except when boarding an airplane—he has a tiny 1-inch version attached to a kangh? that he uses when he needs to travel by plane. (He didn’t mention it, but I presumed that he also was wearing the Kachh shorts as an undergarment.) He said with obvious pride that he is a vegetarian, although not all Sikhs are—meat is only prohibited if it was killed or prepared in certain ways.
It’s amazing. Although I thought that I had studied Sikhism fairly thoroughly (dismissing it in my mind as a “minor religion,” of interest only to its 22 million adherents, the vast majority of whom are living in the Indian state of Punjab), this man’s firm and unswerving faith really impressed me. In his native land of India, he told me, Sikhs suffer persecution from both Hindus and Muslims; he brought his young family to this country in part to avoid such persecution, in fact. Yet even here, his turban and obvious Middle Eastern background cause him to be the victim of discrimination from Americans—particular whenever our country is involved in armed conflicts in the Middle East, or after some cowardly Islamic terrorist action—who think that he is a Muslim (“If you’re not a Mohammadan, how come you’re wearing that funny thing on your head?”). Yet he steadfastly refuses to follow the path of many of his countrymen here—to cut his hair and beard, remove the wrist band, and leave the sword at his altar at home—in an attempt to assimilate into “mainstream” American culture. (He said that he especially gets pressure to do so at work when his firm is meeting prospective new clients, for example.) Instead, he is trying mightily to raise his children in their Sikh traditions, even in a foreign land that often views his religion as “paganism,” not realizing that they are as monotheistic as Jews and Christians.
His example made a much stronger impression on me than had reading a half-dozen books on Sikhism. Although I had previously been willing to dismiss his religion as “minor,” he was standing strong for it in the face of serious opposition, and he was unyielding. His religion meant as much to him as did the religion of the young Christian teenager who tried to “witness” to me on a bus. This shows me that I must try and avoid the obvious “cultural” bias that I have, coming as I do from an American and Christian context. There are people with equally fervent beliefs throughout the world, which they continue to hold even when living here in America.
He also helped me reach a conclusion: I think that I have gone just about as far as “book learning” can take me; I need to go out into the world, explore, and meet people—real people representing real traditions, and see what they have to offer me. Surely, somewhere out there are people who are not only talking the talk, but also walking the walk; I think I need to find someone whose doctrine will be personally convincing to me, because reading book after book is getting me nowhere.
I must apply to this search the same dedication to which I gave my reading and study; I must be as willing as Gurdjieff to go anywhere, under any conditions, in order to pursue knowledge. That is—I now believe—the only way that I will ever be able to find the path that will lead me back to my beloved Sophia.
Not to mention the only way I can ever find peace in my own soul.
PART III
THE GOING FORTH
7
THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN IS WITHIN YOU
Jobran rang the doorbell, and waited. The door opened to reveal the friendly face of Reverend Robert Schaeffer, the current minister of the Protestant church that Jobran had been confirmed in years ago—and at which Jobran had recently started attending Sunday services again.
“Jobran, I’m so glad you agreed to come over,” he said, welcoming Jobran in, and shaking his hand. He led the way back into the house, talking as they went. “I’m very happy to have this opportunity to talk with you. Since you renewed your membership in our congregation, I’ve often wanted to sit down and see how things are going with you.”
“Well, it’d been a while since I attended here regularly. Since before I started college, I guess.”
“In fact, I have to admit that I was a little bit surprised—although naturally, pleased—to see you return to worship with us,” Rev. Schaeffer said. “I don’t believe that I’d seen you since I…officiated at your parents’ funeral.”
“You hadn’t.” They reached a room that was apparently Reverend Schaeffer’s study, and Jobran accepted the chair that was offered to him; Reverend Schaeffer sat in a nearby chair.
“Tea?” Reverend Schaeffer offered, and Jobran nodded, so he poured them each a cup, then sat down again. “I also wanted to let you know how very sorry I was to hear about the death of your wife,” he said, with genuine feeling in his voice. “She was a lovely and a loving young woman. I attended her funeral Mass, although I didn’t get a chance to talk with you then.”
“I was in no condition to talk then anyway, Reverend Schaeffer.”
“Please, call me Robert.”
“Robert.”
There was a moment of silence, before Robert continued, “Actually, I suppose that I was doubly surprised to see you return to our congregation, since…well, I’d heard that you had converted, or were converting, to Roman Catholicism.”
“I hadn’t actually converted; I’d just started taking RCIA classes,” Jobran said. Seeing Robert’s blank look, he added, “That’s the post-Vatican II equivalent to a confirmation class for unbaptized adults.”
“You’re not baptized?” Robert said, with genuine surprise.
“No; although I was confirmed at this church by your predecessor at the pulpit, he didn’t emphasize ‘rituals’ such as baptism—not even for confirmation candidates. He never even asked me about it, to tell you the truth.”
Robert shook his head. “Well, although I’m very glad to be a minister in a liberal denomination such as the United Church of Christ, I’m sorry that you weren’t even presented with the option.” He fingered his clerical collar, and said, “Don’t get me wrong; I was actually raised in a very conservative church in the Midwest: the Church of Christ. They believe that baptism by immersion is necessary for salvation, they celebrate the Lord’s Supper each week, they refuse to allow instruments to accompany congregational singing—not even a piano, or organ—and are very conservative in all ways. When I found a UCC church across town when I was in high school, it was a revelation to me; to participate in a Christian church that didn’t require you to believe that there was a literal Adam and Eve, or that the Earth was less than ten thousand years old, or that Moses literally wrote the first five books of the Bible, or that women are required to wear their hair long, was a very liberating experience.” He frowned slightly, and said, “Still, there are times when I fear that some of my fellow ministers may want to ‘throw the baby out with the bath water’—and instead of adopting a position on the sacraments as simply being not required, some adopt almost an anti-sacramental outlook.” He brightened, and said, “Fortunately, I think that my younger peers are coming back to the realization that there is some value in encouraging many of the historic traditions and rituals of the Christian Church—such as baptism; confirmation; and the Lord’s Supper—as long as we view them from a modern perspective.” He sat back and said, in a reflective voice, “There’s no going back to the old days: before the women’s movement, before Gay Rights, before the days of historical criticism of the Scriptures, before the rise of scientific knowledge about the universe. But I think we’ve reached the place where we can again appreciate that there is a need in us for a sense of ritual, and of being part of something historical.”
“Actually, my reason for returning to this church has nothing to do with an appreciation for ritual or history. If I wanted ritual and history, I’d probably go with the Catholic Church,” Jobran said. “No, my reasons are purely practical and pragmatic.”
“Are they related to…your wife’s death?” Robert asked.
“Everything in my life is related to my wife’s death,” Jobran said, firmly. “Basically, since Sophia’s death,
I’ve been engaged in an intense study—my ‘Quest,’ I call it—of the question of life after death. I’ve been studying all of the world’s religions for months, trying to find out the answers.”
“Really? That’s fascinating,” Robert said, sipping his tea. “And you’ve now completed your studies?”
“Hardly,” Jobran said dryly. “The more I read, the more I feel like I’ve just scratched the surface.”
“Hmm. I see.” With a puzzled expression on his face, Robert asked, “If you’re still continuing with your studies, why have you suddenly re-allied yourself with us?” Raising his hand, “Wait; I didn’t mean that to come out the way it probably sounded. I’m delighted to have someone in the congregation that is still a ‘seeker’; frankly, I wish that our church had more people like that—people that take religion as worthy of serious attention.” He continued, “And you say that your reasons for attending our services are…other than deep spiritual convictions, shall we say,” and he gave a small laugh.
Jobran nodded, and said, “As I said, it’s purely pragmatic.” Taking a sip of his own tea, he said, “I’m simply keeping open my alliance with the church tradition of my youth. It occurred to me that while I am still seeking answers, it might not be a bad idea to quit ‘standing on the outside, looking in,’ so to speak. Who knows? I might die suddenly myself, and it might be important for me to be in a ‘state of grace’ at that point.”
Robert frowned and said, “Now you’re really sounding like a Roman Catholic. So you feel that not being in such a ‘state of grace’ might interfere with your own salvation?”
“My own salvation is not the point—reunion with my wife is the point. If Sophia is in Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, or Limbo, then that’s where I want to go.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Still, since I presume that if salvation exists at all, Sophia either already has, or will someday achieve it; therefore, I figure that I need to keep myself in a condition to where I would be able to join her, in the event of my death.” Jobran stood up, and walked over to the bookcase, then turned around and said, “Consequently, I no longer drink, I don’t take drugs, I don’t smoke, I have remained absolutely celibate since Sophia’s death, and I’ve started giving 10% of my rather limited income to the Church.” With a self-deprecating laugh, he added, “Plus, I don’t even dance, gamble, or play violent video games. So even from the standpoint of the strictest fundamentalist, I should be ethically beyond reproach—at least as far as outward behavior is concerned.”
Robert looked profoundly at a loss for words. Finally, he muttered, “Well, I have to admit that’s the most unusual motivation I’ve ever heard for joining a church.” He scratched his head reflectively, and added, “I mean, I’ve certainly heard a lot of reasons for wanting to join a church: For ‘social’ appearances; by parents, to have us ‘teach morality’ to their kids; as a way for a businessman to make some additional ‘contacts’; to get better acquainted with some attractive single person who belongs to our congregation; as a ‘compromise’ for a newly-married couple between the Unitarian Universalist church and the Southern Baptist Church that they were respectively raised in; and of course the people that come here because we’re the closest church to their house. And believe me, I’m far from being ‘prissy’ about such motivations.”
Robert stood up, and said, “Quite frankly, I’ve probably got a bigger problem with the people who accidentally stumble in here, convinced that they need to repent, or else face Hellfire and brimstone.” He laughed and said, “Whenever I get someone like that—usually someone who’s just seen one of those apocalyptic ‘Rapture’ movies or videos—I usually send them to the Assemblies of God church the next block over. I mean, neither my denomination nor myself really believe in such things as Hellfire, and our congregation would probably fire me immediately if I professed to believe in such a doctrine.”
Jobran asked, “If you don’t believe in Hellfire, do you at least believe in Heaven?”
Robert nodded, and said, “Although I don’t always agree with the apostle Paul—on the position of women in the church, for example—I certainly agree with what he wrote in Second Corinthians 5:8: ‘Yes, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body, and at home with the Lord.’”
Jobran nodded, then asked, “Then tell me, based on your theological understanding, do you think that Sophia is in Heaven?”
“Your wife?” Robert thought for a moment, and said, “Judging by the impact she seemed to have had on people—and I didn’t know her personally, so I’m judging from what I could see at her funeral Mass—she seemed to have been an exceptionally good woman.”
Jobran nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Robert continued, “So to answer your question—Yes: I’m certain of it. Your beloved wife Sophia is in Heaven right now, and is waiting to be reunited with you.”
Tears came to Jobran’s eyes, but he had one more question to ask. “Then, in your understanding…if I were to die tonight, would I go to Heaven?”
Robert looked perplexed by the directness of the question. Finally, he said, “I’ve always appreciated Jesus’ saying in the 17th chapter of Luke, ‘The Kingdom of God is within you,’ or ‘among you.’” Struggling to find the proper way to express his thoughts, he said, “I think that God has placed something like a small light inside of each of us, and that small light will ultimately be brought back into the great eternal flame that is God’s love for us. I don’t think salvation, the Kingdom of God, or Heaven, is ultimately dependent upon what kind of doctrine we hold—whether we’re Trinitarian or Arian; whether we believe in baptism by immersion, by sprinkling, of children, or of adults only; whether we have bishops and priests, or only elders, and so on—what’s important is what’s inside of us, how we manifest the love of God in our lives.” Resting his arm against the mantelpiece above the fireplace, Robert smiled at Jobran, and said, “Not that you’ve got anything to worry about on that, or any other score; when it comes to ‘external’ works, and refraining from outright sin, you’ve probably got me beat by a mile.” He grinned, then added, “Hell—you probably don’t even swear.”
“I can’t afford to take any chances,” Jobran said, without smiling. “There’s too much at stake.”
“Well, if it will put your mind at ease, Jobran, my direct answer to your question is yes—in my understanding, you would go to Heaven if you were to die tonight. In fact, I think you would go there even if you weren’t living an outwardly ‘righteous’ life, and if you were in fact cursing and blaming God for what happened to your wife…”
Jobran cut in sharply, “I’ve done all that.”
Robert nodded, and said, “That’s understandable; but you also seem to have moved beyond that position.” He then went to the bookshelf and removed a Bible, and flipping it open and finding the right page, read, “Paul wrote in the 8th chapter of Romans: ‘I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’” (v. 38-39) I think that death is just a continuation of the love that God has shown for us in life.”
Jobran sounded skeptical—almost sarcastic—and said, “And so you’re basically saying that I don’t have anything to worry about? That I should just kick back and wait until I die, and then I’ll be back together with Sophia?” Jobran shook his head, in doubt, and said, “Don’t you think that sounds just a little too easy? Didn’t Jesus say, ‘narrow is the way which leads to life, and few there be that find it’?” (Mt 7:14)
Robert looked a little flustered, and said, “Well, that particular saying is thought by most modern scholars—such as those making up the Jesus Seminar— to not be the actual words spoken by Jesus…”
“But I believe that they classified that saying as one of those where ‘the
idea is close to Jesus’ own ideas,’ as I recall,” Jobran said. “So whether or not the literal words are his, they agreed that the concept was certainly his.” Then, starting to show some agitation, he said, “Reverend Schaeffer, I’m not in a position of being able to ‘pick and choose’ what I want to believe or not believe of the Christian gospel—I have to basically operate under the ‘worst-case scenario,’ that any or all of it might be true! Because if I omit something, and it turns out that it was actually an essential item….” Suddenly, Jobran returned to his seat, seemingly drained.
Robert also sat down again. Uncertain about what to say, he just drank his tea in silence.
In a voice of deep frustration, Jobran said, “You’re a minister, Robert; don’t you have any ‘spiritual’ advice or counsel you can give me? Isn’t there anything else I should—or could—be doing?”
Robert looked stricken, and stood up, beginning to pace around the room intensely for a minute or two. Finally, he seemed to have reached a point of decision, then turned to Jobran and said tentatively, “Jobran, has it ever occurred to you that all of your righteousness seems to be of an ‘external’ sort, directed toward the single end of being reunited with your wife?”
Jobran nodded his head vigorously. “I would hardly deny that; everything I do is done with the intent of bringing me closer to being reunited with Sophia.”
“Well, given that the Christian faith is supposed to be primarily concerned with the other person, don’t think that such a…well, self-centered motivation is inappropriate?” Robert wondered, almost as if he were thinking out loud.
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