"Many Ways, Many Destinations"

Sermon preached by John C. Hall on September 23, 2007

Have you ever been cornered by someone who wanted to save your soul?  Has someone ever asked you, “Are you sure you’re going to go to heaven?”  “Have you accepted Jesus Christ in your heart as your personal Lord and Savior?”  “Are you a born-again Christian?”

Or, have you ever been at a wedding or a funeral and then, when it came time for the sacrament of Holy Communion, the leader explained that this part of the service was only for “practicing” members of that denomination? Has anyone every told you that babies who die without being baptized don’t get to heaven?

There’s a dirty little secret behind these questions and pronouncements.  Any religious group or movement gets people’s attention, and loyalty, and money, by raising the stakes, by making the choice a matter of stark and eternal consequences. In effect: Here’s your choice. Eternal rest, eternal bliss, heaven, or (if you prefer) eternal misery and punishment. Which one do you want?  Would you rather sing with angels in heaven or be stuck with eternal torment?  It’s your choice!

Putting the choice that way gets people to fall in line. And organizations, including many churches, like people to fall in line.

(In fairness, I should add that many benefits come with people falling in line. They tend to become a close knit group, and they offer a huge amount of support and tangible help to each other.

We don’t talk that way at First Church.  We don’t tell you that missing church on Sunday is a mortal sin.  This may be why our attendance is sometimes rather light. We don’t tell you that you have to give 10% of your income to the church to qualify for salvation. We don’t tell you that you need to volunteer six hours a week or you’re a hypocrite. 

We’re a liberal congregation. That means many things.  One thing is, we don’t offer, and don’t want to offer, that same, stark, threatening choice between heaven and hell.

So how do you deal with someone who says, “Have you been saved?” The question usually implies that, when the Lord separates the sheep from the goats, you’ll be with the goats. (I actually like goats; they have beautiful eyes and sweet faces, but that’s a different matter.)

You can pretend to agree.  You can say, in effect, “Yes, I’ve been saved” and then go refill your punch glass. You can change the subject, which sometimes works. You can say, “I’m happy with my faith. Thank you very much.” That sometimes works. You can counter-attack, by quoting scripture back.  I’ve tried this.  It doesn’t work. It only heats up the argument.

Regardless of how you handle this situation, here’s a thought to keep in the back of your mind. When someone tells you that your soul is in danger of eternal damnation, it’s unpleasant, awkward, and insulting. You do your best to get through the conversation with some social grace. That’s the Miss Manners approach, and it’s a good one.

But there’s something else to keep in mind. You wouldn’t necessarily say this, but it may be useful to remember. 

When someone says, in effect, I have the truth. I know what God wants from you, I know what God is going to do with you — this is very ungracious, socially speaking. But it’s also a dangerous attitude.  It’s an attitude that has contributed to many problems in the world, including wars and genocide. Religion isn’t to blame for all the wars and genocide, by a long shot. Some of the most cases of war and genocide were perpetrated by totally secular, atheist tyrants. Religion has also done a lot to restrain aggression, and promote peace.

But religious zeal, religious arrogance, religious exclusivity, and the religious hierarchies that claim to have superior knowledge — these have led to a lot of cruelty, and bloodshed.

Religious “certainty” is something to resist. We don’t have to be as obnoxious in resisting it as those who promote it. But when we’re accosted in the way I described, when someone says they know how to save our souls, it’s good to remember that there is no such thing as religious certainty. People pretend to know things that can’t be known.

Today, some of us will take a tour of the Hindu Temple in Middletown.  Why are we doing this?

When First Church was founded in the 1650s, there were no Hindus in Connecticut. Hindu religion, if people even knew it existed, would have been seen as wild superstition, and its followers would have been viewed as heathen who needed to be converted.

India was a British colony for a time.  Today, India is a rising star in the world economy, especially in the field of computer technology. India, as nation, has nuclear weapons. Their neighbor, Pakistan, also has nuclear weapons. India and Pakistan have a long history of tension with each other.

Many physicians in the United States are from India. When we have trouble with our credit card accounts or home computers, we often talk on the phone with someone not from India, but in India. The world has become very small, and we in the United States aren’t in control of it. 

So, we’re going to the temple because we’re curious.  We’re going as an act of hospitality to the people who are from India, and who bring their Indian culture and customs with them. We’re going because we need to understand better all the people of this small world. That’s peace-making.

We often say there are many spiritual pathways to the same destination. I like that though. We all end up in the arms of God. But maybe there are different ways to be in the arms of God.  And maybe today, at the temple, we’ll get a glimpse of another way.