'Finding the Language for Dialogue'

A speech to Home Affairs ministers from European governments and senior representatives of faith
communities, on Thursday Rome, October 30th 2003.

It is a very great honour and a privilege to have been invited to give this brief address at this timely and auspicious conference. I thank the Minister of the Interior very warmly for that invitation.

I recognise, of course, that this conference has a Europe-wide dimension but Europe is made up of a variety of nation states, cultures and religions – and it is that very variety which, in the future, could be our greatest strength or our greatest weakness. The challenge facing us is to create a Europe in which diversity is valued – but held together within a commonly accepted legal framework, so that diversity does not become chaos.

I speak from a very particular cultural and religious experience, as a bishop in the Church of England, shaped by all that that implies. That Church came formally into being at the Reformation, though its roots go back much further (for example, to our proto-martyr, Alban, who was martyred in the third century, over three hundred years before Pope Gregory the Great sent Augustine to the English, and has held together an extraordinary range of beliefs. Part of its genius, if I can so put it, is that our sixteenth-century predecessors found and created a language marked by beauty, reticence, ambiguity and richness; and it was the very richness and subtlety of that language which has helped to keep very different Christian understandings within a coherent framework – just. We had to have the Book of Common Prayer and now Common Worship as our shared liturgical structure. We have Canon Law. We have a system of governance which is both episcopal and popular.

I am not for one moment suggesting that this model can fit non-ecclesiastical structures; I bring it to your attention simply to heighten our sensitivities to the nature and power of language in trying to create a diverse and yet tolerant society.

One of my greatest privileges is to be the UK Chairman of the Council of Christians and Jews (CCJ). This is an organisation committed to dialogue between Christian and Jewish communities. It has a long history, at least long in interfaith terms. It was set up by William Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Chief Rabbi Hertz, in the darkest days of the Second World War – a prophetic and courageous act. Now there are over fifty branches of CCJ throughout Britain and we have a small but highly professional full-time staff.

Let me explain what we do not do. We do not evangelise or proselytise each other - and why not? Because dialogue has to have an inherent integrity if it is to succeed. If one partner in the dialogue has some kind of hidden evangelistic motive, trust completely disappears.

CCJ has flourished and adapted because of this moral stance. For a Christian, of course, part of whose task may be thought to be evangelistic, to eschew that task may seem perverse. Nevertheless, it seems to me morally right for me as a Christian to give up that rôle within dialogue, otherwise my motives will be suspect and genuine meeting cannot begin. Yet, paradoxically, it is my experience that through giving up that one element of the Christian tradition, my life and the life of all of us in CCJ have been immeasurably enriched.

Ø Interfaith dialogue has to be built on transparency, openness and trust, with no hidden agendas on either side; and for that transparency, openness and trust to exist, both sides involved may have to put to one side certain elements of their faith; integrity is all.

I have learnt something else through CCJ and it is this: there is no substitute for careful and patient scholarship and study of each other's faith. It is this probing, humble and painstaking process across disciplines, and across and within our faiths, which contributes to a growth in understanding. I could give any number of examples but one will do: a recent book, entitled Reinterpreting Revelation and Tradition (edited by J T Pawlikowski and H G Perelmuter), consists of conversations between Jewish and Christian scholars. One of those conversations, between Louis Feldman, a Jewish scholar, and Kevin Madigan, a Christian scholar, concludes that until fairly recently a number of people were tempted to read back into the classical period, those pictures of anti-Jewish sentiment found in the medieval period and in the twentieth century, whereas the reality is that Judaism in the ancient world was often vibrant, dynamic, self-confident and even aggressive, and not subject to the terrible anti-Semitic behaviour of the middle ages.

Well, it sounds technical, and at one level it is, but what real scholarship ensures is that the stereotypes of history are challenged and revised.

Ø Interfaith dialogue has to take scholarship with proper seriousness; the European terms to enlist historians, theologians, sociologists and others in the creation of a society searching for truth is of the utmost importance. To imagine that interfaith dialogue just requires kindness of disposition (whilst that undoubtedly helps), is to ignore the academic, intellectual rigour required to create real change and real understanding.

The third thing I have learnt from CCJ is to take seriously the emotional content of interfaith dialogue. I want to quote from Rabbi Jonathan Gorsky:

The Cartesian fallacy assumes the sovereignty of reason at all times.

What we know, of course, is that faith and religion contain and reveal the whole of our humanity, not only our reason but also our emotions – emotions which can fuel the highest forms of human expression and the lowest. Religion, like politics, can go horribly wrong and whilst it has become something of a leitmotiv within Christianity to properly beat our breasts for events such as the Inquisition, we would be unwise to forget that political tyrants, such as Stalin, killed millions for reasons that had nothing to do with religion. There is a dark side to religion, that cannot be denied, but nor can the dark side of our own humanity which casts shadows over everything we do.

Ø Interfaith dialogue, then, has to acknowledge the capacity of humanity and the capacity of religion to let loose the most appalling brutalities – but within that awareness of primeval forces in the human condition, lies the possibility of redemption. But interfaith dialogue, if it is to be creative and liberating, has to explore and understand the very depths of our own humanity and work for wholeness.

The fourth thing I have learnt from CCJ is that dialogue takes energy, a kind of moral energy, an act of will which refuses to surrender to despair. And much of that energy has to be devoted to education, to combating racism, combating all stereotypes. I quote Jonathan Gorsky again:

The cognitive habit of imposing uniformity on all populations has a profound impact. It intensifies language to a degree that excludes the very perceptions that are essential for peacemaking and creates stereotypes of a people devoid of humane sensibility and therefore beyond the boundaries of any possible conversation … the fallacy of uniformity forecloses on dialogue and negotiation because it clearly proves there is no one to talk to.

Ø Interfaith dialogue, then, needs to be morally patient and morally courageous, battling always against apathy, despair and intellectual sloth.

I sense in the new Europe which is emerging some fascinating and hopeful signs – and I give one example. There has been, and remains, a tendency amongst the power-wielders of modern society to treat religions and faith as simply a kind of lifestyle choice, of no more importance or significance than going to the gym or deciding which designer jacket to wear. Yet, thank goodness, in the European Convention, Clause 51 represents a profound recognition that religions are unique, they are far more than lifestyles or a matter of personal choice. That clause, Clause 51, is one which I hope all here will welcome, because it provides part of the serious conceptual architecture within which interfaith dialogue can take place.

Any why are religions unique? The Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, gives part of the answer:

The Church contributes to political discussion … not as a political interest group among others but in the name of its eschatological identity – in the name of a vision of where human beings are bound for in the purposes of God.

The future of Europe is bound up with interfaith dialogue because it is in that dialogue that we may fashion a language which, with due humility, will shape our vision of God and of our human destiny. Without such a dialogue, the political structures of Europe could become thin and feeble. But I leave the last word to the Chief Rabbi of Great Britain, Dr Jonathan Sacks:

The test of faith is whether I can make space for difference. Can I recognise God's image in someone who is not in my image, whose language, faith, ideals are different from mine? If I cannot then I have made God in my image instead of allowing him to remake me in his.

There, interfaith dialogue and the future of Europe, is summed up with brilliance and modesty in one sentence. That is the greatness of the task and the challenges that lie ahead.