One of my least favorite expressions, which I hear at church all the time, goes something like this: "He/She's not a member [of our church], but...." The commentator then goes on to say what a wonderful or Christlike person the individual is or what a good example he/she is, and the comment is usually pronounced in a tone implying, "I was surprised to find a good example of any Gospel principle outside the membership of our church, and you should be as surprised too!" So why do we always have to qualify or justify people outside our church?
The word "but" is a loaded word, charged with more meaning than its measly three letters might suggest. Essentially, when we say "but," we are emphasizing an implied contradiction between what we said in the first clause and in the second clause of the sentence. For example, "He's not a doctor, but he knows a lot about micro pathogens." Or even sarcastically, "I'm no rocket scientist, but that looks like it should work." So when we say, "He/She's not a member [of our church], but..." we imply that our friends of other faiths should not be expected to be good people. Am I truly to believe that? I won't!
It only makes sense that each faith believes it is teaching the truth. (If it weren't, why not belong to the faith that was?) A belief system is based on the belief that it is correct. So we should expect our friends to believe they believe the truth, regardless of whether we believe what they believe. It shouldn't come as a surprise, then, that I feel I really have found a great source of truth in my church. In fact, I haven't found a better one anywhere.
Accepting this belief, however, I accept that others likely feel the same way about their faith. They believe they're doing what's right, and quite frankly, many of them are likely doing as good a job or better of living right as I am. To assume less would be presumptuous. So why should I be surprised when I hear an inspiring story about a friend or prominent figure of another faith?
In addition, asking whether someone "is a member [of the Church]" creates several unwanted consequences. Are we to have our friends of other faiths feel alienated every time we refer to them as "non-members?" Not members of what? Is the Church some kind of exclusive club, where you're either in or out, or should the Church be a place where all feel welcome? Besides, if a visiting member of another faith is questioned about his membership, will he even know to which membership we're referring? "Of the health club? The yacht club? Sure, sure, I'm a member."
Another undesirable consequence of such thoughtless language is the alienation and distance it creates. Many faiths--including the majority of Christian faiths, I would argue--are openly evangelical. Recruiting the new faithful is essential. If it is our goal to increase our church's membership, should we not be referring to visitors inclusively rather than exclusively?
Moreover, our church activities should be designed in such a way that those of all faiths feel comfortable attending and participating. Now don't get me wrong: I'm not arguing for Unitarianism, just an open exchange of ideas. Should church not be a forum where our questions are answered? If we want to be better at answering people's questions, some practice might not hurt. Why not host such practice in our church meetings?
When I look at the violence around the world, much of which many attribute to religious differences, I see this exclusionary attitude on both sides of the arguments. If we want to put an end to religious discrimination and violence, crusades and jihad, we might start by including and inviting others in our speech about them rather than self-segregating and alienating ourselves. These attitudes lead to isolationism, a key ingredient to ignorance.
How ironic that it is perhaps in our places of worship, where we preach tolerance and love, that the root of our divisiveness lies!
