Blog

This spring, as my Jewish, Muslim, and Christian brothers and sisters observe Passover, Ramadan, and Easter, respectively, my Sikh community celebrated Vaisakhi on April 13th. Traditionally, this has been a time for harvest festivals in the Punjab, but we also commemorate the first Sikh initiation ceremony into the Khalsa Panth, a community of initiated Sikhs committed to equality, justice, and oneness as established by all of the Sikh Gurus, beginning with Guru Nanak. It was Vaisakhi 1699 when Guru Gobind Rai, our 10th Guru (spiritual leader bringing one from darkness into light) called for five volunteers from the Sikh community and initiated them into the Khalsa, naming them the “Five Beloved Ones.” Each was from a different caste and, in order to foster unity and demonstrate equality of all, Guru Gobind Rai had all newly initiated Sikhs take on the last name Singh (lion) for men and Kaur (princess) for women, and gave Sikhs their distinct visible identity to instill courage and co...

My dad taught me the old nursery rhyme: with his fingers laced inward, index fingers pointing up, and thumbs meeting, he’d recite, “Here is the church, here is the steeple. Open the doors, see all the people!” He would move his thumbs to reveal the “congregants” inside. Then, he would change the rhyme to describe church on Monday, this time lacing his fingers on the outside of his hands: “Here is the church, here is the steeple. Open the doors, where’s all the people?” Feigning shock, he would shift his thumbs to show his empty palms.  This lighthearted rhyme has taken on new poignancy in the age of COVID-19. Although many houses of worship have remained open throughout the pandemic—often providing food, shelter, healthcare, and other essential services—others remain closed, opting to continue with communal worship via Zoom. Even with confidence in in-person worship on the rise in the United States, six-in-ten American Christians say they will spend another Easter worshiping at hom...

Pope Francis recently completed an Apostolic visit to Iraq. Among the many memorable moments in that historic visit, the one that stood out for me was the interreligious meeting on the plains of Ur, the ancestral home of Patriarch Abraham. Abraham is revered by three major world religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. As I watched that important meeting, and listened to the words of the participants, my thoughts went back to the World Day of Prayer for Peace in Assisi in 2011. There have been several of these events, begun by St. Pope John Paul in 1986. Subsequent gatherings have occurred there since then in 2002, 2011 and 2016. I had the privilege of having a small part in the 2011 gathering. A few days before the 2011 gathering in Assisi, many of the participants (which included approximately 60 Catholics, 60 Orthodox, Anglican and Protestant Christians, 65 Muslims, 65 Buddhists, eight Jews, seven Hindus, six Shintos, five Sikhs, four non-believers, three Confucists, three Taois...

Baha’is all over the world will celebrate Naw-Ruz as the annual, celebratory feast of renewal - the spiritual and physical springtime. But for Baha’is, Naw-Ruz isn’t only a party – it serves as a symbolic reminder of the oneness of all the messengers of God, and the spiritual springtime they each brought to humanity. Naw-Ruz is a feast of hospitality and rejoicing. As the first day of the Baha’i New Year, Naw-Ruz coincides with the spring equinox in the Northern Hemisphere, which typically occurs on March 21. However, since Baha’u’llah enjoined that this festival should be celebrated on whatever day the sun passes into the constellation of Aries – that is, the vernal equinox – Naw-Ruz could fall on March 19, 20, 21, or 22, depending on the precise time of the equinox. The Festival of Naw-Ruz follows with four days Ayyam-i-Ha for community service and gift-giving, and then 19 days of fasting finally ending by the festival of Naw-Ruz. Baha’i communities typically observe Naw-Ruz and me...

Some days, it feels as if my feet are on shifting sands. We are facing different crises on many fronts in our shared life. A global pandemic making wealth and health disparities, as well as our deep disconnection from each other, all the more clear. A profound sense of isolation. The history and present crisis of racial and social inequity and oppression, pushing us to live the questions of what an ethical and equitable society might look like. Just to name a few. I’ve been reflecting on what it looks like to live my values right now. And I often feel as though I’m looking for some sort of hope or clarity, in any form really, to meet this moment. Spiritual practices like lovingkindness meditation or walking in the woods help me to restore some balance, but it’s almost inevitable to eventually feel the weight of isolation from our beloved communities or the sense that our lives are on pause. In this time, reading bell hooks’ All About Love feels like a tonic, and a sacred text. In this ...

It seems unreasonable, but it is true. A paintbrush, together with some pigment and a blank canvas, is a key conspirator helping me navigate isolation and heartache. These apparently simple tools have been essential in escorting me on a path to strengthen my sense of self, my connection with other people and my time of listening to the Divine. The creative process is the opposite of numbing. When I create, a doorway opens to be present with my own suffering and the suffering of others. Though it is a solitary act, I find creativity helps me to identify with people near and far. The creative act gives me space to breathe, imagine, hope, cry, and pray. The creative life has awakened in me a radical degree of compassion for myself and others. It is a space where I reckon with anxiety, fear, heartache, and failure. It is also a space where I dream and imagine a world within and around me that is more beautiful. Let me give an example with a recent series of paintings. At the beginning of t...

Ellen Firestone is a human rights educator and activist, passionate about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. We interviewed her about her background, vocation and faith, and the links to interfaith work for the UN’s Interfaith Harmony Week, February 1-7.    Tell us a bit about how your interest in human rights education and the UDHR developed.    For a long time, I knew I had a purpose but really did not know what that purpose was. I spent years trying to “figure it out” by reading books, taking classes, going to workshops and traveling around the world. I remember being about 34 years old and looked around one day and thought “this can’t be it, there has to be more to life”. Fast forward about 10 years, my son, who was starting his freshman year in high school, was invited to an International Youth for Human Rights Summit at UCLA in Los Angeles. He said to me “I’ll go, if you go.” At the summit, we learned about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDH...