I was invited recently to address a conference of priests on Dominus Iesus. This was the controversial document from the Vatican's Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith published during the Jubilee which threatened to undo a lot of the good work accomplished in the areas of inter-religious and inter-Church dialogue since the Second Vatican Council.
The priests wanted to know the bottom line, that is, the fallout in terms of everyday relations with, among others, an increasing number of Muslim immigrants in the community. They were relieved to discover that Dominus Iesus is relatively low down the list in terms of authoritative Roman statements on these matters. Far more important are more balanced documents signed by John Paul II himself, such as Redemptoris missio and Ut unum sint. They were also pleased to hear that a number of high-ranking bishops and cardinals, in Rome and elsewhere, had distanced themselves publicly from the document.
Dominus Iesus remained largely a theoretical matter for me until I was invited this week to visit the Islamic Cultural Centre in Limerick. Each evening during Ramadan the local Muslim community meets after sundown to pray and to share a meal, marking the end of their daily fast. I was the only non-Muslim among a gathering of 30 young men, mostly students and medical personnel at the local hospital. I was given a warm welcome. It was important to them that I had accepted their invitation.
We shared a simple meal, then prayed together. I have no doubt at all that God was present, not only in the formal prayer but also in the shared meal and in our conversation. If I were to take Dominus Iesus seriously, however, I would have to believe that I was the only one there who had a firm grasp of the absolute truth and who was capable of giving genuine assent to God. In other words, that I was the only one there who really had faith in God at all.
The most that other religions can offer, according to Dominus Iesus, is a vague kind of "belief". This is because they are merely human treasuries of wisdom, whereas Christianity constitutes the sole God-given road.
When you sit around a table or pray with Muslims, you know this is not the case - "God plays in a thousand places" (Hopkins). There is no justification in Church teaching or Catholic theology for the playing down of God's gracious presence in other religions. God's grace is not like a product that becomes devalued because it is freely available; this is the clear teaching of the Second Vatican Council. Christians can acknowledge this without in any way selling short their own conviction that Jesus Christ represents the ultimate expression of God's self-giving.
Thankfully, there is a gap between contemporary Church teaching and practice. John Paul II has called for Catholics throughout the world to observe December 14th as a day of fasting and prayer for peace, in solidarity with Muslims and coinciding with the end of Ramadan. He has also called for a special gathering of the representatives of the world's religions at Assisi on January 24th, 2002.
He wants to have "Christians and Muslims proclaim before the world that religion must never be a reason for conflict, hatred and violence . . . In this historic moment, humanity needs to see gestures of peace and to hear words of hope."
It would be a tremendous step forward if Church leaders in Ireland were to show enthusiasm for the day of fasting and the Assisi day of prayer and organise something similar here.
"Do not use harmful words in talking. Use only helpful words, the kind that build up and provide what is needed" (Eph 4:29). Words of hope will undoubtedly be spoken in Assisi in January. However, they will be heard all the more loudly if they are accompanied by a decommissioning of the kind of unhelpful words one finds in Dominus Iesus, and of the mindset that produces them.
Eamonn Conway heads the Department of Theology and Religious Studies and is joint director of the Centre for Culture, Technology, and Values, Mary Immaculate College, University of Limerick