This woman is probably the closest thing to a deity in my worldview.

We all know that respect is the sine qua non of interfaith work. The first part of the Interfaith Youth Core’s three-part definition of religious pluralism (via Professor Diana Eck of Harvard University – holla!) is “respect for religious and non-religious identity.” Sounds simple enough. But even though everybody can (I hope) agree that respect is important, not everybody seems to agree on what it is. So here’s your chance, for what it’s worth, to find out what it means to me.

It is my firm belief that respect is largely predicated on honesty. I don’t see how you can ever build any kind of relationship with anybody if you’re not honest with them. Being dishonest immediately puts up a barrier to understanding.

This should be fairly self-evident. Have you ever really respected somebody who made a habit of lying to you?

Exactly.

And did you feel respected by them?

Exactly.

That’s why I’m absolutely convinced that respect never requires dishonesty of any kind. In fact, dishonesty isn’t just non-required; it’s completely incompatible with real respect.

Maybe this all sounds really obvious to you. Maybe this is totally boring. If that’s the case, I apologize. Here’s another Aretha Franklin video to make up for it.

But seriously, I think a lot of people know in their heads that dishonesty is disrespectful, but then they run into a situation where they worry that being honest is going to hurt somebody’s feelings, and so they tell a nice little white lie to smooth things over, and then pat themselves on the back for being so diplomatic.

Sure, maybe that’s diplomacy. But it’s not respect.

I believe that, if pluralism is going to work, we’re going to have to be willing to be honest with each other, even in situations in which we’ve been conditioned to lie (or flatter or equivocate or change the subject or do anything other than just tell the damn truth).

[Disclaimer: this approach might not make you very popular.]

Our liberal democracy is replete with a kind of “Oh, isn’t their culture charming!” attitude towards people of other beliefs. Some people think this kind of extreme cultural relativism is the glue that holds a diverse world together. I think it’s a wedge that drives us apart by immediately separating people into “us” and “them.”

The attitude of many well-meaning interfaithers often reminds me of the attitude that self-congratulatory white people have toward “indigenous peoples” and “non-Western cultures,” in that they are really into celebrating their beautiful artwork and their cute little creation myths, but not so into treating them the same way they treat other white people. And then the white people get to feel like Gold Star Diversity Champions for protecting the lovely native culture from the big Blue Meanie of cold-hearted Western science.

This is the kind of attitude that prevents anthropological researchers from, say, empowering women in so-called “primitive” tribes with knowledge and control of their own reproductive systems, choosing instead to let them hold on to their “quaint” (and incorrect) beliefs about the magical impregnation spirits of the yam harvests or what have you. But I think real respect for other cultures would mean treating them like real people worthy of knowledge and capable of making their own decisions – not treating them like funny little figurines in your curio cabinet, and talking about how “enriched” you and your fellow white people are by their backwards ways. To me, this smacks unpleasantly of the imperialist delight in the “noble savage.”

Some people’s conceptions of religious pluralism remind me uncomfortably of that kind of attitude. A lot of people flock to interfaith work (or run away from it) on the assumption that “respect for religious and non-religious identity” means never hurting anybody’s feelings. That’s how we get cloying, unproductive “Kumbaya interfaith,” with everybody hugging and telling each other how beautiful their traditions are. Many people think that gloves-off conversations about controversial topics like LGBTQ rights, abortion, or women’s rights have no place in interfaith work. I don’t think this could be farther from the truth.

I don’t see any incompatibility between respect for identity and open disagreement with many of other people’s beliefs. In fact, I think it’s the condescending, disingenuous sickly-sweetness of the Kumbaya approach that is truly incompatible with real pluralism. Only in an environment of honesty and openness can we build strong relationships with people of other beliefs on a foundation of true respect.

There is, of course, an important distinction between being brutally honest and just being brutal. Honesty is necessary for respect, but it is not sufficient. There are plenty of disrespectful ways to be honest, and how you say things matters almost as much as what you say. Gratuitous scorn is just as inimical to respect as dishonesty is. The key is to walk the line at the intersection of honesty and kindness, without slipping into either sugarcoating on one side or browbeating on the other. This is easier said than done, of course, but I do think it is possible for the gloves to come off without the knives coming out.

So the next time you feel like you have to play a role in order to avoid stepping on someone’s toes, don’t do it. Just tell the truth. Don’t sugarcoat it. Don’t brag about it. Just say what you think, and go from there. Then we will all know the truth, and the truth will set us free.

Chelsea Link is a senior at Harvard University, studying History and Science with a focus in the history of medicine, and minoring in Mind/Brain/Behavior. She is the Vice President of Outreach of the Harvard Secular Society, and the President of the Harvard College Interfaith Council. She also writes for the Harvard Brain and volunteers with the Be the Match bone marrow donor registry. She likes to cook while pretending she’s on Top Chef (Hasty breakfast? More like Quickfire Challenge!), adores word games of all kinds (and was once the President of the illustrious Harvard College Crossword Society), and tends to kill the mood at parties by unnecessarily reciting Shakespeare. This summer she interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. You can ask her what she’s doing after graduation, but she’ll give you a different answer every time.

Last Wednesday afternoon, I rebelled against death by going to a big, bright yellow house to eat tea cakes.

Sparks House tea is a tradition begun by the late Rev. Peter Gomes in 1974. Rev. Gomes wanted an opportunity to get to know the individuals who made up the Harvard community. So, for one hour every week, for over thirty-five years, he invited them – one and all – into his home. In the starched-collar world of Ivy League academia, such unconditional hospitality is a rare treasure.

Tea with Rev. Gomes had long been one of the items on my senior spring bucket list: the fun things I knew I’d want to do before I graduated, but which I felt I couldn’t possibly fit in until the magical post-thesis end times. Unfortunately, life doesn’t always conform itself to the plan I’ve laid out for it on Gcal, and my future teatime plans were derailed when Rev. Gomes died last February.

I had never met Rev. Gomes. I’d seen him speak once, at my freshman convocation, but I didn’t understand then what a legend he was. (If I’d met him, he could have told me himself: as he once said of another professor, “He may well be a star, but I am an institution.”) Despite never personally connecting with him, I felt that the campus was palpably enriched by his charismatic presence. I looked forward to meeting him at that mythical spring tea, and to hearing him speak at my graduation, as he had spoken at dozens of graduations past.

So I was saddened by the news of his death last semester, and I deeply regretted my postponement of afternoon tea with the institution that was Rev. Peter Gomes. However, I hadn’t thought about him or his teas overly much since spring – until last week.

Ten years after the collapse of the World Trade Center, those of us old enough to remember it – and it’s odd to think that there are about a billion people alive who don’t – tried to figure out how best to mark the day. Many religious services were held for those who were comforted by anticipation of afterlife reunions or by faith in the good judgment of a divine choreographer. Those of us without an instruction manual were left to our own devices.

I have a makeshift three-step process for dealing with death that I improvised last year when one of my high school friends and my grandfather died less than three weeks apart. That month was a formative experience in the development of my Humanist philosophy, and I’ll be sure to post about it when I feel like I have time to do it justice (and when I feel like I can do it without crying all over my keyboard…so…maybe never). Anyway, I had to figure out how to cope with all the futility and helplessness I felt then – how to prevent death from being meaningless – and this was what I came up with:

1. Remember. Death is the end of someone’s consciousness, but it doesn’t need to be the end of their influence on the world. As long as their memory is cherished, part of them is still alive. Do your part by telling their story.
2. Pay it forward. In honor of those who once gave love to you, give love to someone else. Death – especially sudden, violent, or early death – reminds us how fragile we are, and how alone in the universe. In such an uncertain world, we each must do what we can to help others make the most of their time here. When you encounter suffering, do what you can to alleviate it.
3. Live as hard and as loud as you can. Death teaches us to cherish the little time we have. Don’t postpone the important things in life, or the frivolous but fun ones.

So, on the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, I helped the Harvard Chaplains organize an interfaith reflection and remembrance event for people to share their stories of their own experiences ten years ago. I felt that it was crucial to focus on interfaith cooperation in commemorating a day like 9/11, when thousands of people were sacrificed on the altar of religious conflict.

After the reflection, I helped NPS’s very own Chris Stedman run a massive interfaith service project, sponsored by the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. With the help of almost 200 volunteers, we packaged 10,002 meals (far exceeding our symbolic goal of 9,110) for undernourished children right here in the Boston area. Our volunteers also wrote hundreds of letters to congresspeople asking them not to cut funding for crucial hunger relief programs in the coming fiscal year.

That day also kicked off a partnership between the Harvard College Interfaith Council and Gordon Christian College’s Loving Our Religious Neighbors organization. Several Gordon students came to Harvard to help package meals on September 11^th. The following weekend, a dozen Harvard students accompanied as many Gordon students on a journey to a farm just outside of Boston, where we helped grow produce for hunger relief programs. Between planting and weeding, we also grew our mutual understanding, and forged friendships to be strengthened during our year of partnership.

And finally, a few days after this city mouse ate her first raw green bean, freshly picked and still warm from the sun, Sparks House opened its doors for the first afternoon tea since Rev. Gomes’s death. The Memorial Church staff members who worked with Rev. Gomes are keeping his memory alive by continuing his tradition of offering the whole Harvard community a pick-me-up at what Gomes endearingly called the “flabby part of the day.” And I, after weeks of thinking about death while organizing events for 9/11, was ready to stop putting off my plans and start grabbing life by the sugar cubes. And so, on Wednesday afternoon, I set aside my intimidating stack of unread articles and incomplete problem sets, pinned a flower to my hair, and set out to eat tea cakes in honor of a man I had never met.

They were delicious.

Chelsea Link is a senior at Harvard University, studying History and Science with a focus in the history of medicine, and minoring in Mind/Brain/Behavior. She is the Vice President of Outreach of the Harvard Secular Society, and the President of the Harvard College Interfaith Council. She also writes for the Harvard Brain and volunteers with the Be the Match bone marrow donor registry. She likes to cook while pretending she’s on Top Chef (Hasty breakfast? More like Quickfire Challenge!), adores word games of all kinds (and was once the President of the illustrious Harvard College Crossword Society), and tends to kill the mood at parties by unnecessarily reciting Shakespeare. This summer she interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. You can ask her what she’s doing after graduation, but she’ll give you a different answer every time.

I’m not usually much of a political commentator – this stuff is definitely more Walker’s territory. (Sorry, Walker.) But I just couldn’t resist.

I guess the other two horsemen were too busy to stop for chicken.

Dear Mr. Cain:

This weekend, I made the [poor] decision to watch some videos of your inane insane incisive political commentary, because, I don’t know, I wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously. You really delivered on that, Mr. Cain. Thanks.

All in all, you seem like a joke qualified candidate. I mean, your experience as the CEO of the illustrious Godfather’s Pizza can only make you the best possible person to fix our economy. You also claim to have basically saved Burger King from extinction. Thank you for the obesity epidemic your heroism, sir. I really have a good feeling about your presidency. You know what they say: “As goes the Pillsbury Company, so goes the nation.”

There’s just one tiny issue I wanted to talk to you about. You know how Rick Santorum has that unfortunate Google problem? You seem to have what I like to call a Constitution Problem, by which I mean that you completely don’t understand the First Amendment. I know, I know – I’m totally nitpicking. But I’m hoping that, together, you and I can nip this whole “freedom of religion for all religions that are Protestant Christianity” thing in the bud.

Let’s start with the good news. I know, from your many horrifying delightful video interviews, that Sharia law is pretty much your least favorite thing. So I’m sure you’ll be glad to learn that the First Amendment actually prevents Sharia law from having any legal influence whatsoever in the United States! Hooray!

Look, I totally sympathize with your desire to not be bound by the strictures of Sharia law. Among other things, it forbids the consumption of swine, and let’s be honest: swine is delicious. But this is one of the great things about the First Amendment: since it’s a rule that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion,” nobody in the government gets to tell me I can’t eat bacon because God told him so. Isn’t the Constitution fun?

In fact, pretty much everything that might scare you about Sharia law – whether or not those fears are tethered to reality – is already covered by existing American laws. Many of the supporters of a ban on Sharia law in the U.S. have cited a supposed link between Sharia and terrorism as a justification for such a ban. But guess what? Terrorism is already illegal! Yay! But what about the bit in Sharia law about alms-giving? What if American Muslims all want to give their money to terrorists? Oh wait, there are already laws against material support of terrorist groups! Yay!

The take-home message here is that everybody needs to chill the f*ck out about Sharia law.

Okay, now onto the implications of the First Amendment that are probably going to be a little harder for you to accept.

You seem to actually have a decent theoretical grasp of the First Amendment; your stumbling block is applying it in practice. When answering a question from a blogger at ThinkProgress.org, you once said, “My point is, the First Amendment guarantees people the freedom of expression relative to their religion. It does not guarantee them the opportunity to push their religion off on us. That’s what the First Amendment says.” Very good effort, Mr. Cain. Ten points for Slytherin!

However, I think this is another instance of the “pronoun issues” Jon Stewart has already identified in some of your statements. Earlier in your discussion with the ThinkProgress.org blogger, you said that “The role of Islam in America is for those that believe in Islam to practice it and leave us alone.” If I’m not mistaken, it looks like you’re referring to Muslim Americans as “them” and everybody else (or maybe just Yahweh-fearing Christians?) as “us.” But here’s the thing about the First Amendment: it applies equally to all citizens. When it comes to the Constitution, the relevant word in the phrase “Muslim American” is “American.”

The First Amendment actually prevents anybody from “pushing their religion off” on anybody else. You are correct that the establishment clause means the government can’t endorse Islam, and you are correct that the free exercise clause means you get to do your Baptist thing without having Islam thrust upon you. But it works the other way, too.

The free exercise clause also means the government can’t stop people from practicing Islam – say, to take a crazy hypothetical example, by stopping people from building mosques.

The establishment clause also means the government can’t endorse Christianity – which means you’re treading on thin ice with your Israel policy. You said in an interview with America’s worst nightmare favorite son, Glenn Beck, that one of the main reasons you support Israel unconditionally is “because of the Biblical significance of the state of Israel.” If I were in the armed forces, Mr. Cain, I certainly wouldn’t want you “pushing your religion off” on me by sending me to fight your Holy War.

Oh, and it means that whole “Faith & Family” page listed under The Issues on your campaign website is not only total bullsh*t, but also completely unconstitutional.

I hope I’ve helped clear up some of these confusing issues for you, Mr. Cain. I have the highest of hopes for your incipient political career. After all, if historical precedent tells us anything about American politics, we can be sure that with your tenuous grasp of American law, your bottomless supply of xenophobic rage, and your multiple “Pants On Fire”-rated statements on PolitiFact, you’ll go far.

Love,

Chelsea

XOXO

Chelsea Link is a senior at Harvard University, studying History and Science with a focus in the history of medicine, and minoring in Mind/Brain/Behavior. She is the Vice President of Outreach of the Harvard Secular Society, and the President of the Harvard College Interfaith Council. She also writes for the Harvard Brain and volunteers with the Be the Match bone marrow donor registry. She likes to cook while pretending she’s on Top Chef (Hasty breakfast? More like Quickfire Challenge!), adores word games of all kinds (and was once the President of the illustrious Harvard College Crossword Society), and tends to kill the mood at parties by unnecessarily reciting Shakespeare. This summer she interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. You can ask her what she’s doing after graduation, but she’ll give you a different answer every time.

This is the second in a series of two posts on the linguistic challenges facing the secular movement and efforts to engage the non-religious in interfaith work. (If you missed Part One, you can find it here.) Thanks to my friend Adam Garner for the great conversation that inspired this piece! You can find him on Twitter, and read about his awesome work with Interfaith in Action at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.

I have a public service announcement for everybody (religious or otherwise) who ever wants to have anything to do with anybody non-religious: “Atheist” is NOT a dirty word.

Even among truly well-intentioned activists in the interfaith movement who genuinely respect the non-religious and want them to feel included, I often encounter an unwillingness to use the word “atheist.” I am absolutely positive that this arises from a place of respect, not a place of bigotry. That is why I am making this public service announcement: so those who believe they are being nice by avoiding the word “atheist” can understand the actual effects of that behavior.

I have heard the following sentences and others like them too many times:

“Chelsea is an athe—sorry! a Humanist.”

“Interfaith work isn’t just for religious people – it’s also for Humanists.”

“It’s important to reach out to Humanist students on your campus.”

There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with the last two – of course Humanists should be involved in interfaith work. But so should non-religious people who don’t identify with Humanism. As for the first sentence, the only offensive part is the apology. “Atheist” isn’t a slur, so don’t treat it like one. When people tiptoe around the A-word or hastily correct themselves after it slips out, their well-meaning attempt to be respectful ends up being disrespectful by perpetuating negative attitudes toward the word “atheist” and the people it describes.

I identify as both an atheist and a Humanist. If the two words were synonyms, I wouldn’t use both of them. The fact is that atheism and Humanism are very different things. Atheism is simply a belief that no god or supernatural intelligence exists. Humanism is, to quote the Humanist Manifesto III, “a progressive philosophy of life that, without supernaturalism, affirms our ability and responsibility to lead ethical lives of personal fulfillment that aspire to the greater good of humanity.” The lack of supernatural beliefs that defines atheism is just one component of Humanism, so not all atheists are Humanists. Not all Humanists are atheists, either – for example, some are agnostics, or even deists.

As an atheist, I feel compelled to destigmatize the term by using it frequently and unapologetically. The OUT Campaign sets an excellent and admirable example for atheists everywhere who should be able to own their identity instead of being ashamed of it or remaining closeted for fear of others’ reactions. However, identifying myself as an atheist only tells people what I don’t believe; I also identify myself as a Humanist in order to tell people something about what I do believe. I also hope that, by using the word “Humanist” (which may be less familiar to many people than the word “atheist”), I will encourage people to learn about Humanism. But being a Humanist doesn’t make me any less of an atheist, or any less proud to be one.

When my friend Adam Garner, who is an atheist but not a Humanist, hears the word “Humanist” used as a euphemism for “atheist,” he worries that the speaker “might think that there is something intrinsically better in calling someone a Humanist over an atheist….So while I am not offended [by being mistakenly called a Humanist], I am slightly concerned about the line of reasoning that brought them to that conclusion, whether they are conscious of it or not.” The root of the problem, he thinks, is that “many people are not comfortable with the fact that some people do not believe in God, and while defining yourself as an atheist puts [non-belief in God] front row center, the term ‘Humanist’ does not make that the primary focus.” Adam is a pretty chill guy, and always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. But many atheists become justifiably upset when they have a label imposed on them that they do not identify with, and when the label that they do identify with is treated as a dirty word.

It’s not just atheists who can be offended when people use the two words interchangeably; Humanists can also feel slighted. I, for one, wouldn’t call myself a Humanist if I didn’t think it meant something special that wasn’t contained in the word “atheist.” Calling all atheists “Humanists” denies that specialness, and strips the word “Humanism” of any real meaning by demoting it from unique belief system to euphemism.

So here is my message to interfaithers everywhere: Treating Humanism as a sanitized version of atheism is disrespectful toward atheists, Humanists, and people (like me) who are both. Don’t do it. We heathens know you can’t use all of our words all of the time, and we truly appreciate any attempt at inclusive language. But don’t perpetuate stereotypes by deliberately avoiding oft-maligned words like “atheist.” Instead, be part of the solution by demonstrating that there is no shame in atheism.

Chelsea Link is a senior at Harvard University, studying History and Science with a focus in the history of medicine, and minoring in Mind/Brain/Behavior. She is the Vice President of Outreach of the Harvard Secular Society, and the President of the Harvard College Interfaith Council. She also writes for the Harvard Brain and volunteers with the Be the Match bone marrow donor registry. She likes to cook while pretending she’s on Top Chef (Hasty breakfast? More like Quickfire Challenge!), adores word games of all kinds (and was once the President of the illustrious Harvard College Crossword Society), and tends to kill the mood at parties by unnecessarily reciting Shakespeare. This summer she is interning at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. You can ask her what she’s doing after graduation, but she’ll give you a different answer every time.

This is the first in a series of two posts on the linguistic challenges facing the secular movement and efforts to engage the non-religious in interfaith work. Stay tuned for Part Two on Wednesday!

One of the most confusing aspects of the secular movement – and one of the biggest stumbling blocks in efforts to bring the non-religious into interfaith work – is the language barrier. Non-religious people are picky about labels, and understandably so: many of the words involved have stigmas or unwanted connotations attached to them, while others simply aren’t well-known enough to convey the intended meaning. The end result is that many people identify themselves with a mash-up of different terminology, and we all end up tripping over our own tongues in a valiant effort to be all-inclusive.

The Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard, where I am interning this summer, markets itself as a community of “Humanists, atheists, agnostics, and the nonreligious” – implying, of course, that there are people who consider themselves to be each one of those things but not any of the other three, or else there would be no need to list all four terms. In fact, illustrating the full extent of the linguistic absurdity into which we have fallen, the Chaplaincy has a banner which reads:

If you call yourself: Atheist, Agnostic, Ignostic, Non-Religious, Freethinker, Rationalist, Secular, Spiritual, Skeptic, Cynic, Secular Humanist, Naturalist, Deist, “Nothing,” or any number of non-religious descriptives, you could probably count yourself a Humanist.

I’m not even going to get into the controversy surrounding the inclusion of terms like “Spiritual” and “Deist.” (By the way, the Chaplaincy no longer uses this particular banner.)

I don’t have a solution for any of this. This is a problem the [insert preferred term here] movement is going to struggle with for a while before it reaches a solution (if indeed it ever does).

With all of this internal confusion, I sympathize whole-heartedly with anybody outside our linguistically challenged movement who grapples with this language issue. Whenever I talk to religious folks about engaging the non-religious in interfaith work, I always tell them that what matters more than the specific word(s) they use is that they just make a sincere effort to use inclusive language.

For one thing, the word “interfaith” itself is notoriously charged. It immediately turns off the faithless by including the F-bomb, but none of the proposed substitutes (like “interfidelity,” “transfaith,” or “cooperation among communities of conscience”) clearly convey the same meaning. In all the publicity materials I write for the Harvard College Interfaith Council, I use the word “interfaith,” but I always include a couple of sentences explicitly stating that all are welcome, including atheists and students with no particular religious label at all. I assume that any self-identified Pastafarians or Ignostics or others not specifically named in my message will give me the benefit of the doubt and understand that I mean them, too.

In general, I believe (and hope) that heathens of all stripes will extend the courtesy of benevolent interpretation to all those who make valiant attempts to draw the non-religious into constructive dialogue and collective action among people of different beliefs, no matter what words are used to describe the work and the people involved.

All that said…

There is one specific language issue that I think is immensely important, and must be addressed immediately. Fortunately, I think it will also be easily remedied once those involved understand the issues at stake. I’ll address all this in my next post!

Chelsea Link is a senior at Harvard University, studying History and Science with a focus in the history of medicine, and minoring in Mind/Brain/Behavior. She is the Vice President of Outreach of the Harvard Secular Society, and the President of the Harvard College Interfaith Council. She also writes for the Harvard Brain and volunteers with the Be the Match bone marrow donor registry. She likes to cook while pretending she’s on Top Chef (Hasty breakfast? More like Quickfire Challenge!), adores word games of all kinds (and was once the President of the illustrious Harvard College Crossword Society), and tends to kill the mood at parties by unnecessarily reciting Shakespeare. This summer she is interning at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. You can ask her what she’s doing after graduation, but she’ll give you a different answer every time.