Discipline of Being Present

I've conducted two interviews in the last two days, and they were VASTLY different in some ways, and similar in others.  While one interviewee, when asked about his contact with Arab-American Muslims, gave names, jobs, stories and conveyed such a sense of love that I couldn't help but be moved.  The other?  He was able to give a location where two he thought might be Arab American worked and he'd had contact with them there, but couldn't name any in his area nor any contact he'd had with them personally.  He said, in fact, "they might go to my church, and I had just assumed they were Indian.  I think they're Indian." Another person in the room was quick to remind him that if they're Muslim, they're probably not going to his church (though I did give the example of one Muslim friend who'd been raised going to church activities for the social interaction in a small town).

 The thing that struck me most though was their answers to my question, "Do you know of any Arab-American Muslims in your community?"  The first said "I knew of Arab-American Muslims in the 1950s when I was first in this community"--and then told me a story about his first interactions with a young Muslim man when he was a college student.  He told me about learning Arabic in the 1970s and of taking college students to the Mosques and staying overnight in Muslim homes and the profound impact that had on their understanding of Islam and the culture.  He said he didn't know of any Muslims since 9/11  in the university community where he taught, and he said "if they were here, and anyone knew about it, I would know that they are here and seek them out."  The other interviewee said something like "I don't know of any Arab-American Muslims being mistreated in our community.  I've heard of it in places like Maryland, but I don't know of any cases in (our suburb) or really in the St. Louis area for that matter.  Now, you'll probably go find a newspaper article to prove me wrong."  I clearly stated afterward that I wasn't there to trip him up--just to get a better sense of sentiments and ways in which we talk about 9/11 now.  When I asked him if he knew personally of any Arab-American Muslims in his district, he said, "You know, I never really notice.  They may be there, but I don't know anyone personally for sure.  I don't look at them about go "Muslim" or "Arab"--if they live and work in our community, I just assume they're one of us."

This struck me oddly--was I really asking folks to point out Arab-American Muslims in order to 'other' them?  That wasn't my goal, but might be part of the outcome depending on how they understood the question. Why did he seem to think that noticing should only be done if harm was coming to someone or being done by someone? How did I justify asking about this?  Well, I started thinking about my goal in this project--it wasn't just rhetoric, but how welcoming and accepting a community was--and then I remembered the Good Samaritan story.  It's not the robbers that Jesus focuses on--and the 'bad guys' of the story?  Are people who walk right by (or, in veggietales, they sing "we're busy! busy!  dreadfully busy!  You've no idea what I have to do! Much much too busy for you!") See the story below :D

Luke 10:25- 35

The Parable of the Good Samaritan

 ²⁵ On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

   ²⁶ “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

 ²⁷ He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’^[a]; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’^[b]”

   ²⁸ “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

 ²⁹ But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

 ³⁰ In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. ³¹ A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. ³² So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. ³³ But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.³⁴ He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. ³⁵ The next day he took out two denarii^[c] and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

When I was first asked about my interest in this project, one of my standard answers was to bring attention to the treatment of Arab-American Muslims post-9/11.  Bayoumi ("How's it feel to be a problem?," 2008) and Tehranian ("Whitewashed, " 2009) have done a great job of this, for anyone willing to read and to listen.  It may have gone beyond this goal (now I see it more as a story of resilience and faith in the face of persecution), but as I've seen in recent interviews, the skill of being present and paying attention to what's going on with your neighbors (in a genuinely caring sense) is part of what we're called to as Christians--and something that we often forget or neglect.