Religion and Human Rights

I had a fascinating and wonderful experience Monday as a guest speaker at the American summer program for Humanity in Action. HIA engages college and post-graduate students from the United States and Europe and exposes them to histories of resistance in order to inspire the young people to work to protect and promote minority and human rights in their home countries. The American and European students here in New York this summer are getting exposure to scholars and practitioners of human rights and community-based organizing in minority contexts. It's an incredible exposure for these young men and women to the ways that ordinary citizens can--and do every day--make society a safer and better place for the "least among us."

My job was to be an accessible face for these students to ask questions about religion and its relationship to human rights.

I began by telling my own story--growing up in church, leaving church for 6-7 years in my teens and early 20s, coming back to a great progressive Presbyterian church when I was in the emotional throes of having founded a community-development nonprofit. I described how, in my own religion, I "discovered" ways to think about who I am, who others are in relationship to myself, and what it means to live a good life. In short, I discovered a narrative about the power of love that, when overlaid on the fragments of my existence, helped it all to cohere. I said a brief word about how I think all religions are pragmatic, practical paths through the "existential thicket" of life. I read a few passages of scripture: Deut. 26, Lev. 19, Luke 10 that illustrate how religion moves us inexorably (if we're obedient) toward human dignity and human rights for all.

Then, I opened things up for questions.

Boy, were there questions. One young man suggested religions shouldn't have a place in public life--they've done too much harm. Another young man suggested that religions aren't doing a good job policing their co-religionists. Others asked very personal questions about their own beliefs or about whether religion and rationality can co-exist.

The questions came fast and furious and every one could have been the subject of a dissertation.

One of the last comments--and it's always the one that is the harshest that lingers--was from a young French man who confessed his atheism (now that I think about it, nearly every person prefaced their comments or questions by a word about their beliefs) admitted that he just didn't get what I was doing there. He felt like I had been preaching and he didn't understand by my presentation or the Q&A why I had been asked to come. The HIA program director jumped in to answer, but I still left feeling badly.

I so desperately want my faith to make sense. And I forget that even--and especially--highly rational folks have biases that aren't easy to work through. Liberal, open-minded people are some of the most closed-minded people I know, especially when it comes to things (like religion) that they have decided aren't open-minded enough.

If I left the day with any more self-awareness, it's that one of my goals in preaching (not just with my words, but with my life) is to show that faith, reason, and social justice are necessary correlates in a full and rich human experience. It felt like this experience with these brilliant and challenging students helped me get a little closer to my own calling.

And boy, being with all those atheists and skeptics also left me feeling like an evangelical freakshow. But it made me realize, too, that as a person of faith who is able to trace the connections between faith and reason with some skill, I have a meaningful role to play outside of the church as a bridge builder to secular-leaning academics. I need to make time, should I stay in the church, to work outside the church.

If you have a chance to check out the HIA website, please do. It's a really important organization... and if you know a college student who is interested in justice and human rights issues, share it with them.