Consort

“Consort with the followers of all religions in a spirit of friendliness and fellowship.”

I've written about this quote before. In particular, the word “consort”. It's not a word we use very often anymore, except perhaps when talking about royalty. Prince Philip was the consort of Queen Elizabeth II. He was her husband. And that's a fairly intimate relationship.

So when Baha'u'llah tells us to “consort with the followers of all religions”, I don't think He's merely asking us to tolerate each other. Tolerance seems a pretty low bar anyway. I tolerate a mosquito buzzing around my bedroom because I'm too tired to bother swatting it. I can’t imagine Baha'u'llah is calling for that between the religions of the world.

Even friendliness doesn't quite seem to capture it. I can be friendly with the cashier at the grocery store. I can be friendly with someone I meet on the bus. But if we take “consort” seriously, there seems to be something a little bit more.

Only recently, though, I noticed something else about the quote. Baha'u'llah doesn't tell us to consort with other religions. He tells us to consort with their followers.

People.

It never occurred to me before, but I think that may be important.

After all, I can learn quite a bit about Judaism by reading a book. I can study the history of Islam. I can learn what Buddhists believe, what Christians teach about the Eucharist, or why Hindus celebrate Diwali. All of that is worthwhile, and I would probably be a better neighbour if I knew more about the religions of the people around me.

But none of that means I know them. Not as people.

Knowing that Jews celebrate Passover isn't the same as sitting at a seder with a Jewish family. Knowing what Christians believe about communion isn't the same as understanding what receiving it means to a Catholic. Knowing that Muslims fast during Ramadan isn't the same as sitting down with a Muslim friend at the end of the day and sharing iftar.

Religions are lived by people, and people are always a bit more complicated than the little descriptions we give of their religions.

I grew up Jewish, and I know there are plenty of things you can read about Judaism that are perfectly accurate and still won't tell you very much about what it feels like to grow up Jewish. They won't tell you which melodies remind someone of their grandmother, which foods mean that a holiday has really arrived, which prayers they love, which traditions they struggle with, or which childhood memories suddenly come rushing back because of a particular smell.

You learn those things by knowing someone. Perhaps that's part of what it means to consort.

And then I began wondering whether we Baha'is sometimes make religious unity a little too easy for ourselves.

We believe in the fundamental unity of religion. We believe that Moses, Christ, Muhammad, the Bab and Baha'u'llah all come from the same God. We recognise Krishna, Zoroaster, and Buddha as divine Educators. We can explain progressive revelation and show how the great religions are connected.

But I can believe every bit of that without having a single close friend who follows another path. I can believe in the unity of religion entirely from within the Baha'i community.

Consorting won't let me do that.

If I'm going to consort with people of other religions, I have to actually know some. I have to spend time with them and listen to them, not because I'm waiting for my turn to tell them what I believe, but because I'm interested in what they have to say. And if we're actually friends, sooner or later I'm probably going to discover what they love about their religion. And that’s important.

Interfaith conversations often seem to focus on what we have in common. And there's good reason for that. Common ground gives us somewhere to begin. We all believe in love. We all value compassion. We all want peace.

But friendship eventually gets beyond the things we have in common.

If I really know someone, I begin to encounter the things that are peculiar to them. The things they love that I don't particularly understand. The traditions that mean everything to them and nothing to me. The beliefs with which I may genuinely disagree. And somehow the friendship survives.

Perhaps that's another thing hidden in the word “consort”. Prince Philip didn't become Queen Elizabeth. That would have rather defeated the point. Their intimacy required them to remain two separate people. They had different personalities, interests, responsibilities and histories, all while sharing a life.

Maybe religious fellowship can work like that, too.

I don't have to pretend that all religions are identical in order to recognise their common Source. I don't have to blur the differences between them or reduce them to a handful of principles on which everyone can agree. I can allow a Muslim to be thoroughly Muslim, a Christian to be thoroughly Christian, a Jew to be thoroughly Jewish, and still sit down with them as a friend.

In fact, perhaps real fellowship requires that. Otherwise I'm not really getting to know you. I'm getting to know the parts of you that resemble me, and that’s not quite the same, is it?

There is another temptation here that I think is worth mentioning. For many of us, teaching our Faith is important. In the Baha’i Faith, Baha'u'llah repeatedly calls upon us to share His teachings. Naturally, when we meet people and become friends, religion may come up. If you’ve ever spent any time with me, you know that that “may” is a bit of an understatement. After all, it’s a very important part of my life, so why wouldn’t I talk about it? Of course, not all the time, nor in every conversation. But when it seems relevant, I do bring it up as naturally as anything.

But what happens if I begin the friendship because I hope to make you a Baha'i?

If my friendship has an objective attached to it, then I'm not quite sure it’s friendship anymore. You have become, at least partly, a project. And Baha'u'llah doesn't say, “Consort with the followers of all religions so that you may teach them.” He says to consort with them “in a spirit of friendliness and fellowship”.

Maybe the fellowship is itself part of the work. Maybe sitting at your table matters even if you never sit at mine. Maybe learning why you love a particular prayer matters even if you never read one of Baha'u'llah's. Maybe knowing you well enough that your religion stops being something foreign to me is already helping to build the kind of world Baha'u'llah describes.

And perhaps that's why I keep coming back to that old-fashioned word, “consort”. Not tolerate. Not coexist with. Not learn about. Consort with.

Get to know people. Eat with them. Listen to them. Celebrate with them. Learn what they love. Let them learn what you love. And don't be afraid if, after all of that, you're still different. After all, diversity is what makes the world more beautiful.