Taoism urges its followers to consider the gains and losses of a neighbor as their own.
The Samyutta Nikaya, a Buddhist scripture, asks how we could inflict a state that’s not “pleasing or delightful” onto somebody else.
And as Jesus of Nazareth has been quoted saying, often in red print: “Just as you want men to treat you, treat them in the same way.”
That last expression of the “golden rule” may be preferred by Andrea Thompson McCall, USM’s interfaith chaplain and a lifelong Christian, but she would be the last person to claim that her faith holds a copyright on the sentiment. (Her office’s calling card alone features 12 variations.)
“Christianity is a spiritual language,” she says. “Islam is a spiritual language. Think of different religions as different languages of the human spiritual experience.”
That’s both McCall’s advice and the heart of her work at the Interfaith Chaplaincy, located in an old white farmhouse in the middle of the Portland campus.
She knows college is typically a trying time for students’ religious faiths, when the teachings of families and churches can sometimes seem at odds with much of what they encounter at a university.
“There’s a classic crisis of faith that happens, and I see one of the roles of the chaplaincy as helping students deal with that,” she says. “Not necessary to resolve it one way or the other, but to be a resource.”
That may mean helping students discover a more nuanced and intellectual approach to their religion – McCall herself studied religion and philosophy as an undergrad, then theology in graduate school – but just as often it can mean overcoming an ancient problem for those who have seen a path to spiritual fulfillment: understanding all the others.
There are eight faith groups represented by the school’s chaplains, with all but McCall sponsored by outside institutions – Baha’l, Episcopal, InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, Imago Dei, Jewish, Muslim, Pagan and Roman Catholic.
An unavoidable sense of confidence in their mission could be attributed to the effect it’s had on the chaplains themselves. They hold weekly meetings, and are currently in the process of hosting a three-part interfaith conversation on race for the wider community.
“I think I’ve had a great deal more experience of the humanness of other faiths,” says Cynthia Collins, a religion scholar and Wiccan of 30-years who now serves as Pagan chaplain.
“We’re actually a diverse, worldwide group – if you put 200 pagans in a room, you could come up with 200 different opinions,” says Collins, who is accustomed to explaining away some of the stigma attached to paganism – such as green cartoon witches, satanic devotion and dirt worshipping.
One memorable connection between Collins’ group and campus Jews occurred on the Jewish holiday Tu Bishvat, observed as the start of a “New Year of the Trees.” USM’s Jewish group opened their celebration to the pagans, who found a surprising and relatable environmental focus in Judaism.
“I don’t think the idea is to necessary bring the walls [between faiths] down completely, but see through and over them,” says Collins. Reverand John Haslam, chaplain from the Intervarsity Christian Fellowship, seconds that.
“One of the things that’s been a real gift to me is the relationship we have as chaplains together,” he says. “As we’ve gotten to know one another and build a trust, we don’t have to feel superficial about saying everybody believes the same thing – we do have differences, and that’s okay.”
McCall likens the work, which she acknowledges as being at times difficult and complicated, to dealing with the conflicts that can take place in a person’s own religious journey – her own, for example.
McCall is currently an active member at her local, South Portland congregation of the United Church of Christ, a younger and more liberal denomination of Christianity.
But prior to that, she was an Episcopalian who felt increasingly out of step with her religion, which remained steadfast in its opposition to accepting women in leadership roles at the height of 1960s feminism.
“A lot of women of my generation decided to abandon Christianity,” she recalls. “I instead, and with help from teachers, deconstructed that patriarchy and realized it was a cultural overlay to the spiritual language.”
“In the same way, people from different religions can peel away the non-essential and find the common ground,” she adds.
Since initiating the chaplaincy at USM in 2002, the parallel has proved encouraging. Still, for all the friendship between the chaplains, she has noticed that the student population has been slower to adapt.
“The students haven’t moved in that direction,” she says. “That may just be developmental, but it may be that they haven’t seen the bridge yet.”
As long as that remains the case, USM’s chaplains see it as their duty to preach to the choir and lead the way.