It is an old joke, one you’ve probably heard before, but nevertheless, it’s perfect for this Sunday, and I must tell it:
A man died and was ushered into heaven, which appeared to be an enormous house. An angel began to escort him down a long hallway past “many rooms.”
"What's in that room?" the man asked, pointing to a very somber-looking group of people chanting a Gregorian mass. "That's the Roman Catholic room," said the angel. "Very high church."
"What's in that room?" the man asked, pointing to a group of people with painted bodies and elaborate headdresses, drumming and dancing and singing loudly. "That's the Native American group," said the angel. "Very spirited."
"What's in that room?" asked the man, pointing to a group of people meditating to the sound of an enormous gong. "That's the Zen Buddhist group," said the angel. "They’re so quiet. You hardly know they’re here."
Then the angel stopped the man, as they were about to round a corner. "Now, when we get to the next room," said the angel, "I would appreciate it if you would tiptoe past. We mustn't make any sound." "Why'?" asked the man. "Because in that room there's a bunch of fundamentalist Christians; and they think they're the only ones here."
I’m not a big joke teller, but I knew I had to tell this one because it sets up perfectly a central dilemma found in this passage from John 14.
On the one hand, we have the infamous verse, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” For those Christians sitting in their own room in heaven, sure that they are the only ones there, this verse offers all the proof they need of the exclusivity of Christianity. Jesus seems to be saying very clearly here, “I am the way. Me. I’m it. I’m your only way to be saved.”
Interestingly, just a few verses before this one is the verse: “In my Father’s house are many mansions,” or some translations say “dwelling places.” Those who would argue that there are many paths to the truth, cite this verse. The many mansions may refer, they say, to the heavenly places in which Hindus and Buddhists and Jews will dwell – alongside Christians. Obviously, this is the setup of the joke I just told. There’s room – and a room – for everybody in the hereafter.
So, in about four short verses in John 14, you have the outlines of the great debate about religious pluralism that has raised for centuries: between those who argue for what’s called a universalist view (there are many paths to the Truth) verses those who argue for the particularist way (nope, there’s only one path – and it just happens to be mine). Many mansions or one way? Which is it?
Harvey Cox was one of my professors in seminary. He’s an ordained Baptist minister married to a Jewish woman for many years now. Not surprisingly, he locates himself on the “universalist” pole of the religious pluralism debate. He’s been very active in interfaith dialogues sponsored by groups like the World Council of Churches and he’s written a lot on the subject. OK, so he’s a “many mansions” guy through and through, right? Yes but… he’s also a “Jesus is the way” guy. In fact, he writes, “I do not believe these two (verses) are contradictory. From Jesus, I have learned that he is the way and that in God’s house there are many mansions.”[1] Huh? What he’s saying is that we’re using the wrong conjunction. It’s not “many mansions or one way.” It’s “many mansions and one way.” Huh?
It’s probably no surprise to you that I locate myself as a universalist. In fact, I would agree with the theologian Marcus Borg, that if to be a Christian meant that I had to declare other religions false, I don’t think I could be a Christian.[2] But for the true-believing universalist, no less than for the true-believing particularist, changing that conjunction to “and” poses a problem. What could that mean? What does it mean to say that Jesus is the way and also believe that he is not everybody’s way?
Marcus Borg tells the story of a Hindu professor whom he heard preach a sermon at a Christian seminary. As luck would have it, the text for the day was this “one way” passage. About it, the Hindu scholar said: “This verse is absolutely true – Jesus is the only way.” But he went on to say, “And that way – of dying to an old way of being and being born into a new way of being – is known in all the religions of the world.”[3]
In other words, being “born again” is something that happens not just to evangelical Christians, but to people of every faith. At the core of the world’s great religions is this idea that we need to be remade, need to be transformed into a new person more fully grounded in the Divine Reality, more fully abiding in the Truth. So, in some Native American traditions, you have the vision quest – a person goes out into the wilderness for days and through a series of trials and challenges and dreams emerges with a new vision for their life. Buddhists, through a series of spiritual practices, hope to achieve enlightenment – a whole new way of perceiving the world and themselves. Islam is essentially a path of surrender to Allah that reorients the whole person.
So, “salvation” is not primarily about believing a certain set up things – what Borg calls “salvation by syllables.” No, redemption is actually a much more arduous than an intellectual assent to something. It is committing yourself to a path, a way, a process of transformation.
For Christians, Jesus is that way. “In Jesus, we see what this way of death and rebirth embodied in a person looks like. In Jesus, we see what the truth embodied in a person looks like. And in Jesus, we see what real life embodied in a person looks like. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life for those of us who are following his path.” (From Marcus Borg)
But why not follow another path then? Why not follow the way of Buddha or the way of Islam, if they are also true paths of transformation? Certainly, if you are called to one of these paths, then do it. To use a popular metaphor, they all lead one up the mountain, to the summit. But, to really be on the path of transformation, we can’t jump to another path as soon as ours gets steep or constantly be looking around for another way that seems more interesting, more scenic. If you do, you’ll never reach the summit. Huston Smith, the great scholar of world religions who is also a committed Methodist, says that if you are looking for water, better to dig one well 60 feet deep than to dig six wells 10 feet deep. We need to go deeply into a path if we truly want to be transformed by it.
(But, to nuance that just a bit. Smith calls Christianity his main meal. But, he says, he’s a strong believer in “vitamin supplements,” that is, learning from other faiths. His own immersion into other religious traditions has greatly enriched his faith as a Christian, he says.)
As we commit ourselves to a way of transformation, I believe we are increasingly able to access the “spiritual energy” of that particular path, or what Harvey Cox calls the “primal energy” of a religious tradition. One of the best stories I’ve heard about this primal energy was told by Eric Schiller, a volunteer with Christian Peacemaker Teams.[4] As many of us know, this is a group that puts their lives on the line to try to stop violence in places such as the
Eric was attending a Quaker conference, during which one of the key speakers said that for him God was revealed through Jesus Christ his Lord and Savior --- very particularist language, right? He then proceeded to deliver a very prophetic message about the effects of materialism and affluence. We are living in
This was all even more interesting because this same speaker began his speech by saying that for him to be an effective instrument of the divine as he spoke, God must be present among them. But he did not pray to Jesus Christ and ask him to be present. Instead, he invited all of those there to invoke the presence of the divine Spirit in terms that were most familiar to each person. What followed, Eric said, “was a holy, blessed babble as persons called upon Abba Elohim, dear Lord Jesus, Hari Krishna, living Spirit within, the blessed Spirit of earth and water that sustains us” and on and on. This man was able to balance a deep, passionate faith in Jesus with an embrace of others’ religious paths.
“It is no small spiritual challenge to balance depth and breadth,” Eric concluded, but “I believe that it is a spiritual imperative. If we so concentrate on our own spiritual way, we can slip into an exclusive view of God that is in danger of leading to religious intolerance. If we lose our faith and roots, we may well lose our … spiritual energy and creative drive.”
[1] From the article “
[2] From his book The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith.
[3] From Reading the Bible Again for the First Time: Taking the Bible Seriously but not Literally.
[4] From a posting found in a CPT chat room.