She said all the other kids in school thought what she was doing was really great. Sports? No. Academics? No. Cool clothes? No. What it was, was fasting. She was fasting from sunrise to sunset, being in the school cafeteria with her friends but not eating or drinking, for the first time her parents would let her participate in the grown-up world, observing the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. When I heard her talk about her experience, I couldn’t help but think about how we Catholics used to abstain from meat on Friday, and how we used to fast and abstain during Lent. And how we used to avoid all food and drink from midnight until the time we went to Communion at Mass. I am not saying I want to return to days past and practices performed, although what we did – or didn’t do – back then helped to identify us. But I’d like to see what can be seen from a different point of view. I remember a grade school acquaintance – not a friend of course, because he wasn’t Catholic. He said he knew I was Catholic because I had to eat a certain kind of sandwich on some days. I guess he thought we were equals on every other day but Friday. Later in life, another friend – partly in jest and partly in earnest – used to call us “mackerel snappers.” I don’t know if he made that up or if it came from a long tradition of disregard for the dietary customs of our Catholic faith. Another extreme example has to be the true but overly simplified notion in the song, that “They’ll know we are Christians by our love.” From the first time I heard those words sung, and for every one of the hundreds of times afterwards, I wondered how that could be true. I know the words are Scripturally based, but do they mean that Jews could not love each other? Or pagans? Or whatever we call people who are not Christians? In recent times, as society and faith traditions grow more complicated, I have begun to think that there is another viewpoint that might be more helpful. As much as I value what it is that identifies our particular faith traditions and practices, I have also begun to appreciate more and more what we have in common.
* * * The beginning of such thinking for me is the beginning of our creed: I believe in one God. I believe in the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, as do our “older brothers and sisters” – as Pope John Paul II called followers of Judaism. I believe in the God of Ibrahim, because I know that vowels don’t make enough of a difference in language to separate us from Muslims who also trace their traditions to the one God who chose to reveal himself in human history.
* * * Take the time to reflect on the identifying marks of your faith tradition. What is it about your home, your habits, your lifestyle that identifies you? Take the time to get to know a person or a family of another culture or faith tradition. Find out what you have in common, and seek to understand what you hold that is different. Examine the population make-up of your neighborhood or city. What cultures are represented in the school your children attend? What languages will you hear in the supermarket? In recent times, Muslims and Christians – including Pope Benedict XVI – have made efforts to identify common values. Take the time to learn more about your own faith traditions, and then to examine the tenets and traditions of others. I would expect you to find that people admire a faith that is strong, even if it is different, and that a common faith in the one God who created us is more important than what we are having for lunch.
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