One of the delights of this fall here at KA has been a seminar led by one of my young colleagues. His name is Moamer and he has significant ties to the school. He is the older brother of “The Mayor of Awesomeville,” that kid Abdullah that I taught every day for the first four years the school existed (and one of the A-list students I have known in my whole career). Another brother has worked here in our summer program. Another brother is a 9th grader here. The family hosts a party for teachers every June with all seven sons in attendance. This family dynasty has been integral to the school since its inception!
Moamer leads a seminar every week on Islamic Tradition and the History of the Middle East. At times the course has been frustrating—in a good way—and always enlightening. He started the seminar on 9/11/11—an auspicious date I suppose on which to begin the best training and teaching I have yet received on the Islamic world. Moamer explained up front how he went about planning for this course. He decided that three lenses would be used to create this course, three “filters” as he called them. He set up his own parameters and ground rules: the sources he would use must be Islamic, must be western, and must be grounded in teaching. He explained that he would rely on Hamza Yusuf, an American Islamic scholar, a book entitled The Vision of Islam, and his own experiences. How exciting is that to see from the get-go exactly where he would cull his information and insights.
The last few seminar meetings have focused on the concept of Ihsan, a concept of the encounter with the divine, in which the faithful are reminded to make something beautiful of their faith. As Moamer reminded the group, “You worship Allah as if you see him; for even if you do not see him, he sees you.” One spends one’s lifetime, therefore, as a seeker on the path of Ihsan. This seeking will bring true happiness.
What a profound concept—we must see the beautiful, the true, the closeness of God for our lives to have meaning.
As I have done many times this fall in the seminar, I have learned how similar so many of the tenets of Islam are with the tenets of Christianity, but also really almost any faith I can think of.
At first this almost bothered me. Week after week, as Moamer explained “what Muslims do,” my mind would automatically say things like, “Well, we pray too,” or “We also believe in repentance.” As Moamer explained the tenets that Muslims believe that “There is no God but God,” the commandment to bear witness, and certainly the eternal query, “How do we know God?” it was so remarkable to me the comparisons. Now, this should hardly be news! Allah of Islam is the God of Abraham, Isaac, Joseph, David, Solomon, et cetera on down the line…and while I have taught about Islamic art before, I have never had the benefit of hearing a Muslim crack open the nut of faith and unpack the theology and the beliefs quite so thoroughly. It had always remained so much “The Other” in all these years both in the United States and in Jordan.
Like many Americans, I grew up with really only one part of the history of the Middle East—an ancient Biblical-era history, and a modern history of Israel as told through the heroic birth of the state of Israel out of the ashes of the Holocaust. I had studied the Holocaust many times, visited many concentration camp sites, directed Holocaust-themed plays, been to Passover seders, and so what I knew quite well was the history of the genocide and that Israel was a safe haven for the Jews. I knew nothing of the Arab side. For millions of Americans, Jew and Gentile, it was the same. We were all raised with the version of Middle Eastern history as told in Exodus, Leon Uris’ influential and riveting mega-bestseller, then turned into a Paul Newman movie. In Uris’ engaging novel, Arabs are alternately pathetic or malicious, and have no real claim to the land. As is said in the book, “If the Arabs of Palestine loved their land, they could not have been forced from it—much less run from it without real cause.” Of course, as devoted readers of the blog will know, I have certainly gained new insights and perspectives in the 53 months I have lived in Jordan. As I have come to see, the actual history of the region is far more complex, richer and interesting.
Since coming here and writing about this from time to time, I have had wonderful conversations with friends and family state-side about the deeper narrative, one that penetrates beneath the headlines and the endless cycles of repeated history, and attempts at explaining how we got to this difficult place.
Not everyone is comfortable hearing the story of The Other. I have had some acquaintances profess that they are tired of hearing about the Jewish/Arab love of the land, and a Kiwanis colleague of my father chastised me for telling the story of the Arabs as a “nonexistent Palestine.”
But most people have listened intently, enthralled at what I have been able to learn here. In many ways what goes on here mirrors the struggles of people anywhere I have lived, the struggles of families as they encounter and embrace faith and each other’s history.
So back to Moamer—in many ways, each week as he unravels the mysteries of faith, I think of my grandmother. My mother’s mother taught Sunday School for 62 years, and in my eyes she must have been phenomenal because of her knowledge, her convictions, and her sincere and life-affirming piety and faith. Moamer is winning with that same combination. As my grandmother must have done for decades, Moamer has helped me get past the canned summary of Islam, and certainly opened my eyes to the beauty and purity of his faith. As I have said, many tenets are similar. The process of revelation, of discipline, of commitment, of reflection—all are similar to the traits found in Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism, Hinduism—certainly all the faiths with which I am acquainted.
But of course I know there are boundaries between our two faiths—and how in the world ecumenicalism really works is amazing. In Islam Jesus is deemed a very good prophet, but not the Son of God, and certainly then the supernatural elements of the Resurrection are eschewed. But the divergences are not really what interest me; those I know, and I expect. It is all the things in common, both good and bad. As Moamer discusses the mysteries of faith, over and over I see the parallels in what I know and understand about Christianity. And certainly in the chauvinism that can mark Christianity, that chauvinism of superiority is quite vivid in Islam as well. And why not? It accomplishes the same thing to promote one’s faith, and comes from a certain world view that each respective faith finally got spirituality “right.”
One day that caused me the most agita was the day Moamer explored the role of the intellect in Islam, specifically how faith and science co-exist in Islam. He used the absence of that symbiosis in Christianity as his foil. In my notes from that day I wrote down in my notebook, “It seems as if there is no tension in Islam about science and faith, and must Islam always trump everything else? What about modern science? Where are the Islamic scientists now on the world stage?” It was a provocative class, and Moamer and I did not agree. His understanding of the West seems grounded in many ways like Clarence Darrow in the Scopes-Monkey trial, but of course there is more.
Science and faith are not officially mutually exclusive in Christianity, although there are numerous examples that would create that understanding. Galileo is a great example. And Moamer raised him. But I countered with Pope Julius II who, a century before Galileo, believed he was the one who could bind theology and science together. And there are a host of scientists, on every list of great innovators of science, who were monks! Moamer and I debated, and I wished we could do more history. For a moment or two I thought I should not be a part of the seminar any more.
But of course, this was some of the best part of this opportunity. I get to hear what a twentysomething, intelligent, Arab science teacher thinks of his world, my world, and the mysteries of faith. His explanation of the dogma and the practice is enlightening. I can pair it with my experiences too, of course, and treasure those crossing points, those junctures in which we agree so easily. It also helps explain many world views that seem frustrating to me, or limited, or even un-enlightened. It is not un-enlightenment, it is simply what you have seen and experienced on your own journey.
Moamer tells many stories about the origins of words and phrases, all of which help illumine even more this part of the world, the delicate co-existence of Islam and Christianity, and certainly the keys to their world views. One week Moamer reminded us that in Islam, faith is “always amazing, always good, it is always "hamdillallah,” the phrase uttered when asked how you are. The phrase means, “through God and my faith, I am good.”
We have discussed jihad and terrorism, but again, the simplest and purest understandings come down to that journey in life seeking the divine, seeking the closeness and love of God. Moamer said, “We understand that life is like a prism; it is transitory, but our greatest reward is a closeness with Allah.” From there he went to explain the concept of repentance. At the end of class Moamer turned to me and said, “John, surely you have a comment. What do you make of this?” I had looked at my notes anyway, and realized, yet again, the similarities and challenges as both faiths (all faiths?) embrace the desire of Ihsan, to make life beautiful and meaningful.
Moamer leads a seminar every week on Islamic Tradition and the History of the Middle East. At times the course has been frustrating—in a good way—and always enlightening. He started the seminar on 9/11/11—an auspicious date I suppose on which to begin the best training and teaching I have yet received on the Islamic world. Moamer explained up front how he went about planning for this course. He decided that three lenses would be used to create this course, three “filters” as he called them. He set up his own parameters and ground rules: the sources he would use must be Islamic, must be western, and must be grounded in teaching. He explained that he would rely on Hamza Yusuf, an American Islamic scholar, a book entitled The Vision of Islam, and his own experiences. How exciting is that to see from the get-go exactly where he would cull his information and insights.
The last few seminar meetings have focused on the concept of Ihsan, a concept of the encounter with the divine, in which the faithful are reminded to make something beautiful of their faith. As Moamer reminded the group, “You worship Allah as if you see him; for even if you do not see him, he sees you.” One spends one’s lifetime, therefore, as a seeker on the path of Ihsan. This seeking will bring true happiness.
What a profound concept—we must see the beautiful, the true, the closeness of God for our lives to have meaning.
As I have done many times this fall in the seminar, I have learned how similar so many of the tenets of Islam are with the tenets of Christianity, but also really almost any faith I can think of.
At first this almost bothered me. Week after week, as Moamer explained “what Muslims do,” my mind would automatically say things like, “Well, we pray too,” or “We also believe in repentance.” As Moamer explained the tenets that Muslims believe that “There is no God but God,” the commandment to bear witness, and certainly the eternal query, “How do we know God?” it was so remarkable to me the comparisons. Now, this should hardly be news! Allah of Islam is the God of Abraham, Isaac, Joseph, David, Solomon, et cetera on down the line…and while I have taught about Islamic art before, I have never had the benefit of hearing a Muslim crack open the nut of faith and unpack the theology and the beliefs quite so thoroughly. It had always remained so much “The Other” in all these years both in the United States and in Jordan.
Like many Americans, I grew up with really only one part of the history of the Middle East—an ancient Biblical-era history, and a modern history of Israel as told through the heroic birth of the state of Israel out of the ashes of the Holocaust. I had studied the Holocaust many times, visited many concentration camp sites, directed Holocaust-themed plays, been to Passover seders, and so what I knew quite well was the history of the genocide and that Israel was a safe haven for the Jews. I knew nothing of the Arab side. For millions of Americans, Jew and Gentile, it was the same. We were all raised with the version of Middle Eastern history as told in Exodus, Leon Uris’ influential and riveting mega-bestseller, then turned into a Paul Newman movie. In Uris’ engaging novel, Arabs are alternately pathetic or malicious, and have no real claim to the land. As is said in the book, “If the Arabs of Palestine loved their land, they could not have been forced from it—much less run from it without real cause.” Of course, as devoted readers of the blog will know, I have certainly gained new insights and perspectives in the 53 months I have lived in Jordan. As I have come to see, the actual history of the region is far more complex, richer and interesting.
Since coming here and writing about this from time to time, I have had wonderful conversations with friends and family state-side about the deeper narrative, one that penetrates beneath the headlines and the endless cycles of repeated history, and attempts at explaining how we got to this difficult place.
Not everyone is comfortable hearing the story of The Other. I have had some acquaintances profess that they are tired of hearing about the Jewish/Arab love of the land, and a Kiwanis colleague of my father chastised me for telling the story of the Arabs as a “nonexistent Palestine.”
But most people have listened intently, enthralled at what I have been able to learn here. In many ways what goes on here mirrors the struggles of people anywhere I have lived, the struggles of families as they encounter and embrace faith and each other’s history.
So back to Moamer—in many ways, each week as he unravels the mysteries of faith, I think of my grandmother. My mother’s mother taught Sunday School for 62 years, and in my eyes she must have been phenomenal because of her knowledge, her convictions, and her sincere and life-affirming piety and faith. Moamer is winning with that same combination. As my grandmother must have done for decades, Moamer has helped me get past the canned summary of Islam, and certainly opened my eyes to the beauty and purity of his faith. As I have said, many tenets are similar. The process of revelation, of discipline, of commitment, of reflection—all are similar to the traits found in Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism, Hinduism—certainly all the faiths with which I am acquainted.
But of course I know there are boundaries between our two faiths—and how in the world ecumenicalism really works is amazing. In Islam Jesus is deemed a very good prophet, but not the Son of God, and certainly then the supernatural elements of the Resurrection are eschewed. But the divergences are not really what interest me; those I know, and I expect. It is all the things in common, both good and bad. As Moamer discusses the mysteries of faith, over and over I see the parallels in what I know and understand about Christianity. And certainly in the chauvinism that can mark Christianity, that chauvinism of superiority is quite vivid in Islam as well. And why not? It accomplishes the same thing to promote one’s faith, and comes from a certain world view that each respective faith finally got spirituality “right.”
One day that caused me the most agita was the day Moamer explored the role of the intellect in Islam, specifically how faith and science co-exist in Islam. He used the absence of that symbiosis in Christianity as his foil. In my notes from that day I wrote down in my notebook, “It seems as if there is no tension in Islam about science and faith, and must Islam always trump everything else? What about modern science? Where are the Islamic scientists now on the world stage?” It was a provocative class, and Moamer and I did not agree. His understanding of the West seems grounded in many ways like Clarence Darrow in the Scopes-Monkey trial, but of course there is more.
Science and faith are not officially mutually exclusive in Christianity, although there are numerous examples that would create that understanding. Galileo is a great example. And Moamer raised him. But I countered with Pope Julius II who, a century before Galileo, believed he was the one who could bind theology and science together. And there are a host of scientists, on every list of great innovators of science, who were monks! Moamer and I debated, and I wished we could do more history. For a moment or two I thought I should not be a part of the seminar any more.
But of course, this was some of the best part of this opportunity. I get to hear what a twentysomething, intelligent, Arab science teacher thinks of his world, my world, and the mysteries of faith. His explanation of the dogma and the practice is enlightening. I can pair it with my experiences too, of course, and treasure those crossing points, those junctures in which we agree so easily. It also helps explain many world views that seem frustrating to me, or limited, or even un-enlightened. It is not un-enlightenment, it is simply what you have seen and experienced on your own journey.
Moamer tells many stories about the origins of words and phrases, all of which help illumine even more this part of the world, the delicate co-existence of Islam and Christianity, and certainly the keys to their world views. One week Moamer reminded us that in Islam, faith is “always amazing, always good, it is always "hamdillallah,” the phrase uttered when asked how you are. The phrase means, “through God and my faith, I am good.”
We have discussed jihad and terrorism, but again, the simplest and purest understandings come down to that journey in life seeking the divine, seeking the closeness and love of God. Moamer said, “We understand that life is like a prism; it is transitory, but our greatest reward is a closeness with Allah.” From there he went to explain the concept of repentance. At the end of class Moamer turned to me and said, “John, surely you have a comment. What do you make of this?” I had looked at my notes anyway, and realized, yet again, the similarities and challenges as both faiths (all faiths?) embrace the desire of Ihsan, to make life beautiful and meaningful.
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