OPENING MINDS
On my drive back to Charlotte from Seattle last summer, I stopped at a YMCA in Boise, Idaho, to get some exercise before spending another ten hours in the car. About 15 minutes into my swim, I noticed one of the lifeguards standing in front of my lane. When I stopped, I found out that he wanted to recruit me for the masters practice he coached. After telling him that I was just passing through, we talked briefly about masters swimming. When I mentioned that I had swum on the team in Jerusalem, he told me how much he wanted to visit there someday — and I immediately knew where this discussion was heading.

Yes, he was a member of a conservative Christian denomination and eager to talk religion. While I would have preferred to be using my brief time to swim laps, I also knew that this was a wonderful opportunity to perhaps crack open a closed mind. There is a saying that the job of a clergyperson is to comfort the afflicted and to afflict the comfortable…and my opportunity to do the latter was before me.

His first questions centered around reconciling sinfulness. I explained to him that Jews do not interpret the creation story as the source of “original sin,” but rather focus on the verse “let us make humankind in our image.” From this verse we learn that implanted within every human being is the potential of the divine. Our tradition recognizes that humans are not perfect. Look at our ancestors: Abraham lied under pressure, Isaac was naïve, Jacob was conniving, Joseph was insensitive to the feelings of others, Saul suffered from mental illness and David was an adulterer. Nonetheless, each of them reached beyond their human frailties to become beacons of faith. Next we talked about taking what the Bible says literally. I pointed out to him that he was reading words written thousands of years ago in at best a translation of a translation. To assume that words written in a different era and a different culture could retain the exact same meaning when translated several times into modern English makes no sense. Sometimes we don’t even know the exact meaning of the original Hebrew. Intentionally raising a hot-button issue, I pointed out that when Leviticus states that “if a man lies with another man as he does with a woman, it is an abomination,” we are unclear about the exact meaning of the Hebrew word translated as “abomination.” Furthermore, many scholars agree that this prohibition is against a prostitution cult, not homosexuality, and therefore part of the Torah’s overall condemnation of idolatry. The previously solid ground under the feet of my new friend was suddenly a little shaky.

What interests me is not the theological discussion, but taking a step backwards and looking at the broader issues. Recently serving as a member of a panel on religion and homosexuality, I discussed the value and appeal of narrowly-constructed traditions. At its most basic, the function of religion is to provide a framework within which to wrestle with the unknowable questions: where do we come from? why are we here? do our lives have meaning? By definition, these questions don’t have answers; therefore, I have to regard any religion that offers more answers than questions as suspect.

But what is so appealing about those answers? Why are some people desperate to impose black and white on a world that exists in the gray areas? We live in a time where the whole world can enter our homes uncensored 24-hours a day. Between internet and television, we are exposed to things that are far beyond our own experience. It is difficult to celebrate those things we don’t understand. It is much easier to box in our own experiences and proscribe anything that challenges our innate assumptions. We are the ones who lose out when we limit our own world out of fear — but the appeal is certainly understandable.

I enjoyed my talk with that lifeguard. I’m certain I didn’t change his long-held beliefs. But I hope that I prompted him to ask just a few more questions — to allow just a touch of gray to enter his black and white world. After the panel discussion, a young man came up to talk with me. He was startled and intrigued by the notion that religion and homosexuality were not mutually exclusive. I could see in his eyes a glimmer of hope that the person he recognized himself to be and the faith that once had brought him joy and comfort could happily coexist. Fear and ignorance conquered by hope and understanding. Perhaps this is what it means when we are commanded to be “a light unto the nations.”

L’shalom,
Andrew Bernard
Cantor