Islamophobia, Strange Bedfellows, and Missed Opportunities

”Islamophobia is an exaggerated fear, hatred, and hostility toward Islam and Muslims that is perpetuated by negative stereotypes resulting in bias, discrimination, and the marginalization and exclusion of Muslims...” [Fear Inc., Center for American Progress, 2011]

Why is it so hard for us to work together when it comes to dealing with Islamophobia?

Another round of Muslim-hate ads appeared along the metro train line in Westchester County, New York, this week. Within days community groups mobilized to respond to the ads.
 

In an attempt to neutralize this latest round of anti-Islam propaganda, local social action groups discussed various responses including public vigils, counter ad campaigns, and speaking engagements.

Also speculated upon by some groups were the reasons behind these latest anti-Islam ads.  

This recent campaign, which is paid for by Pam Geller’s American Freedom Defense Initiative, appears to be in response to anti-Israel ads that ran on buses in San Francisco, paid for by a group called Muslims for Palestine.

But it’s not as if Islamophobe poster child Geller needs a reason to spew lies or demonstrate her viciousness. We've seen that almost anything is fodder for her twisted agenda.

Less understandable, though, are local organizations' responses that purport to challenge Geller's hate message. I was alarmed, although sadly not surprised, to find a bullet point from one group’s meeting notes that read, “The role of Israel/Palestine.”

What?

Islamophobia isn’t about the Middle East. If a peace agreement was signed in the Middle East tomorrow, would anti-Muslim sentiment stop?

Why do we respond to bigotry with the same tactics used by the bigot? Since when do we let an extremist like Geller define our responses to anything?

With the best of intentions, local social action groups are climbing the ladder of inference to an unhelpful conclusion: anti-Islamic activity is connected to geo-political events in the Middle East. Never mind contributory factors of fear of the Other and ignorance about the religion of Islam. Geller taps into our deepest emotions (and her supporters' checkbooks) when she connects Islam to Israel and Palestine. We plug into her agenda when we make Islamophobia about anything other than bigotry and intolerance.

Unfortunately, the negative endgame, and this works well for Geller and her ilk, is that grassroots peace and co-existence efforts become fragmented when they should be jointly coordinated. When we focus on Palestinians and Israelis, instead of on educating people about Islam, our efforts become undermined by extraneous topics like BDS and foreign aid.

I’m a liberal Jew, often critical of my own community’s reluctance to step forward and denounce anti-Islam rhetoric. But I sympathize with the dilemma that confronts Jews and Jewish agencies when social action groups approach anti-Islam incidents from an Israeli/Palestinian lens that is, for many, a thinly veiled attempt to criticize Israel.

Whenever I can, I express solidarity with American Muslims. For the most part, I have done this individually even though I would prefer to stand with others, combining forces to maximize the impact of our collective outrage.

In fact, I would join with Jewish Voice for Peace, WESPAC [a local activist organization], and other left-leaning groups with whom I have serious differences of opinion on matters of the Middle East, if it meant our working together would increase the chances of delivering a blow to anti-Muslim bigotry.

But so far I have found it unproductive, to say nothing of uncomfortable, to work with groups that insist on bringing Israel and Palestine into the conversation.

Islamophobia is hateful discrimination.

Islamophobia is stereotyping. Scapegoating. Ignorance.

It separates neighbor from neighbor and creates fear and suspicion.

Islamophobia diminishes all of us because it offends our core values of compassion, justice, and fairness.

I urge community leaders to take the Middle East out of these conversations. We don’t need to make Islamophobia any tougher to deal with than it already is.

Peter Pan, Interfaith Role Model

I don’t know when it happened.

Five years ago I didn’t know a Muslim, hadn’t a clue about Muhammed, the Qur’an, or head coverings. I didn’t have Muslim friends, didn’t know about mosques, daily prayers, Ramadan, or the Hajj. 

You could even say, I didn’t know I didn’t know.

And now I do.

How do we go from not knowing—even cluelessness—to knowing?  

All my life I’ve had Christian friends. I’ve known about Jesus, rosary beads, eating (or not eating) meat on Friday, and the ordination (or not) of women.

My Christian friendships came about spontaneously—not through religious settings. I didn’t know Christians religiously.

I knew Christians because we went to school together. Sure, when my friends left class early, I learned about Good Friday, and when they showed up in school with a smudge on their foreheads, I learned about Ash Wednesday. But mostly I learned about Christians playing dodge ball, borrowing notes for a Chemistry test, or talking about boys.

I learned about Christians while I was learning about myself. I learned about Christians while I was growing up.

So now that I’m older, and recess is a distant memory, how did I come to know Muslims?

Well, the start of that journey was a graduate paper on the philanthropic practices of Islam and Judaism. I don’t know what prompted me to choose that topic. I had no experience with Muslims. No interest in Islam. I could just as easily have written about Andrew Carnegie or volunteer management. But I didn’t.

My research required I find Muslims. And, once I found them, I talked with them. Well, in truth, I interviewed them, which is different than talking with them. But it was a start.

And then I kept the relationships going. A little bit at first. And then a little more. And somewhere in between five years ago and now, I came to know Muslims.

There was no week when, say, one day I didn’t know and the next day I did. It happened the same way I came to know Christians, but without the swing sets. It happened in the everyday, Dick and Jane process of growing up.

My Muslim friendships came about organically, not religiously, through normal life events, like writing a term paper.

Sure, when my friends decline a morning biscuit, I learn about Ramadan, and when they excuse themselves from a mid-day gathering, I learn about afternoon prayer.  And, yes, we regularly share our faith traditions with each other. But mostly I came to know Muslims when swapping stories about our families, exchanging professional best practices, or carrying on about the latest and greatest dime store mascara. 

 

Growing up is a continual process that's highly overrated. 

Keep the faith. It’s never too late to not grow up.

Why Friendship is So Darn Important

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” Rumi

What does it mean to have a friend?

A few years ago I came across a blog on the internet called My Best Friend is Muslim. Relatively inactive now, the site was an online invitation for visitors to share brief stories about their closest relationships with Muslims.

Predictably, most of the posts on the site were about friendships between Muslims and non-Muslims. Although I could write an entire blog on the very existence of such a site [can you image a site today called, My Best Friend is Jewish?], what makes My Best Friend is Muslim remarkable is its lack of remarkability. For the most part, the friendships described are unexceptional. And therein lies the beauty of the site.

The mostly young contributors to the site come from a variety of faith backgrounds. One post describes a friendship between a Muslim and a Greek Orthodox Christian, both with Lebanese ancestry. Another is between a Sikh and a Muslim. Still another is between a non-Muslim and her sister who converted to Islam. Many of the posts describe typical qualities of friendship: support, shared interests, and fun. Not surprising, many of the friendships began in school, and many of the BFFs extend back in time, one for 19 years.

Of all the heartwarming stories of friendship and affection, a story about the BFF friendship between two Muslims, a Sunni Muslim and a Shi’a Muslim, stands out.

Shi’ite and Sunni Muslims have significant differences that stem from the determination of the rightful successor to Muhammad. Core religious precepts are similar [for example, all Muslims would adhere to the same Five Pillars of Islam], but many other beliefs, rituals, and practices are quite different.

"We have a lot in common and our beliefs do not stand in [the way of] our friendship," says the Sunni writer about her Shi'ite friend. "It’s a bit difficult when you have the same religion but a different approach but [we] choose to overlook that."

These BFFs have found a way to focus on what makes a person The Same rather than what makes a person The Other.

Even though very strong religious differences exist in the Sunni/Shi'a friendship—differences that in some parts of the world would result in violence and bloodshed—these BFFs choose to see in each other, first and foremost, a friend.

Each blog post is accompanied by a photograph—an image taken informally in a shopping mall photo booth or with a cell phone camera. These pictures of grinning, goofy, everyday friendships can teach us all something about how to create peace...somewhere out in Rumi's field.

Confront the Scary Words

If infidel and Muslim/muslim [see earlier posts] are the one-two punch of Islamic misunderstanding for non-Muslims, the next word is the knock-out.

Jihad.

The mere mention of the word conjures images of...well, you know what you're conjuring right now.

But a recent campaign sponsored by CAIR (Council on American-Islamic Relations) is providing clarity about jihad's meaning.

According to a new website, MyJihad: Reclaiming Islam, jihad means "to struggle against barriers & odds in search of a better place." Launched at the end of last year in response to an Islamic hate initiative across the country, MyJihad clarifies the term by offering statements from American Muslims.

"My jihad is to always pursue new ideas and conquer new challenges."

 "My jihad is to build friendships across the aisle."

 "My jihad is freedom and peace for Syria."

 And then the website asks, "What's yours?"

On a deeper level, the campaign invites us to examine our relationship—not just with people and religion—but also with language.  

Jihad is an Islamic religious term. When the media or other speakers misappropriate the word jihad for non-religious or political purposes—defining the word in a way that degrades or misrepresents its sacred meaning—our ability to engage each other in a straightforward way is damaged.

The integrity of our relationships is tied to the integrity of our language.

In the classic novel, Alice: Through the Looking Glass, Humpty Dumpty brags, "When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less."

Then Alice challenges, “The question is whether you can make words mean so many different things."

Yes, words can have different meanings. But when a religious term emerges void of spiritual value, I side with Alice.

My jihad is to use words more precisely and, whenever possible, clarify words that deceive and misinform.

What's your jihad?

Israelis & Palestinians Plant Trees

After an extended hiatus, I'm back with renewed dedication to talking about Jewish-Islamic relations.

And there's no better time to begin than right now because this week is the Jewish celebration of Tu B'Shvat - The New Year of the Trees. A time to rededicate ourselves to being mindful of how we treat the earth.

We celebrate this holiday with a certainty that, despite the evidence outside our windows, the harsh winter will end and spring will appear. Even as branches are bare, we know sap is beginning to rise. Even as ice and snow cling to the trees, we know buds are beginning to form just below the bark.

Our inability to see something doesn't mean it doesn't exist. There are a lot of things happening in the world we can't see.

Sometimes you just need a little faith--in the absence of evidence--to keep moving forward.

And the same is true of interfaith work. There's a lot happening in the interfaith world right now even though we may not see all the outward signs.

Strong roots of community bridge-building between Jews and Muslims are taking hold across this country--even though TV and Facebook posts indicate the opposite. Many of us are developing programs and engaging in conversations with different faith communities. And we know that the frost is thawing and the warmth of interfaith relations is beginning to surface.

If you don't see the proof, have faith--the same kind of faith you have in the dead of winter that tells you spring will certainly come.

In the meantime, if you want a little hard evidence, check this out. Below is a picture from last year's Tu B'Shvat celebration in the West Bank. The men, an Israeli and a Palestinian, are planting trees in an effort to block dust coming from a nearby factory. Their combined efforts benefit the entire community. Here's the complete story.

May we be reminded this wintery Tu B'Shvat that belief in peace and harmony--like belief in the flowers of spring--need faith, mindfulness, and a whole lot of cultivation.

Together Abu-Taled and Mayor Oded Ravivi plant trees in the West Bank, Feb 2012

Don't Look Now, There's a Muslim on the Bima

Don't you love a question that comes at you like a challenge.

"If the Qur'an says Muslims are supposed to be respectful of other religions," a business associate taunted, "how come I heard an Imam say that all Jews were Muslims?"

It's the Humpty Dumpty language problem again. (Click here for the initial post.)

Muslim  مسلم  is an Arabic word that means one who submits to the will of God. The word can be used two ways.

With an uppercase M, Muslim carries the commonly understood meaning: a follower of Islam who believes that Muhammed is the final and true Prophet.

With a lowercase m, muslims are followers of other faith traditions who submit to the will of THEIR God. And that includes Jews.

Same word. Different capitalization. Different meaning.

Compare, "Wow. Look at that purple dress! She doesn't have a very conservative wardrobe," with, "Oh, the new folks? I hear they're Conservative Jews."

That's the situation with muslims and Muslims.

Every Friday morning I study the Qur'an with Muslims. On Saturday mornings I study the Torah with muslims.

All of a sudden I have an overwhelming craving for M&M's.

When are Infidels not Infidels? When They're Farmers

"A word means just what I choose it to mean—nothing more and nothing less." 
~ Humpty Dumpty, Through the Looking Glass

That's all fine and good for nursery rhymes, but when we talk in the real world, definitions matter.

The next few blogs will deal with definitions of words we don't know we don't know.

Let's jump right into the deep end with INFIDEL.

Right off the bat there's a problem.

The word infidel does not appear in the Qur'an. The Arabic word kafir كافر  is often mistranslated as infidel. But that's wrong. The Arabic kafir has—if you'll pardon the pun—agrarian roots. It means to cover or to hide. In ancient times, kafir referred to farmers who planted seeds and covered them gently with soil.

In the Qur'an, then, kafir is used to reference one for whom the seeds of truth are covered. Not an infidel. The seeds of God are just below the surface, waiting to sprout. While that person is technically an unbeliever, the connotation behind kafir is significantly different than the inference behind infidel. 

Or to put it another way...

"Sometimes even religions become ossified. The old encounters that they carry seem hopelessly encrusted by centuries of mindless repetition. But we must nevertheless never forget that spiritual light cannot be extinguished. Only buried. And for this reason every spiritual discovery is but a rediscovery."
~ Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, Honey from the Rock

Looks like Judaism has its infidels, oops, kafir, also.