Transformation rather than conversion
The theological
term conversion has sufficiently
troubled me that I have avoided using it for decades. Initially, this avoidance
was unconscious but more recently has been intentional.
The
English word conversion has today,
especially in religious contexts, the overwhelming connotation of a change in a
person’s beliefs or thinking. Yet Christianity is about learning to walk the Jesus
path ever more faithfully, not about persuading people to hold right beliefs.
Actions speak
louder than words. My observation of religious people (including me!) is that considerable
disparity often exists between an individual’s avowed theological beliefs/thinking
and what that person’s actions indicate s/he actually believes/thinks. While it’s
easy to describe that disparity as hypocrisy, the disparity is frequently
better understood as the aspirational difference between what a person would
like to believe and what s/he actually believes.
Christian
evangelical efforts focused on conversion easily produce unfortunate
aberrations and coerced conversions. Until the nineteenth century, Christians occasionally
baptized non-Christians and then slaughtered the newly baptized before they could
commit apostasy. More recently, some evangelically motivated Christians superficially
“count coup,” i.e., track the number of individuals who verbally confessed
faith in Christ as a result of the Christian’s efforts while ignoring the
deeper question of whether any real lifestyle or behavioral change occurred in
the new convert.
Consequently,
I find that the word transformation
more accurately communicates the meaning of the Greek word metanoia, the Biblical word frequently translated as conversion. Having less baggage than
does the word conversion,
transformation emphasizes a change in a person and their actions as well as in
their feelings and ideation.
Emphasizing
transformation instead of conversion has shaped my ministry. For example, I am
convinced that there is only one God and that many paths lead to God. One
reason I subscribe to those views is that persons treading diverse religious paths
hold varying beliefs but nevertheless experience similar life-giving and
life-enriching transformations.
Those
convictions cohered well with my ministry as a Navy chaplain. Historically, military
chaplains have had three roles. First, chaplains minister to people of the chaplain’s
faith community in as an inclusive a manner as possible. For Episcopal priests,
inclusive ministry may include: (1) Conducting a wide variety of Protestant
worship services, most of which are arguably some form of Morning or Evening
Prayer; (2) Administering Holy Baptism when requested, to include full
immersion of a believer who desires that form of baptism; (3) Celebrating Holy
Communion according to the Book of Common Prayer’s rubrics and rites.
A
chaplain’s second role is to facilitate the free exercise of religion for members
of other faith communities. While on active duty, I provided space, equipment,
and supplies as needed and upon request for Buddhist, Jewish, Latter Day Saint,
and Muslim faith communities to worship and otherwise practice their faith.
Memorably, I once had a Jewish sailor ask me to conduct a Passover Seder for
him. I explained to him that if I conducted the Seder it would by definition be
a Christian Seder. I then added that if he conducted the Seder, I would provide
the foodstuffs, publicity, and coaching for him, as well as attend and recruit
other attendees to ensure the presence of a minyan.
Incidentally,
the last few decades have seen an increase in controversies over the military
chaplaincy precisely because some evangelical Christian chaplains have
abandoned facilitation in favor of conversion. Sometimes evangelical Christians
have implicitly linked career or promotion opportunities to conversion. This
move, reminiscent of some coerced conversion efforts in prior generations,
seriously undermines the chaplaincy’s constitutional standing by prima facie
establishing government support for a particular religion. Analogously, this
move also inhibits the interfaith cooperation and communication that depend
upon respecting the beliefs of all and honoring the integrity of other faith groups.
A
chaplain’s third role is to care for everyone. A Marine whose mother has just
died has, in my experience, no interest in religious conversion. The Marine simply
seeks an understanding, caring listener. Other times, the person who has sought
out the chaplain because of vocational concerns, adjustment issues, family
problems, substance abuse, or a host of other difficulties may want to change,
but is usually unaware of any theological dimensions of that change. The best
chaplains in such situations function as catalysts for transformation rather
than as conversion agents.
Widespread
adherence to those three roles by military chaplains of previous generations
built the mutual respect and trust required for genuine interfaith cooperation
and established military chaplaincy as a model for such ministry. Similar
patterns of ministry, perhaps articulated in different terms, also frequently shapes
chaplaincy in other institutional settings, e.g., hospitals, prisons, and
hospices.
Since
retiring from the Navy, I have recognized that those three functions equally describe
parish ministry at its best. The best parochial priests exercise a ministry
that seeks to include as many people as possible while being faithful to the Book
of Common Prayer’s rubrics and rites. Illustratively, in my current diocese,
this inclusivity sometimes means adapting ancient Hawaiian symbols and terms.
But no parish, regardless of its size or resources, can meet everyone’s
perceived spiritual needs. Honoring that diversity by pointing a person to a more
suitable alternative – another Episcopal parish, a Roman Catholic parish, or a congregation
of another denomination – ministers to that person while respecting his/her
dignity and worth. Finally, the Church should care for all. Genuine caring seeks
what is best for a person: healing, growth, becoming more whole, and living more
abundantly. Genuine caring has no ulterior motive. Transformation, not
conversion, best describes Christianity’s goal.
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