Jessica Coblentz

I think it is safe to say that there has never been a time when religion existed that a need for inter-religious dialogue did not. And with the horror of the Holocaust looming, with the violence of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict ever-occupying our headlines, and with that image of the tumbling Twin Towers forever impressed upon our minds, inter-religious dialogue remains undeniably necessary in our time.

And if there is one thing—one thing—I have learned in my two months at Harvard Divinity School, it is this: this whole inter-faith dialogue is easy talk and hard living.

Mind you, I came to Harvard Divinity School for inter-faith dialogue. Instead of attending a Catholic university—the natural choice for someone studying Catholic theology—I felt an unshakable tug toward this rare environment where I would have to give an account for my scholarship and faith tradition among those who would not share my assumptions and belief systems. I presumed this would be more like religion in the real world—as in our multi-religious, multi-denominational real world.   I also heard that being in diverse environments can lead one to recognize biases that would often go unnoticed if left unchallenged in settings full of like-minded people.

And my reasoning has proven itself true thus far: more than ever before, I am given daily opportunities to give account for my tradition, beliefs, and personal practices in a way that makes sense for people with varying degrees of familiarity with Catholicism. Concomitantly, I must face the assumptions that I take for granted about my faith when my peers and professors respond with, “Why?” or “How?” or sometimes, simply, “Huh?”

Amid all this, I’ve learned that it is a lot easier to talk about the logistics and importance of inter-faith dialogue (in its many forms—across denominational or religious divides), than it is to actually engage live in a situation where one must face it in every day life.  Constantly explaining one’s self to others while trying to earnestly consider their own unique religious identities and traditions—the inter-personal realities of living amid multi-faceted religious diversity are mentally and spiritually exhausting.

Although I came here to be in an environment “like the real world,” I’ve come to realize how religiously segregated my life “in the real world” has been, for the most part.  Most of us don’t discuss religion with people who have very different religious backgrounds on a day-to-day basis, right?  Most of my theological education has taken place among people who are Catholic or extremely familiar with (and generally sympathetic to) the tradition—I now know that played a huge factor in our discussions! What’s more, HDS also reminds me that it is difficult enough to learn to talk about religion among the people with whom one shares his/her tradition!  Really, a Catholic university presents a student with plenty of challenges concerning internal church dialogue.

So how will we learn to thrive in this situation? I keep asking myself this question. I keep asking my HDS friends this question.  There are days when I long for people who understand my unvoiced religious assumptions, who relate to my deep ineffable connection to my religion, or the strange ways that I negotiate my theological convictions within my tradition.  Having said that, I continue to engage the challenge presented by this inter-religious environment because, among some good things and a whole lot of struggles, there are small moments of dialogue when I recognize my friends’ love for their respective traditions, and it’s not threatening—it is familiar.  I may not recognize his/her tradition itself, but I recognize the mysterious devotion one possesses for it.  And there are moments when I feel really heard by someone as I describe my tradition, or deeply accompanied when someone attends my strange liturgy for the sake of gaining insight into who I am.

I think there’s something to this—to this whole loving people of different faiths and the subsequent presence of more productive dialogue.  We, world religions, need to become friends.  For when conversation takes place among friends, there is a different orientation to the subject at hand; it is one of companionship in difference. It is hard living, but with love.  How can we learn to do this better?