A statement by the Roman Catholic chaplain during a coffee table conversation back in my freshman year of college has stuck with me: “It’s easy to be ecumenical when you’re all losing members.” Remember, that was back in the ’60s, before the real declines kicked in.
At the time, I’d recently abandoned the mainstream Protestant teachings of my childhood and anything else that smacked of religion. It would be another five or six years before I’d venture into anything vaguely spiritual, and that would be by way of the physical exercises known as Hatha Yoga as they led on into meditation and then the monastic life of the ashram.
(Ecumenical? I may have jettisoned the teachings, but I was still a tad scandalized by the fact the chaplain smoked cigars, something that was definitely taboo among the clergy I’d known.)
One of the lessons of daily practice in ashram was the importance of upholding a tradition and delving ever deeper into it rather than importing from others. I remember Swami’s negative reaction when I introduced some Hindu chants that didn’t come down through our line. Sometimes, too, we’d have visitors who were essentially hopping from one yoga ashram or Zen center or Tibetan temple or otherwise exotic circle to the next, the way a tourist might “do” Europe. We were told to be polite but not expend too much energy on them, sensing their desire was basically superficial or shallow.
Over the years I’ve come to appreciate the unique aspects of different communities of faith practice. In each tradition, to go deep requires focus – and no one can do everything, much less do it well. “Ecumenical,” to my ears, has usually conveyed a sense of generic blandness, a reach for the lowest common denominator, an erosion of something.
But not always. Sometimes, especially in smaller localities like mine, it’s been a means of sharing resources for action. The soup kitchen and food pantry are two examples, along with the monthly gatherings of the clergy for mutual support.
An annual Thanksgiving service is a highlight, too, welcoming all faiths to participate. I’ve come to see it as a festival of prayer and music, along with a dash of Quaker silence or holy dance by an Indonesian congregation. It can be a sampler of what each of us does best – and perhaps even aspects we don’t get in our own traditions. If anything, I hope each of us comes away with a renewed appreciation for what we do uniquely as part of a broader mosaic.
Jnana's Red Barn 
Perhaps your “tourists” were simply trying everything to find the right “fit” before settling down.
If only …
Ecumenical vs. tradition – isn’t this just another way of saying them vs. us?
It can be a fine line, I think, or maybe an essential tension. Sometimes the encounters help us from becoming complacent or lazy in our own practice, or lead us to clarify our own explanation of why we do what we do in our circles. When we approach each other without judgment or prejudgment (that is, prejudice), what can happen is a lot like a potluck dinner — one where everyone brings something different to the feast. It’s a lot better than throwing it all in one pot, after all, isn’t it?
It is, as long as we can restrain our tendency to be “correct.” On the other hand, if all of it is equally valid, then it just comes down to the same thing as the local tavern. I grew up in a strict Catholic house, and I am very distrustful of even the aroma of dogma, which OI find in all things purporting to be spiritual. But that’s my bias.
How about looking at actions (behavior) more than words? When we have a few measures, such as compassion, to apply, the picture changes immensely.
For Christians, at least, ecumenism is about the recognition that the “household of faith” is bigger than any one tradition; that all of us who are baptised into Christ are part of the one whole. So in a sense, it’s saying that “they” are part of “us.”
That said, for me the biggest challenge is finding ways to be ecumenical with integrity; especially in the face of the denominations which refuse to accept the ordained ministry of women. I shouldn’t have to deny who I am in order to embrace someone else in his or her integrity.
Well said.
And, not to flog a dead horse, I find that to be the inevitable condition of religion, one way or another.