We sit crossed legged in the courtyard of the mosque. He talks to me about his ‘philosophy’. It comes from the Sufi tradition of Islam.
“There is one Creator. We are all the same because there is one Creator.”
So far, we agree.
“The one Creator created the universe both outside of us and inside of us. We are all micro-universes.”
I understand the imagery and, have no immediate complaint.
“He is inside us all; this one Creator.”
Now the language becomes slippery. I don’t disagree, but the statement has multiple meanings and the ‘devil is in the detail’.
“There is a principle in Islam of dhikr; a remembrance, recitation of the Holy Quran. We empty ourselves of ego in order that the words of Allah can fill us. We can become like God; his hands, his eyes.”
As he speaks St Teresa of Avila’s words echo in my mind.
Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which He looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which He blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are His body.
St Teresa of Avila, attributed
And at morning prayer the preacher had spoken of the same idea.
“Theosis is when we and God become one.”
I am inspired to speak of this teleological hope.
“Christians believe that we were created to reflect God in the world. We do not fully do this because of sin.”
“Satan is in the heart also.”
“Yes,” I say, “In heaven we will become perfect and be like him as we were meant to be.”
“But some can do this here on earth also.” He pre-empts my point.
“Yes. We can glimpse it in others and, God willing, we can experience it within ourselves. But how can we tell what is God-like and what only seems good but actually is not of God?”
“We cannot know God.” He postulates.
“That is where our religions differ. Why would God create us to reflect him and not tell us what that reflection looks like?”
“He has sent his prophets to tell us.”
“Amen and, dare I say this in this place? Christians, of course, believe that we have seen not the reflection but the image itself. This makes it easier for us to follow God’s will to be like him as we have seen what it is to live like God.”
“Isa was a prophet… You do not mind us talking like this? I am not a holy man. I tell you what I think and you tell me where I am right and where I am wrong. Let me tell you about a Sufi, Manur al Hallaj. He went around saying, “I am truth. I am truth.” He was killed for his belief. There are different strands of Islam and there are some who are authoritarian and do not allow this thinking. Then there is Sufiism which has this thought.”
“We call this idea ‘theosis’. It is our hope to become like Him on earth as we will be in heaven.”
“Enough. I am glad to talk about these things.”
We get up and continue our tour. He returns, at different times as we walk, to the subject of faith and stresses, again and again, his love of ‘interfaith harmony’. He points out in the Walled City of Lahore the different places of worship (most are historic sites, rather than living places of faith).
“See here a masjid and here, a few doors down: the star of David. The Jews and Muslims living side by side for a long time. This is what Pakistan is like.”
I recall seeing a large, disturbing banner on my way into the city. It had a photograph of Benjamin Netanyahu and underneath his face: ‘The blood-sucking killer of the oppressed’. Despite my companion’s emphasis on the desire of interfaith harmony I cannot match that with the banner. Is this down to cultural use of rhetoric/language? I decide not to raise this with him.
I also remember a conversation with another Muslim contact I had made. They had spoken about how they were seeking to find harmony between the different faiths. In Pakistan it seems the major dialogue is between Muslims and Sikhs. This is, obviously, due to the historic divisions between the two faiths. They are also, clearly, the most culturally impactful faiths in the region. My contact talked about how they had encouraged the Pakistani Authorities to pay for the restoration and conservation of holy sites of other faiths to encourage faith tourism.
“I have tried to persuade them about the untapped economic benefit of faith tourism.”
As part of the successful bid to UNESCO to name Lahore as City of Literature, the team produced educational material on the different holy sites in Lahore. The Pakistani Authorities originally rejected them and requested that they focus more on the heritage aspect of the sites. It is complicated for them to strike the right balance, as it is for all governments, between the extremes and the centre ground within their populations.
It seems to me that ‘ordinary Pakistanis’ are much like ‘ordinary Brits’, moderate and open minded. And yet, I sense a lingering suspicion in my own heart and I question their honesty. I am aware that I am being spoken to as a known Christian and a priest, a “holy man”. Culturally they want to offer deference to me. They want to show me honour and to receive honour from me. They would not desire to shame me and my faith. Does this lead them to say what they think I want to hear?
So where does this leave ‘interfaith harmony’?
There is something about prophecy that fascinates me within the dialogue between Islam and Christianity. Islam centres on the term ‘Prophet’.
When City of Culture was announced in Bradford and I spoke openly to many faith groups about being prophetic within the city and leading the culture towards things of virtue and righteousness (whatever we might mean by that). I was aware of the difficulty of using the word ‘prophetic’. How can we be prophets if Muhammed, to a Muslim, is the last prophet? There are different schools of Islamic thought on this. I wonder if the short conversation on this matter with my guide is a common ground to explore with Muslim neighbours. What does it mean to call someone a ‘prophet’? Can there be prophets today?
As for me. I have been a prophet today. I have lived out, in a small way, what it means to mirror the Divine. This is not the same as the historic martyred Sufi mystic who proclaimed that they have become the Divine. Jesus calls me to reflect the glory, truth and beauty of God not so I can be God but so that I can be truly human. I have been transformed as I tell, teach, treasure and tend to the person before me. I, therefore, am participating in mission; the combination of the five-fold ministry of the Church. I felt called to evanglise, to teach, to pastor and to be a kind of apostle through the gift of prophecy.
Prophecy is often depicted as antagonistic; a kind of railing against oppressive powers; ‘speaking truth to power.’ I have long felt uncomfortable about this vision of the prophetic. Ellen Davis, in her excellent book, ‘Biblical Prophecy’ talks about the more contemplative nature of the prophets of the Old Testament. The Old Testament prophets were those who knew God, who were friends of God, who sought after his presence. Prophecy becomes, in this understanding, more like mysticism.
My own experience of the prophetic is a painful but persistent unsettledness in this world. I do not wish to be antagonistic when I am compelled to speak the truth. This contemplative approach to prophecy is hard to argue with. If we are able to stand against injustice, without shouting, without aggression, but with a desire to, at the same time, to tell, to teach, to treasure and to tend then we will see the Spirit moving in the heart of the person with whom we relate.
I head home frantically scribbling notes in my notebook. After yesterday I feel more inspired and I thank God, for that.
