“What IS This Faith You Follow?”

· fun
Bedouin Sunset

Bedouin Sunset (Photo credit: Jack Zalium)

I’ve only had one dream, before this one, that I actually blogged. It was back in 2008 and I called it, “When the Grinch Stole Christ”. (Oh! And I wrote about  one other dream in an article called “The 10-yr Old Easter Egg”…)

But I just awoke from a striking dream — despite some really ridiculous and far-fetched details that are unmistakingly wrong about Islam and Judaism, but some part of it is quite… provocative. The Key Moment in the dream came while quietly whispering to a Muslim man who was both an angry father and an angry Imam, when he asked me what religious group of “mine” his daughter had been visiting.

“Well, it really doesn’t have a ‘name’… Centuries ago, its enemies once called it ‘Christianity’, but the most we can say is that it’s a Relationship that takes place in a person’s spirit — not in one’s behavior, not in rituals or laws or moral codes, and certainly not rational or theological dogma. The faith we follow doesn’t have a name, and the God we experience doesn’t have a name either… so it’s kind of impossible to convert anyone one to it since there’s really no religion to convert to…

“In fact,” I spoke quietly to the father, “if you know the God we know — and I don’t know if you do or if you don’t — but if you do know this same God, then we have the same God (there is only One, after all…)”

The Dream
A friend of mine (a Jew) and I had been warned to stay away from an Imam’s house against pain of death — a fatwa had been spoken against us. (The dream-people incorrectly called it a fatwa though, in real life, a “fatwa” is merely a legal opinion or learned interpretation given by a mufti, not an Imam…) This Imam’s daughter had been quietly attending spiritual fellowship with those of us who gathered together frequently. Her father could see that these visits had been tremendously beneficial to the young woman, but had decided anyway it had to stop.

My friend and I determined to go to the man’s house to set his heart at ease, even though we’d been informed we’d likely be killed because of this “fatwa” that had been spoken against us. At a bridge in some rather desolate mountains, quite near the man’s home, three Muslims had been set there to block our way and warn us again that this fatwa had been ordered against us and we could not go further. I told the leader there on the bridge that I was a Gentile and my friend a Jew and therefore the Imam’s religious restrictions did not apply to either of us. Aware we might be heading to our death, we walked on up to the powerful man’s house.

Which is where the conversation — which opens this piece above — took place.


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