Around the year 780 the patriarch of the East Syrian Church, Timothy, went to the imperial palace in Baghdad and spent two days discussing religion with the Abbasid caliph al-Mahdi. The record of their conversation comes down to us from Syriac letters of Timothy, although he certainly spoke with al-Mahdi in Arabic. Timothy had an agenda for his conversation. He sought certain concessions from the caliph, and in fact he received permission to rebuild churches that had been destroyed. Al-Mahdi also had something to gain: among other things he asked the patriarch to commission a translation of Aristotle’s Topics into Arabic. Now it is true that a culture of the “majlis” (“sessions”) existed in Abbasid Baghdad and allowed folks with different religious or philosophical ideas to debate on the basis of reason alone. So Timothy might have felt some assurance that he could speak his mind. And yet he was still in the lion’s den. The wrong answer on a sensitive topic, above all about Muhammad, would have consequences for him and his flock.
Inevitably the topic of Muhammad did come up, and more than once. Famously, when the caliph asked Timothy, “What do you say about Muhammad?” the patriarch answered, “Muhammad is worthy of all praise, by all reasonable people, O my Sovereign. He walked in the path of the prophets, and trod in the track of the lover of God.” One can only imagine that the caliph was pleased at this answer, although Timothy stopped short of affirming Muhammad’s prophethood. And one can imagine that the caliph’s pleasure dissipated as Timothy continued. One of the signs that Muhammad “walked in the path of the prophets,” explained the patriarch, is that he taught about “God, His Word and His Spirit” in the Qur’an. The patriarch, in other words, was claiming that the Qur’an points to the Trinity, to Christian truth.
On the second day of the discussion in the caliphal palace Timothy brought up the image of a pearl. One suspects that he thought of this image because of the words of Christ, recorded in Matthew’s Gospel, when he sat by the Sea of Galilee and began to teach people in parables. “The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls,” he taught the crowds that day. “When he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it” (Matt 13:45-46). Al-Mahdi challenged Timothy on the divinity of Christ: “In what you say concerning one Word and Son of God, all of you are wrong.” Timothy answered by telling a story:
O our victorious King, in this world we are all of us as in a dark house in the middle of the night. If at night and in a dark house a precious pearl happens to fall in the midst of people, and all become aware of its existence, everyone would strive to pick up the pearl, which will not fall to the lot of all but to the lot of one only, while one will get hold of the pearl itself, another one of a piece of glass, a third one of a stone or of a bit of earth, but everyone will be happy and proud that he is the real possessor of the pearl.
Timothy’s parable is cited often these days, since it seems to make a case for the equality of all beliefs. Everyone is doing their best to get the pearl, and everyone really thinks they have it. The house is dark, after all, and so we should never presume to tell someone that they are only holding a bit of earth. It would make sense that Timothy would advance a sort of relativism and consequently tolerance (after all, this was an Islamic Empire, and the folks who were threatened with being called infidels were non-Muslims like him). But, once again, he does not stop there:
When, however, night and darkness disappear, and light and day arise, then every one of those men who had believed that they had the pearl, would extend and stretch his hand towards the light, which alone can show what everyone has in hand. He who possesses the pearl will rejoice and be happy and pleased with it, while those who had in hand pieces of glass and bits of stone only will weep and be sad, and will sigh and shed tears.
What happens next is astounding. Al-Mahdi seems to like the parable. He seems to be convinced by the (apparent) teaching that we cannot know the truth in this life, and so (presumably) we should just leave one another in peace and get on with life: “The possessors of the pearl are not known in this world, O Catholicos,” he says. This, one would think, was a triumph for Timothy. We know from his letters that he was desperately concerned for the well-being of Christians in the Islamic empire, and now, after two days of talking, he has convinced the caliph not to think of Islam as the truth and Christianity as falsehood, but of each religion as “best shots” at understanding the truth. This surely was the moment to thank the “victorious king” for the conversation and for the hospitality, and to take his staff and go back home. But Timothy stays.
“They are partially known, O our victorious King.” — And our victorious and very wise King said: “What do you mean by partially known, and by what are they known as such?” — And I answered: “By good works, O our victorious King, and pious deeds, and by the wonders and miracles that God performs through those who possess the true faith. As the luster of a pearl is somewhat visible even in the darkness of the night, so also the rays of the true faith shine to some extent even in the darkness and the fog of the present world. God indeed has not left the pure pearl of the faith completely without testimony and evidence, first in the prophets and then in the Gospel. . . . He confirmed the faith through Christ our Lord by the miracles and prodigies which He wrought for the help of the children of men. In this way the Disciples performed miracles greater even than those wrought by Christ. These signs, miracles, and prodigies wrought in the name of Jesus Christ are the bright rays and the shining luster of the precious pearl of the faith, and it is by the brightness of such rays that the possessors of this pearl which is so full of luster and so precious that it outweighs all the world in the balance, are known.”
Timothy’s boldness is stunning. This is not Lessing’s Nathan the Wise with its teaching, “The true religion does not reveal itself in doctrines but in deeds.” This is a proclamation of the Gospel. If anyone had the right to compromise or water down the Gospel, it was Timothy that day. The well-being of his flock was at stake, as was his own. Timothy was completely at the mercy of al-Mahdi. Two of his successors (Abraham II and Theodosius) were in fact later imprisoned by Abbasid caliphs. And yet he chose to give a testimony to the Gospel. Maybe he had in his mind the words of Christ: “I tell you, everyone who acknowledges me before others the Son of Man will acknowledge before the angels of God. But whoever denies me before others will be denied before the angels of God” (Luke 12:8-9).
The situation for Pope Francis this past September 13 at the “Catholic Junior College” in Singapore was different. The Holy Father spoke in front of a large hall filled with young people of different faiths. He spoke after a few reflections by young people (of different faiths) who brought up the challenges for youth today, including the responsible use of technology. The Holy Father’s remarks were quite brief and completely spontaneous. He had prepared a talk, but when the last young person spoke he told the crowd: “This is the speech that I had prepared, but now let’s just get on with it” (Questo è il discorso che avevo preparato ma adesso andiamo). At this comment the crowd spontaneously applauded. Some cheered.
Francis’ remarks follow directly from the themes of the young people’s remarks. It is clear from his message, and even from his mannerisms, that he sought to affirm everyone in the hall, whatever their religion. Indeed he goes beyond affirmation: his talk is a lesson about well-being, about good habits, about living life to the fullest, and his tone is endearing throughout:
Let us see who can answer my question: What is worse, making a mistake because I started to walk or not making a mistake because I stayed at home? Everyone, the latter! A young person who does not take risks, who is afraid of making mistakes, is already old! Do you understand this?
There is something beautiful about the kindness that shows through on the face, and in the tone, of “Papa Francesco.” The crowd loved every word. At the line, “a young person who does not take risks . . . is already old,” there was warm and affectionate laughter. Francis continued, offering guidance on technology:
Today there are so many options, so many possibilities for using the media, cell phone, or television. I would like to ask you: is it good to use media or is it not good? Let us think about this. What is a young person who does not use media like? He or she is closed. What about young people who live totally enslaved to the media, what are they like? They are lost. All young people should use the media, but in a manner that can help us move forward, not in a way that can enslave us. Understood? Do you agree or disagree?
This too is beautiful (although personally I would rather like to stop using media). The warmth and wisdom of the Holy Father that day, and the affection of the young people in the room, is evident. Francis was a sort of guide or mentor. He was Robin Williams in the Dead Poet’s Society, standing on top of a desk and telling the young men of at Welton Academy (who look at him in wonder): “I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way!” Francis offers beautiful, practical wisdom. And this continues in his remarks on religion. He tells the young people:
One of the things that has impressed me most about the young people here is your capacity for interfaith dialogue. This is very important because if you start arguing, “My religion is more important than yours . . .,” or “Mine is the true one, yours is not true . . .,” where does this lead?
The folks in the hall took this as a rhetorical question and no one spoke. But the Holy Father called out, “Somebody answer!” at which a young person shouted, “destruction!” and Pope Francis symbolized this by pointing his thumb downwards. He continued:
That is correct. All religions are a path to arrive to God. I will use an analogy, they are like different languages that express the divine. But God is God for everyone, and since God is God for all, we are all God’s children. “But my God is more important than yours!” Is this true? There is only one God [he points upwards], and religions are like languages, paths to reach God. Some Sikh, some Muslim, some Hindu, some Christian. They are different paths. Understood?
Francis spoke that last word, “Understood?” in English and the young people in the hall applauded.
Five years earlier in Abu Dhabi, on February 4, 2019, Francis co-signed a text known as the Document on Human Fraternity with the Ahmad Al-Tayyib, the leader of the major Sunni Muslim institution in Cairo, al-Azhar (which some Sunnis, especially those at al-Azhar, seem to think of as the Islamic “Vatican”). The two warmly embraced that day when they signed the document.
One line of the document (which seems to owe something to Qur’an 5:48 and 30:22) declares: “The pluralism and the diversity of religions, color, sex, race, and language are willed by God in His wisdom, through which He created human beings.” It is a very strange line, inasmuch as it seems to riff on two Qur’anic verses and also proclaim the specifically Christian teaching of creation through God’s Eternal Word or Wisdom. It is hard to understand how it all holds together. Some folks commented after the publication of the text that the line would be fine if only it spoke of God “permitting” the diversity of religions, thereby alluding to the idea of God’s permissive will. In any case, we might keep in mind that the entire text emerges from a desire for understanding and friendship.
The statements of Abu Dhabi, and of Singapore, are expressions of this desire. Yet they leave us to work out how this all fits together with the Gospel, and in particular with Christ’s command to preach the Gospel and baptize all nations.
If they do not already, Catholics should learn to love Pope Francis and his endearing, generous, and pastoral manner. Most of us could learn quite a bit from his humility, as well. Does he ever give a talk without reminding folks that he needs prayer too?
But why did Christ establish a Church? Catholic teaching is emphatic that the Church is not a human creation, an institution that folks thought up after Jesus ascended to heaven as they were trying to figure out “next steps.” Christ established a Church and commanded the apostles to preach the Gospel and to baptize new believers. God willed to pour out graces on the world through the Church he had established: “Christ, the one Mediator, established and ever sustains here on earth His holy Church, the community of faith, hope and charity, as a visible organization through which He communicates truth and grace to all men” (Lumen Gentium, §8).
There are lessons for us all in the kind and loving disposition of “Papa Francesco,” which truly seems has something of Christ’s love for the crowds in Palestine. But there are also lessons for us in the example of the Patriarch Timothy, who preached the Gospel in the lion’s den, and who found wise ways not to compromise the faith that had been given to him by the apostles. He seemed to follow the counsel of the “least of the apostles”: “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone” (Colossians 4:5-6).
