

As did the Spanish Christian mystics, St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross, Rumi expressed this love affair between the human person and God in the imagery of human love.  He took his friendship with his soulmate Shams as an illustration of his relationship with God, and on this basis wrote his masterwork, the Mathnawi, a long poem of six volumes which has sometimes been called “The Persian Qur’an,” high praise indeed coming from Muslims who deeply revere their Scripture as the very Word of God.

Rumi believed in the use of poetry, music and dance to come into deeper unity with God.  He founded a religious order, the Mevlevis, who exist until today, whose characteristic form of devotional prayer is a slow, stately turning.  With the right hand pointing upward (the upward spiral) to rise higher and higher to God, and the left hand pointing in the downward spiral to the Guest at the depths of the soul, the dervish transcends his ego and attains union with God.

Religion is about love

Thus, Rumi’s understanding of what religion is all about is love.  The goal of human life is to attain a union of love with God, and then to express this love in one’s relations with others in the human family.  He expresses this in one of his verses:

Love’s nationality is separate from all other religions,

The lover’s religion and nationality is the Beloved (God).

The lover’s cause is separate from all other causes

Love is the compass of God’s mysteries.

This concept of a compass is an important image for Rumi.  He described himself as a compass, with one foot fixed firmly in the center while the other turns in a broad arc to complete a full circle.  The foot planted resolutely in the center which never changes position is the faith conviction by which one is united to God as the unmoving heart and center of one’s existence, while the other foot moves in a broad circle that embraces all people.

Thus, Rumi’s comprehensive tolerance which extends to all people has a firm Islamic basis. He should not be thought of as some kind of New Age guru, preaching a vague good will toward all.  He was, rather, throughout his life a pious and conscientious Muslim, a highly respected and much sought-after spiritual director to many disciples.  As he states in one of his quatrains:

I am the servant of the Qur’an as long as I have life.

I am the dust on the path of Muhammad, the Chosen one.

If anyone quotes anything other than this from my sayings,

I am quit of him and outraged by his words.

So what we find in Rumi, and what makes him a good model for interreligious dialogue today, is a person deeply committed to his own religion, someone who has internalized the teachings of his faith and has encountered God in its practice of worship and, precisely because of this involvement in his own religion, understands the need to approach others in love and tolerance.  Thus, Rumi is able to write these words of spiritual welcome:

Come, come, whoever you are,
Wanderer, idolater, worshipper of fire,
Come even though you have broken your vows a thousand times,
Come, and come yet again.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Life in Konya

At this point, I would like to declare a personal interest in Rumi.  In 1988, I was invited to teach a course in Christian theology at the Islamic Theology Faculty of Selcuk University in Konya, where Rumi lived and where his tomb has become an international pilgrimage site.  Every year millions of Muslims, not only from Turkey but from Syria and even more distant Iran come to pay their respects to this beloved saint.  I lived within walking distance of his tomb and I often went to say a prayer for this great poet and mystic, and I witnessed the unending stream of tourists that came to pay homage, not only from Turkey, but also from Syria and Iran, which shows the lasting place that he has in the hearts of millions of Muslims.

It seems like everyone in Konya has their own favorite story about Rumi.  Once I was talking with a Turkish man of an old Konya family and he said, “Did you know that Rumi used to go every month to the nearby Christian monastery for a day of recollection?”  I had never heard that story, so the next time I saw the man he brought an old copy of a biography of Rumi in Turkish in which it noted that Rumi had good friends among the monks and would go there every month for “spiritual discussions” with the monks and to spend time alone in silent khalwah, or communion with God.

There is no doubt that for Rumi, as for many Muslims, particularly those interested in the mystical dimensions of Islam, the prophet Jesus was a model of humility and holiness.  He mentions Jesus in many verses, and let me offer the following as an example:

Jesus sat humbly on the back of an ass, my child!

How could a zephyr ride an ass?

Spirit, find your way in seeking lowless like a stream.

Reason, tread the path of selflessness into eternity.

The reader is invited to contemplate Jesus, one of God’s specially chosen prophets, riding humbly on a donkey and to emulate him by seeking the lowest place.  Even in our intellectual life we are urged to follow Jesus’ example of constant humility in order to find an eternal home with God.

My pilgrimage in dialogue

At this point, I should give an account of my own background and experience to explain where these reflections are coming from.  I am a teacher and for over 30 years I have been engaged mainly in trying to introduce Christians to Islam and to introduce Muslims to Christian faith.  This I have done mainly in the Southeast Asian countries of Indonesia, Philippines, and Malaysia, but increasingly in recent years, in Turkey.  Very often these efforts take place in the formal educational situations of university and high school courses, but more often in informal or alternative settings of seminars, workshops, discussion groups and live-in experiences.

For several years, I have had the experience, unusual for a Catholic priest, of living and teaching in cities in Turkey where I was the only Christian, where all my students, teaching colleagues, neighbors, and friends have been Muslims.  In those places, our encounters have taken place not only in the classroom, but in mosques, homes - my own or those of friends - and even in Asecular@ locales such as the local produce market, post office and bookshop.

When Turkish colleagues, students, or neighbors stop by to spend the evening, we do not spend most of the time discussing religion.  We talk about politics, the economy, sports, carpets, television programs and films, life in Turkey, in North America (where I was born and raised), and in Indonesia (where I have lived most of my adult life.)  They speak of their concerns for their children and their hopes that they obtain adequate education to find a place in the world and live in a peaceful social environment, but also that their children will interiorize and live according to the values and teachings of Islamic faith.  These are topics that present themselves naturally from the common life that we are leading.

Almost always, the moment arrives when I find myself sharing what it means to me to be a Christian and when they elaborate what it means for them to follow Islam.  We share our common problems, such as the need to find time for prayer and quiet reflection amidst the hectic pace of modern life.  We wonder together about God, how a good and loving God would permit such wrongdoing and inequality in this world.  We share our experiences of suffering and try to see what we have learned from our acquaintance with sickness, death, and failure.  We ask each other what forgiveness means to us and how people can arrive at the seemingly impossible task of actually forgiving each other.

Could anyone claim that the hours that my Muslim friends and I have spent discussing the economy and politics were Amerely dialogue@, whereas those minutes we spent trying to put into words the place of God in our lives were Aproclamation,@ or for them, the Islamic equivalent, Ada=wah@?  The reality is that dialogue and proclamation can never be neatly detached from one another in actual life.  It is all part of one thing, a life lived together.  In a shared life, we are all constantly influencing one another and learning from each other, all growing and being enriched by encountering the acts and attitudes which God produces, through our respective faiths, in each.

The pedagogy of religious encounter: two stories

Once, in Izmir, a colleague invited me to his home because his grandfather was dying.  When I arrived, the grandfather was in bed, very weak, but still conscious.  The family was in the other corner of the room, drinking tea and conversing in low tones.  Two or three of the family members - the grandmother, one of the sons, a niece or nephew - were always at the bedside repeating over and over with the grandfather the Islamic profession of faith: AThere is no god but Allah (The God)@.  After a while, other family members would replace those at the bedside, but the prayer went on continually, even after the grandfather fell asleep.  I learned that the most common Muslim prayer for a happy death states: AO God, when I reach the moment of death I pray that >There is no god but The God= will be on my lips.@  During the night, the grandfather died in his sleep, with his wife and three grown children at the bedside repeating, in his name, AThere is no god but Allah.@  I learned more that evening about the Islamic attitude toward death than I had during my years of doctoral studies in Islamic thought.

Another example that remains with me is a Adialogue@ I had with several Muslim women whom I never met.  I was teaching an introduction to Christian theology at the Theology Faculty of Selcuk University in Konya, Turkey, the city of the beloved Sufi saint and poet, AMevlana@, Jalal al-Din Rumi.  I had a small apartment in a working-class neighborhood and was known and well accepted as the Arahip,@ the Qur=anic word (rahib) for a Christian monk.  One afternoon shortly after I began my teaching at the university, I returned home to find a man sitting on the steps in front of my apartment waiting for me.  He said that his wife had stopped by earlier in the day but found the door locked.  I said, yes, I usually lock my door when I am not at home.  He said that I needn=t bother, because the women of the neighborhood were always around and would know if anyone who didn=t belong tried to get in.

I realized that to them locking my door was an indication that I didn=t trust my neighbors, so I never locked my door again during my stay in Konya.  Often, I would return from the university to find that someone had anonymously left a covered bowl with rice and eggplant, börek, or a few kebabs on the counter.  After finishing the food, I used to wash the bowl and leave it in the same place and in a few days it would disappear.  Some days later, I would receive another gift of food. Other days I would return after work and find that my clothes had been washed, floors swept, bed linens changed, shirts ironed and folded etc.  I never saw the person or persons who performed this service, although I presume that it was done by women of the neighborhood.

This went on for six months until, at the end of the semester, it was time for me to leave Konya and return to Rome.  I told one of the men who had stopped by to wish me a safe journey that I had a final request.  I mentioned all that the neighborhood women had done and asked if I could meet them to thank them for their generous help over the course of the previous months.  He said, AYou don=t have to meet them.  They didn=t do this for you; they did it for God, and God who sees all that we do will reward them.  The Qur=an teaches that rahipler (monks) are one of the reasons why Christians are the closest community in friendship to Muslims, so it is an act of worship (>ibadah) for us to treat you with kindness.@

Neither the man who said this nor the unknown (to me) women who worshiped God by their hospitality were highly trained in the religious sciences, and yet they taught me the important connection between worship of God and generous service to Athe stranger in your midst.@  These women, who epitomize for me Jesus= instructions on the Sermon on the Mount to perform one=s charity without letting the left hand know what the right is doing, carried on a genuine dialogue with me, teaching me by deed rather than by word a key aspect of the Islamic way of life.  A shared life among believers in God can take many forms.

Remember God so much that you are forgotten.
Let the caller and the called disappear.
Be lost in the Call.

teachings

tawhid – unity with the divine. The general theme of his thoughts, like that of the other mystic and Sufi poets of the Persian literature, is essentially about the concept of Tawhīd (unity) and union with his beloved (the primal root) from which/whom he has been cut and fallen aloof, and his longing and desire for reunity.

He founded the order of the Mevlevi, the "whirling" dervishes, and created the "Sema", their "turning", sacred dance. In the Mevlevi tradition, Sema represents a mystical journey of spiritual ascent through mind and love to "Perfect." In this journey the seeker symbolically turns towards the truth, grows through love, abandons the ego, finds the truth, and arrives at the "Perfect"; then returns from this spiritual journey with greater maturity, so as to love and to be of service to the whole of creation without discrimination against beliefs, races, classes and nations.

Jesus: I am the vine and you the branches

Muslim- good ref. in Wikipedia

Rumi:

Reason is powerless in the expression of Love. Love alone is capable of revealing the truth of Love and being a Lover. The way of our prophets is the way of Truth. If you want to live, die in Love; die in Love if you want to remain alive.

Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi died on December 17, 1273. Men of five faiths followed his bier. That night was named Sebul Arus (Night of Union). Ever since, the Mawlawi dervishes have kept that date as a festival.

What is to be done, O Moslems? for I do not recognize myself.
I am neither Christian, nor Jew, nor Gabr, nor Moslem.
I am not of the East, nor of the West, nor of the land, nor of the sea;
I am not of Nature's mint, nor of the circling' heaven.
I am not of earth, nor of water, nor of air, nor of fire;
I am not of the empyrean, nor of the dust, nor of existence, nor of entity.
I am not of India, nor of China, nor of Bulgaria, nor of Saqsin
I am not of the kingdom of 'Iraqian, nor of the country of Khorasan
I am not of the this world, nor of the next, nor of Paradise, nor of Hell
I am not of Adam, nor of Eve, nor of Eden and Rizwan.
My place is the Placeless, my trace is the Traceless ;
'Tis neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of the Beloved.
I have put duality away, I have seen that the two worlds are one;
One I seek, One I know J One I see, One I call.
He is the first, He is the last, He is the outward, He is the inward;
I know none other except 'Ya Hu' and 'Ya man Hu.'
I am intoxicated with Love's cup, the two worlds have passed out of my ken ;
I have no business save carouse and revelry.
If once in my life I spent a moment without thee,
From that time and from that hour I repent of my life.
If once in this world I win a moment with thee,
I will trample on both worlds, I will dance in triumph for ever.
O Shamsi Tabriz, I am so drunken in this world,
That except of drunkenness and revelry I have no tale to tell.

From Divan-i Shams

Rumi's Quatrain, No. 1173

Come, come, whoever you are...
Come and come yet again...
Come even if you have broken your vows a thousand times
Wanderer, idolater, worshiper of fire...
Ours is not a caravan of despair,
This is the date of hope,
Come, come yet again, come