What Is Your Interfaith Heartsong?

heatherreba
Jan 15
10 min read

Sermon: June 8, 2025 . Pilgrim United Church of Christ

Many of you know that I grew up in this church. My father was the choir director and I sat in these pews Sunday after Sunday, listening to Pastor Jerry Stinson as he pushed boundaries by proclaiming that all people were welcome. Although I must have heard many of his sermons, I only remember one. It was a sermon about how to get to heaven and he essentially said that no religion was “wrong.” Religions were merely different paths to the same place. This made perfect sense to my young, logical mind. I had often wondered how God could have possibly decided that a child born in the depths of the Amazon, who knew nothing of Jesus, could be destined to Hell just because they weren’t lucky enough to have been born in a Christian nation. Salvation by birthplace made no sense to me. And weren’t those other people also experiencing the same sense of spirit I was, even without Jesus? Didn’t they understand what God felt like? With all the same emotions I had, how could they not?

In adulthood, I began to think of God like an island with a huge mountain in the middle. Those who live on the west side of the mountain see jagged cliffs blazing orange in the sunset. Those on the east side see the mountain’s soft, light purple rolling hills during the sunrise. Those on the north and south sides see looming, threatening, shadows that change throughout the day. In this analogy, I decided I lived on the east side of the island. My mountain is kind and loving.

In seminary, I heard a similar description of religion through a folk tale from India called the Blind Men and the Elephant. Four blind men who have never heard of an elephant before are led up to the giant beast. The man standing at the elephant’s side reaches out and feels the elephant’s flank, saying, “An elephant is smooth and solid like a huge wall.” The second man, who is feeling the elephant’s trunk says, “No, an elephant is long and flexible like a snake.” The third man, whose hand is on the elephant’s leg says, “I think it’s more like a huge cow.” The fourth man, who tugs on the elephant’s tail says, “No, It’s made of coarse hair, like rope.” The men argue back and forth, each certain that their concept of an elephant is the correct one. Finally, a wise woman nearby calls out, “Each of you is as correct as the other.” The elephant is taken away and the blind men are left alone, realizing that perhaps each of their experiences of the elephant only tells a small portion of the story. When describing an elephant, or a mountain, or God, perspective matters.

So, I moved through my life fairly certain that the Christians and the Jews and the Muslims and the Native Americans are all correct when explaining their view of God. Intellectually, it makes sense to me. Emotionally, I’m convinced. Because although our words and descriptions may be different, our heartsongs sound the same.

So, what is a heartsong?

If I see a man run to catch a bus in the rain, step in a puddle, trip and fall and sit dejectedly on the sidewalk as the bus drives away without him, I can hear his heartsong.

When I see a new mother rock her baby to sleep, I can hear her heartsong.

When someone looses a loved one, or celebrates a big win, or fears for their health, or laughs out loud, or prays, I can hear their heartsong. And each time, I realize it’s not that different than mine. In fact, I don’t just hear their songs, I recognize them. Because they’re the same songs my heart has sung time and time again.

I am an interfaith minister. “Inter” means “between,” but I don’t feel like I’m between anything. The term “interfaith” is most commonly used when people of different beliefs gather for an event, like to sing in a choir or have a potluck dinner. I’m sure you’ve heard the term when a Catholic marries a Jew and suddenly they’re an “interfaith” couple. But what if someone feels they are actually at home with more than one religion? What about the child of the Catholic and Jew who grows up attending mass and celebrating the Jewish high holy days? Are they caught between religions or does more than one religion create their spiritual landscape? There is now a term that describes these people. They are not interfaith, but multireligious. They live in a world of complexity that many of us don’t. I’ve met people who were raised Muslim and now practice Buddhism, who were raised Jewish and now believe in Jesus, who were raised Catholic and now consider themselves Pagan. These multireligious people have married each other and had children whose spiritual horizons offer more options, traditions and complexities than ever before. On top of that, add in their social identities and we could have a pansexual, bisexual, cisgendered, black woman, who was raised Christian, married a Buddhist, identifies as a Pagan Humanist, and takes their children to a Unitarian church.

When people say, “I was raised this, but now I’m that” it is often stated as though they’ve thrown all spiritual influences of their past right down the drain, as though there is nothing of that previous religion left in them. But how many of us completely let go of our spiritual pasts? Is it possible? Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to say, “I was raised this AND now I’m that. After all, it’s always been the same God walking beside me.” If I had to describe myself, I’d say I was raised UCC, went to Catholic school, attended a Unitarian Universalist seminary AND am an interfaith minister. And even though I may describe myself most often now as an interfaith minister, to this day, my heart still sings with the nuns who taught me to pray the Hail Mary at the San Luis Rey Mission. In many ways, my heartsong is this church and all of you who sit here today.

Just as the people I serve have complex spiritual and religious identities, as an interfaith minister I am also compelled to view the complexity of every circumstance and interaction. I consistently hear ideas that should be in opposition to each other and strive to see how they can peacefully coexist. For example, I once visited with an adult daughter and her elderly mother who was navigating early-onset dementia. They were almost arguing. It was a passionate discussion. I heard these opposing phrases: The mother said “I don’t want to have to stop driving” and the daughter said “But it’s dangerous, Mom. You could get lost.” The two went back and forth, arguing passionately, desperately trying to get the other one to listen, to understand that they are right. But is only one of them right? Or are they both right? The mother didn’t want to lose the independence driving offers her AND the daughter was worried that driving is dangerous. Both were true. Both existed. Both were different reactions to the same reality. The goal is for both people to hold the concepts together at the same time, in order to find understanding. A solution may not be found, but understanding can be, and that’s a first step. The mother wanted the daughter to know that she is grieving the loss of her independence. The daughter wanted the mother to know that she was worried about her because she loves her. Both are reasonable and understandable concepts that are not actually in opposition to each other, even though both mother and daughter felt like they were.

When we look at conflict on a global scale, we often choose a side. After all, with our binary thinking patterns rooted deeply within us, one side must be right and one wrong, one side must be a friend while the other is an enemy, one must be good and the other evil. Otherwise, how do I know how to stay safe? If I don’t know how to identify the enemy, if I don’t know what they look like, how they act, what they worship, then how do I know I’m on the right side? And how will people view me if I’m on the wrong side? How will they view me if I can actually identify with both sides? We’ve all heard “If you’re not with us, you’re against us.” But taking all the optional alternatives and forcing them to two extreme corners makes it nearly impossible to hold them together, despite the fact that they both simultaneously exist at least in people’s feelings. Being an interfaith minister means two things:

Listen to their heartsong.

And think “and” instead of “but.”

When you think “but”, you essentially negate the first half of your thought and push it to the opposite side of what you’re about to say. When you say “and”, you hold both thoughts together. Here are some examples:

“I’d like to visit a synagogue, but I’m not Jewish.”

“I’d like to visit a synagogue and I’m not Jewish.”

“I was raised Catholic, but I’m gay.”

“I was raised Catholic and I’m gay.”

“I care about the Israeli people, but innocent Palestinians are dying!”

“I care about the Israeli people and innocent Palestinians are dying.”

You can practice this “and” method even with simple issues like,

“I need to clean the kitchen, but I’m really tired.”

“I need to clean the kitchen and I’m really tired.”

You can be really tired AND clean the kitchen. It’s possible. Believe me, it is my eternal state of being.

I invite you to replace “but” with “and” the next time you are trying to hold two seemingly opposing concepts together or the next time you’re having a conversation with someone who holds very different beliefs. See if it doesn’t help the other person feel heard. See if it doesn’t bring the two sides a little closer together and change the conversation.

And I know what you’re thinking, “But Heather, there are beliefs I just can’t tolerate, beliefs that lead to hatred, bigotry, sexism, racism.” And you’re right. There are behaviors we shouldn’t tolerate, nor should we slacken the hard line we draw when we find such behaviors unacceptable. However, the same Christian beliefs that have been used to justify genocide have also been used to welcome the enemy to the same table. Those of us who follow a liberal faith consider ourselves inclusive and accepting of all people, despite our differences. It doesn’t matter what your gender is, who you love, whether you’re neurodivergent or differently abled, how old you are, how much money you give to the church... We accept all people regardless of identity because we can see past the outside package and into their hearts. We can hear their heartsongs. That’s exactly what interfaith ministry is. And if we are truly accepting, truly inclusive, then we are actually Christian universalists, Christians not with a promise of salvation for all IF you believe what I believe, but Christians who believe in a truly inclusive God offering salvation for all.

Galatians 3:28 says “There is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female… for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

Colossians 3:11 says: “Here there is no Gentile or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all.” There is no barbarian. Christ is in all.

In Islam, Tawhid means “the oneness of God.” The actual phrasing is “There is no God but God and Muhammad is his prophet.” Interestingly, Islam believes there were five main prophets of God: Muhammad, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and Jesus.

John 12:44-45 quotes Jesus as saying, “Whoever believes in me believes not in me but in him who sent me. And whoever sees me sees him who sent me.”

There are Buddhist scriptures in which the Buddha states that whoever sees the principle of interdependence sees the Dharma and whoever sees the Dharma sees the Buddha.

These heartsongs all sound very similar. It is a natural human condition to seek the divine, to understand this feeling we all have within us. We can describe the elephant however we see fit, but it’s still an elephant. Whether we have decided that THIS path is more comfortable for us to walk than this other one, we’re all headed to the same place. So I ask you, how do you describe your path? What is your heartsong? How is it multireligious? How do you walk through this interfaith world? Who do you walk with? Whose heartsong sounds like yours? And is the heartsong of the person you call your enemy really that different than yours? Or is their heart singing the very same song yours has at one time?

The sacred songs of the world’s religions might actually harmonize when listened to together. The prayers of Jewish and Muslim mothers might actually be quite similar. Our heartsongs might be more aligned then we ever thought possible. The only way we’ll know is if we sing our own with reckless abandon, but not so loudly that we can’t hear the heartsongs of others. And while you’re singing, keep your ears open to the heartsongs of those around you. They’re more familiar than you know.

As one of our readings today stated, from the Hindu sacred text, the Rig Vega. “Sing the song of celestial love, O singer! May the divine fountain of eternal grace and joy enter your soul... Bless us with a divine voice that we may tune the harp-strings of our life to sing songs of Love to you.”

Amen.

M E G I L L M U S I C

What Is Your Interfaith Heartsong?

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