Ecumenicalism--the term brings shudders to the backs of every hardcore fundamentalist (of any faith), and yet to me, what is more frightening is the chaos that can result when followers of different faiths do not talk to each other. The idea that I, or you, or any one of the two-footed, air-breathing, opposable-thumbed, goop--brained members of the human race can know better than anyone else in the world who God is, whether or not he exists, or what place we all have in the grand scheme of things is utterly ridiculous, and yet many people practice this fantasy as a general rule, unwilling to allow their prejudices to be challenged via open and honest conversation.

I'm not talking here about the rather fatuous argument some practitioners of ecumenalicalism have been guilty of presenting--the whole "what you believe may be true for you" line of reasoning. This argument presupposes that ecumenicalism is individualistic in nature and that (worse) religion and/or matters of the soul are to be pursued in a whimsical manner.

Neither is the case.

Let me ask you a question: Have you ever known spirituality to be expressed without some form of contact or communion between 2 or more people?

Case in point: Christianity's worshippers regularly meet together in groups for mutual support and for training in the art of listening to their souls as they relate to a Creator who became flesh, died, and rose from the dead for their well-being. While church attendance is considered optional within Christianity, it is a given that anyone who really considers and adopts the claims of Christianity has a need to find like-minded people to spend time with.

The same is true of any other faith. Buddhists meet together in groups, Muslims pray and fast in groups, and even Wiccans, pagans, and Satanists experience some sort of communal bond with others of similar vein.

So . . . how, in the name of God, could ecumenalicalism possibly be non-communal? The whole point of ecumenicalism is to bring people of different (even diametrically opposed) perspectives on spirituality together. It is, at its heart, a communal exercise, one inimical to the dismissive claim that one person's lie is another person's truth.

What this statement implies is worse than simple individualism--it implies that spirituality is something whimsical, to be pursued haphazardly. (Are questions of morality, origin, and destiny ever to be pursued haphazardly? Is finding who you are, who you really are, something you would consider to be a merely whimsical endeavor?)

What one believes is important--and why one believes it is also important. Do you believe in the God of the Bible because you came to that conclusion through a time of serious soul-searching and personal reflection? Or (as in the case of so many people who spend much of their lives in the same community) have your perspectives on God, yourself, and spirituality derived simply from the fact that "everyone else believes it, so I should too"?

If the latter is your story, then may I challenge you to consider dialoguing with people of another faith? I am not asking you to challenge your God, or your family, or your moral values--I am instead asking for you to engage in the kind of serious personal reflection and soul-searching that will allow you to arrive at conclusions (and, ultimately, a faith) that are, at their core, true, vibrant, and real. If spirituality is anything, it is the essence of something about which we tend to have little knowledge and no control . . . is it, then, wise for you, or me, or anyone to pretend that we have knowledge and control beyond our capabilities?

Can we, in attempting to justify our little perspectives on God, presume to be God ourselves?

This in essence, is the real reason why ecumenalicalism is important--it asks us to let go of the petty notion that we, in our finite consciousness, can "know" the "whole truth" about anything . . . especially the nature of soul, spirit, and being.