We All Have a Story to Tell

by guest blogger, Ryan Pendell. 

The nun that stepped onto the bus was old. Not Mother Theresa old, just regular old. Her small ankles that she walked on had frayed stockings sagging around them, stuffed into her worn out shoes. When she sat down she rested her wrists in her lap and looked at the floor of the bus.

Next to her, sitting on a platform above her, there was a man who started talking loudly in her direction. He shouted about how evil the Catholic Church was, how awful priests were. He went on talking about priests for a long time, staring right at her. She didn’t look up or move at all. The bus was packed, and everyone there just sat there and watched.

I watched. I watched it for at least ten minutes and said nothing. Then my stop came, and I got off. I am not Catholic, but I knew that was wrong. Somebody should’ve said something, defended that nun who hadn’t done anything. Why didn’t I just say something? Why didn’t anybody say anything? And what would make someone act that way? And what was she thinking?

Years later, a week ago, in fact, I attended my first Project Interfaith event, a guided discussion about morality. After the discussion I felt like morality—whatever I think it is—has something to do with that gut feeling I had on the bus, that sense that no matter what your background, you deserve to be respected as your own person, not just your group identity.

But I also learned from my group that some people have been really hurt by religion. They don’t see it as a good thing.  I have been religious my whole life. Although I’ve struggled with my faith in many ways, I never saw religion itself as bad. But now I have these other stories. They aren’t ones I can explain away or dismiss. They are now part of me, and they are part of how I think about my own faith. I carry them, not quite sure what to do with them but glad that I have them.

I realize now that there was a LOT going on that day on the bus. Everyone on that bus had a story. The rude man shouting had a story. The nun had a story. I had a story. The stranger next to me had a story. We were all there, strangers together, holding our stories, waiting for someone to listen, to take our stories and carry them.

Ryan Pendell is a freelance writer living in Omaha. He studied Philosophy at Northwestern College in Orange City, Iowa, and received his MFA in Writing from the Art Institute of Chicago. His poetry has appeared in Saint Katherine Review, Anglican Theological Review, and Christianity & Literature. He enjoys watching classic black and white movies at Film Streams and mastering the perfect cup of tea.

What Good Is Religion?

by guest blogger, Jacob Schwaegler.

Ever have a bad weekend?  I just had one.  Rough weekends are never fun, but what made this one so frustrating was my expectation that it would be great.  On paper, it should have been.  Four friends and I drove to Okoboji to volunteer at a church camp that’s pretty special to me.  Before we left on Friday I was excited to help the camp, hang out with friends, and spend time with God free from distractions.   So I was pretty disappointed when I returned to Omaha exhausted, confused, and mad at the same God I wanted to move towards.  To make a long story short, I got impatient and bored, and my retreat turned into more of a struggle.  The passion with which I went into camp on Friday had long since burned out by Sunday afternoon.  That moment was pretty disheartening.  I found myself sitting in bed at midnight wondering how on earth to reach God; wondering what good is religion? 

Studies show the people of our country aren’t moving toward organized religion, but running away from it.  But why?  Is it hypocrisy?  Laziness?  Apathy?  Maybe.  But I’d like to propose something different.  I actually think people are being reasonable.  In fact, I think people are moving away from religion because they’re being honest with themselves.   Time for a full disclaimer: I’m a follower of Jesus.  I believe in the virgin birth, the church, and trust Jesus.  But I’m not much for religion.  Not because it’s boneheaded or bad, I just think it’s inefficient.

I’m by no means an expert, so I understand if you take what I’m about to say with a grain of salt.  But in my experience as a Christian, everything I’ve learned about religion can be summed up in a single sentence: “If I do ____, then I’m good with God.”  Fill in the ____ with your favorite religious practice (tithing, confession, etc…) and you have religion.  I’d like to say I’m surprised when students leave the faith, but when we tell our kids God will love you if you pray three times a day and give up something for Lent, we really shouldn’t wonder why they’re running away at 18. 

The “rise of the nones” isn’t necessarily a terrible thing. I think many people leaving the faith are just being honest.  One of these people is my friend Brock.  Brock’s been one of my best friends since high school and is someone I really respect.  He’s also an agnostic.  Though I can disagree with Brock, I respect him for his honesty (and fashion sense, but that’s not really relevant at all here).   I think he represents my generation when he looks at our current system and doubts that a couple of prayers here and there will get God on our side and get us to heaven.

I think kids like Brock are tapping out because they feel religion is missing a solution.  A real one.  In my experience, actions, prayers, and gifts can’t connect me to God.  We do need to reach God, but like many in the “none” generation, I have serious doubts we can reach Him on our own.  I think the only way religion can be effective is if it focuses on God reaching down to us.

So what do we do and where do we reach?  That’s the question many of us are asking today.  All I can tell you is where I reach.  Simply put, I turn to Jesus.  I know that’s so cliché and I know how stupid it sounds.  But I think the phrase has gotten a bad rap.  Turning to Jesus isn’t me bucking up and working my way back to God’s favor, nor is it me listening to the latest liar on TV and sending him all my money.  To me, turning to Jesus is me acknowledging I can’t do it on my own and putting my trust in someone who can.  In him, I’ve got a savior who understands my weakness and knows how to connect me back to God. 

I think I’m part of a generation who sits in their beds at midnight and knows religion won’t cut it.  I admire the nones of this world for their willingness to admit they can’t do it on their own. 

Jacob Schwaegler is a junior at Creighton studying Finance and Marketing who still doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up.  An avid sports fan, Jacob especially loves Creighton basketball, but he's also a big fan of organic food and the great state of Iowa.  Above all, he tries to follow Jesus and blogs about it sometimes at realcommunity.weebly.com.

Jessa Diebel’s Year Off: My Vacation from Declaring a Belief

by Project Interfaith Communication's Intern, Jessa Diebel

Ferris Bueller inspired my decision to take a step back from religion and my internal need to declare my beliefs to my friends and family. As an enthusiastic viewer of the classic movie, “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” I found I admired Ferris’ ability to let go of his responsibilities and instead experience life. Instead of skipping school, I have skipped declaring a belief system, just for a year.

I grew up in a relaxed religious household. I was baptized, received communion and was confirmed as a Roman Catholic and attended religious education every Wednesday evening at the local Catholic school. I grew up in a mainly Catholic neighborhood in the Midwest with little religious diversity. Growing up, I was just never excited to go to church. In fact, I was terrified of the religion. I still remember being terrified before my first time through reconciliation; I clutched my instructions for the sacrament and shook through the entire experience. I basically realized that others my age were experiencing something that I was not – a connection to the religion I was raised in.

Thankfully, my parents are accepting people. I began to realize how lucky I was to have them as my parents when I began to express my lack of connection to the Catholic Church; something that many people my age were never able to do. My parents realized that it was not something that I truly believed in.  I was not excited to attend mass or participate in the sacraments. I attended a private Catholic high school and began to learn the church’s stance on certain social issues and I realized our views were severely different. I was feeling like Cameron did at the beginning of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, apathetic and listless.

Enter college and I became more comfortable with my confusion when it came to religious beliefs. I encountered meditation, different religions and more people that seemed to be transitioning from the religions they were raised in to ones they identified with more. I found myself telling people that I just plain did not know what was above or below me. I refrained from calling myself a Catholic; I refrained from calling myself anything. I started to become more and more comfortable with my lack of religious identity. I metaphorically pushed my dad’s $90,000 sports car through the glass and destroyed it. 

I am currently working on finding a religion that I can identify with because I do not want to become too comfortable with this uncertainty. Contrary to my wishes, I cannot remain on break from religion for forever. If my theology classes have taught me anything, it has been the history behind Catholicism, as well as the power that comes from living a purposeful life. To this day, I hope to have a religious experience or have some sign that tells me where to go and what path to follow – I am looking for Ferris’ ‘Danke Schoen’ moment, because it is obvious to me that Ferris goes on to become a superstar lip-syncher.

I know other people experience this same feeling of uncertainty, especially at my age (I’m nearly 21) and I think it is more than okay. Faith is an important thing to have, no matter where it comes from and no matter the religion behind it. I have found it most helpful to discuss religious beliefs with my friends and family. I have found the greatest resources are the people around you.

Jessa Diebel is the current Communications Intern at Project Interfaith. She is a junior Graphic Design and Advertising major at Creighton University, with a penchant for social media and the internet. She loves Omaha almost as much as she loves her hometown of St. Paul, Minnesota. She is passionate about learning and sharing informative information through Project Interfaith. She enjoys looking at pictures of cute dogs, traveling when she has the means, watching classic movies and being with friends.

Theological Meanderings: Light

by guest blogger, Kyle Lincoln

Light, being both a giver of life and alive itself, watches us just as much as it gives us the ability to watch our own surroundings. We all rely on the sun for the casting of its light, and yet while we often notice the world around us we rarely focus directly on the light until it’s absent. I often stare at light and shadows, looking at shapes and forms, mesmerized not just by how it draws out of the elements of the subject but by the phenomenon of light alone. It must be comical to catch me in this trance, staring at any trivial object like it’s a new discovery and full of wonder, eyes wide and in deep concentration. Sometimes it's nothing more than a wall with shadows from tree branches imprinted into it, and the shadows slowly move with the passing sun reminding me we also exist in the context of time. As it illuminates an object I feel a sense of knowing it more fully, and thickness and form are drawn out by the shadows. Something about actively watching light makes my entire being feel comparably small while massively infinite, there’s an odd magic that draws me in. When light washes over skin the warmth is physically felt rinsing our surface  as if a substance. Unlike wind, which allows us to feel small invincible gas substance, light is genuinely nothing but the spilling warmth of the sun.

Light is the source of all things. It was the first requirement before existence, and ultimately everything on our earth originated and continues to be supported by the sun. The creation of our planet is a result of cooling dust and residue left over from the blast of our sun’s ignition. Ultimately all matter on our planet was once in our sun. As life has now come to exist, anything that lives relies on the sun’s nurturing warmth. For plants to grow and nourish us with food, or to feed livestock or any other animal, the plants rely on sunlight for the phenomenal process of  photosynthesis. The ingenious process of  the splitting of water with nothing other than light, using the energy to create a sugar for the plant from hydrogen, and as a byproduct the plant disposes the unneeded oxygen giving us our breath. We then harness the same energy as we eat. The light is the source of energy and breathable air, and so we are warmed, fed and breath all because of light.  It’s from the idea of light that I form some sense of my theology.

While this could be an easy analogy, drawing from old comparisons of God to light, to me it makes more sense to view light as some presence of God within our material perspective. That’s not to say we should worship light, but that light might as well be a physical attribute of God that can be experienced. The term God, in my instances, is extremely loose. It must be loose given the fact as a finite person I’m encountering and measuring the infinite. God may be theological, and is often conversed using such philosophy, but as light we can fill these understandings and view it as means to show love towards others by living within the characteristics of light. Noticing the main attributes of light as I stare it, the feeling of warmth, the granter of sight, and source of life, provides a strong sense of what it means to live as light. We exist as light, and should live as the light. The light becomes us through its chain, we are its image, and we must reflect this to others until the world illuminates and we see the magnificence of our spiritual and physical source: the sun.

As light refracts and reflects as a rainbow through water particles into various colors, so each person shines their own spiritual light derived from a single source of some such sun, however our color may reflect that. Even those who are not a theist, some source of light exists in most worldviews that can signify some form of God, whatever it may look like, that comes from their personal sun. Harmony is when people to embrace the color of their faith and acknowledge its single source. God, being both the sun and a spiritual entity like it, breaks into multiple hues. Though we can’t look directly into the sun without the risk of losing our sight we always feel its effects. Let us live in the world as a light, giving energy, breath and warmth to all we meet.

Kyle Lincoln is, in a word, unusual. Though nationally and legally an American, he lived overseas most of his life beginning with his birth in Kinshasa, DRC, formerly Zaire. He later moved to Uganda in 1994, where he spent the majority of his life and attended an international school. His parents are missionaries who raised him under a Christian faith, giving him a deep belief in God and a fascination for culture, faith and theology of all sorts. After graduating high school, he moved to Grand Rapids, MI, where he majored in Theater with a psychology minor at Calvin College. Much of his influence comes from a branch of theater popularized by Samuel Beckett, Vaclav Havel, and Eugène Ionesco, among others, known as “Theater of the absurd.” It’s based around an anti-philosophy of sorts, which insinuates that while ideologies are of great worth and study, none should be looked as having full knowledge of absolutes and that our understanding is limited to our real life existence which is ultimately full of the unexplainable. Kyle continues to value truth, along with principles that demonstrate worth of humanity and anything living, and often seeks to find what in our world can be fully known from our finite position. He is an observer who regularly fluctuates in and out existential crises, but is often involved in numerous activities such as juggling, writing, drawing, gardening, questioning, and some of his favorite things are nature, music, cities, arts, and food. He currently works as a volunteer coordinator for Together, a homeless prevention agency in Omaha, NE, as part of the Lutheran Volunteer Corps.

Bless Everyone: The Greatest Lesson

by momaha.com blogger, Tunette Powell

The Christian Bible teaches us to “love your neighbor as yourself”. 

Well before I was baptized, well before I knew that as one of the Ten Commandments, and well before I ever heard a sermon preached on the commandment, my mother preached those words in our home.

Decades later, I am a mother now. And as I watch my now-toddlers grow into boys and one day men, they will know that scripture, too. Whether Christian, Muslim or Jewish or any other religious affiliation, the greatest lesson we can teach our children is to love.

“Love your neighbor as yourself.” 

Those were God’s orders to His people. He did not say love thy Christian neighbor. He said love thy neighbor. Each morning and night as I say a prayer with my children, each prayer ends the same. 

“…Bless everybody. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.” 

“Who is everybody, mama?” my 3-year-old, JJ, once asked. 

“Granny, Papa Holder, Kyonte, Paw-Paw…” I replied.

I went on and on naming everybody I could think of. I named my best friend Alice, who was a bride’s maid in my wedding. I named my very good friend Niveditha, Niv for short. I even named my former Japanese professor, Mr. Holman, who took me on my first trip abroad. Alice is Buddhist. Niveditha is Hindu. And Professor Holman is Mormon. When I named them I didn’t think about their religious beliefs. I named them because they all shared one common theme – they were people I loved and people who loved me. 

Since asking that question, JJ now fills in people’s names after we say, “Bless everybody.”

“Bless Granny, Kyonte and Niv…” he says.

And even though JJ is only 3-years-old and my youngest, Joah, is only 23-months-old, they are still both old enough to say, “Bless everybody.” And to me that’s what matters most. Moreover, that’s what matters most to God because as quoted in Mark 12:31, “Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.”

Tunette Powell is married with two children. You can read her every Tuesday on momaha.com

The Importance of Being (Interfaith) Earnest

by momaha.com blogger, Chris Donnelly

Another Wednesday. The kids get home from school to a melee of snacks (because heaven forbid they eat their entire lunches at school) and homework before rushing off to their church youth group.

As they studied, I sat on my couch fiddling furiously on my iPad.  The iPad alone is enough to draw my oldest son's attention, but if I’m frustrated by whatever is on it, then he assumes it must be really good.   At this particular time a friend’s son, who I have known since he was a boy, was being featured in an Israeli newspaper.  His (rightfully) proud momma had posted a link, and I was trying (unsuccessfully) to get a translation from the original Hebrew.

The photo on the cover showed the young man, who is a Rabbi now, in his traditional Orthodox hair and attire, which only further drew my curious son’s attention from the task at hand.

My son’s questions, beginning with, “Who is that and what is he wearing?” sparked our first discussion about differences in faith and religion.  I’m sure there will be many more, but this was the first time his attention was peaked.

While I appreciated that unique moment with my son, I didn’t realize until later that it had also been an important opportunity to model behavior for him.

You see, my wife and I made the decision long ago to raise our children in a Christian home.  Since then, we have talked at great length about what it actually means to do so and what values we want to emphasize.

Church-based religious training will be important, we know.  The Wednesday night programs and Sunday school classes will be a start, but there will have to be more in order for our kids to really have their hearts rooted in their faith.

As I reflected on my discussion with my son, I realized that another important component of our kids’ spiritual lives will simply be us, his parents.  Religious training is necessary, yes, but who our friends are, what we say about them, and how we behave towards others will be just as influential.

As my son and I talked about differences in Christianity and Judaism, he heard me not only explain our faith but also express respect and love for someone of a different faith.  And I hope that example lingers in his memory bank somewhere. That is a lesson that has to come from my example.  Some things cannot be taught otherwise.

My wife and I are no experts in religious matters, but we do know that our children's faith and attitudes in the future will be directly influenced by our behavior right now.

Chris Donnelly is married with four children. You can read him every Thursday on momaha.com

A Politician's Religious Affiliation: No Es Importante!

by Victoria Rehr, Resource Development Intern for Project Interfaith

Absence makes the heart grow fonder; or so I’m frequently told whenever I complain about missing something from the United States. Living in Ecuador for a year on study abroad has changed my perspective on quite a few things in life, but my consideration of religion in public life has been altered quite drastically.

Ecuador is (obviously) a different ballgame than the United States; salsa music blares on death-defying bus rides, hot empanada stands are as prevalent as Starbucks, and I get frantic emails every month or so from the Department of State telling me which volcanoes are erupting and the best evacuation routes. But beneath these obvious contrasts lies a more complex issue: a culture that has a fundamentally different worldview.

This diversity of perspective most certainly extends to religion. Like most Latin American countries, Ecuador has a strong Catholic majority and a growing presence of Evangelical groups, with a smattering here and there of other faiths. Most Ecuadorians clarify that they are not catholic, but Catholic, devoted to the worship and traditions in a way not commonly seen throughout modern North America and Europe. The relationship of Catholicism with Latin America is complex, given that it is in all actuality the religion of the conqueror. But Christianity, and especially Catholicism, has become an integral part of Ecuadorian culture, shaping everything from family bonds to government.

The United States presents a markedly different picture. Despite claims to the contrary that we are a “Christian nation,” diverse traditions and faith practices are one of our defining characteristics. Although this patchwork of creeds can make for contentious discussion (War on Christmas, anyone?) the freedom and variety of religion is part of our national identity.

Differences in religious dialogue are perhaps most evident during election season. The heightened tension of the 2012 presidential election is still probably fresh in the mind of most Americans (or "United Statesians", as the politically correct say in South America). From Mormon to Muslim, faith was a central issue in last year’s election. It came up in all the debates and at the national conventions, and many swing issues for voters were based on religious differences.

Although it probably didn’t make headlines, Ecuador had its presidential elections this February. Incumbent Raphael Correa was re-elected by a heavy majority in a surprisingly predictable election, given that Ecuador has had eight presidents in fifteen years. But noticeably absent from the election rhetoric was any extensive discussion of faith. Here and there Correa’s reputation as “a good Catholic man” was mentioned, but the election was largely focused on pressing economic issues and international disputes.

This comparison seems a little counter-intuitive: wouldn’t the more conventionally religious nation have more recognition of faith in its presidential elections? If “Jesus Saves” is printed on the side of most major bus companies, shouldn’t different conceptions of God be at the forefront of every debate?

These questions have no easy answers, but I think that the solution lies within the religious diversity of the United States. Our faith traditions are different, but so are our ideas about the role of religion in the public sphere and its influence on major issues. The controversies between groups are more divisive and difficult. Interfaith dialogue becomes an important tool for building bridges in tolerance, but also with creating productive solutions to problems facing our communities and nation. 

This is not to say that interfaith work has no place in Ecuador or other nations dominated by one faith tradition. Rather, it is to point out the opportunity and importance of interfaith dialogue in the United States. We may tire of hearing the constant back and forth of debate about “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance or the President’s secret religious identity, but with so many faith traditions co-existing relatively peacefully in one country, it is only to be expected. Finding common ground between these groups can be difficult, but is also a valuable and unique aspect of our national identity.

There are some things that I miss very much about the United States, and some things that I could forget about for another year. The divisive debates centered on religion used to be a constant headache for me, but I’ve come to see them as another characteristic of the rich tapestry of faiths in our nation. I count myself lucky to be both an interfaith activities and United Statesian.


Tori Rehr is the Spring 2013 Resource Development intern for ProjecInterfaith. She is a junior majoring in Psychology and Spanish at Juniata College, and is studying in Quito, Ecuador for the academic year. Tori previously worked as research assistant to the Psychology Department at Juniata, investigating cognitive effects of language learning and the political implications of multiculturiasm. She became passionate about interfaith while volunteering with Juniata’s Planting Seeds organization, and is excited to learn more about the non-profit world with Project Interfaith. Tori enjoys reading, playing the flute, learning new languages, and traveling.