God Squad: Make the path to God one of spiritual generosity

What we learn from this is that the sacred Scriptures we have inherited contain verses that expand and constrict the paths to salvation. It is impossible to resolve this conflict of texts since they are both holy and they contain very different beliefs.

My solution, as I have tried to teach it to you, dear readers, over many years is twofold: First, we should follow our heart and ask “Which texts are more inclusive and more loving?,” and then, secondly, we should not quote the texts that are more exclusive and limiting. I hope all of us believe that our path up the mountain is the best path, the truest path, the most reliable path, but we also acknowledge in humility and love that other paths are informed by the truth of salvation, and that other paths lead to the top of the mountain along with ours.

If some climbers are prevented from entering heaven, it will be God’s choice, not our choice; the God who would make such a limiting choice, barring righteous non-Christians from Heaven, is not the God I worship. Count me as one of the climbers who is always encouraging other climbers and always appreciating their spiritual gifts. To illustrate, here's an excerpt from "The More Loving One," a poem by W.H. Auden:

Remembering a friend

Feb. 16 was the seventh anniversary of Father Tom Hartman’s death. We often say of the deceased that he/she died before their time. Except about the most aged among us, this saying is almost always true: There is always something more we could accomplish when death takes our breath away. Yet, that saying was more true about Tommy than any other person I have known.

At the age of 69, Tommy died of Parkinson’s disease — way too soon. This was not only because 69 is 10 years short of normal life expectancy, but because of the varied and deep record of his goodness.

Tommy’s main gift to the world was his loving presence. He was always present to everyone he met. He never looked beyond you or around you. He would look at you and listen to you, and respond to you directly, deeply and without limit.

One night he drove from Long Island to Albany to stop a young man from killing himself. The man was a stranger who just called Tommy because he had seen the God Squad on television. That was enough of a reason for Tommy to drive to his side.

One day we were driving across the RFK-Triborough Bridge during a winter sleet storm. Halfway across the bridge, Tommy told me to stop the car in traffic. I reminded him not too gently about the difference between a parking lot and a bridge, but he was insistent. I stopped, and he got out of the car and pulled a piece of jagged metal off the roadway in front of my car.

He returned soaking wet and smiling. “That could have punctured somebody’s tires,” he said.

I told him, “If you ever decide to walk on water, I am leaving you.”

God, I miss him. Tommy died too soon. May his soul rest with the angels.