Lies In-between
After last week’s story about the protesters, the algorithm took over, and I began seeing too many examples of religious intolerance, and wondered if it is the prevailing attitude.
Fortunately, only three people conducted the protest described last week. Just a few days earlier, the Texas Governor hosted a Diwali celebration at his official residence. Far less reported are the legion of examples of people of different faiths protecting one another against violence or restrictions on religious practices. The Wandering Worshipper includes the story of local Baptists allowing Muslims to worship in their Christian church while the mosque was under construction. In last year’s Ramadan message, the Vatican called on Catholics and Muslims to not only co-exist as co-workers but to become genuine brothers and sisters.
Can we dismiss last week’s protesters as a fringe group like internet trolls, unworthy of our response? Or, do we risk being the good person who does nothing and allows evil to prevail? Should we first reflect on our usual conduct and the message our actions convey? Can we choose an indirect, low-profile response by taking advantage of everyday opportunities to promote harmony?
Serendipity
On my recent visit to Chicago, I was curious about the unusual name of my Gen Y/Z Uber driver, FNU. When I asked about it, he explained that his real name is Shaik and that in India, first and last names are often combined on immigration paperwork. As a result, “First Name Unknown” is assigned frequently as the first name.
His Indian heritage prompted me to share the story of my visit to India, where I was pressed into service as the father of the bride and performed numerous Hindu wedding rituals, including reciting prayers in Sanskrit. He enjoyed the story, but told me he was Muslim.
I responded with “Ramadan Mubarak,” a greeting for the Islamic holy season. I mentioned my Muslim friendships and satisfied his curiosity about my shawl by explaining it was a gift from my Pakistani assistant. I also shared my visit to the mosque as part of The Wandering Worshipper story. Shaik brought up the common Abrahamic origins of our faiths and the divergence caused by Ishmael and Isaac. He obviously has nothing against Christians; he proposed marriage to one (who subsequently converted to Islam).
This far-ranging conversation occurred during the five-minute ride from Little Ricky’s home to my accommodations. As we pulled up to the building entrance, he said he would like to read my book. I told him to wait while I ran upstairs to retrieve the one copy I brought to Chicago.
When I returned to the lobby, I found him waiting inside. He said he wanted to take a picture with me. His gesture brought me joy, and I gave him a big hug. I signed the book, and after he showed me a picture of his recent wedding, we snapped a selfie. We embraced, and he was off to his next fare.
At no point did I encourage him to get dunked in holy water, nor did he suggest I consider the Quran for spiritual truth. I do not believe either of us is one step closer to converting to the other’s religion. I cannot say we love each other.
But I cannot recall a time in my first 62 years when I hugged someone twice within the first 15 minutes of meeting them.
We did not intend for our actions to promote unity between different faiths or to serve as a counter-protest against intolerance. Those outcomes are the joyful byproducts of our spontaneous behavior.
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Shaik’s conduct made a much deeper and more lasting impact than any clever social media post or Coexist logo on his LinkedIn profile ever could.
