With so much bad news coming from the Middle East, I’d like to share some positive things that I’ve recently experienced.
Yesterday I met a friend for lunch at a Japanese restaurant. His name is Mohammad and he’s from Kuwait. I met him through a Turkish friend; they shared an office at the University where both are working on their doctorate dissertations (well, Yavuz is finished now). Yavuz is a secular, pork-eating Muslim, if you can even call him a Muslim. He enjoys a drink on the weekend and dates women. Friendship between us came easily and naturally.
The first time I met his friend Mohammad, I didn’t know what to expect. Mo’s face had a kind, friendly look to it; his voice was gentle and he was quick to smile. But this was coming on the heals of the outbreak of the last “Intifadah.” I was living and breathing the conflict, and not in the mood to have an accusatory finger pointed in my face by anybody.
I was eating dinner at the bar of a restaurant, and having met Mohammad before, we scooted our seats together and shared dinner. After gentle probing from both sides, we started talking about the Middle East. Rather than immediately repeat the typical litany of Arab complaints about Israel, he seemed to want to hear my side instead, to listen to the impressions and perspective of a Jew.
I don’t remember exactly what we discussed, but I remember it was civil, and that there seemed to be a sincere desire on his behalf to listen and consider what I had to say. We parted smiling and shaking hands.
Anyway, Yavuz is back in Turkey. He was the glue that barely held Mohammad and me together. But recently Mohammad emailed me in response to an article I sent to him about reformation in Islam. He suggested we meet for lunch, and we agreed on a Japanese restaurant that we both like and that has a very affordable and agreeable lunch menu.
Of course we started talking about general things. We also both ordered tea. Sipping tea, downing miso soup (Mohammad tries to avoid soy, as it gives him migraines); we just talked about human issues. We got on the topic of anxiety, I think because we were talking about the pressures and rigors of school. I admitted I had suffered anxiety (and depression) in the past, and he told me about an Egyptian friend of his who was bi-polar, and how his family refused to listen to him or understand his condition. Just as I was about to say that I have read that Arab culture avoids mental health issues, Mohammad took the words out of my mouth.
“There is no acceptance of psychotherapy or anti-depressants for many people in Arab culture,” he said.
Hmm… I liked that he was willing to be open and honest, especially about a topic that requires one to show “weakness,” or better yet vulnerability. This is not easy for a Muslim Arab male to do, because showing “weakness” questions ones’ manly honor. When a Muslim man’s honor is questioned, we get into the realm of shame; shame and honor being two huge components in many Islamic societies (and something that non-Muslims need to learn more about and understand). I won’t get into the shame-honor dynamic because it is too broad, but many of you readers are probably familiar with it to an extent.
Now, I’ve chatted with many Muslims about Islam, the conflict, Westernization, etc. An Iranian guy I used to chat with, who used to live in Iran and now studies in India, hated Islam with the same intensity that the Ayatollah Khomeini loved Islam (or hated the West… you get the point). He is a secular fanatic; a Persian nationalist; not nearly as open-minded and as thoughtful as I would have preferred him to be. Too much hatred, not enough understanding; and then again, I didn’t grow up in Iran and I haven’t walked in his shoes.
But after griping with him for a few months about how, yes, the Mullahs are crazy, and yes, Israel is a cool country (at first it’s amazing to hear that from an Iranian, after a while it looses its ring), and “death to the Mullahs,” etc. “Fuck Islam” and “Long live Iran” can actually get stale when you’re original goal for going to “Persian chat” and meeting Iranians is to try to understand the Muslim mind and what chances there are for a modus vivendi or even true peace between Islam and the West, Islam and Israel.
The upside of talking with Mohammad is that he’s a faithful Muslim. He believes in his religion strongly. He believes that the Koran is God’s word, immutable. It’s people like Mohammad that I want to talk to. And not just that, he’s also very knowledgeable about the Middle East and totally unafraid to be self-critical (as an Arab, not as a person; he’s a good guy, no reason to be overly self-critical).
What was somewhat concerning to me was his strong faith in the immutability of the Koran. He admitted that he doesn’t believe in a total separation between mosque and state. But, at the same time, he said, “The Prophet Mohammad said that we should be moderate in everything we do. So, even though I don’t believe in a complete separation of mosque and state, it doesn’t mean I agree with Saudi Arabia, or Iran’s version of Islam and politics.” Hmm… wiggle room.
Mohammad reminded me of an orthodox or ultra-orthodox Jew. It wasn’t his beliefs, obviously, but his general “live and let live” attitude, coupled with his fervent faith. Mohammad might disagree with Muslim women leading prayers, or agree that the sexes should be separated during prayer, but at the same time he would never promote or support the use of violence against people who disagreed with him. Like Orthodox Jews, he would just disagree—and then go and do his own thing.
In a large sense, isn’t that the crux of the problem at the heart of the Islamic world? We all know there are Muslims who want to liberalize and reform their faith; we know they aren’t all fanatics. Isn’t the real problem, then, that would-be liberalizers live in mortal fear from the extremists, who will and do use violence against them?
To reiterate: There are many different streams and denominations of Christianity. Many vehemently disagree with the other, and what do they do about it? They just go to their own churches. Violence between sects is unheard of, especially here.
Any Jew is aware of the difference between the Reform and the Torah-observant (orthodox). But do the Torah observant use violence against the Reform who don’t keep kosher, allow women and gays to be rabbis and cantors, and have mixed prayer? The answer is, no. They disagree—vehemently so—but that’s it. It ends there. You go to your synagogue, Yankele, and I’ll go to mine (or in my case, I won’t go at all unless it’s for a simcha in the family or among friends).
And then there is P… she is a girl whom I met online while trying to pique the mind of the Persian. I thought she was a he, but learned otherwise when we turned on our web cams. Expecting a hairy middle aged Persian male on my screen, I saw (what to me) was (is) the epitome of exotic Persian beauty. P and I have been in close contact ever since. There is more I’d like to write about P, but to make it short, she is currently in Saudi Arabia visiting her sister, who lives and works in a compound. It’s her first time out of the Iran. She is going to Mecca today, and even though she is not religious herself, she asked me what prayer I wanted her to say for me when she was there. I said “Pray for peace in the Middle East.”
So, despite the seriousness of the conflict, and without trying to see the world with only rose-colored glasses, I also needed to remind myself via this stupid essay that there are chances for peace in the Middle East, and that we should not give up hope, despite how bad things look at times. There are certainly a lot of Islamic-freakazoids over there, but there are also many who are not. Arabs and Jews, Muslims and Jews, are not genetically designed to be enemies. Friendships can come easily.
Right now an ostensibly Shiite Persian young woman is saying a prayer in the holy Islamic city of Mecca for an agnostic Zionist Jew. Earlier, I and a devout Arab Muslim spent over two hours sipping tea and talking, like so many people in the Middle East do—and it felt natural.
I think that’s cool.
