http://www.ny002.urj.net/clergy/rabnathan.htm
Rabbi's
column
Can bridges be built between Jews and Muslims?
As Jews, there are many times when we
find ourselves out of our comfort zone. And though for most of us, living here
in New York, our daily lives are not predicated on this fact, most of us could
share at least one incident, if not hundreds, when being Jewish made us feel
different, uncomfortable, maybe unsafe…. certainly “other.”….
Yet the one place you'd assume to feel the most safe and at home, Jewishly
speaking, is here in our own synagogue, our spiritual safe house, where we call
the shots. Yet a few weeks ago, sitting in the Grant Conference
Center, for our sixth
Bridges Session, the zone was altered…and even though I was sitting at my
own table, I didn't feel quite at home…
What is Bridges? It's this year's monthly
adult education offering, focusing on “building bridges between our faith
and others.”… Each month, we have had a different presenter, mostly
clergy from our local community…. Our conversations have been
enlightening, respectful, and also quite comfortable.
But sitting at the table that night, I
had the opportunity to feel not quite so comfortable, and I don't think that
this is such a bad thing. For when Imam Hassanain Rajabali, from the Tawheed
Institute in White Plains
sat down next to me and began his talk on what Islam and Judaism have in
common, I found myself listening extra closely. How would this Imam, create a
bridge between two religions- two cultures that, despite their similar origin,
have so much misunderstanding and mistrust between them.
I always find it fascinating to try and
view myself from an outsiders' perspective.…I do it here in our
synagogue, when I know that non-Jews are sitting among us. Suddenly I consider
melodies, language, and ritual that I take for granted and wonder how it feels
to be sitting here among us? What does it sound like? Are our visitors confused
or intrigued? Do they feel alienated and shut out, or welcomed and invited in?
And I did it last night sitting at the table next to Mr. Rajabali because while
sitting at the table were familiar white Jewish faces, sitting around us,
making up an outer circle were very unfamiliar faces, dark, North African
faces, young and old…children, teenagers and adults. The men were in what
we'd call “western dress,' But all the women were covered-- wearing black
from head to toe. Mr. Rajabali had asked me last week if he could bring some
guests with him. “Of course” I said, “any one you would like
to bring along is welcome!” I suppose I didn't consider what it would
feel like to have 20 or so Muslims creating a circle around us, as we heard
their quite articulate teacher share his vision of Islam…. and the
possibility of building bridges with Judaism .
“Rabbi Sirkman asked me to
speak about the differences in our communities ,” he began, “ but I prefer to talk about the many similarities we
share.” And so he did… not only did Imam
Rajabali refer to stories in the Koran which are very much our own, mentioning
the Islamic prophets: Adam, Noah, Abraham and Joseph and the only slightly
variant versions of their lives from what we read in our Torah, but he shared
mutual philosophical perspectives on God, pointing to the fact that both Islam
and Judaism believe in the purity of one deity as opposed to Christianity,
which creates a tri-partite understanding of God's presence- the father, the
son, and the holy spirit. He also shared Islamic philosophy of how we, as
humans, try to categorize or define God through attributes such as mercy,
justice and compassion, but that these explanations are incomplete and only
necessary for us as limited human beings- very Maimonidian. But most amazingly,
Rajabali spoke about the universal need for human beings to always respect the
other. That most people desire happiness as well as peace and tranquility. And
that dialogue is possible as long we “agree to disagree agreeably”.
It was surreal, to be sitting next to an Imam (which I admit I have never done
before). A clean cut, handsome man, probably in his mid 40s, sharing
perspectives on Islam that sounded so very familiar and similar to our own
perspectives on Judaism.
Amazing, right?….So what was
missing? There was no real dialogue. Yes, some challenging questions were asked
from those sitting around the table. And they were all respectfully, if not
always satisfactorily, answered. But all the answers, all the insights, all the
perspectives were shared by Rajabali not by the parallel would-be bridge
builders sitting around us. They, our visitors, were silent, allowing their
leader and teacher to speak for them. Did they agree with him? Or was he
sharing the public party line? Did they look at us and think “we all come
from our father the prophet Abraham? These are our brothers and sisters. We
should find a way to create connections.” Or did they feel alienated and
sit in judgment of our western liberal ways? Did they come so that their
teacher would not be alone, a show of solidarity? Or did they join him so that
they could hear the Jewish perspective and try to understand how Jewish eyes
see the Muslim world.
I'm not sure. But this I do know. Two
dozen observant Muslims were welcomed into our Synagogue last night. They sat
with us, listened to their teacher, heard our questions and stayed after the
program, to chat with our members and have some food…at our table. Before
we parted, I said to the Imam, “next time we'll come to you.” He
seemed open, even enthusiastic about the prospect. The thought of an ongoing
interfaith dialogue with the Muslim community of White Plains feels exciting, somewhat
radical, and full of possibility. Rajabali is a moderate, Shiite, Muslim of
Tanzanian origin. He is not a Sunni Arab from Iraq. He is not a Palestinian. But
so what? Dialogue is dialogue…and bridges…no matter how
small….still open pathways to greater communication and understanding.
Rajabali quoted a Islamic saying: “ To save one life…is as if to save an entire
nation .” Our Talmud teaches: “ To save one soul is to save the
world entire. ” If we don't start small, we don't
start at all; these parallel teachings seem to be saying. One conversation can
hopefully lead to another, and another, and another.
In the forward to the book: How to be
a Perfect Stranger: A Guide to Etiquette in Other Peoples' Religious Ceremonies
Sanford Cloud, Jr. the President and CEO of the National Conference of
Christians and Jews, parallels Imam Rajabali's shared perspective…and
calls us into dialogue:
For understanding to increase, our
differences need not disappear. But they must be understood before we come to
know that the values we share are far greater in number and importance than any
real or perceived differences. Without that understanding, perception threatens
to become reality. Unless we find new ways to talk to each other, we'll be left
talking about each other. And we know where that can lead us….Religious
belief can be particular without being intolerant,…it can be ferverently
held without being divisive, it can ennoble life with a concern for the common
interests of a society reflective of many different traditions.
So this is what I took away from our
interaction with the Muslim Community of White Plains: We live in this world
with so many peoples who are different from ourselves, yet if we closely
examine what each human being wants in life it is ultimately the same: health,
happiness, stability, greater meaning. Dialogue is not about convincing the
other side we are right and they are wrong. It is as Imam Hassanain Rajabali
believes, about “agreeing to disagree agreeably”. I wasn't
comfortable sitting at the table that night, because I wasn't sure what I was
going to hear, and I wasn't sure I was going to like it. It was a risk to have
a Muslim leader come and speak to us, just as it was a risk for him to come and
bring some of his community with him. Yet, imagine the progress we could make,
if we were all willing to take these kinds of risks. Imagine what the world
could be – if we could all agreed to disagree agreeably. May it some day
be God's will…..AMEN.
Rabbi Mara Nathan
Rabbi Nathan