Church, synagogue, and mosque under one roof

ONE of the religious success stories in my lifetime has been interfaith dialogue. What is more, it’s about to enter a radical recent stage. After centuries of ignoring one another, castigating one another, and even persecuting each other, there was a remarkable blossoming of spiritual relationships.

The process took time, and has undergone different stages. While formal engagement was cautious, local groups or individuals — Christian and Jewish, clergy and laity — became keen on exploring each other’s tenets and practices. The braver priests and rabbis took their congregations with them, and began local dialogue groups, which then received affirmation from the hierarchy. Interfaith cups of tea and searching together at common issues step by step became the norm.

Another step was to increase Jewish-Christian dialogue to the third strand of the Abrahamic tradition: Islam. This was at first considered very daring, but, once done, led more easily to the following stage: widening the circle to other faiths, equivalent to Hinduism, Sikhism, Buddhism, and Jainism. They may not share the same sacred history of the Abrahamic threesome, but all offer paths to heaven in their very own way.

In all these developments, nevertheless, the structure was all the time the identical: visiting one another’s places of worship, and learning about their traditions. Now, a really different model of dialogue has emerged which will turn out to be the following template — or, if too controversial, may prove a step too far.

IT BEGAN two years ago, in Tbilisi, Georgia, when Bishop Malkhaz Songulashvili decided that his cathedral needed not only to evangelise dialogue, but to embody it. In a dramatic decision, certainly one of the ancillary spaces was rebuilt as a totally functioning synagogue, while one other was was a mosque.

For the primary time, a church, synagogue, and mosque were operating inside the same constructing, under the identical roof, and with the identical front door. It was not a matter of physical convenience, but of profound religious symbolism.

Sharing the roof reflected the God whose over-arching presence watches over the world and all of us. Sharing the door reflected openness to others and a welcome to all who want to enter.

The internal architecture was fastidiously choreographed, too: all three sacred spaces conform to their very own requirements — equivalent to the synagogue should face Jerusalem — but, as well as, each comprises two columns. This feature not only links them visually, but in addition represents the 2 fundamental principles that all of them espouse: loving God and loving one’s neighbour.

The fraternal co-existence was further embedded within the extraordinary fund-raising principle by which money was raised for the constructing works: Christians could give to the Jewish or Muslim areas, but to not the Christian parts, and the identical principle applied to donors from the opposite two faiths.

This meant that everybody was investing within the others’ endeavours, making an enormous statement about not only tolerating each other, but actively supporting one other financially.

Also built was a communal area where everyone can enjoy food or hold meetings. Its name, The Abrahamic Hall, reflects not only the common spiritual ancestor, but in addition his association with hospitality (as described in Genesis 18).

WHILE the Peace Project, because the enterprise is thought, may elicit much admiration, it has its critics, too, especially those frightened lest joint services happen and blur the lines theologically.

The riposte of the three faith groups is that they’ve three separate places of worship, not a single one, and — while people will occasionally attend one another’s prayers — there’s a giant difference between sharing and merging: the Peace Project doesn’t ask people to desert their very own faith, but to grasp that of their neighbours.

Sadly, the project can have bridged the interfaith gap, but not the intra-faith one. The church is Baptist, and unacceptable to Roman Catholics; the mosque is Sunni, meaning that Shia Muslims ignore it, while the synagogue is run along Progressive lines, and shunned by Orthodox Jews. Internal divisions are sometimes more intractable than outer ones.

There can be a political aspect, in that the Georgian government is seen by many as repressive. Many residents hold weekly demonstrations against the authorities, but others are putting their energy into this religious reform as their way of expressing hopes for a more cohesive society.

I used to be surprised, subsequently, to search out no security across the constructing to forestall attacks or arson from unofficial pro-regime groups. But Bishop Malkhaz did tell me that he had a rucksack ready with loads of books to read in case he’s suddenly taken to prison.

MIGHT there be legal problems in opening up a church here within the UK for several kinds of worship? Possibly — however the shared constructing needn’t be an existing consecrated one, but a neutral place that’s less subject to canon law.

Since the project’s foundation, all three communities have grown in size and activities. Newcomers include those that previously avoided organised religion, but who now discover the Peace Project’s values as being consistent with their very own.

News of this interreligious trinity has begun spreading, and has inspired many outside Georgia who feel personally challenged: should people of religion and good will consider following this instance? Rather than mouth “Love your neighbour as yourself,” why not give physical expression to it through cohabitation? After all, if faith groups cannot live relaxed together, what’s the moral force of all our exhortations of others to achieve this?

Frankly, in addition to religious motives, there could also be good financial reasons for congregations with falling rolls to change their buildings to accommodate other faith groups fairly than should close.

Will we see a three-in-one religious constructing being established in Britain, starting a recent pattern in our towns and cities? It is unfamiliar territory, and would demand a spirit of spiritual adventure from anyone attempting it, but it surely may additionally be pleasing within the eyes of God to see religious harmony put into practice in such a forthright way.

Rabbi Dr Jonathan Romain is convenor of the Rabbinic Court of Great Britain and writer of Confessions of a Rabbi (Biteback).