My translation earphones
went silent for a few minutes, as I sat at the Forum for Promoting Peace in
Muslim Societies. For three days in Abu Dhabi, from December 2-4, mostly
Muslim, but also Christian and Jewish; religious leaders, academics and
politicians spoke to the delegates in Arabic, English and French.
The speeches were
simultaneously translated into the other two of the three main languages. That
worked, until Imam Abdullahi Abubakar (83) from Nigeria spoke in his native
language; Hausa.
This Imam had risked his
life when he confronted an extremist gunman seeking to kill two hundred and
seventy-five Christians that he had sheltered in his Mosque and home. The
softly spoken, bearded, black man in the blue turban had told the attacker to
kill him first, and succeeded in saving the lives of the Christians.
While many words were
spoken at this Forum, it was his heroic deed and our inability to understand
him that captured both the spirit and a challenge of the forum, respectively.
As someone who is
concerned about bridging the divide between Muslims, Jews, Christians and
others, I found the forum reassuring. It was convened by one of the most
accomplished Islamic authorities in the world, Sheik Abdul Bin Bahya.
There were many hundreds
of guests, from a vast number of countries from Mauritania to Afghanistan. They
were predominantly Muslim leaders, as the main object was change within the
Muslim global community. However, many sessions included Christian and Jewish
speakers as part of interfaith panels, demonstrating their commitment to
dialogue by putting it into practice.
There was also lively,
more informal interaction outside the sessions, between religious leaders of
the various faiths present. I noticed the acclaimed US Muslim leader Hamza
Yusuf deep in conversation with one of the US based senior Rabbis late into the
night. A UK based Imam was delighted to chat with me about Muslim and Hasidic
spiritual singing. These are just a few of the examples I saw.
On the other hand, there
was a lot of potential for dialogue that was not realised. The language barrier
was a big factor. The Jewish delegation of more than a dozen rabbis, based
primarily in the US and Israel, as well as two women, and similarly, many
of the delegates from across Asia and Africa, simply did not have any common
language with which to connect. I often felt bad, as I walked past people with
unfamiliar cultural dress and we just looked at each other, silently.
Our gracious Abu Dhabi
hosts provided us with certified Kosher hot food that was served in a side
room. On some occasions, some of us took our food out to the area where others
were eating and joined them for meals. On other occasions many of us chose to
stay with our fellow Jews during the meals.
One day over lunch we
discussed an alternative approach to a tradition that seems to legitimise a
view of non-Jewish people as inherently antisemitic. One of the rabbis raised
an alternative version of that passage, which applies only to a particular
person in a particular time. Perhaps more such internal conversations occurred
within each faith group, complementing those held between people with different
faiths.
One strategy that
facilitated dialogue was the small group breakout session. I joined
twenty delegates in the South East Asia group. We discussed local words that
carry the spirit of the forum. In Indonesia they have a word for “religious
moderation”: Wasatia.
As part of Wasatia they
strategically moved the study of the caliphates from the religious law syllabus
to the history section. An evangelical minister from Mindanao, in the
Philippines, taught us the word Kapua that combines being a good neighbour with
seeing oneself in the other. I offered the term Ahavat Ha’ger- love of the
powerless stranger.
On reflection, I think I
was too worried about words. The most moving part of the breakout session was
heartfelt sharing in Arabic by an older Mufti, also from Mindanao, whose people
have finally reached a peace agreement with their government. I did not understand
what he was saying but it touched me because I could feel it came from his
heart, rather than an artificial performance from his head.
Another highlight was
the Koranic singing and message of Farid Ahmed, in a wheelchair, from
Christchurch. His wife was murdered in the attack but he forgave the killer.
His heartfelt message to the white supremacists was: we don’t hate you!
The forum culminated
with the signing of a charter for a new alliance of virtue. It is hoped that
this covenant between people of all faiths will enable us to relate to each
other as partners rather than as the “other”.
So I am less concerned
about how much the words, spoken or unspoken, at the Forum will matter in the
implementation of this noble effort. Instead I look beyond the words, to the
sincerity in the hearts of those present, and to the deeds already being
undertaken by many in that room and beyond it.
Postscript: Shortly
after my experience in Abu Dhabi I spent two weeks with my parents and four of
my children in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. Recent alarming Antisemitic violence,
including murder and stabbings - perpetrated by many Black individuals - made
me feel less safe walking some streets there, but more importantly, highlights
the need for engagement between these communities. Yet, the primarily
English-speaking Hasidic Jews and Blacks, who live there side by side, have
such profound cultural differences that they might as well be speaking
different languages.
In the Torah reading
this week we read about a plea for the life of a Jewish youth, by the Hebrew
speaking Judah to the Egyptian speaking Viceroy. “I beg of you my master, may
your servant please speak a matter, into your ears?” (1). This is interpreted
as a specific request: can I speak to you directly rather than through the
interpreter (2). Judah’s deep respect for the viceroy (3) combined with his
sincerity and pathos in making his case would come through despite the language
barrier and touch the heart of his listener (4). There must be some implications
in this insight, for Jewish and black communities in the New York- New Jersey
area at this time. I am still mulling over what is happening and my experience
there, however, it is clear that gaps between the communities can be bridged if
deeply felt goodwill and respect will be in evidence in the unspoken
communication between the vast majority of the members of these communities.
1)
Genesis 44:18.
2)
Midrash Habiur, manuscript cited in Torah Shlaima on Genesis 44:18, 65, p.
1636; Kedushas Levi, in 2008 Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem, p. 100.
3)
For example: his comparison of the Viceroy to the Pharaoh in Genesis 44:18, as
understood by Rashi (first explanation), Seforno and R. Moshe Dovid Vali, Ohr
Olam (Genesis Vol. 2), second explanation, Hamesora Publishers, Jerusalem, p.
364.
4) Kedushas Levi, ibid. [ It should be noted that the Kedushas Levi states that Judah assumed that the viceroy would understand Hebrew, unlike the approach I've taken to make this point in this article. However this point of his, regarding the emotional impact of direct interpersonal communication, is really an independent insight, that it goes beyond that which is captured in the words themselves..]
4) Kedushas Levi, ibid. [ It should be noted that the Kedushas Levi states that Judah assumed that the viceroy would understand Hebrew, unlike the approach I've taken to make this point in this article. However this point of his, regarding the emotional impact of direct interpersonal communication, is really an independent insight, that it goes beyond that which is captured in the words themselves..]
