Learning To Love

I just finished watching a movie The Kingdom of Heaven, or just the last third or forth of it. Nothing like watching a movie about the Crusades with a Muslim family. I cannot express the pain in my heart when watching armies killing each other in the name of God, even if it's just a Blockbuster. The ruthlessness of both armies was horrific and I'm left frustrated and a bit depressed. One of my favorite quotes in the movie however, was from a guy who refused to fight with the Christian armies against the Muslims. I caught the movie late so I don't know his background but he said something that stuck out to me, "First I thought we were fighting for God, then I realized we were just fighting for wealth and land." For me, it was a little glimpse of hope that one man knew that this isn't what God had in mind, but instead a way to justify their selfish greed. One of the priests (in the movie) then commented that it was the duty of the Christian army to kill the "enemies of God". I thought this was interesting, seeing how the Bible says not only to "love and pray for your enemies" but also that the enemy of God is Satan himself, not the Muslim Army. For Muslims, Christians, Jews, Hindus and Buddhists are created in the image of God. It is so painful to watch how the greed for money, land, and wealth of the "Christians" was masked by a ruthless war "In the name of God" (though I have to question which god they were serving) against God's beautiful and priceless creation. I cannot help but feel a bit uncomfortable watching these horrific scenes of history with the Muslim family I'm living with. I felt a bit more comfortable when my roommate Haitam (my age) commented, "It's too bad there are some people like that." His comment followed the priest's comment that God's will was to destroy the "enemies". Luckily, Haitam knows that Christianity doesn't equate to the Crusades, war, killing, and imperialism, but these evil people do terrible things in the name of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. Ironically, during the commercial break, there was a powerful ad about terrorism. The commercial began by showing a peaceful and quiet Middle Eastern neighborhood with kids playing soccer in the street. Suddenly, several trucks turned down the street with AK-47s and began shooting. The screen when black and written in Arabic were the words, "Terrorism has no religion." I thought that was a beautiful message and at an appropriate time. Terrorism, killing, wars, and genocide are horrific events masked by religion to hide ones own greed and evil.

If only there could be a Hollywood film about the story of St. Francis of Assisi, a mad monk who lived during the times of the Crusades and knew that God's message was not (and is not) a battle of power or a raised fist, but an outstretched arm of service and indiscriminate love, then maybe I'd feel more comfortable watching this movie than the one about killing. Jesus' challenging words of love led St. Francis to live with and serve the Muslim army (seen as "the enemy" by his contemporaries). He understood that God does not need mercenaries, but messengers of mercy and that the Gospel (literally "Good News" of Jesus) cannot go hand-in-hand with intolerance and aggressive attitudes, but instead with unconditional love and with all warfare strategies aside (Mallouhi 2000). St. Francis was a man who believed that if Jesus was alive in his era, that he would have renounced worldly possessions and lived a life of radical love and service. Call him an extremist... because he was. But not like today's extremists who bomb abortion clinics, gay bars, or hijack airplanes. He was an extremist who loved like no one else did during his time. He lived simply and faithfully to the loving message of Jesus, which meant living with the Muslim armies. It is comforting to know that in the midst of war and hate, that the message and spirit of Jesus is found in the vulnerable outstretched arm of one man(St. Francis) who refused to deny anyone the love of God.

As I am reading several books right now, including Mallouhi's Waging Peace on Islam who looks to the life of St. Francis of Assisi as an example of one who loved unconditionally. He dedicated his life to loving Christians, lepers, and Muslims alike, and I am challenged to love the same way that he did, that Mother Teresa did, and that Jesus did. I'm going to be honest with you, it's not as easy as it might sound. The three I mentioned above devoted themselves to a life of poverty. For them, the material possession of this world only got in the way of loving people with their entire heart. Coming from my suburban Southern California background, I am anything but poor. Yes, I am a college student drowning in student loans (ok, maybe not that bad, but it seems like a lot at the moment) and I don't have a job. But, the fact that I go to a University in the United States, that I have a car, that I could come to Morocco (even if I had to take out a loan to do so), and the fact that I could even take out a loan for several thousand dollars makes me one of the richest people on the globe. I am not saying that one has to be poor to love. In fact, I think it is more commendable when someone can love even with all of their riches. When someone has a mansion in Beverly Hills and opens it up to the poor, needy, and homeless is something beautiful. But lets be honest, how often does that happen? In my experience across the globe, those who had less were often more hospital and loving than those who had a lot. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense. But then again, this is just my experience. May we not be judged on the size of our homes or bank accounts, but by how we use these things (whether big or small) to serve others.

Several times this last month, I have been humbled, broken, and challenged over the blunt words of Jesus, "It is more difficult for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God" (Matthew 19:24). This verse has come up several times recently, whether in my own reading, personal studies, or churches I've been too. These words come just after an encounter that Jesus has with a rich man who has obeyed all the commandments. This guy was religious and without fault, yet Jesus said "If you want to be perfect, go sell your possessions and give to the poor." (Mt. 19:21). Is it just me or is this painful? I'm sure most of us are good law-abiding citizens and some of us obey God's commandments to certain degrees. But this wasn't necessary what Jesus was looking for. Now, I'm sure there are hundreds of books and thousands of sermons about this passage and how maybe Jesus doesn't really mean the words he said, or those words were just applicable to the rich guy in the story, or we focus on the verse at the end which says, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." (Mt. 19:26). Sitting on the old wooden pews in St. Andrew's Anglican Church of Tangier this last Sunday hearing the pastor read this passage, I was broken-hearted, growing uncomfortable from of the wooden pews and even more uncomfortable from the piercing words of Jesus. Am I willing to give away my possessions to the poor? Maybe more importantly, are my possessions getting in the way of me loving people? There is part of me that says, "Right now, I'm ready to be finished with worldly possessions and live a life of poverty and service to the poor." And the other part of me enjoys the "finer" things in life. A nice gourmet meal here and there, an exotic vacation, a laptop, a house with an ocean view, or a Dave Matthews concert are all things that I enjoy. I'm not going to lie, I don't know if I'm ready to give those things up for a life of poverty. Then I think, is a life of poverty even possible? Sure I can live in the slums of Calcutta, India as Mother Teresa did, or with victims of unjust war crimes in Palestine and Israel, or with those dying of starvation in sub-Saharan Africa, but I may never be poor (And even so, without love, it would be completely useless. What makes Mother Teresa the light in the darkness of Calcutta's slums was her unconditional and relentless love, not her poverty). I could live in a shack, but could I ever be poor? The words of Henri Nouwen seem suitable for my situation (as they have been through most of my time and experiences here), "Living here not only makes me aware that I have never been poor, but also that my whole way of being, thinking, feeling, and acting is molded by culture radically different from the one I live in now. I am surrounded by so many safety systems that I would not be allowed to become truly poor. If I were to become seriously ill, I would be sent back to the United States and given the best possible treatment. As soon as my life or health were really threatened, I would have many people around me willing to protect me...I am not poor as my neighbors are. I will never be and will never be allowed to be by those who sent me here." (Nouwen 1999). I am by no means living in poor conditions at this moment in Morocco, but his words remain true. If I were to live in one of the places I mentioned above, I still couldn't be one of them. On the outside, I might be like one of them, living in a small house in their community, wearing the same dirty clothes, eating the same food, and taking the same buses, but on this inside I would still have the world at my fingertips. I have opportunities that those around do not have. I have the choice of living in that particular community or country, where most of them are there by fate. I have safety nets that distinguish the lucky (myself) from the unlucky (those around me). No matter how hard I try to live a life of poverty, it may be something impossible. Instead, Nouwen looks to a realistic lifestyle, "I have to accept my own history and live out my vocation, without denying that history. On the other hand, I realize the way of Christ is a self-emptying way." A life of poverty isn't necessary or even possible. And I don't think this is even what Jesus was getting at when he talked to the rich young man. For this man, it was his possessions the prevented him from complete obedience to Christ and love for all. Nouwen recognizes that possessions and personal wealth aren't the problem, insofar as they do not prevent us from a life of love and sacrifice. In the mean time, I must reflect on how I can live out such a life of love, service, and sacrifice without "denying" my personal history, background, culture, or social status.

Daily, I am faced with this challenge of love. At my internship with Darna, an association for disadvantaged children (many of whom have come off the streets), I am finding it difficult to love. The grave reality is that these kids know no love. It's pretty obvious from the scares on their faces, arms, and legs or simply by the way they treat each other. The scares on their arms and legs come from knives and other weapons during fights, they tell me. Some of the kids have faces completely scared, either from abuse, fights, or just the marks of daily survival on the streets. Beyond the physical scares of poverty, their behavior is even more telling. I cannot tell you how many times I've had to break up fights because I thought one of the kids was going to kill the other one. Because they haven't been loved, they do not have the capacity to love others. Darna association is doing a great work by teaching them the skills to rise from their poverty and find hope in the abilities (both natural and learned) that they have. But because they do not know love, discipline, or opportunity, this is a difficult task. The kids come to "school" (Darna) every day, but they come with nothing. No pens, no paper, no books. It's no wonder that after 15 minutes, most teachers have lost the attention and interest of their students. Whatever supplies are in the class are vulnerable for kids to take and use as weapons. Chalk, makers, paint, books, and chairs have been thrown across the room. My 3+ weeks at Darna have given me some much respect and appreciation for the amazing and dedicated teachers in America's inner-cities, especially those who work for programs like Teach For America (http://teachforamerica.org/). I realize that I am not made for such demanding tasks. My gratitude and respect goes out to those who have the patience to work with society's marginalized youth; the poor and unloved. These teachers are the heros of today that often go unnoticed and unappreciated.

Today, I was spit on twice by a kid who was trying to come in and disrupt the class. You have to be rough with this kids, but where do you draw the line? I believe that violence (most cases) only perpetuates more violence (particularly on a global level, but I won't go there now). But I also believe that kids need to be disciplined. At the end of the day, I am so exhausted from protecting myself from not being punched, slapped, or stolen from, and also dragging the kids out of the classroom who are spitting on, fighting with, and cursing the teacher or other students. How can I love these kids when they have no respect for anyone (or anything)? I feel that to love them for who they are would mean to let them walk all over me like a doormat. When that kid spit on me today, part of me wanted to embrace him as an act of unconditional love, mercy, and forgiveness, but the other part of me wanted to strangle the little twerp. Usually the more aggressive half of me overrides the doormat side. I don't think he should get away with spitting on the volunteer, so I chase after him. When I think about how Jesus, Mother Teresa, Gandhi, or St Francis would love these kids.... well, I am left without answers. I just don't know. If Mother Teresa was spit on by a little daredevil of a kid, would she smile and embrace him or give him a good spanking? My first instinct is teach the kid that if he treats people like that he's not going to get too far in life. But then what do I know? Survival for them is the only way of life and far be it for me to impose my believes or worldviews on these boys and girls who really have so much to teach me. May I learn to embrace nuisance when needed and discipline the menace when appropriate.

Ramadan Starts Tomorrow... I Think

I'm back in Tangier now, the place that I will call my home for the next 4 or 5 months. Coming back to Tangier after a grand tour of Morocco, I know why I chose to make this place my home. The sunsets themselves are hard to beat. The summer sun sets behind the city on the Atlantic coast illuminating the sky with beautiful oranges and reds (I've only seen more more orangey sunsets in Los Angeles, but I think that is more because of the man-made pollution and exhaust of the 10 million residents... not the master artist himself). The clouds have both an airbrush and blotchy effect, I thought only obtainable on a canvas painting with oil or acrylic. But then I realize, isn't the one who created all this a better artist than the one who paints colorful sunsets and cool cloud formations on a two-dimensional sheet of canvas? Of course there is more to Tangier than the sunsets, like the 24 hour/day ocean breeze or the choice to take a dip in the Atlantic or the Mediterranean. But I'm just a really big fan of the sunsets. And the people of Tangier... well... they are... OK... I guess. (sarcastic). I love Tangerines (not only the fruit, but the people too). But I'm not going to show favoritism to my friends from Tangier because someone from Casablanca, Marrakech, or Fez might be reading this and I like them too! Also, after reading A.J. Jacob's book "A Year of Living Biblically", I've been inspired to follow the bible as literal as possible (I'm nowhere close... but it's worth a shot). The Apostle Paul writes "God does not show favoritism" (Romans 2:11) and Jesus says "Be perfect, for God is perfect." (Matthew 5:48). Therefore, I figure that in order to be perfect (no simple task for a guy like me), I probably shouldn't show favoritism to the people of Tangier, despite my love for the city.

Anyways, I heard some good news last night. One of my friends spent the summer working for a producer here in Tangier and was able to work on a few film sets. Tangier has been frequented in several movies. It's a scenic city conveniently situated on the Straight of Gibralter, looking right at the Southern coast of Spain. Between the countless rooftop terraces and the cafe-lined streets facing Mediterranean, it's no wonder that it has shown up in so many films, including the most recent, Bourne Ultimatum, the last of the Bourne Trilogy, where Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is filmed jumping from rooftop to rooftop through the medina (great movie... highly recommended). My friend also told me that she saw Matt Damon a few years ago when he was here filming at the same cafe that I go to just about every day. I don't know why, but this makes me feel cool, or special, because I go to the same hip cafe that Matt Damon went to when he was here. But then Jesus' words cut deep, "For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted" (Matthew 23:12). This whole "be perfect" thing is a bit harder than expected. Maybe with a bit more time and practice, it might become a bit more feasible. OK.... so the good news. I guess Leonardo DiCaprio flew in yesterday and he's shooting a film in the Medina for the next ten days. I was tempted to go meet Mr. DiCaprio at the airport, but maybe I'll just camp out at the 5-star hotel he's staying at and hopefully get an autograph. As I'm writing this, I realize that I have no idea the purpose for telling you this. Unless of course you were wondering where the pop star was, or if celebrities ever come to Morocco, now you know. On to more relevant things...

Ramadan starts tomorrow... I think. For those of you who don't know, Ramadan is a month of fasting (no food, water, smoking, sex, or fighting) from sun up till sun down and is required of all Muslims (with exception for those who are pregnant or have other health issues/restrictions... they have to make up the days of fasting later) as one of the Five Pillars of Islam. It is one of the most important times of the Muslim year, when adherents fast, remember those who are less fortunate, and spend lots of time with family (unless you are in your early 20's and you study away from home, like many of my friends). There has been so much anticipation leading up to Ramadan, especially on TV where they advertise these cheesy Saudi soap operas and "comedies" that are aired during the month (During Ramadan, people watch tons of TV... more about that later). For those who haven't had any experience with Ramadan in the Arab world, think of Easter weekend on steroids. On Easter, churches around America are packed and nearly everyone becomes a church goer that Sunday. Multiply that times thirty. Mosques (so I hear) are so packed that people can't even fit into the mosques and are praying outside on the surrounding streets and sidewalks. Restaurants close, except for those ones that stay open for tourists. It is serious stuff. If a Moroccan (Muslim) breaks the fast in daylight by taking a sip of water in public, he can be arrested. Can you imagine during Lent (the 40 days leading up to Easter) if Police went up to people asking if they gave up (or fasted from) anything during the 40 days? If they answered "no" they would be arrested, but if they said "yes, chocolate" then they were safe from the Police (and God's wrath). When I think about people giving up chocolate for Lent, it makes me wonder if it's really worth it. Jesus fasted for 40 days... and we give up chocolate. I just don't think that's what Jesus had in mind. Maybe something more like food and water, as He did. Maybe then we'd know what it's like to be poor, without food, and the only thing in life we have to count on is God. But then I'm just being too idealist.

Back to Ramadan. You get the point... this is important stuff! It's on the top 5 (pillars) list of Islam for Heaven's sake. But, do we know when it's starting? Does anyone know when it's starting? Earlier this week, I was told that Ramadan would start on Thursday, or maybe Friday. Later in the week, I started hearing, "Friday... maybe Saturday". Even last night (Thursday) still no one was 100% sure, "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe Saturday". "No. Saturday or Sunday" someone else said. I understand that it all depends on the moon, but with 1.3 billion Muslims anticipating this 30 day fast, it's hard to imagine that all 1.3 billion are sitting around wondering if it's going to be Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. So, assuming it starts tomorrow, today will be the last day I get to enjoy drinking water and eating (i'm not much of a smoker or a fighter, so those aren't too bad for me to give up and I'm not married, so I don't have to worry about the sex) during the day. I can understand why non-Muslims living in or visiting a Muslim country during Ramadan might not fast. But eating or drinking in public is just flat out inconsiderate (in my opinion). It is my goal to fast during Ramadan and if at any point I change my mind (not planning on it) or I need to eat or drink because of illness, I will still not do so in public, simply out of the respect to my Muslim brothers and sisters fasting around me. As I mentioned before, Ramadan is a time of sacrifice. When we give up the basic everyday norms, we not only rely on God's grace and mercy, but also humbled to think of those who are less fortunate than ourselves (the majority of the world). There is purpose in the month of Ramadan, not just several weeks of hollow actions and practices. Although he was talking about his experience with Judeo-Christian traditions, the words of A.J. Jacobs can be applied in this Muslim context as well, "I thought religion would make me live with my head in the clouds, but as often as not, it grounds me in this world."

Unfortunately, there is a negative side to Ramadan that I feel necessary to share. Of course, there may be some Muslims who don't really follow Islam and therefore might eat and drink and smoke on their own during Ramadan. These may be called "Cultural Muslims", a term used by one of my Moroccan friends. He told me this term when describing the commonalities between Morocco and Mexico. Having spent a significant amount of time in Mexico, he was making a parallel between Catholic Mexicans and Muslim Moroccans. Statistically, they each represent almost 100% of their respective populations. However, there are some Catholics who are Catholic because they are Mexican and because almost everyone else (in Mexico) is, just as there are some Muslims who are Muslims simply because they are Moroccan. In both cases, they are more "cultural" than religious. Their life reflects a life that is more in line with the greater culture than that of a life of real and relevant faith. This isn't even the negative side that I'm talking about. I think this "cultural (fill in the blank here)" term is somewhat universal. It can be applied to Catholics, Christians, Muslims, Jews and probably Hindus, Buddhists, and Atheists. Ok, maybe not atheists, but anyways... During the month of Ramadan, many Muslims, whether or not they fast or eat, can usually be found in front of the TV, watching cheesy Saudi Ramadan sitcom specials. I don't mean to say that you can't watch TV during Ramadan (who am I to judge?), but it seems like it takes away the purpose of this holy month, especially when watched 12 or 15 hours a day. A bit like giving up chocolate for Lent, maybe TV sitcoms aren't what God had in mind. Furthermore, most Muslims wake up before the first call for prayer (around 3:30 or 4am) to eat their last/first meal before the sun comes up, then go back to sleep for a few hours before starting the day. I have no objection to this. It's when people wake up at 3 or 4am to eat, then go back to sleep until 1 or 2pm. They wake up in the afternoon, go pray at the mosque, then come back for a late afternoon nap. Before you know it, the sun's down and it's time to eat again. What's the point of fasting when you spend most of your time awake feasting? Of course they "followed" the rules and restrictions of fasting from sun up until sun down, but was it really a sacrifice? Of course I could "follow" the rules by giving up eating chocolate or white bread for Lent, but is that getting at the heart of it? I have so much respect for those who, despite the side-effects of not eating or drinking, continue to work during Ramadan, who wake up before noon, and who fast without complaining. It's not about drawing attention to ourselves, but being humbled and sacrificing. I hope that after saying all this that I fall into the former category as one who sacrifices the things taken for granted every day to rely on God and to begin to understand what it might be like to be poor and hungry.

I don't mean to end on a negative note because this is not the heart of Ramadan. But I do feel like I would be unjust in saying that Ramadan is a super-holy month, its heart and purpose observed by ALL Muslims all across the world. That would just be like saying that ALL Christians give away half of their possessions to the poor, lend money to others without being expected to be paid back, invite strangers into their homes, when taken to court they offer the persecutor the clothes off their back, visit those in prison, or love their enemies and do good to those who hate them. Maybe one day...

Until then, reflect (and act) on Gandhi's probably-overstated, yet timelessly applicable words, "Be the change you want to see in the world."

(If you aren't challenged by these words, then maybe something is wrong... or I'm living in a different world than you and we need to talk)