Brian Kaylor begins his Aug. 17 Word&Way article, “The World’s Religions Converge in Chicago,” with this personal question of mine: “How did someone rooted and grounded in a Baptist version of Christianity become a religious pluralist?” In that recent speech at the Parliament of the World’s Religions, I further asked:
How did I, a lifelong Christian — growing up in the family of a Southern Baptist pastor, earning three degrees from a Baptist university and seminary, and serving as an ordained Baptist minister, a Baptist missionary in Asia for a quarter century and a professor 20 years at (two Baptist seminaries in Texas) — arrive at this place in life?
Robert Sellers
It may seem inexplicable that a person with such a pedigree and experience is no longer a Southern Baptist and has become an interfaith leader and advocate and was the chair of the Parliament of the World’s Religions in Chicago (2016-2018). These changes in my life occurred because over the years I have become a Christian pluralist.
Here’s what living into this identity means to me.
Pluralism defined
My friend Diana Eck, professor emeritus of comparative religions and Indian studies at Harvard Divinity School and the first director of the university’s Pluralism Project, published a book in 2001 titled A New Religious America: How a “Christian Country” has become the World’s Most Religiously Diverse Nation. In that volume, Eck claims and then demonstrates that the United States is now the most pluralistic nation on the globe.
It is self-evident that we no longer need to travel internationally to encounter people who follow other traditions or who claim no religious affiliation at all. According to Eck, however, this demographic fact indicates our country’s plurality but not its people’s pluralism.
“We no longer need to travel internationally to encounter people who follow other traditions or who claim no religious affiliation at all.”
One of the most helpful contributions of this award-winning book is the way Professor Eck explains and demystifies the concept of “pluralism.” She writes:
The language of pluralism is the language not just of difference but of engagement, involvement and participation. It is the language of traffic, exchange, dialogue and debate. (For some people, “pluralism”) has a bad name. …. (It means) the chaos of “anything goes.” It means unprincipled relativism and therefore moral decay. It means giving up on one’s own, usually Christian, truth claims in favor of an unconvincing “religious correctness.”
However, she explains:
Pluralism is not an ideology, not a leftist scheme and not a free-form relativism. Rather, pluralism is the dynamic process through which we engage with one another in and through our very deepest differences.
First, pluralism is not just another word for diversity. It goes beyond mere plurality or diversity to active engagement with that plurality. Religious diversity is an observable fact of American life today, but without any real engagement with one another, neighboring churches, temples and mosques might prove to be just a striking example of diversity.
Second, pluralism goes beyond mere tolerance to the active attempt to understand the other. …. Although tolerance is no doubt a step forward from intolerance, it does not require new neighbors to know anything about one another. Tolerance can create a climate of restraint but not one of understanding. Tolerance alone does little to bridge the chasms of stereotypes and fear that may, in fact, dominate the mutual image of the other.
Third, pluralism is not simply (watering down differently held beliefs to the lowest common denominator). It does not displace or eliminate deep religious commitment or secular commitments, for that matter. It is, rather, the encounter of commitments.
Christian pluralism defined
Therefore, when I say I am a “Christian pluralist,” I intend to make two very crucial points.
The first is that I have been, am and will continue to be a Christian, one who finds the clearest expression of divine love in the life and example of Jesus of Nazareth. It is to living the ethical way of Jesus — the way of compassion, humility, forgiveness, kindness and self-sacrifice — that I am committed, although I continually fall short of being all I am called to be.
“I am dedicated to the exciting adventure of befriending those who believe differently.”
The second is not that I endorse a scary relativism or am merely tolerant of people who are different from me, or water down my beliefs so they somehow match the views of non-Christians. Rather, what I mean is I am dedicated to the exciting adventure of befriending those who believe differently, so I may understand them better and partner with them in strategic efforts to help create a better world through the engagement of our various religious and ideological practices, beliefs, values and worldviews.
Since our return to the United States in 1996 from the religiously plural nation of Indonesia — where we lived more than two decades among the beautiful, fascinating people of the island of Java — I have pursued my Christian pluralist path locally, nationally and internationally.
Locally, the Abilene Interfaith Council was a home for me from 1998 to 2021. As a board member and president of AIC for several years, I worked with other council leaders to bring to Abilene numerous splendid programs and speakers, including Jewish liberation theologian Marc Ellis, Muslim musician and poet Latif Bolat, Christian world religionist Diana Eck, and Hindu peacemaker Arun Gandhi, the grandson of India’s Mahatma Gandhi.
Nationally, I have represented the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship on the Interreligious Relations and Collaboration Table of the National Council of Churches-USA, where I helped write five position papers on “Interfaith and the Church” for the 38-member communions of the NCC. Also, for CBF, I was on the planning team that designed and coordinated three National Baptist-Muslim Dialogues that gathered more than 200 Baptist and Muslim clergy, imams, academics and lay practitioners for three weekends of dialogue and relationship-building.
Internationally, I served almost 10 years on the Interfaith Relations Commission of the Baptist World Alliance, along with Baptists from Europe, South America, Africa, Asia and the Pacific Rim. Additionally, for seven years I was a member of the board of trustees of the Parliament of the World’s Religions, the last three years serving as chair, when I led a creative team of trustees, staff and volunteers to plan and implement the seventh convening of the Parliament in Toronto, Canada, in November 2018.
In all these venues and involvements, I have consciously tried to be “Christian” in my friendships, vision and work, while at the same time being “pluralist” through interfaith dialogue, mutual understanding and cooperation on important common strategies.
My experience as a Christian pluralist
I am grateful for my identity as a Christian pluralist. I am convicted this is God’s good intention for me — that I should respect, affirm, lift up, partner with, learn from and love my neighbors who practice other religions, or no religion, just as I love myself and those who are like me.
“Interfaith friendship is my calling. Interfaith dialogue is my mission. Interfaith cooperation is my passion.”
Thus, as I said at the Parliament: “Interfaith friendship is my calling. Interfaith dialogue is my mission. Interfaith cooperation is my passion.”
Many of my students, in both undergraduate and graduate programs, have found some of the courses I have taught life changing. A number of them have shared how our common readings, seminar discussions, study abroad programs, visiting speakers from many religious traditions and the personal attention I have shown them have introduced them to ideas and experiences they never anticipated but will always appreciate.
Yet, certainly not everyone has felt comfortable with my theological perspectives. I have been a most untraditional Baptist missions professor, so it has not always been easy to be who I have become. It is not that followers of other faiths have questioned, criticized or rejected me. Instead, it has been my fellow Christians, even some of those with whom I have worked and whom I have loved as friends for years, who have done so.
One of the experiences more humorous than hurtful occurred at Logsdon Seminary not long after I became a professor of missions and theology there in 1998. My graduate assistant came into my office one morning with the surprising news: “Dr. Sellers, there are students circled up on the quad outside the seminary praying together.” Prayer was normal for our Logsdon community, but then he explained: “I stood beside them to see what they were concerned about, and they are praying for you — that you will become a Christian!”
Perhaps it was the fall semester of 2000 when, in one of my undergraduate missions courses, I distributed and discussed the syllabus. When the class session ended, one of the undergraduates stayed to talk with me.
“Dr. Sellers, he said, “I am going to drop this class. I just wanted you to know.”
“I regret hearing that,” I replied. “Why?”
“I must drop it because I base my life on the Bible,” he responded.
I answered in a calm voice, “So do I.”
When he explained to his faculty adviser, one of my colleagues, why he wanted to drop my class, he was admonished for making a snap judgment without really listening to me.
During the summer of 2004, I was leading two study abroad classes in Kenya and South Africa. One of my students had her passport stolen, so we were sitting in the consulate office in Durban waiting on her new passport. After a pause in our conversation, she said, rather timidly: “Dr. Sellers, I need to tell you something. Some of my friends told me not to come on this trip to Africa with you.”
“What was their reason?” I inquired.
“They told me if I insisted on coming, I should try to lead you to the Lord.”
“You know — your theology,” she answered, then hurried on to say, “But they told me if I insisted on coming, I should try to lead you to the Lord.”
“Well,” I offered, “It looks like we have a lot of time. Give it your best shot!”
She laughed and said, “Oh, I have been watching you and Mrs. Sellers — the way you treat people and the love you show others. My friends are wrong.”
I replied, “Well, go back and tell them.”
It was not unusual for the dean of Logsdon Seminary to receive a letter from a pastor or youth minister in West Texas who were reporting their concern that I was a pluralist or was otherwise influencing their college-age church member who studied in one of my classes. So often it was a case of my having been misquoted or misunderstood. Most such letters I did not hear about, but one from the current president of the Baptist General Convention of Texas — whose seminary-enrolled staff ministers had taken one of my J-Term intensive seminars — was passed along to me with the instruction that I reply to the pastor’s concerns. I was asked to confirm my orthodoxy, especially concerning the virgin birth and “Jesus as the only way of salvation.”
During a different semester, another dean called me to his office on five separate occasions to clarify my subject matter in a particular class and to relate how I had communicated it. One particular student requested I meet with her in the dean’s office to give account to her of my theological beliefs in a multi-hour grilling as the dean listened. This was an inappropriate request to make of a tenured full professor, and as it turned out, she still wasn’t satisfied.
Since retiring in 2016, I have been regularly writing opinion pieces for Baptist News Global. While I have received many positive comments about my views, I also have had some negative feedback. Interestingly, these remarks have entirely come from Christian friends I have known for decades. Some have sent me Bible verses to challenge — or, in their minds, to disprove — my interpretations of Scripture.
“Others have wanted to defend what they considered truth or to remind me of the orthodox views they felt former Baptist missionaries should hold.”
At least once, verses were gathered under the heading of “God’s truth.” Others have wanted to defend what they considered truth or to remind me of the orthodox views they felt former Baptist missionaries should hold. One admitted, “We are confused, because you call yourself a Christian, yet you reject the central tenets of the Christian faith and lead others to do the same.”
Similarly, I have been told,
We are responding because we care about your soul and the souls of those influenced by you. … The reason I … am concerned for your soul is because you stated that you do not believe or accept that Jesus (God incarnate) died in your place for your sins (substitutionary atonement). Scripture is very clear that apart from what Jesus did for us on the cross there is no salvation. … However, that does not change my love for you and your family. I am praying for you and will continue to do so. I always wish you well.
Concerning the accusation that my theology is unorthodox, I have replied:
I might say that my theology actually does not “have ties to traditional faith and belief,” if you mean by that association that it is deceptively so close to “traditional” faith that others might be fooled into thinking it is somehow also orthodox thinking. It is not, I readily admit. Without trying to claim any particular theological weight for my ideas, I would respond that throughout Christian history, sometimes very good ideas — many of which were called heretical or unorthodox — were advanced by sincere believers. Sometimes those who proposed new ideas were summarily rejected, persecuted or even killed. But we do look back in Christian history and see that sometimes the very ideas that were rejected by others have “spoken to” a segment of the church in a fresh fashion.
To the assurance that a friend is praying for my soul because I reject the central tenets of the faith, I have responded:
Thank you for your love. . Yes, our ties go back perhaps almost a half century. While I certainly do not reject the central tenets of the Christian faith, you and I do differ on what is “central” to the Christian faith and how to interpret the tenets that you are calling central. I am not leading others to reject the central tenets of the Christian faith. … You might say I am connecting with Christians who are wondering if there are other ways of being followers of Jesus. …. I welcome your prayers … not that my soul will be rescued from my heresies, but that my ministry of writing and teaching will be a way that God can become real to many who have decided that God is not real for them.
Conclusion
I am thankful to be a Christian pluralist — doing my best to live according to the moral teachings of Jesus, yet also desiring to engage all my neighbors with compassion, respect, kindness and understanding, especially when they worship God differently than I.
“What I feel for my heritage is gratitude, although some will say I have forsaken it.”
What I feel for my heritage is gratitude, although some will say I have forsaken it. I love my exclusivist Christian friends and missionary colleagues, but I also love my non-Christian friends and interfaith partners.
My path is sometimes a lonely place to walk, but I am convinced the Spirit of God has led me here. I can imagine Jesus walking eagerly into interfaith friendships and turning to motion to me as I try to catch up: “Follow me,” he says.
I am in good company when I walk this Christian pluralist path. Four well-known Christians — all having gone on to their eternal reward — could have called themselves “Christian pluralists” also.
The Catholic monk and mystic Thomas Merton was a pluralist by the end of his life. In a speech at a meeting of the International Thomas Merton Society, Jacques Goulet said, “Merton gradually discovered the remarkable kinship of the human spirit between those who know Christ as the absolute light of God ever present to us and those who do not, at least when both groups are faithful to the sources of honesty, courage and community within them.”
Mother Teresa, canonized in 2016 as Saint Teresa of Kolkata, gave her life lifting up the least, rather than trying to convert them. Of her, Navin Chawla wrote: “As her biographer, I once asked her whether she tried to convert people. She replied, ‘Yes, I do convert. I convert you to be a better Hindu, a better Christian, a better Catholic, a better Sikh, a better Muslim.’”
Marcus Borg, Episcopal professor, writer and Jesus Seminar scholar, explained:
A point I want to make about Jesus in the context of religious pluralism is the significance of Jesus for Christians. … I don’t think religious pluralism should make us start talking about Jesus as … one of the lights, or something like that. I don’t think we should water down what we say about Jesus in order to embrace religious diversity. Jesus is constitutive of Christian identity. … We can say Jesus is for us as Christians the decisive disclosure of God without needing to say that he’s the only disclosure of God.”
But it is the greatest world religionist of the 20th century, Huston Smith — a lifelong Methodist and son of missionaries to China — whom I am most grateful to be accompanying along this Christian pluralist pathway. I was privileged to meet him in 2006 at a conference of The World’s Religions after 9/11 in Montreal, Canada. I have recounted that meeting in The Interfaith Observer:
I sat very close to the front of a huge convention hall to hear him address thousands of conferees from all over the globe. Unable to stand at the podium, Smith was seated at a table at center stage. With a gentle demeanor and voice projection dimmed by age, he nonetheless held the audience spellbound. At the conclusion of the session, I rushed to the platform to meet him. Rather than tower above this seated and frail world religions giant, I knelt beside his chair, took his hand, and said, “Dr. Smith, you are one of my heroes.” Without pausing, he smiled and replied, “And if I knew you, I’m sure that you would be one of my heroes too!”
I’ve thought about that response many times. Here was a man who has spoken all over the globe, been a close friend of Aldous Huxley, Joseph Campbell and the Dalai Lama, held teaching posts at Syracuse University, MIT and Berkeley, written more than a dozen important books — one of which, The World’s Religions, has sold some 3 million copies … who was now affirming me as a person who would inspire and instruct him in some way, if only we were able to know one another personally. His humble spirit, desire to keep on learning and willingness to affirm others (were) secrets to this man’s greatness.
In Smith’s autobiography, Tales of Wonder: Adventures Chasing the Divine, he describes his identity both as a Christian and a pluralist:
Erase Christianity from my life … and you will have erased Huston Smith. …. Christianity seems practically imprinted in my genes. My earliest memories are of swelling with pride as I listened to my father deliver sermons on Sunday — even as I found his pronunciation of Chinese faulty. Soon I was emulating him. … In the years to come, I was to become something of a heathen myself — that is, I became a Vedantist, a Buddhist and a Sufi — but I never canceled my subscription to Christianity. … Where is Christianity in my life today? Consciously or not, it’s everywhere. To borrow a medieval definition of God, it’s a circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere. At other times, though, the spirit of Christianity becomes almost palpable, a zone of safety and non-fear around me. Twenty times a day, in my room or in the hallway, under my breath I say, “Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.”
I have arrived at this point in my journey after many years of rigorous education, living in Asia for almost a quarter century, traveling and working in 40-plus countries, teaching 20 years in American seminaries, profound soul-searching, as well as hundreds of interreligious encounters and numerous scars and wounds given to me by Christians who don’t understand my views.
“The only journey is the one within.” This was the profound observation of Rainer Maria Rilke, German poet of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. I have been on a “journey to become” for at least six decades. I am still on that journey, the one within. And I walk this path gladly as a Christian pluralist.
Rob Sellers is professor of theology and missions emeritus at Hardin-Simmons University’s Logsdon Seminary in Abilene, Texas. He is a past chair of the board of the Parliament of the World’s Religions in Chicago. He and his wife, Janie, served a quarter century as missionary teachers in Indonesia. They have two children and five grandchildren.
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The one thing that unites the world’s religions | Opinion by Robert Sellers
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Six Scriptures undergirding my attitude toward other faiths | Opinion by Robert Sellers
Six lessons learned on my interfaith journey | Opinion by Robert Sellers