FAITH HOUSE Manhattan

Newark in the 80’s: My Memories of Michael Jackson

~ by Bowie Snodgrass

In the days, weeks and months to come, we’ll hear more about how Michael Jackson died and the meaning of his life.  But tonight, just finding out that he’s dead at 50, memories of the King of Pop come back to me…

I was five years old and living in Newark, NJ, in the House of Prayer rectory when Thriller came out.  I remember my favorite babysitter, Mimi Jordan (now Rev. Emma Jordan Simpon), bringing over a copy of the record on vinyl and playing it on our turntable.  We were all dancing, laughing and celebrating life. 

It was 1982, and Newark had the highest child poverty rate in the country.  In the 1970’s it had been called “the most decayed and financially crippled city in the nation.”  We lived down the street from the Columbus Homes, one of the oldest public housing experiments in the country.

"No human should ever have to live that way, no animal should ever have to live that way," a senior Federal housing official, James E. Baugh, said after he toured the Columbus project in the early 1980's.

Michael Jackson’s songs were about street problems and gave a voice to struggles on the street: “Beat It” about a street fight, “Billy Jean” on telling your baby mama’s papa that you’re not the one, and later, “Thriller” with its amazing synchronized dance number on a dark, empty street, and bad things that happen late at night –

It’s close to midnight and something evil’s lurking in the dark
Under the moonlight you see a sight that almost stops your heart
You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it
You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes,
You’re paralyzed

Cause this is thriller, thriller night
And no one’s gonna save you from the beast about to strike
You know it’s thriller, thriller night
You’re fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight

You hear the door slam and realize there’s nowhere left to run
You feel the cold hand and wonder if you’ll ever see the sun
You close your eyes and hope that this is just imagination
But all the while you hear the creature creepin’ up behind
You’re out of time

I remember learning that Michael was child star… a superstar when he was just a little older than I was at the time.  I wonder what happened to him during those early years to scar him so and keep him in a cyclical trap of trying to recapture boyhood.

My parents were committed to being Christians in the inner city and we lived there until I was nine, almost seven years.  It was tough living in Newark, but there were always crowds of happy kids at our church looking to have fun, skip rope, tell stories, and dance!

I remember my brothers and I pooling our change together in 1985 to buy “We Are the World” on cassette tape.  This was a serious purchase for a seven, five and three year old!  We listened to it in the van on our way to school, over and over again.  I think we knew the whole song by heart. 

Michael Jackson was the international King of Pop, but to us as kids on the street … he was the one who said to us, and with us: “We are the world, we are the children, we are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving.”

My prayer is for all the children of this country.  May God grant them what they need – safe shelter and places to play, daily bread and nourishing food – but most of all – love, a happy childhood, a brighter day, music and dancing!

My prayer is for Michael Jackson, may his soul rest in peace.

A Muslim Response to a Bombing Plot This Week

~ Sammer Aboelela, one of the leaders in Faith House community of communities and contributor to this website, is Community Organizer with the NYC Community of Muslim Progressives. He also serves on the Board of Directors of Muslims for Progressive Values.

Sammer just left for Cairo, Egypt to visit his family. Couple of days before he left, he and I (Sammer and Samir) met in a coffee shop on the West Side and spend some time discussing the latest in Middle East and then dreaming, hoping, reminding one another why we are doing this community organizing thing. Soon after arriving to Cairo he heard the news about the bombing plot in New York and emailed this letter to us, his Jewish and Christian friends in New York sharing his personal thoughts. Some of the people who live near Riverdale Temple synagogue have been our guests at Faith House and we both met many of our caring and concerned Jewish friends through Marcia Kannry and The Dialogue Project.

Dear friends,

I’m sitting in Cairo now as I write this letter, at the home of relatives with whom I was reunited yesterday after nearly a decade of separation.  I went to sleep last night with a feeling of peace that I haven’t felt in a long time, and woke early this morning to the sound of the Azhan, the Islamic call to prayer, as it sung its way across the neighborhood and through the open window over my bed.

But as I was sharing hugs with my Muslim family here in Egypt, four very disturbed Muslim men were planting bombs in an effort to tear apart Jewish families in New York.  Early news reports suggest that these men were “upset about the war in Afghanistan,” so with a deranged rationale of misanthropic nihilism they somehow concluded that planting bombs in front of two Bronx synagogues and recreating the atmosphere of bloodshed, fear, and loss we experienced during and after 9/11 would provide some personal cathartic release.

I want my friends in the New York Jewish community to know how deeply I sympathize with the emotional anguish that is sure to pervade in the wake of this failed plot.  While we’re all concerned for the wellbeing of our families in this period of economic insecurity, none of us should carry the additional burden of being potential targets of violent acts of hate and terror.  You have no idea how relieved I am that you are all safe from the will of these would-be terrorists, and how concerned I am for your (and our collective) ongoing health and safety.

In all honesty, it is times like these that I wish Islam had some mechanism for excommunication.  I wish that my non-Muslims friends and acquaintances would see me, my family, my Muslim friends, and the American Muslim community as representative of Islam rather than the headline grabbing sociopaths who act in our name.  I’m so sick of finding myself ashamed of something I didn’t do, by someone I do not know, with motives I do not share, against people for whom I care.

Please know that you are not alone in the shock of this news… that good everyday people whom you have never met, and will likely never meet, as far away as Egypt are also distressed by this story.  My thoughts and their thoughts are with you.  My prayers and their prayers are for you.

Peace,

Sammer Aboelela
Organizer, New York Community of Muslim Progressives

Bless Your Pharaoh

~ by Amichai Lau-Lavie, Faith House Advisory Council member, and founder, executive, and artistic director of Storahtelling Inc.

"God Bless You"– this common post-sneeze sacred invocation that has gone completely secular is uttered endlessly and mindlessly around the world. Just like 'God Bless America,' this is often simply a polite figure of speech, a civic, civil nicety. In Hebrew you say "La'brioot" – "to health."

The cultural differences are interesting but either way, these are expressions of empathy, and I've been intrigued by this word/concept--empathy--for about a week now. How come there is no word for "empathy" in Hebrew? No exact translation, that is – Israelis say "empatia," one of many foreign words that migrated into Modern Hebrew and stuck. It's a telling fact, though, that words like 'empathy' or 'pluralism' or 'text' do not have an Israeli life of their own. These days, I wonder not only about the missing word in Hebrew but also about the collective ability to exercise the word's imperative: to feel empathy towards others, esp. others in distress, and esp. others in distress who are very much 'the other.'

Ten days since the ceasefire in Gaza, and many efforts at rehabilitation take place– physical, emotional, political and diplomatic. But for many here in Israel, the anger remains. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Merely suggesting the expression of empathy towards the people of Gaza, alongside support for the IDF soldiers and the people of Sdeort, gets many Israelis – including family members and close friends – furious. Calls for empathy and care for the estimated 20,000 Gaza residents who are now homeless is met with pursed lips: "let Hamas help them, its their own fault." Empathy, generally recognized as "the ability to sense and understand someone else's feelings as if they were one's own," seems to take a backseat to her fierce and frugal sister -- survival. "I just can't afford to be thinking about them right now" M. tells me. I get this approach but it drives me nuts. ‘You’ve been in NY for too long’ B. tells me ‘this is how we roll here, remember?’ This isn’t helping either.

There are, thankfully, other voices, and other initiatives that think and do otherwise. L., for instance, a 27 year old student from Jerusalem who teamed up with another student and organized within 5 days a 7 truck convey of emergency supplies to Gaza, thousands of Israeli donations of clothes, food, blankets and personal letters from Israeli citizens to the families beyond the border. I met L. at the weekly Zohar class we attend at the Hartman Institute – who knew she was such an organizer? She didn't sleep for a week and offered many of us a way to be really helpful. I helped by carrying boxes. The story hit the media two days ago -- even Al Jazeera wanted to interview her…

And meanwhile, I've been asking people for Hebrew translation for 'empathy' – heads are scratched, options offered, all admit that there is no one single perfect Hebrew word for it. Yet. How long has it been missing? How come there isn't one?

"In essence," L. tells me, mid-carrying-boxes, "'love your neighbor as you love yourself' is the root of empathy – and Judaism's core concept – but I guess it got lost in translation. isn’t this in the Bible somewhere?"

So I turn to search for empathy in Exodus and check the tale out this week's Torah reading. It’s got the Prime Time coverage of the actual moment of the Exodus – the last midnight in Egypt. The firstborn of Egypt are slain – and there isn't a home in the land that has not been struck by death. Amid the screams, the king relents – demands that they leave the land – and offers the most audacious invitation for empathy:

"Take both your flocks and your herds and be gone; and bless me also" (Ex.12:32).

He's asking them for a blessing?

How can he expect Moses and his people to have anything but hatred in their hearts towards him? And yet he asks. And we are invited to consider, seriously, his request. Can we bless the enemy – then, now?

And let's say we do decide to grant him a blessing – let's pretend that empathy swims in our veins – what blessing would he receive? What blessing would you offer the ruler who has ruled over your misery?

This past Sunday evening, right after the Zohar class (in which L. updates us that the convoy of trucks, courtesy of the UN, made it into Gaza and that the supplies have already been delivered) I walk over to my parents’ house to have dinner. it’s a 10 minute walk, the evening is cold and crisp, and on the way I ponder this question – who is my Pharaoh? Would, could, should I bless him? I recall the psychological/mystical reading that the Zohar offers the Exodus saga – this is all a description of our inner drama. The oppressed slaves are within me – yearning for more freedom, for more autonomy, for more self expression, Moses is my inner drive for growth, my connection to the Higher Self, and sometimes this inner Moses will resort to strange tricks or fierce strikes to get its point across. And Pharaoh – Freud would call him ‘ego’, and I see him as that part of me that refuses to change, yet knows he – I – have to change in order to grow. Can I have empathy towards my inner resistance? Can I have empathy towards my fellow Israelis who have no empathy?

After dinner with my father (my mother is out at some lecture) I sit with him and open a Torah and read the verses with him and ask – what blessing would you have given the king?

My father, who is no Pollyanna, may or may not be thinking of his Nazi jailers, or the Hamas fighters or any other mythic or historical 'Pharaoh' as he quietly, and with great empathy, offers this version of a blessing to the King of Egypt: "May your river continue to flow."

God Bless him.

(And, If you were to bless the Pharaoh – what would your blessing be?)

Live Words: The Way the World Is Structured

No individual can live alone, no nation can live alone, and anyone who feels that he can live alone is sleeping through a revolution. The world in which we live is geographically one. The challenge that we face today is to make it one in terms of brotherhood....

Through our scientific and technological genius, we have made of this world a neighborhood and yet we have not had the ethical commitment to make of it a brotherhood. But somehow, and in some way, we have got to do this. We must all learn to live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools. We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God's universe is made; this is the way it is structured.

~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

(from A Knock at Midnight: Inspiration From the
Great Sermons of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.)

A Jew's Prayer for the Children of Gaza

This past Friday, I (Samir) went to welcome Sabbath and worship with our Jewish brothers and sisters of Romemu community on the Upper West Side. It was four hours of singing, dancing, food, tears, laughter, hugging, wisdom and compassion. Here is a prayer by Rabbi Levi Weiman-Kelman of Kol HaNeshama, Jerusalem, that we prayed together. You might want to read it in your churches, mosques, or synagogues. Imagine, you can have Christians reading a Jewish prayer for Muslims. God will hear.

If there has ever been a place forsaken, Gaza is that place.

Lord who is the creator of all children, hear our prayer this accursed day. God whom we call Blessed, turn your face to these, the children of Gaza, that they may know your blessings, and your shelter, that they may know light and warmth, where there is now only blackness and smoke, and a cold which cuts and clenches the skin.

Almighty who makes exceptions, which we call miracles, make an exception of the children of Gaza. Shield them from us and from their own. Spare them. Heal them. Let them stand in safety. Deliver them from hunger and horror and fury and grief. Deliver them from us, and from their own.

Restore to them their stolen childhoods, their birthright, which is a taste of heaven.

Remind us, O Lord, of the child Ishmael, who is the father of all the children of Gaza. How the child Ishmael was without water and left for dead in the wilderness of Beer-Sheba, so robbed of all hope, that his own mother could not bear to watch his life drain away.

Be that Lord, the God of our kinsman Ishmael, who heard his cry and sent His angel to comfort his mother Hagar.

Be that Lord, who was with Ishmael that day, and all the days after. Be that God, the All-Merciful, who opened Hagar's eyes that day, and showed her the well of water, that she could give the boy Ishmael to drink, and save his life.

Allah, whose name we call Elohim, who gives life, who knows the value and the fragility of every life, send these children your angels. Save them, the children of this place, Gaza the most beautiful, and Gaza the damned.

In this day, when the trepidation and rage and mourning that is called war, seizes our hearts and patches them in scars, we call to you, the Lord whose name is Peace:

Bless these children, and keep them from harm.

Turn Your face toward them, O Lord. Show them, as if for the first time, light and kindness, and overwhelming graciousness.

Look up at them, O Lord. Let them see your face.

And, as if for the first time, grant them peace.

Advent Conspiracy

Thank you Alvin for sending us this link!

Living Room Gathering - Season of Waiting: Advent

~ by Bowie Snodgrass

Yesterday we had a wonderful, meditative Living Room based on Advent, the season in the Christian calendar that precedes Christmas.  In American consumer culture, the Christmas shopping season begins after Thanksgiving (or even before!), but in the Christian calendar, Christmas begins on December 25 and the feast continues for twelve days.  The four weeks of Advent are a time of preparation, penitence, expectation, anticipation, pregnancy, darkness, quiet, silence, and listening… 

You can go through the service we did yesterday by yourself at home.  You just need a computer with internet, speakers or headphones, and a couple of candles to light.  In this modified “Lessons and Carols", you will read the first chapter of the gospel of Luke (the silence of Zacharia, the song of Mary, the birth of John the Baptist, etc.), selections from Isaiah (a prophetic vision of social justice), a psalm and the beginning of the gospel of Mark.  Interspersed are verses of O Come O Come Emmanuel, which you can sing aloud or read along, and “anthems” you can watch or simply listen to on YouTube. 

Enjoy!

Instrumental Prelude: Isaac Everett
[at home: listen to “Incarnation” at www.isaaceverett.com/listen]

Welcome  [at home: think about what this time before Christmas means to you]

“O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.”

Luke 1:1-25

Isaiah 11:1-10
* Note: we used the JPS translations for the Hebrew Scripture readings in the service, but this translation is not available online

Young@Heart Sing Coldplay

The Fundamentalists We Need Now

~ by Samir Selmanovic

Certainty is out of vogue. Dogma is the devil. We are learning to communicate any convictions we have more tentatively; any statements we make, we feel obliged to qualify. And for a good reason. We have noticed something common to people who blow themselves up in buses or fly planes into tall buildings. Or economically colonize other countries or bomb them into submission. They are sure. The rest of us—the vast majority of people—cringe and protest.

We see violent people as having dangerous levels of certainty and conviction— fundamentalists and extremists—and ourselves as peacemakers, free to question anything and think for ourselves. But since experiencing the September 11 terrorist attacks while living in Manhattan, I am not so sure anymore. I am beginning to think neither is true: we are not free thinkers; they are not religious extremists.

First, we are all part of one of the most fundamentalist ideologies in history. Never has such a large group of people submitted themselves to a single ideology like we have. The ruling dogma of our time has become the economy. Albeit in different words, we hear this rumor of the oppressive dictatorship of the economy over all our lives. From workers in Chinese rice field to Wall Street moguls, we have become unquestioning followers. We have subjected our individual and communal lives to decisions that honor the market above any other force, the story of economic progress over any other story, corporations over any other institutions, and possessions over any other values that govern our lives. The present economic crisis now demonstrates how deep that fundamentalist devotion has been running.

During our "economic boom" virtue has morphed from something valuable in itself into a helpful strategy to overcome the cost of transactions. Relationships have become a natural network for spreading one’s influence and business. Our “free time” has become a paid-for activity. News about the world has become a form of entertainment, whose bottom line is to keep advertisers happy. Marketing strategies have molded us into consumers with a similar fantasy life. While insisting we are unique, we have been using words from commercials to describe our life dreams and celebrity personalities to describe the person we would like to marry. The millennia old concept of communal life has morphed from being a citizen to being a consumer.

Something else has happened. Across the planet, people have been discussing different scenarios of the end of the world: “Religious people will destroy us with their wars. Global warming is going to cook us all. Viruses will wipe us out. God is going to come and clean house.” But while we can imagine different scenarios of the end of the world, we are unable to imagine a more modest shift in the way we run this world. Since the fall of communism, discussion about what is going to come after modern liberal capitalism has ceased. We all agree: our view of human beings as Homo Economicus is here to stay. There is a vacuum of options in our collective psyche. We have become fundamentalists of a religion with its own dogma (“nothing is ever enough”), its own sense of belonging (industry brands), its own temples (shopping malls), its own centering meditational practices (life punctuated by commercials), its own priesthood (get-rich experts), its own sacred (accrual of personal satisfaction) and its own plan for spreading the faith (expansion of the market). Now, the economy is collapsing under the weight of our expectations, we are forced to take a break from this fundamentalism. Now we have an opportunity to see and question the dogma.

When a movement, a revolution, a religion, a country, matures and moves away from its first ideals and ability to adapt, from the ability to keep on dreaming and changing, and becomes “fundamentalist,” fear has taken a hold of the imagination. Capitalism with its initial insights into the human spirit, ingenuity, and perseverance has been steadily deteriorating into consumerist fundamentalism. We have learned to live by the fear of losing everything through some misfortune of world events, by the fear of the poor or lazy who might take everything from us, by the fear of finding ourselves among the “have nots,” by the fear of old age, by the fear of being ugly and by the fear of being alone.

So most of us watching “extremists” blow things up are not free thinkers at all. Most of us are fundamentalists of our own kind, unaware of the fact, participating in the madness of self-destruction. Moreover, our public ideology has found a way to criticize itself or laugh about itself while constantly strengthening its grip on our actual lives. We can talk as much as we want about the need to live sustainable lives, curb our desires, talk about the sacredness of the earth and learning to see that small is beautiful, as long as we—individually or corporately—don’t try to change the way we actually live. The only power that makes us change our lifestyle is—again—economic. Nothing else can move us. That’s not freedom.

But we also should consider that supposed extreme religious fundamentalists are not extremely religious at all. Their fundamentalism is much closer to consumerist fundamentalism than we think. To blow oneself up in order to wake up surrounded by sighing virgins or any other bliss expresses nothing but a desire for extreme products and services, with celestial goods instead of earthly ones. People who blow themselves up are actually people without conviction, commitment or certainty. Deep inside, they carry ambivalence about their faith. They do not trust.

And because they are not sure about their faith, they gravitate to acts of self-destruction. Because they cannot find peace with their creaturehood, they take upon themselves God’s prerogative to create or destroy life. Because they have not grasped the religious teaching of the inter-dependence of all life and the absurdity of reducing the other into an enemy, they are so detached from the image of God in themselves that they are ready to act on their self-hatred and self-destruct. They see their acts of violence as a way to push themselves over the threshold of unbelief.

At the same time, we give them a title of “religious extremists?” So what are then people like Gandhi, Martin Luther King and thousands of others who have given their lives protecting the interest of those with whom they disagree? Religious light-weights? No, people who are extreme enough, rooted and certain about something care enough to be capable of standing up to the officially promoted reality.

There is a scarcity of religious or humanist extremists willing to dissent, not so much with talking, writing or protesting, but dissenting deeply, from within. In a fundamental sort of way. It seems leaders like those who have helped humanity in the past cannot surface and lead today. Their ideas are swiftly subjugated to the unyielding master of our public ideology. First political campaigns and now the whole world runs under the banner, “It’s the economy, stupid.” If you think anything else can matter more, you are not sane enough to be trusted, we are told. United States, president elect Obama, keenly aware of these dynamics, repeatedly yet timidly warns the public, "the road before us will not be easy." Any direct appeal to values other than economic prosperity are still considered only inspirational at best and heresy at worst.

The resulting scarcity of public dreamers on all levels of civic life then creates a vacuum of imagination. In the past, the world was young and progressing. History was going on with the future wide open. Today, not only has the culture lost its critical distance from the social reality of unstoppable consumption, but most religion has lost this critical distance as well. For many of us, modern liberal capitalism has been adopted as not only one moment among many in history. It is the last one, inevitable. The current order of things has been regarded like something given to us, like a revelation, something that can’t be argued, something that we cannot change with our choices, something eternal, after which there is no future to be fathomed. 

We have grown up with a classic myth of what it means to wage war. It always meant taking the weapons, conquering the other and preserving one’s own way of life at all cost. Yet, on our interdependent planet we have no more territory left to exploit and no more wars that can be won. In this world, empathy, cooperation, and forgiveness are becoming the most potent agents of transformation.

To take the risk of refusing to reduce anyone to “an enemy,” a risk to contribute instead of just take from the world, a risk to be inter-dependent instead of self-sufficient, the risk to forgive and absorb wrong instead of retaliate, takes people with courage and strong convictions. We have to learn to measure our lives differently--find different fundamentals of life. And may thousands of new fundamentalists across the globe please step forward.

(from Signs of the Times, adopted for this website by the author)

Hip Hop In Thick Arabic

~ by Bowie Snodgrass

Where is the Love?  When Faith House gathered last Saturday to honor veterans, there were mixed feelings about the military and war (not unexpected in spiritual circles), but people dug in during our discussion time and spoke from their heart.  They shared stories about people they knew and loved who were veterans, their own internal tensions about service and pacifism, and the ways in which veterans need support back home... and sometimes provide it, like when a group of vets spent the night in a park in Newark, NJ to watch out for a traveling exhibition of boots. 

One of the most magical and surreal moments came at the end of our time together when a Muslim gentleman who attends regularly pulled a page from his pocket and said he wanted to share a beautiful and appropriate poem emailed to him by a friend.  In his thick Arabic accent, he began to read the words below... The younger people in the group recognized these lyrics from the Black Eyed Peas' breakthrough single, "Where is the Love?"  In that moment, and even as I type these notes, my heart wells up as I start to crack up...  and I feel the love. 

I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder
As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder
Most of us only care about money makin'
Selfishness got us followin' in the wrong direction
Wrong information always shown by the media
Negative images is the main criteria
Infecting the young minds faster than bacteria
Kids act like what they see in the cinema
Yo', whatever happened to the values of humanity
Whatever happened to the fairness in equality
Instead in spreading love we spreading animosity
Lack of understanding, leading lives away from unity
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' under
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' down
There's no wonder why sometimes I'm feelin' under
Gotta keep my faith alive till love is found

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love? 

Transcending Partisan Politics

~ Sammer Aboelela, a friend of Faith House, is Community Organizer with the NYC Community of Muslim Progressives. He also serves on the Board of Directors of Muslims for Progressive Values.

“Is there something wrong with some seven-year-old Muslim American kid believing that he or she could be President?”

With this simple rhetorical question, Colin Powell concisely expressed the frustration felt by many Americans toward the use of the American Muslim identity as a foil for partisan fear-mongering.  In case you missed it, during the lead-up to his widely publicized endorsement of Senator Barack Obama for President, Powell cited the rumor campaign against Obama, which claims him to be Muslim, as one of the factors weighing in his decision to endorse Obama over McCain.  Choosing not to simply disavow the claim of the rumor, Powell challenged the underlying bigotry by openly rejecting the notion that being Muslim would somehow disqualify a Presidential candidate.

(the whole thing is 7 minutes, Powell speaks about Muslims at 4:25 point)

As a Muslim myself, I am grateful to hear an acknowledgment of this nature from a figure such as Colin Powell, and was genuinely moved by the way he framed his message.  The optimistic image of a Muslim child hoping to someday lead our country truly caught me off-guard, as did the story Powell relayed of a young Muslim American soldier laying down his life for his country.  Through these twin images of hope and sacrifice, he was able to convey that Muslims share fundamental American ideals – a point that many of us in the Muslim community have been struggling to make for years.

Still, I feel compelled to point out one implication of the rumor campaign that I don’t believe Powell addressed directly enough.  It has become clear to me over the past several years that my religious identity is being used as a wedge to cleave many non-Muslim Americans away from their political interests.  As those Americans who would benefit more from Barak Obama’s proposed tax and health care plans choose to vote against him based on the possibility of his being Muslim, they might just be voting against their own futures, the futures of their children, and the well-being of the country at large (this is just an example of course - not a political endorsement of one candidate over another).

The price of bigotry, therefore, is not simply borne by its targets.  Indeed, bigotry is a form of self-inflicted collective punishment upon a society, and can only be effectively confronted through interdependent action and willful introspection.  As a prominent non-Muslim standing against Islamophobia, Colin Powell demonstrates this point.  For that, I thank him.

Answering Christian Critics of Faith House (Part 1): Cherishing the Gold of the Golden Rule

~ by Samir Selmanovic

We have come to a time in history when religion is involved in more killing than any time since the Crusades. According to the United States’ State Department, more than 70 per cent of world conflicts are fueled by religion. Although most of these conflicts have dynamics that are fundamentally economic, environmental or political and would have happened outside of a religious context, religion is still partly to blame. The question all religious people need to be agonizing over is “How can religion become a bulwark against violence, injustice and oppression, instead of an ally?” This question applies to our personal lives, family lives, workplace, citizenship, art, politics, everything. And no religious person can afford to ignore it.

To Christians, like to all religious people, some things matter deeply. These convictions vary in substance and expression but through their uniqueness hold our communities together. Our religious imagination spurs us to proclaim our unique message to the world and work hard to embody this message in the way we live. Yet our aspirations have not protected us from harming others. What can we do to withstand the destructive economic, environmental and political forces around us? And more importantly, what can we do to protect the world from our own good intentions?

If all we want to do is tell others what we think they need to know or change them into who we think they should be, we as Christians—or religious people in general—will inevitably stop treating people as subjects with whom we relate and begin to treat them as objects—no matter how noble our intentions. Some years ago, while pastoring a church in New York City, our cause was to reach people in the city and offer them what we have experienced as the best thing in life—God. One of the ways we did that was by organizing a series of public meetings that would convert people.

In order to accomplish this, the church board would meet regularly to discuss the strategy. Meeting after meeting however, I felt uneasy about talking of people as objects to be targeted by our efforts. However, such talk was so deeply rooted in some of the members’ psyche that none of my pleas against objectifying people came through. So I decided to bring two of these “objects” to the next meeting.

“OK, let’s discuss how we are going to convert these people in their presence,” I invited everybody. Some thought I was making a circus out of the meeting, but I persisted. For several church board members, this was nothing but a difficult evening. But for others, this experience was a door into new relationship, not only with people outside our religion but also with God. The language changed. The tone changed. The goals changed. The methods changed.

For me personally, as a Christian, everything changed. While Christ tells me to go out to the world and spread His teachings, He also teaches me that the primary way to do so is to treat others the way I want to be treated (see Matthew 7:12). This command, which has come to be known as the Golden Rule, excludes making other people the object of my best intentions. This is at least a part of the core, if not the heart, of the Christian message. I would not want to be objectified by their efforts to convert me, so they should not be my objects either.

To follow the Golden Rule, I need to learn compassion—meaning to “feel with.” As such, the Golden Rule turns the tables on many of our religious impulses. If we want them to attend our events, we must attend their events. If we want them to be spiritually open to us, we must be spiritually open to them. If we want them to change, we must be ready to change. If we want them to read our Scriptures with trust and respect, we must read their Scriptures likewise. We are interdependent.

And this can be expanded to the national and international level. Imagine all Muslims treating converts to Christianity the way they want Christian converts to Islam to be treated. Imagine Christians reciprocating. Imagine faith leaders standing up to politicians saying, “Your enemies are not our enemies. Any method you want to use on them, you will first have to use on us.”

If we want to convert people, we must be “convertible” first. Concerned believers would say that to live such open Christianity would first undermine our Christian identity and then halt the impact of Christ’s teachings in the world. I passionately disagree. To respect others, to be interdependent, to receive, to refuse to be in charge of God, to be humble and teachable by them, is to be our identity.

As we go to the world with our message, to neglect the Golden Rule would be to betray the teachings of Christ from the start. I would say that the following stands: “To be a Christian means, among other things, to seek God in the other as you want the other to seek God in you.” Just imagine, as Karen Armstrong suggests, if we would interpret the whole of our Scriptures as a commentary on the Golden Rule and read the whole of their Scriptures with Augustine’s rule of always seeking the most charitable interpretation of the text. Not only would this reflect the best of our traditions, but it would paradoxically work to preserve our own religion. 

The Dalai Lama and Tibetan Buddhism are a case in point. The Chinese government has built a train from Beijing to the small Tibetan holy city of Lhasa and has committed demographic aggression, not only by settling twice the number of Chinese in Tibet than there were Tibetans, but by opening 238 dance halls and karaoke parlors on the main street along with 658 brothels, turning Lhasa into an Asian Las Vegas. To top it off, the sacred Potala Palace, which has been home to nine Dalai Lamas, is now mockingly surrounded by an amusement park. 

And what was the response of Dalai Lama? He refused to call the Chinese an “enemy.” In fact, to preserve the value of compassion at the root of the Golden Rule, for the Dalai Lama it hardly matters whether the position of Dalai Lama, Tibet or even Buddhism continue to exist! For the sake of compassion, no sacrifice would be too great. Isn’t that what Jesus Christ was about?

And what is the result? In 1968 there were two Tibetan Buddhist centers in Western countries; today, there are 50 in New York City alone, and 200 in Taiwan. More French people call themselves Buddhist than Protestant or Jew. Not to count all the Chinese who are becoming Tibetan Buddhists.

The Dalai Lama said that calling others your enemy and calling your own people friends would be as crazy as calling your right eye your ally and your left your adversary. It used to be that victory could be identified as destruction of your enemy, but in today’s world, we increasingly have to see destruction of our enemy as destruction of ourselves. The Golden Rule is not just nice thing to practice, a mere virtue. It is a matter of survival, not only for the world at large, but for every religion that has aspirations to thrive in the future. By respecting and loving the other, we are open to the influence of The Other. Going deeper in loving God, now means nothing less than going deeper in loving all of humanity.

(from Signs of the Times, Australia, May 2008, adapted by the author)

Talk to Your Enemy: A Wish for the New Year

~ by Amichai Lau-Lavie, Faith House Advisory Council member, and founder, executive, and artistic director of Storahtelling Inc.

Things got heated during the first televised presidential campaign when Iran was mentioned. Will the future president of the United States sit with the present president of Iran, whose hateful words towards the US and Israel just echoed in NYC? Does talking to the enemy legitimize the other’s views? 

 McCain and Obama probably didn’t know it but their debate on this issue touched on the core issue of the High Holy Days: the art of talking to the enemy.  In the classical Judaic liturgy for this season of reflection, the enemy is often described as a voice within--our personal demons, nay-saying selves that lead us into thought patterns and behaviors we later regret. How does one deal with these inner enemies? Meet them at the table, say the sages: confront, converse, come to terms--but do not avoid that which holds you back from becoming all that you wish to be in the world.

But the enemy is not just an internal voice. One of the demands this season is to confront real-life enemies and do what we can to amend conflict. Atonement with God is not possible until one is reconciled with fellow human beings, says the Talmud. Go through your address book, highlight those with whom you have unfinished business, then take the plunge and meet them at the table: initiate a conversation--no matter what. I know: easier said than done.

To give us inspiration and to make that point clear, our ancestors chose really challenging Torah stories to accompany these days.  On the first day of Rosh HaShana, we will meet Abraham and Sarah and witness as they deport Hagar and Ishmael, the no-longer-wanted-at-home surrogate mother and firstborn child. On the second day, we will accompany Isaac to the mountaintop on which his father expects to sacrifice him in the name of God. On Yom Kippur we will hear the silent scream of Aaron, the high priest whose two sons’ die while on duty, and we will spend three days inside the belly of a big fish, trapped with Jonah, a reluctant social activist.  None of these biblical tales are simple, and all point us in one direction: we need to show compassion for the other in our lives, to learn from and with the other, and even to reconcile with the other--both within ourselves, and within the full ranks of humanity. 

The Torah Service, invented by Ezra the Scribe in Jerusalem, 2,500 years ago on Rosh Ha’shana (Happy Birthday, Torah Service!)--was meant to accompany our lives with the values, found in stories, that will chart our growth and guide our way. The stories chosen for the High Holidays are no exception:  inside each and every one of them hides a coded call for awareness and action, potentially personalized by each one of us, if we pause to listen.

This year, the second day of Rosh HaShana, October 1st, coincides with Eid Al Fitr--the Holiday of the Sacrifice,  the festive conclusion of Ramadan. On this day, as Jews chant the Torah tale of Abraham binding his son Isaac, Muslims recall the Koran’s version,  in which the son bound is believed to be Yishmael. What a grand opportunity this can be for dialogue, for conversation--with preparation, but without pre-conditions--between the children of Isaac and the children of Yishmael, children in bitter conflict nowadays, but whose origin story and legacy of pain is one and the same: the raised knife of their father. How do we get beyond that pain and all those that followed and chart a peaceful and respectful co-existence?  Set the table: start with a conversation--on this New Year’s Day, and beyond. 

May this year bring us closer to having uncomfortable conversations with all respected others, inside ourselves and out in the world.  May we all have the courage to face the rage and hurt, pleas and passions, and invite ourselves to a table with our enemies, laden with nourishment for a well earned feast of peace.

Shana Tova & Eid – al - Fitr Said!

May Peace Prevail!

A New York Event: A Conversation on Muslims in the Media

Intersections is a wonderful new institution concerned with common ground and global social justice.  Together with Faith House they are co-sponsoring an event on Sept 25 in New York City.  Come for insight from the experts, new friends, and human stories that you can't hear on the network news!

The Cost of War at Home & Abroad:  Muslims in the Media
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2008 7–9 p.m.
A panel discussion by Muslim leaders, academics, and journalists on the media’s portrayal of Muslims since 9-11 and how it has affected the Islamic community.

DEBBIE ALMONTASER
Founding and Former Principal, The Khalil Gibran International Academy

DAISY KHAN
Executive Director, American Society for Muslim Advancement

ANISA MEHDI
Emmy award-winning journalist and filmmaker

HUSSEIN RASHID
Founder, www.islamicate.com

For a digital flyer click HERE.

All events will be held at Intersections
274 Fifth Avenue (between 29th & 30th Streets) New York, NY 10001
Space is limited; please RSVP at rsvp@intersectionsinternational.org

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Also in this series: The Cost of War at Home & Abroad

SEARCHING FOR AMERICA’S NEW FOREIGN POLICY
• OCTOBER 23, 2008 (Thursday) 7–9 p.m.
A moderator-led conversation of diplomats, academics, and practitioners on the political opportunities and challenges the United States will face in the coming years as a result of the War on Terror.

IRAQI VOICES
• NOVEMBER 13, 2008 (Thursday) 7–9 p.m.
A discussion with Iraqi-Americans and recently resettled Iraqis regarding their experiences in Iraq, their new lives in the United States, and their hopes for their country.

THE MENTAL HEALTH NEEDS OF RETURNING VETERANS
• JANUARY 21, 2009 (Wednesday) 7–9 p.m.
A conversation with the Executive Director and Founder of Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America, on the challenges veterans face upon returning home from combat.

Live Words: A Fourfold Song

There is one who sings the song of his own life, and in himself he finds everything, his full spiritual satisfaction.

There is another who sings the song of his people. He leaves the circle of his own individual self, because he finds it without sufficient breadth, without an idealistic basis. He aspires towards the heights, and he attaches himself with a gentle love to the whole community of Israel. Together with her he sings her songs. He feels grieved in her afflictions and delights in her hopes. He contemplates noble and pure thoughts about her future and probes with love and wisdom her inner spiritual essence.

There is another who reaches toward more distant realms, and he goes beyond the boundary of Israel to sing the song of man. His spirit extends to the wider vistas of the majesty of man generally, and his noble essence. He aspires towards mans general goal and looks forward to his higher perfection. From this source of life he draws the subjects of his meditation and study, his aspirations and his visions.

Then there is one who rises toward wider horizons, until he links himself with all existence, with all God's creatures, with all worlds, and he sings his song with all of them. It is of one such as this that tradition has said that whoever sings a portion of song each day is assured of having a share in the world to come.

And then there is one who rises with all these songs in one ensemble, and they all join voices. Together they sing their songs with beauty, each one lends vitality and life to the other. They are sounds of joy and gladness, sounds of jubilation and celebration, sounds of ecstasy and holiness.

The song of the self, the song of the people, the song of man, the song of the world all merge in him at all times, in every hour.

                                ~ Rabbi Kook (1865 - 1935)

Muslim Youth Organizes to Defend Baha'is

~ report compiled by Samir Selmanovic

How many times have you heard people ask, where are the Muslim voices against discrimination and oppression? Here is a group of Middle Eastern youth who have come together in defense of minorities within their communities. We (Faith House Manhattan) have already shared with you an interview with Arab atheist posted by this vibrant group of people from Mideast Youth (www.mideastyouth.com). Their most recent effort is the creation of a video to bring attention to the rights of the Baha'is, a religious minority that has often found itself persecuted in predominantly Muslim countries.

Nowhere is the persecution worse than in Iran and Egypt where they have been denied basic rights and seen their sacred places destroyed and vandalized. In Iran, where the Baha'i Faith first emerged, Baha'i schools are shut down, leaders of the faith are arrested, executed, or harassed, and Baha'is are denied the right to higher education. In Egypt, Baha'is are not given identity papers, thus preventing them from attaining the basic rights of citizenship.

A group of predominantly Muslim youth have banded together to speak out against the discrimination. They formed a website, www.BahaiRights.org, which catalogues abuses against Baha'is and have now released a video which uses images from the film Persepolis to make a powerful statement against the persecution of the Baha'is. "When minorities are not given their rights, how can we ever expect to exercise our own?" says Kawthar Muhaib, a member of the Muslim Network for Baha'i Rights.

Censeo Productions
Safeguard The Innocent: Video in Defense of the Baha'i Minority

When I was in Europe this Summer, Egyptian Tourism Ad was on CNN International and BBC all day long, after every news. Mideast Youth's first video, called "Egyptian Tourism Ad,"  edited this popular TV advertisement into an awareness campaign for the condition of Baha'is in Egypt. It has been written about in a prominent Egyptian paper, Al Masry Al Yowm.

Egyptian Tourism Ad (Remake)

So there you have it.  Muslim youth is inspiring us Christians and Jews, to act on behalf of Baha'is!  Thank you Jeeeesus! Hallelujah! It is wonderfully interdependent new world. May our efforts help bring freedom to our brothers and sisters in Iran and Egypt.

------------------------

To watch the video in Farsi: http://tinyurl.com/63kpze

For more information contact:
Esra'a Al Shafei, Director, www.MideastYouth.com, director@mideastyouth.com
Kawthar Muhaib, Project Coordinator, MideastYouth.com, kaw@mideastyouth.com

More about our efforts to defend the rights of the Baha'i minority:

BBC Persian:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/persian/iran/story/2007/07/070719_si-wkf-bahaiedefence.shtml

Muslim Arab Youth Defend Baha'i Rights:
http://tinyurl.com/6odhqw

MideastYouth.com in the Press:
http://www.mideastyouth.com/press-room/

Live Words: An Optical Delusion

A human being is a part of a whole, called by us a universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest ... a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.

                                    ~ by Albert Einstein

Preview Gathering 2.0: At Home in Manhattan, Heart of the Empire

~ by Bowie Snodgrass

“Web 2.0 is a term describing the trend in the use of World Wide Web technology and web design that aims to enhance creativity, information sharing, and, most notably, collaboration among users.” - Wikipedia

One goal for Faith House is to be a place where we root ourselves deeper into our respective texts and traditions while interpreting them for our particular context. The other goal is to have a gathering with a "living room" feel, a space where we can come as we are to encounter each other through sharing, listening, and finding God through our religious practices and experience.

We want to be a place where we can have community conversations about how we live our lives, including the realities of life in Manhattan. This second preview was designed along the lines of what Johny Baker calls “Worship 2.0 – creative, highly participative, valuing community as the content, open source, low control where the expert worship leader is replaced by teams self publishing creative content.” The title of our interactive conversation was – At Home in Manhattan, Heart of the Empire – a little like a Zen Buddhist koan (i.e. "a succinct paradoxical statement or question used as a meditation discipline" - Britannica.com).

As people arrived at the SuBud Chelsea Center in mid-town Manhattan, they munched on berries and veggies, learned about Faith House, had time to mingle and check out various stations set up around the space. Rabia, our Muslim co-leader, called us to prayer with a gorgeous, traditional Muslim adhan. When she finished, I opened my eyes to see that people had come to sit in the circle of chairs and gathered together in the main space. Samir welcomed everyone and shared some of his personal journey towards Faith House and then we began with the Jewish Sh'ma, the Christian Lord's Prayer, the Muslim Al-Fatiha, and an inspiring reading from the Hindu Rig Veda.

I expressed our hopes for this time together – namely for people to have individual insights into their conceptions of home and empire (particularly as those two concepts relate to their relationship with NYC and the USA) and learn what these words might mean to others.

We began with fifteen minutes to explore six stations. There was no correct order or required number to visit. These stations were not about completing a checklist, but rather means to "check in" with yourself, encounter new ideas, reflect, or whirl like a dervish! One station was in fact called WHIRL: a room where Rabia was giving 1-minute whirling lessons, along with her friend Aishah, and an iPod hooked up to a set of speakers.

In the front hallway, was the WRITE station, asking people to share whatever words or thoughts came to mind. On a piece of paper with the word EMPIRE, people added: "scary and dehumanizing," "domination," "temporary," "every empire shall end." By USA: "a noble ideal too often compromised." Next to NYC: "my 1st love," "love hate relationship," "is my home… at the moment." And alongside HOME, people wrote: "acceptance," "growth," "happiness," "shelter," "safe," "a context in which I can express my whole self freely."

An ART station provided magazines and catalogues for collages. Our "home" collage featured Manhattan skylines, fancy home décor from catalogues, little kids jumping around, and pop-culture icons alongside eccentrically attired women. A second collage was assembled atop a map of the USA. One person pasted a red path from Southern California to NYC and someone else cut a yellow heart jaggedly in two, putting one half on Manhattan and the other in Washington State. Others added imagery or headlines that related to the wall along the Mexico border and the hope of getting past our racial and political divisions.

There was a station to READ: with a Jewish "Prayer for Our Country", Psalm 137:1-5 (Jewish Tanakh), Matthew 6:25-34 and Ephesians 6:10-18 (Christian Bible), Al-Baqarah 2:21-22 (Qu’ran), Tao Te Ching Chapter 54, definitions of "Empire" from Wikipedia and Merriam-Webster's Dictionary, and an insightful article by Reza Aslan called "The War for Islam" from the Boston Globe.

Near the food, there was a station asking WHO IS YOUR NEIGHBOR, with cards to fill out by introducing yourself to someone you don't know and asking their name and why they came to the gathering. Our final station was a place to PRAY by tying a strip of cloth onto a branch, a practice from Zen Buddhism.

After a quarter of an hour exploring the stations, we asked people to sort into four self-selected groups, based on shapes: circle, square, squiggle, and triangle. We had wonderful conversations for another twenty minutes and as might be expected… the circles embraced common ground, the triangles talked about change, the squiggles wandered through many topics, and the squares spent half their time discussing their discomfort with the lack of structure during the time for stations. People shared many thoughts about their notions of home and empire and this wild and wonderful city called New York.

When we came back together as a full group, a spokesperson from each small cluster shared some highlights from their small group, after which, we opened the floor. Although the afternoon began with people’s various responses to the idea of an American empire, it ended primarily with personal reflections on “home”… having multiple homes, being bi-national, being transient, the loneliness of New York City, and the freedom of home as a place where one can "sign and dance naked!"

As our time wound down, we transitioned from conversation to prayer. People prayed silently and shared prayers publicly, ending with the utterance, "this is my prayer." The group was invited to echo back, "this is our prayer."

We had planned to end our time together with a celebratory nigun, a wordless sung prayer from the Jewish tradition (a melody with consonants like lai, di, dai), and dancing. However, our Jewish co-leader's father had passed away the previous week and she was with her family during a time of mourning, so in respect and solidarity, we played a haunting recording of an acappella soloist singing the Alter Rebbe's Nigun while we sat, stood, or knelt together (listen to an alternate recording, piano version, on YouTube).

When the song ended, Samir gave announcements, and people mingled, ate, and helped break down the space. By 7 pm, we were all back on the street again, heading home, to city events, or out with friends.

Our evaluation forms asked people to share an insight they had from the day. One person commented that the "existential struggle with elements of [one's] self parallels the challenge of coexisting with community, as well as the struggle of creating home/empire on a more macro-level." Another person said, they realized that “other people feel ‘home-less’ in the way I feel.” And others said: "we find home in each other."

These are our prayers. Can I get an Amen?

Please use the comment area below (a Web 2.0 feature) to contribute to this conversation. What were your impressions of our second preview? What are your thoughts on being “at home in Manhattan, heart of the empire”?

The Other: The Origin and Meaning of the Term

~ Zane Yi was raised in the Christian tradition and is fascinated by the interplay of philosophical and theological thought through history. He teaches and studies philosophy at Fordham University, where he is a graduate student. Zane and his wife, Angela, live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

If you’ve browsed this website, you’ve most likely come across the frequent use of the term “the Other.” You may have wondered, “What does it mean? Where does it come from?”

The term has been developed by European philosophers and came into usage through the work of Jewish/French philosopher Emmanuel Levinas (1906-1995), an extremely influential, some might call quintessentially “post-modern”, thinker. Levinas fought in World War II, taught philosophy at the University of Paris, and is also known for his Talmudic scholarship. Levinas’ extensive writings are permeated with this term, but are notoriously hard to digest. Here is a short overview of the meaning of the term.

According to Levinas, when we encounter another human being, the face of the Other speaks to us and ethically obligates us.

The innovative nature of this claim becomes more evident when Levinas’ thought is compared with the thought of a Frenchman that is more familiar to many people--Rene Descartes. In his quest for absolute certainty, Descartes infamously describes his method of radical doubt. One must doubt everything—the beliefs inherited from one’s parents and teacher, and even one’s own senses!  After demolishing this shaky edifice of beliefs, one can reconstruct a stable building of knowledge built from indubitable facts.

What is the indubitable and, therefore, foundational fact? Descartes claims that he cannot doubt the fact that he is doubting. “I think, therefore I am,” he purportedly claimed. Starting from this point, one begins to work one’s way to other certain facts.

Following Descartes’ lead, many philosophers seem to think that the primary task of philosophy is an epistemological or metaphysical one. What we desire most is absolutely certain knowledge. How do I know that the external world and others exist? (Believe it or not, philosophers have spent much time and energy trying to answer this question!) With the proper method of acquiring knowledge (epistemology), one can ascertain what is real (metaphysics).

Ethics, or “practical philosophy”, is a secondary concern; “knowing” (epistemology) and “reality” (metaphysics) take priority. Once we know what is real, we can find out what is good and right. Furthermore, figuring out the good and right is reduced to the derivation of principles or maxims from abstractions. 

In contrast to this, Levinas treats ethics as a "first philosophy."  According to Levinas, we are immediately aware of the Other through our encounters with him/her (and their "face") and the Other places obligations of care and respect on us, before we begin to theoretically speculate on things, people, life, truth, ourselves, or anything at all! This obligation towards the Other cannot be reduced to linguistic formulations and commands, and transcends race, gender, or religion.

Levinas’ innovative claim is powerfully illustrated by one of my professors, Merold Westphal, who uses an excerpt from Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front to help readers understand Levinas’ insight.

The following is taken from Westphal’s new book Levinas and Kierkegaard in Dialogue (p. 3-4). (The pagination is from Remarque’s book.) 

On a foray between the trenches, I have become separated from my comrades and have found refuge in a crater filled with water and mud. Suddenly a question occurs to me. "What will you do if someone jumps into your shell-hole? Swiftly I pull out my little dagger, grasp it fast and bury it in my hand once again under the mud. If anyone jumps in here I will go for him...stab him clean through the throat, so that he  cannot call out; that's the only way; he will be just as frightened as I am;  then in terror we fall upon another, then I must be first"  (184).

As suddenly as the question arises, a body falls on top of me. "I do not think at all, I make no decision--I strike madly home, and feel only how the body suddenly convulses, then becomes limp and collapses. When I recover myself, my hand is sticky and wet. The man gurgles....It sounds to me as though he bellows....I want to stop  his mouth, stuff it with earth, stab him again, he must be quite, but [I] have  suddenly become so feeble that I cannot anymore lift my hand against him"  (185).

Overcome by the desire to get away, I move as far away as possible in the shell-hole, watching and listening.  Morning comes, and the gurgling continues, drawing first my unwilling gaze and then my whole body is a crawling journey to the side of the dying man. "At last I am beside him. Then he opens his eyes. He must have heard me, for he gazes at me with a look of utter terror. The body lies still, but in the eyes  there is such an extraordinary expression of fright that for a moment I think  they have the power enough to carry the body off with them...the gurgle has  ceased, but the eyes cry out, yell, all the life is gathered together in  them....The eyes follow me. I am powerless to move so long as they are there" (187).

When I am finally able to move, I strain some muddy water from the bottom of the crater, give it to my dying enemy, and then dress his wounds as best I can. The gurgling resumes. After the passing of an eternity, the young Frenchmen passes into eternity at about three in the afternoon. "I prop the dead man up again so that he lies comfortably...I close his eyes. They are brown, his hair is black and a bit curly at the sides. The mouth is full and soft beneath his moustache; the nose is slightly arched, the skin brownish; it is now not so pale as it was before, when he was alive. For a moment the face seems almost  healthy;--then it collapses suddenly into the strange face of the dead that I  have so often seen, strange faces, all alike" (190).

Just as the compulsion to help had followed the compulsion to flee, now the compulsion to speak takes over. "Comrade, I did not want to kill you. If you jumped in here again, I would not do it, if you would be sensible, too. But you were only an idea to me before, an abstraction that lived in my mind. But now, for the first time, I see you are a man like me. I thought of your hand-grenades, of you bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late...I will write to your wife" (191).

Who is the Other in a religious context? We have many terms for her. The unbeliever. The religious fanatic. The liberal. The fundamentalist. The pagan. The goy. The kafir.

Such labels are usually based on a theoretical understanding of the Other (often a misconception), but actually prevent us from a genuine encounter with her. Sadly, in the end, this only impoverishes our own humanity and our experience of the depth and power of our own religious traditions.

We know ourselves most fully in the presence of the Other.

It’s my hope and prayer that Faith House will become a place where encountering the Other, not thinking or talking about him or her or them, is “first philosophy.”

Burning Rage Meets Burning Grace

~ John Hubers is currently a PhD student at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago concentrating his studies on the history of Christian-Muslim relations.  Prior to this he served as the Director of the Reformed Church in America's mission program in the Middle East and South Asia as well as pastor of international congregations in the Arabian Gulf states of Oman and Bahrain.  I (Samir) met John in Boston at the meeting of Interfaith Relations Commission of National Council of Churches held at Harvard University this past June. He told me this story and later send it to me.  It first appeared in a shortened form in the Other Side Magazine, October, 1997.

It’s the summer of 1981. I’m sitting with my missionary mentor in the book- smothered office of a Coptic Orthodox bishop downtown Cairo, Egypt.  He is speaking of the riots still smoldering in a slum not far from where we were sitting. 

He tells us how it started. 

A fanatical faction of the Ikhwan al Muslameen (Muslim Brotherhood) discovered that a Christian landowner had not properly registered a piece of property in the local deeds office. Seizing the moment, they occupied the land, planted a flag on it and announced their plans to build a mosque.  The Christian went to the police to protest.  They made noises, but did nothing.  The stage was set for a drama that no one saw coming and few wanted. 

It happened when the heated exchange reached a boiling point.  The spark was the squatters gathering a mob at the owner’s home with hostile intent.  The owner came to the door with a pistol in his hand.  He said, “leave!”  They said, “no!”  He fired a shot in the air.  Someone shouted:  “Christians are killing Muslims, Christians are killing Muslims.”  And the fires started burning.

For three days violent gangs bearing the name, but not the spirit of Islam, ran wild through the warren of streets targeting Christians and their shops.  A priest from Upper Egypt in Cairo visiting his brother had his head split open with an ax.  It was a low-level massacre.

At the height of the riots a gang approached the local church with gasoline cans in their hands and arson on their minds.  The parish priest saw them out of his office window.  And there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop them.  He had been praying for an end to the destruction and murder; now he prayed for a miracle. 

As they got closer he noticed another group of men gathering in the street; neighborhood shopkeepers, Muslims he knew as friends. His heart sank.  “Dear God, not them, too!”

Then he noticed that the shopkeepers weren’t joining the mob.  Instead they were forming a phalanx around the church.  He opened his window to listen to the exchange.  What he heard assured him that God is good . . . God and his neighbors.

“This is our church,” said the shopkeepers, “these are our friends.  If you want to burn it down, you’re going to have to kill us first!” 

Burning rage met burning grace.  And grace won.  The church was spared.

God and the Human Face: A Shavuot Reflection

~ Rabbi Or N. Rose is an associate dean at the Rabbinical School at Hebrew College and the co-editor of Righteous Indignation: A Jewish Call for Justice (Jewish Lights Publishing). Rabbi Rose is a friend  and precious source of wisdom and encouragement to Faith House.

The festival of Shavuot celebrates God’s revelation of the Torah to the Children of Israel at Mount Sinai.  Throughout the ages, Jewish thinkers have interpreted this foundational narrative in a variety of ways, reflecting their beliefs and experiences.  One teaching on matan Torah (“the giving of the Torah”) that I find particularly inspiring is a sermon by the Hasidic sage, Rabbi Naftali Tzvi of Ropshitz (1760-1827), recorded in the book Zera Kodesh.*

The Ropshitzer (as he is called by Hasidim) begins his commentary by quoting his teacher, Rabbi Mendl of Rymanov, who asserts that at Sinai the people of Israel heard “nothing from the mouth of God other than the letter aleph of the first utterance—‘Anokhi, I am the Lord Your God’ (Exodus 20:2).**”   In other words, what the Israelites heard at Sinai from God was undifferentiated sound or the “sound of silence,” for a freestanding aleph makes no sound at all.  In either case, this interpretation is a significant revision of the biblical text (see Exodus 20:1), as it denies that God articulated any specific content to Israel. 

What leads this Hasidic master to reach such a daring conclusion?  He bases his comment on a statement from the book of Psalms, “One thing God has spoken but two things I have heard” (62:12).  That is to say, while the Divine-human encounter is pregnant with meaning, it always requires interpretation to determine its significance for an individual or community.

Following his teacher’s comments about the aural dimension of the revelation, the Ropshitzer inquires about what the Israelites saw at Sinai.  This is a thorny question because in the book of Deuteronomy there are two contradictory statements about the issue. Deuteronomy 4:15 states, “You saw no image when the Lord your God spoke to you,” but just one chapter later it reads, “The Lord spoke with you face to face at the mountain” (5:4).

The Ropshitzer’s resolution of this contradiction builds upon Rabbi Mendel’s insight about the aleph.  He states that while God was indeed formless at Sinai, the people did see a representation of the Divine—the letter aleph.  Where did the Israelites see the aleph?  Was it projected in the sky as a sign of God’s presence, did it take the form of a pillar of fire or a cloud of smoke?  No, the aleph appeared on the faces of the people of Israel.
 

 

Thinking visually, the Ropshitzer explains that if one deconstructs the figure of the aleph, detaching the upper and lower markings from the central line, the components can be restructured to create two eyes and a nose, the outline of a human face. 

He goes on to say that each eye resembles the letter yud (the tenth letter of the Hebrew alphabet), and the nose between them looks like a vav (the sixth letter).  And when one adds up the two yuds and the vav they equal 26 (10+10+6=26).  Amazingly, this number is the same as God’s most sacred name—Yud, Heh, Vav, Heh (10+5+6+5=26), sometimes rendered as “Yahweh” in English, but considered ineffable, unpronounceable, by Jewish authorities.

   

So what does all of this fanciful exegesis mean?  It means, according to the Ropshitzer, that “every human face” represents both the essence of Torah—the aleph—and the sanctity of God’s name—Yud, Heh, Vav, Heh.  It means that at Sinai the community of Israel came to a heightened awareness of the holiness of every person in their midst—from the prophet to the water carrier, from the priest to the wood chopper.  As the Ropshitzer points out, this notion is first articulated in the book of Genesis (1:27), where the Bible describes Adam, the first human, as a being created “in the image of God.”  

The implication of such teachings is that every person—Jew and non-Jew alike (since we are all descendents of Adam and Eve)—must be treated as a holy being, as a bearer of revelation, as a unique manifestation of the Divine.  This is the meaning, says the Ropshitzer, of the teaching in Psalm 16:8, “I set the Lord before me continually.”  In his words, “The seal of the Holy Blessed One is literally on our faces.”

May we be blessed this Shavuot to experience the great and ongoing revelation of God and Torah in the faces of all those who we encounter.

______________

* I wish to thank my teacher, Rabbi Arthur Green, for sharing this text with me.  See his brief comments on this teaching in Seek My Face: A Jewish Mystical Theology, pp. 111-112 (Jewish Lights).

**  My translation is based on that of Rabbi Lawrence Kushner in his The Way Into Jewish Mysticism, pp. 65-69 (Jewish Lights).

Have a Cup of Delicious Peace

~ by Ben Corey-Moran who is the Director of Strategic Partnerships and Coffee Development at Thanksgiving, and is a former member of the Specialty Coffee Association of America’s Sustainability Committee, as well as chair of United Student’s for Fair Trade’s National Advisory Board. He is inspired by his Jewish tradition's insights into justice, relationship, and deeply moved by the task of bringing his tradition to life in our time, especially in matters of food, farming, and trade. Ben lives in Northern California.

Sharing a dedication to the deepest expression of our faiths' values, Thanksgiving Coffee Company and Faith House are exploring the possibilities of global interfaith partnership for environmental justice, and an opportunity to support the 754-member Peace Kawomera Cooperative in Uganda. We hope to work together to bring this story of peace from Uganda and inspire individuals and communities here in the US.

In 2003, Joab Keki, a Ugandan farmer, walked door-to-door asking his Muslim, Christian, and Jewish neighbors to leave behind a history of conflict and face their challenges together. This community of third and fourth generation coffee farmers was struggling to make a living off the low prices offered by the local market. They faced a situation confronting millions like them around the world: struggle with low prices, or cut down the coffee trees, and surrounding forest for lumber, and try to make it with another crop. On the one hand, they had the hope for a sustainable farming future; on the other, they faced the dire consequences of poverty, both social and environmental. With the assistance of Thanksgiving Coffee Company, a family-run coffee roaster in Northern California, these Jewish, Christian and Muslim farmers formed a cooperative. They named their coffee Peace Kawomera, which means, “Delicious Peace” in the Luganda language.

Now in 2008, the Peace Kawomera Cooperative has grown to over 750 members. Thanks to their collective effort, the farmers sell directly to Thanksgiving Coffee Company, and receive $2.60 per pound, a price four times higher than what they were previously paid. This has enabled farmers to send their children to school, start savings accounts, and reinvest in their farms.

Somaili Bissaso, one of the Peace Kawomera Cooperative’s most prominent members was instrumental in convincing his Muslim community to join the cooperative, and has since led the growth and development of the interfaith peace effort. When asked about his thoughts on Thanksgiving Coffee, Bissaso responded,  “We are very grateful, and glad that you have come. You have encouraged us, and you have given us energy to love our coffee trees. Even our youth—my grandsons included—now have the hope to be coffee farmers one day. We pray that, Insha’allah, God gives us more time, luck, and energy.”

Together, the farmers have succeeded in doing something that none could have done alone. As they face the many challenges of life in rural Uganda, they look to their cooperative for hope and strength. In the coming years, the Cooperative plans to invest in land and equipment, offer microfinance to members and contribute to a variety of public health and education projects. That’s where communities like Faith House can help. Please visit our Community Development section to learn more about the Cooperative’s struggles and successes.

On the slopes of Mount Elgon, in Eastern Uganda, Muslim, Jewish, and Christian coffee farmers are struggling to heal a history of violence. Theirs is the story of farmers united by a shared struggle for fair and a sustainable economy. Their fair trade, organic and certified Kosher and Halal coffee is purchased by a growing network of churches, synagogues and mosques across the United States. We invite you to join efforts like this and harness the buying power of your community for peace and justice, and to heal the broken relationships of our world. 

To learn more about this story of peace, economic justice, and environmental sustainability, and to find out how you, your institution, or congregation can get involved, please visit Thanksgiving Coffee’s website, www.deliciouspeace.com.

A Mother's Day in Darfur

~ Rabbi Or N. Rose is an associate dean at the Rabbinical School at Hebrew College and the co-editor of Righteous Indignation: A Jewish Call for Justice (Jewish Lights Publishing). I (Samir) have met Rabbi Or after he gave a lecture at the General Theological Seminary in Manhattan. Since then, he has become a precious source of wisdom and encouragement to us. Many of us can join hands with Rabbi Or and all who are working towards the end of crisis in Darfur.

An ongoing genocide rages in Darfur, Sudan. The violence has already claimed as many as 450,000 lives and displaced more than 2.4 million people. Mothers, in particular, are at substantial risk in Darfur. After five years of conflict, most women who survived the destruction of their villages now live in displaced persons or refugee camps, where it is difficult to find firewood to cook with.

With no other way to feed their families, thousands of courageous women make the choice every day to leave the camps and expose themselves to attack from roving militiamen so that their husbands (who are at an even greater risk of being murdered) and children may live. The strength and resilience of these women reminds me of Shifrah and Puah, the two midwives in the first chapter of Exodus, who courageously defied Pharaoh and intervened to save the lives of the Israelite male children.

This past Mother’s Day weekend, in synagogues and churches across the country religious leaders shared the story of the brave mothers of Darfur with their communities, and congregants responded by donating generously to help protect these heroic women. This initiative was organized by the Genocide Intervention Network, one of the leading anti-genocide organizations in the United States. Over the next six months, GI-Net will work to build propane-powered kitchens in the camps, thus eliminating the need for firewood collection.

Of course, the crisis in Darfur will not be solved by humanitarian efforts alone.  In addition to helping alleviate the pain and suffering of the millions of people languishing in camps along the Sudan-Chad border, we must also agitate for a just political solution. 

With the Beijing Summer Olympics on the horizon, Darfur activists are calling on the Chinese government, Sudan's largest oil customer, valued arms supplier and chief ally on the U.N. Security Council, to stop President Omar al-Bashir and his ruthless administration from continuing its genocidal campaign against the people of Darfur.

The American Jewish World Service, the Jewish Council for Public Affairs (JCPA), and several other social justice organizations (including GI-Net and the Save Darfur Coalition) are calling on President Bush to boycott the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games unless China takes several key steps to help end the crisis in western Sudan. The list of actions includes China ending all arms transfers to Sudan, strongly and publicly condemning the atrocities in Darfur, and demanding that the government of Sudan comply with existing U.N. Security Council resolutions and rapidly facilitate the deployment of the United Nations-African Union peacekeeping force. 

President Bush could use this opportunity to recommit himself to the Darfur cause, as his record on this issue is inconsistent at best.  What better way for an outgoing president to spend his final months in office than to dedicate himself to ending the first genocide of the 21st century.

As we reflect on the meaning of Mother’s Day and on our love for our families, let us also remember the mothers, fathers, and children of Darfur who desperately need us to take action both as humanitarians and as political advocates.  Let us act with the courage of the ancient midwives of Exodus by joining GI-Net, AJWS, JCPA, and others in helping to birth a new era of justice and peace in western Sudan.