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Home Blog June 2009 June 3, 2009
June 3, 2009: On my way to Tel Aviv
Leaving you with this:
Nobel Peace Laureate Mairead Maguire wrote on June 1 Dear Eileen,
I have just finished reading your wonderful book ‘Keep Hope alive’. I found it most inspiring and can see in your story the influences of your Spiritual journey – Merton, Dorothy day, Fox, St. John of the cross, Francis!! All of whom I share as they are, I believe, great guides to the Spiritual journey.
The book brought me closer to you Eileen – and I was Moved by your great heart and compassion for all those who suffer – Especially the Israelis and the Palestinians and people of Gaza.
Thank you for your faithfulness to them (and for helping to provide and Plant so many Olive trees – a real symbol of hope for the Palestinians.
We had a great con. In Guatamala with very many wonderful women, You would have enjoyed it very much.
You may wish to check out the Nobel womens website and/or Open democracy webnet who covered it –
http//www.opendemocracy.net.audio/jane-gabriel-laureate-mairad Maguire-building deep democracy.
Lots of love, Mairead
Ps Hope you have a good journey home and not too tired after Middle east.
I replied:
I never come home tired from oPt-i have to battle anger- i go knowing my heart will break again over all the injustice and pain and my anger is best expressed in my writing and my faith gives me hope that all things work for the good for those that love God and are called-and DO SOMETHING-to his purpose.
"HOPE has two children. The first is ANGER at the way things are. The second is COURAGE to DO SOMETHING about it."-St. Augustine
An excerpt from KEEP HOPE ALIVE
Only a few of the characters within KEEP HOPE ALIVE are fictional- but everything they say is true-and almost everything actually happened.
Chapter 1: KEEP HOPE ALIVE: THE MORNING AFTER APRIL 4, 1968
Mary
woke at dawn and re-entered the living room for the first time since
she had said goodnight the night before. She was not surprised to see
Khaled sprawled out in his recliner or Riad at peace on the sofa. But
she was dismayed to see Art curled in fetal position on the black and
white checkered tile at the front door.
She
gently stepped over him into the red and white kitchen as the morning
sun broke through the garden window. The sun illuminated the
cherry-blonde slab stump of an ancient olive tree that had been hewn
into a kitchen table and received as a wedding gift from family and
friends, who lived in Khaled’s hometown, the village of Majd Al Krum,
in Upper Galilee. Even on the most frigid morning, Mary felt warmed by
the high-gloss patina of the tabletop, but held more dear the
signatures and marks from the entire town etched underneath.
Mary
silently performed the morning ritual of brewing the first of many pots
of Turkish coffee for the day, gratefully inhaled the piquant aroma,
and then quickly exited up the back staircase to the bedrooms to wake
her daughter for school. When Mary returned to her kitchen after
escorting Ahmeena to her third grade classroom, she was not surprised
to find Khaled and Riad at the table, downing a second pot of the
Turkish brew.
“Please, Mary, don’t say a word. I drank too much, and now I am paying the price.”
“Khaled,
the pain in your face brings me to tears; you are clearly suffering. I
will not add to your misery. But you, Riad--you look buoyant. What’s
your secret?”
Riad chuckled. “Tolerance.”
Mary
marveled at how his gleaming pate radiated the sun’s rejection through
the garden window that showcased a pendulous purple wisteria and bird
bath, where blue jays had immediately gathered to eat the seed she had
just put out.
At
that moment, Art stumbled into the room, banging his shoulder against
the wall and hip into the butcher-block counter. “Oiy! Sylvia is going
to fry me! I thought I’d be back at her sister’s by noon, but that bad
news about Martin Luther King, Jr., hit us all like a left to the
liver! I thought last night would be only good reminiscing, but reality
intruded. Hmm, Thanks, Mary, I need this brew.” He nodded and
gratefully downed the pungent coffee that Mary had just set before him.
“So, who wants breakfast?”
“Just toast, Mary, my love,” Khaled whimpered weakly.
“Same for me.” Riad beamed, and Mary thought how grateful she was to know him.
Art whispered, “Have you any Mylanta, Mary?”
Mary suppressed a smile as she turned to retrieve it, when the unmistakable seven knock's of Ahmad was heard at the front door.
“Namaste!” Ahmad bellowed as he opened the red door, reminding Mary of a Cheshire cat without any guile at all.
Riad replied, with a beatific smile, “The God in me salutes the God in you, too.”
“Art, Khaled, look what I found in the gutter.” Ahmad nudged a redheaded muscular youth forward as hard as he could.
“Why,
Jack Hunt, I haven’t seen you in weeks; come in, dear.” Mary was always
happy to see any of the eleven Hunt children who lived next door.
Khaled stood to welcome his neighbor and asked, “Jack, why aren’t you in class this morning?”
“Well,
I didn’t know until I showed up that poli-sci and humanities were both
canceled. Both professors are heading to King’s funeral. They both
marched with him in 1964. I am free until three, when I have football
practice. I was just getting out of the car and hoping to catch up on
some sleep, when Ahmad accosted me and dragged me in here.”
Riad stood with his palms together and slightly bowed. “Welcome, Jack. I’m Riad, and the poor fellow to my right is Art.”
“Oh man, Art, you look like shit! I hope it’s not contagious.”
“Shut up and sit,” Art growled.
“Ahmad, we expected you for dinner last night. I made your favorite— roasted lamb.”
“Oh,
so sorry to have missed you all, but after I left Khaled’s going-away
party at Westinghouse, I worked through the night. In fact, I have not
eaten since the goodbye brunch yesterday; I could use some lamb right
now.”
Mary
turned swiftly and began emptying the refrigerator. While Art moaned,
she asked, “Please, Ahmad, I have not heard a word about the going-away
party; fill me in.”
Ahmad
grinned and nodded. “Well, the best part was at the very end, when
Khaled stood at the microphone and spoke with tears in his eyes to the
two hundred people who had gathered to say goodbye. He held us
spellbound with his words: ‘My dear friends, I am overwhelmed by this
turnout. I have been blessed. I will miss you all very much. Thank you
for the kind words, the gifts, the memories, and all your good work. I
also want to leave a remembrance with one of you.’
“And
it was I, Ahmad, who held the fish bowl filled to capacity with
everyone’s signatures that Khaled reached his hand into and then pulled
out a paper scrap, unfolded it, and called out, ‘Oh, Bubbles McGrath!
You have won. Come up here and receive your gift!’ Now, Bubbles is a
short, plump blonde, who jumped up like a toad and screamed, ‘Oh my
gosh! I have never won anything!’ She literally bounced her way to
where Khaled and I stood, but I quickly got out of the way, as the man
of the hour held out a festively wrapped box like a shield to protect
himself from the force of the rushing Bubbles McGrath. Blubbles flung
her arms around Khaled and kissed him on the mouth, then blurted out,
‘Oh, thank you, Khaled, I am so excited!’ It was incredible, how she
tore the box open like a child at Christmas, and when her face beheld
the treasure inside, her lower lip quivered, and she quietly whispered,
‘Thanks.’ Then she held out the gunmetal gray snow shovel, and the room
roared!”
Mary
had noticed Jack was oblivious to Ahmad’s tale. As he stared out the
garden window, she intuited he was worried about his sister Bonnie, a
WAC nurse in Vietnam, and his brother Kevin, who was in the Navy. While
the men were still chuckling over Ahmad’s tale, Jack startled them all
as his words rushed out. “My professor told me that he marched with
King because, even though he himself was an atheist, he felt in
community with the diversity of people of faith who had come together
with one voice demanding justice. He said King had a power to make you
believe you were connected to every other person in the crowd as if
they were a sister or a brother.”
A
heavy, pregnant silence filled the room, and Mary held her breath until
Jack turned toward her, his eyes like blazing emeralds, and with a
sardonic smile, remarked, “Being stuck in the middle of ten others, I
have no desire for any more sisters or bothers.” Then, with a sigh
deeper and more meaningful than any words and with overcast eyes
brimming with tears, he softly murmured, “I will be sorry when you
Diabs depart for sunny Florida. I always appreciated you letting me use
your library, Dr. D.”
Mary
turned as her own tears fell, and Khaled mumbled, as he choked back his
own, “We will all miss you, too, Jack, but we have a few weeks left
before we will part. Let’s have some coffee now!”
Riad
beckoned Jack to sit at his right side, but Jack shook his head. “Ah,
that’s ok. Really, I have got to go. Practice is at three o’clock, and
I only came back home to get some sleep.”
Khaled
implored, “Jack, please, sit and visit. Mary, where is his coffee?
Besides, Riad has some fantastic tale we never got to hear last night,
and now is the time. Riad, the floor is yours.”
Jack
remained unmoved as Riad queried, “Have you heard the tale of the
Bedouin named Mohammed Ali? No? How about the Nag´ Hammâdi library?
Hmmm, do you know I am a master of ancient civilizations, and I speak
Greek and Hebrew fluently? Jack, you are an open book and I see you are
not at all impressed. May I ask you, have you heard of UNESCO?”
Jack
barely suppressed a smirk as he sat down in one of the seven eclectic
chairs that hugged the sides of the enormous olivewood table and
indulgently uttered, “United Nation Educational Scientific and Cultural
Organization.”
“Correct,
but I’ll get to that later. For the story I want to tell you all, dates
back to antiquity. But I will begin in 1945, in Egypt, in the land just
above the bend of the Nile, north of the Valley of the Kings, across
the river from the city of Nag´ Hammâdi, near the hamlet of al-Qasr,
under a cliff called Jabal al-Tarif. An Egyptian Bedouin named Mohammed
Ali was out gathering sabakh, a nitrate-rich fertilizer for the crops
that he grew in the small hamlet of al-Qasr. He was aghast to stumble
upon a skeleton as he dug, and bewildered when he uncovered a two-foot
high earthenware jar. A bowl had been placed over the top, and it was
sealed with bitumen. At first, the Bedouin thought an evil genie was
within, but when he shook the heavy jar, he heard things moving and
thought it might be gold. He smashed the jar open and out fluttered
pieces of gold particles that he tried to catch, but they disappeared.
When he peered into the jar, he was dismayed to find twelve
leather-bound books. Mohammed Ali was illiterate, so he placed no great
value on books, but was confident he could sell them and make something
for his troubles. So he carried the jar filled with books back to the
homestead.
“Now,
Mohammed Ali also happened to be a fugitive from the law, for he had
wielded the weapon that spilled the blood of a patriarch during a
violent incident in a generation-long family feud, not so very long
before. After a few days of mulling over possibilities, he decided to
give his find to the local Coptic priest for safekeeping. You see, he
feared the authorities soon would be lurking about and would confiscate
his possession before he could receive any money for it.
“His
mother ripped out many pages to keep the home fire going, and I grieve
and wonder what ancient treasures she burned. Anyway, the priest passed
it on to his brother-in-law, a traveling tutor, who brought the books
to the Coptic museum in Cairo on October 4, 1946.
“I
happened to be the assistant to the director of the antiquities
department at that time, and our department was immediately summoned to
inspect them. What we found were ancient compositions, written in
Coptic that had been translated from ancient Greek. The volumes were
leather-bound pages of papyrus, and no doubt the gold dust that
Mohammed Ali witnessed was from papyrus fragments that had broken off.
For the past twenty years, under the leadership of UNESCO, Egypt, and
the American scholar James Robinson, these anthologies and collections
of texts with titles like the Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of Mary
Magdalene have now been translated into many languages.”
Jack’s emerald orbs glinted as he quietly asked, “So?”
“Well,
I believe when this knowledge has been disseminated by seekers of God,
it will prove to be a revolutionary find. You see, the texts date back
to the early days of Christianity. The most likely source for these
books was the Pachomius Monastery, which thrived for centuries just
three miles from the burial site. I believe a monk buried these books
in the wilderness under the cliff of Jabl al-Tarif for safe-keeping.”
“But why would a monk hide some books? What for?” Jack sipped his second cup of coffee as he kept his eyes riveted on Riad.
“Well
Jack, two thousand years ago, there were many different understandings
of Jesus among Christians. Now, thanks to the treasures of Nag´
Hammâdi, we know how rich and diverse those understandings were. These
texts had been deemed heretical by those who were gaining power through
the political arena. Surely you know about Emperor Constantine?”
“Of
course, he lived in the fourth century, didn’t he? Wasn’t he a pagan
warrior who became the first Christian ruler, but waited until he was
on his deathbed before being baptized?”
“Yes
and the most decisive event in the history of Christendom occurred when
Emperor Constantine accepted the Christian faith, for those who had
once been persecuted were now protected by an earthly king. Both a
patriarchal monarchical state and church were formed at the same time.
Power struggles and debates were common among the early Christians.
Individual churches determined which texts were read, and they all had
their favorites. Constantine sought to unite his empire, and uniting
the church was a savvy political move. He announced he would pay for
fifty illuminated copies of scripture to be bound, and thus the
biblical canon was established and sealed. There was fierce debate
among the bishops about what should be included and what left out.
“The
proto-orthodox, who had now become the dominant voice, determined what
was heretical for everyone. The proto-orthodox demanded much-loved
scripture to be burned, usually because it did not fit their
understanding of God. No doubt, what was found at Nag´ Hammâdi is
thanks to an unknown monk who lived a few miles away in the Pachomius
Monastery. If the authorities had found out about him, these texts and
that monk would both have burned!”
“But
why were the books deemed heretical? Why were they suppressed? What was
the establishment afraid of?” Jack’s eyes remained riveted on Riad.
“Well
Jack, many of these texts were considered Gnostic. Gnosis is defined as
knowledge discerned institutively. Gnostic texts offer deep mystery
that is discerned via intuition, not rational thought. This is not the
way for fundamentalists. A Gnostic is open to receiving intuitive
knowledge of deep spiritual truth. For students of the New Testament,
this is a much greater find than the Dead Sea Scrolls. Forty of the
texts had previously been unknown to modern scholars. Thirty-five
scholars have been working diligently on these translations, and we all
agree that the bound books themselves date back to the fourth century
and were written in Coptic translated from Greek and Aramaic. The
Gospel of Thomas is a collection of the sayings of Jesus, words of
wisdom, proverbs, parables, and some very confounding mysteries. About
35 of the 114 sayings have no counterpart in the New Testament, while
at least 20 are almost identical, and 54 have similarities. Many
scholars concur that the sayings were originally written in Syriac, a
dialect of Aramaic, the language of Jesus and his followers. It is very
possible the sayings are closer to the words Jesus actually spoke than
what is found in the canonical gospels.”
“I
am still not clear about why there was so much censorship. If the
people were talking about Jesus and what he said, that seems better
than not talking about him at all.”
“Agreed,
and two thousand years ago, there was lively debate about who Jesus
was, and why he came. Jack, you do understand that history is always
written by the winners, right?”
“Of course I know that! And now, I suppose you will tell me all about the losers?”
“Well,
the proto-orthodox, who were the majority, considered these texts
anathema. Texts were deemed heretical for many reasons, and usually it
was because they did not fit neatly into the evolving dogma. Gnostic
texts offer us mystery, not answers. For centuries, all we had to
reconstruct Gnostic beliefs were the hostile accounts against them
given by Irenaus, Tertullian, Hippolytus, Epiphanius, and other church
fathers who disagreed with the Gnostic understanding.”
“Yeah,
well, I don’t do church anymore, but my sister Maureen is a nun, and my
brother Mike is a priest. I wonder what they would think of all this
stuff. Might tick them off, is my guess.”
“Now
Jack, we must be kind to the early church fathers; they were flawed
like all of humanity, but they did the best they could. We are all
guided by the inner light and by how much light we have opened up to
receive. The gifts of Nag´ Hammâdi present us with a very diverse
Christianity, indeed.
“One
of my favorites is the Gospel of Thomas. These pithy sayings of Jesus
are meant to be heard and chewed upon. Consider sayings three and five:
‘The kingdom is inside you, and it is outside you. When you know
yourselves, then you will be known, and you will understand that you
are children of the living father,’1 and ‘Know what is in front of your
face, and what is hidden will be disclosed to you. For there is nothing
hidden that will not be revealed.’”2
“Hey, that reminds me of ‘seek and you will find,’ and ‘knock and the door will open.’
“Yes,
you see the connection. And in Thomas, sayings ninety-two and
ninety-four, Jesus says exactly that. But in saying two, Jesus speaks:
‘Let one who seeks not stop seeking until one finds. When one finds,
one will be troubled. When one is troubled, one will marvel…’”3
Jack interrupted with “Wait, I still do not get what was the big deal. Why did the authorities want these books trashed?”
“Jack,
did you know that the Gospel of Mark was written first, in about 70 CE?
Then Matthew and Luke followed in 85 CE, and the very different
sounding Gospel of John appeared just before the turn of the first
century. The Gospel of Thomas was written down as early as the middle
of the first century, and no later than the middle of the second.”
Jack interrupted. “You mean it may have been written even before the Gospel of John?”
“Exactly,
and that is why I wonder if the author of John was debating many of
Jesus’ sayings quoted by the author of Thomas. In particular, I was
struck by the fact that Matthew 12:31-32, Mark 3:28-29, and Luke 12:10
are nearly identical to Thomas saying forty-four, ‘Jesus said, “Whoever
blasphemes against the father will be forgiven, and whoever blasphemes
against the son will be forgiven, but whoever blasphemes against the
Holy Spirit will not be forgiven either on earth or in heaven.’4 The
writer of John completely left this quote from Jesus out. What do you
think about that, Jack?”
“Well,
it sounds like Jesus is just alright with whatever you think or say
about him, but the Holy Spirit--that’s God within. It sounds like Jesus
is saying it’s not so much what we think or say about him, but how we
treat one another and ourselves.”
“Spoken
well!” Ahmad grinned as he continued, “If I may share a moment, there
is the Hindu way to God through love, and it is the very path that
Jesus taught about. In fact, I think Christianity is one great
brilliantly-lit highway to God! The Hindu discipline I follow is called
bhajti yoga. What is required upon this path is loving God first, with
no ulterior motives; not even a desire to be loved back. All day, as I
do my work, I do it for God. I am in love with God, and that fills me
with a love for all men and all creation. Love God first, and
everything else falls into place, I say.”
Jack
had become excited. “You just made me remember what Mike wrote to me,
after he heard Thomas Merton speak at what became his last peace rally,
before he was electrocuted in a freak accident and died. My brother was
standing next to this nun who accosted Merton after his speech and
demanded, ‘Why didn’t you mention Christ in your speech?’ Merton
replied, ‘What we are asked to do at present is not so much to speak of
Christ as to let him live in us, so that people may find him by feeling
how he lives in us.’5 Mike wrote that after overhearing that encounter,
he quit giving his parishioners the usual list of prayers to say for
penance. Instead, he told them not to mention Jesus by name for a week,
but to keep Jesus foremost in their minds and hearts.”
Riad
beamed. “Jack, your brother is a wise man to think of such a just
penance for Christians who may forget the other names for Jesus, like
Emmanuel, meaning ‘God is with us,’ and the Prince of Peace. And Martin
Luther King, Jr., walked in his footsteps; I hope we never forget his
message of justice and equality for all humanity.”
Khaled met Art’s eyes and gently spoke. “You
know, Martin Luther King is foremost the voice for the Negro, but he
also speaks for all who seek justice. He said, ‘We have come to this
hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. Now is
the time for justice; now is the time to make real the promises of
democracy. Now is the time to lift our nation from injustice to the
solid rock of brotherhood.’”6
Art stabbed out his cigarette and injected, “Yeah,
and do you know what Reverend King said just a few weeks ago? He said,
‘Peace for Israel means security, and we stand with all our might to
protect its right to exist, its territorial integrity. I see Israel as
one of the great outposts of democracy in the world, and a marvelous
example of what can be done, how desert land can be transformed into an
oasis of brotherhood and democracy. Peace for Israel means security and
that security must be a reality.’”7
Khaled nearly blubbered,
“Reality? The reality is that Israel’s democracy does not extend to
Palestinians, whose families have lived there for centuries! Martin
Luther King also spoke about not ‘being satisfied until justice rolls
down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.’8 Reverend
King also spoke about his people’s great trials, tribulations, and
creative suffering. He spoke about injustice, but offered such hope for
change, because the American dream is that all men are created equal.
This is also the Palestinian dream. Reverend King spoke of his dream,
and I, too, have a dream, that underneath the shade of olive trees, the
descendants of Abraham will one day sit down at the table of
brotherhood.”
Art lit another cigarette as he added, “My rabbi always says, ‘If we would all just do like Micah told, we’d be alright. Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.’”9
Khaled
erupted. “I wonder if Israeli Prime Minister Levi Eshkol ever read
Micah. I read that when he was told by his generals that the IDF was
the greatest army since King David, he became ecstatic! I cannot
understand why the American government is ignoring the situation in my
homeland, when, in 1956, the US demanded Israel withdraw from the Sinai
Desert back to the international border after only three months. The
Six Day War was a year ago, and no such demands were made.
"They
have turned a blind eye to the destruction of Palestinian towns, and I
cannot believe America has not stood up to the Israelis. Not a word of
condemnation about the massive building projects in the West Bank,
Sinai, Eastern Jerusalem, and the Golan Heights! Not a word that
Palestinians are still living in refugee camps, and their homes and
olive groves have been plowed over!
"Why doesn’t America demand
equally just treatment for Palestinians, too? Yes, yes, yes, America is
focused on Vietnam. Now we mourn Martin Luther King in America, and I
mourn the lack of justice in my homeland.”
Art violently snuffed
out his cigarette and boomed, “Look, the situation is untenable. We got
nowhere discussing this last night, and you cannot forget what my
people, my very family, suffered beyond belief from the Nazis! You
cannot compare the two! Then, we must endure the inflammatory rhetoric
to ‘push the Jews into the sea!’ Why, of course we believed another
Holocaust was about to happen. How can you blame us after all we have
suffered while the world remained mute? Nobody spoke out to protect us
when the Nazis were exterminating us in ovens. My God! How can you
blame us for attacking first? Anyone would have, if they had suffered
as my people have. How can you blame us for attacking first?”
Khaled
kindly replied, “Of course, we all deeply regret the atrocities that
were inflicted upon the Jewish people. But that pain should not be used
as a reason to inflict pain on others.”
Riad shook his head,
removed his thick-lens, thin wire-rimmed spectacles and rubbed his
myopic eyes. “Yes, we all agree and we must be sensitive to the
suffering the Jewish people have endured throughout history. I was in
Egypt when the UN forces stationed on the Egyptian-Israeli border left,
and what happened next? The Egyptians blockaded the Straits of Tiran
and cut off Israeli shipping access to the Port of Eliat. Such
infantile behavior from world leaders! It’s always about control and
keeping power. If I were Irish, it would certainly get my Irish up!”
Jack
and Riad shared a smile as Art erupted. “Yes, Khaled, it is true that
just a few weeks after that blockade, Egypt, Syria, Jordan, and Iraq
signed a mutual defense agreement designed to facilitate a combined
attack on Israel. They want to obliterate Israel! You see, Khaled,
Israel had no choice but to attack first!”
Khaled was miserable.
“I read that President Johnson was asked to intervene, but I am sad.
Vietnam preoccupies this country. I am sad about many things. It was
only seven years ago in his farewell address that President Eisenhower
warned the American people to beware of the military-industrial
complex. He warned us of the danger of becoming dependent on the
manufacturing of weapons to stimulate our economy. It was a year ago
that Martin Luther King warned us that ‘any
nation, who, year after year, spends more money on military defense
than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.’10
What I see going on in the world is that everyone seems to believe that
stockpiling weapons will ensure peace and provide many jobs. This is
false security, and sows the seeds that war is the way to peace.”
Riad
rubbed his gleaming dome and looked directly at Art. “The Jewish people
have been threatened throughout their entire history. It is
understandable they are paranoid. It is justified! But, that does not
justify them treating others unjustly. The Israeli nation is surrounded
by refugee camps--refugee camps filled with indigenous Palestinians who
were forced off their land by threat of their own holocaust. Poor
leadership on all sides brings us to this place in time. The horrors
and injustice of the Holocaust are still fresh in Jewish minds. It
should remain fresh within all our minds. We should never forget the
injustice of the Holocaust. We should never forget that man’s
inhumanity to man was able to proliferate because good people did
nothing. The nations of the world turned a blind eye to the pain and
injustice the Jewish people suffered until too many had died. Now, the
Palestinians are being ignored by the world and are fighting back in
ways that will not help their cause. Injustice must always be
confronted and be withstood by peaceful means. When will this be
understood?”
“Get real, Riad. The PLO wants to wipe us out! But
God is on our side. After all, we won the war in only six days! The
Arab nations received a left to the liver by Israeli’s pre-emptive
strike, and now we control the Sinai, Gaza Strip, Suez Canal in Egypt,
West Bank, and East Jerusalem. The entire city of Jerusalem is under
Israeli control! Surely you see the hand of God in this?”
Khaled
was steaming, while Riad gently spoke. “I know you do, Art, but I see a
different side. Superior military force, and the fact that Israel was
supplied with American intelligence and knew exactly where to strike,
won it. Eighteen thousand Arab soldiers died, and Palestinian refugees
continue to be ignored. By her silence, America has legitimized the
Israeli victory, and I fear ahead of us will be more injustice, death,
and destruction. Last December, George Habash founded the Popular Front
for the Liberation of Palestine. It is a terrorist organization
inspired by communism. Each side ups the ante with more death and
destruction. When will it ever be enough?”
Art sighed deeply and
offered, “You are right, Riad; when will it be enough? The Torah
teaches that everyone is a part of God and created in the divine image.
We can even agree with Jesus that the greatest command is that we love
God with our whole hearts, souls, minds, and strength. I suppose, if
everyone did that, it would be a perfect world. You know I love you,
man, but I have got to hit the road. Sylvia and I are flying back home
to Iowa City tonight, but we will definitely see you soon in sunny
Florida.”
While Khaled and Mary escorted Art to his car, Jack turned to Riad and enquired, “What religion are you?”
Riad
smiled cryptically as he sighed, “Child, I am a student of all; my mind
is open to the wisdom of every tradition, and I am still exploring. May
I ask you, Jack, if you agree that we are all flawed, imperfect beings?
Do you believe we all come from the same source, and we will return to
that source when this journey is through? Can you entertain the thought
that this life just might, in fact, be a dress rehearsal for the next?
Do you agree that we all hear the message of the good news, limited by
our own spiritual, intellectual, and psychological capacities?”
Jack’s
eyes had become more dazzling than emeralds, and Riad laughed from his
gut. “Jack, I must be careful with you. It is with patience we are to
run the race set before us. Hmmm, I sense you would like to hear about
the stages of the soul, no?”
“Riad, you are some kind of strange, but please, go on.”
Riad
sweetly intoned, “Ah, Jack, I will not argue with you, and I joyfully
share with you that the spiritual journey is fluid, not static. One may
pass back and forth through any of the four, and maybe more, stages of
the soul in one’s journey.11 Stage one is essentially our infancy in
the spiritual life. Like a wild child, a person in this stage reflects
the inner chaotic and anti-social, unregenerate soul that is interested
only in its own self-satisfaction and ego. Stage one people may claim
to love others, but their behavior proves that they love their own
pleasure, money, power, prestige, and security above any other. For
stage one people, it really is all about them.
“The good news is
that God is already within us, so the vast majority of humanity
responds to that inner tug and seeks God, entering stage two. These
folks live virtuous lives and do many good works. They also can be
rigid, fundamental, and legalistic. They adhere to a higher human
authority than themselves for guidance. They submit to institutions,
scripture, dogma, ritual, ministers, or gurus. This is the most
appropriate stage for older children and most adults. A difference
between stages one and two is that a stage one person wouldn’t even
notice a neighbor in need, while a stage two person has awoken to the
fact that we are to be our neighbors’ keepers.
“Now, stage three
souls have awakened to the realization that one’s neighbor is everyone
on the planet, and not just those who think and look alike. Stages
threes are seekers, doubters, skeptics, and may even become atheists or
agnostics. They will study philosophy and other religions, and often
become activists for social justice and reform.
“Then there is
stage four, which is the way of the mystic. A mystic can be understood
as one in love with the divine mystery, and one who is aware of the
unity of all creation. They have gone beyond their concepts of God to
an intuitive comprehension of the divine in all creation. They are
awake to the action of God within themselves and others. Saint Francis,
the leper kisser of Assisi, was a mystic--head over heels in love with
God, in everyone and all creation. Many thought him nuts, or at least,
eccentric. The mystic realizes the connections and unity of all beings,
places, situations, past, present, and future. This person has traveled
beyond their concept of God, not by personal effort, but in response to
the invitation of the Mystery we call God, for lack of a better word.
“Now,
Jack, you have a very wild look in your eyes; I hope I have not
disturbed you too much. Please, understand that it would be violence
upon a soul to rush the work of God. A stage one or two should remain
that way until God beckons them on.”
Mary and Khaled had
returned to the kitchen just as Jack’s eyes bored into Raid's, and his
voice cracked, “You know, Mr. Riad, I’d like to tell you why I tuned
out the institutional church. Up until I was about eight years old,
every Sunday morning was spent standing in a glass-encased room that
was called, and literally was, the cry room. I would stand at the
soundproof glass and watch this show on the other side. My brother Mike
was an altar boy. I’d make faces at him, hoping to crack him up, but he
never looked my way. Every so often, I’d hear the priest’s voice filter
through the loudspeaker above my head. But it was all Latin to me: and
back then, it really was! I see myself now, just as I was: surrounded
by squirming kids and uptight adults, engulfed by the sounds of crying
and whining, and I truly believed that was church. Once my younger
siblings had grown, we got to be in the main room. It was ok.
“But
when I turned fifteen in 1963, three things occurred. By Thanksgiving
that year, I was overfilled with images of JFK being shot and John-John
during that motorcade. I still can’t get that little guy in his short
coat with his knees exposed out of my head. He saluted as the casket
rode by, but nobody knew why it had to be that way. And life as I had
known it all changed. But God is good, and three months later, the
gloom had gone. For the Beatles appeared on a Sunday night in my living
room, and the world as I had known it was never the same. Recently,
John Lennon made a comment to a reporter that the Beatles were more
popular with my generation than Jesus, and he was right on. My friends
and I know every lyric to every Beatles song, but nobody ever quotes
Jesus.
“Lennon made me think about my own hypocrisy, and that
led me to drop the church. It happened at weekly confession; there I
was at the altar, on my knees and mindlessly repeating the same old
prayers as the week before. But on that day, it was for the last time.
In the middle of the three Our Fathers and ten Hail Mary's, it hit me
like a light. These words that I uttered never changed anything, and I
got up and walked out for the very last time. But now, I understand;
I’m just a stage one! The thing is, you have given me a lot to think
about. Maybe I was just born into the wrong faith?”
Ahmad smiled
even wider and exclaimed, “Jack, a Hindu would advise you to follow the
path you have been born into. Seek God in your family tradition. Seek
where you have been placed. If, after you truly seek God there, you do
not find him, then go seek him wherever he leads. Now, have you heard
what Gandhi said about Christianity, Jack? He said that it was a most
excellent religion; they should all try it.”
“Too bad Gandhi
wasn’t there during the Crusades! Those barbarians tortured and burned
people at the stake! What kind of Christian could rationalize that? So
much hypocrisy! I will not give my soul over to another. No institution
is going to control me!” Jack announced triumphantly, and then
continued, “My best bud Al is a Jew, and we both have tuned out what
our elders have offered—too many rules! Besides, I think Christians can
be real cowards, or else they were sleeping while Hitler was gaining
power. I hate to think it, but maybe it was because they are
anti-Semitic?”
Riad interrupted, “I won’t comment on that, but
in 1965, the Second Vatican Council issued a declaration on the
relationship of the church to non-Christian religions, condemning
anti-Semitism, and recognizing ‘the bond that spiritually ties the
people of the New Covenant to Abraham’s stock.’12 Now, I realize
nineteen centuries of anti-Semitism and some very unholy behavior will
not erase the sins of the fathers, but with this new revelation begins
the healing. Hope emerges every time a wrong has been admitted and
corrected.”
Art had returned unnoticed and had silently stood in
the doorway until Riad finished and then softly spoke. “Excuse me. The
book Sylvia had been reading to me while we traveled--it’s a collection
of Einstein’s essays. I was driving down your street when a white cat
darted in front of me, and I hit the brakes. The book fell on the
floor, and that cat flew up a tree and sat, and just stared down at me
with his icy blue eyes. The book fell open to ‘The Calling of The Jews.’
"I
quote: ‘This is a time when there seems to be a particular need for men
of philosophical persuasion—that is to say, friends of wisdom and
truth—to join together…We Jews should be, and remain, the carriers and
patrons of spiritual values. But we should also always be aware of the
fact that these spiritual values are and always have been the common
goal of mankind.’13 Einstein’s advice should be heeded by all men of
good will. But it seems to me that we all can claim to do God’s will,
and yet we all can too easily justify unjust behavior.”
The
Muslim and the Jew locked eyes, and tears welled up from within them
both, and then overflowed at the same time. After a time of
timelessness, Riad softly spoke. “I offer you Thomas saying
forty-eight, and I quote: ‘Jesus said, “If two make peace with each
other in a single house, they will say to the mountain, ‘move from
here’, and it will be done.’”14
Art exhaled smoke as he spoke
directly to Khaled. “I just flashed onto another memory about how you
came to be the owner of a ’41 Pontiac with a dent in the side door
that--”
”Oh, no, Art, you can’t tell that one without me first
laying the foundation. I remember it well. Jack, did I tell you that my
friend here, Art Pearlman, hired me while I was still in college? Right
on the spot and he never regretted it. Art was the director of the
assistant-engineer-in-training program at the John Deere Company, and
supervised with an iron hand and warm heart. While still a sophomore at
State University of Iowa, I was promoted after four months on the job
to be Art’s right-hand man. We had become like brothers! Jack, remember
when I told you about Gloria breaking my heart? Yes, well, Art watched
me brood the entire week after we broke up, and he refused to allow me
to keep my broken heart to myself!”
Art grinned and continued,
“It was unbearable. I said, ‘enough with the stony silence; you look
like you are ready to explode. It’s been a long, hard week. Let’s knock
off early and grab a beer. You haven’t said a word all week—no jokes,
no smiles. Who died? What happened with you?’ Oh, how you sighed and
moaned as you related your tale of woe. I can still hear you whine, ‘I
have decided I will never get married unless I marry a girl from my own
culture. And here in Iowa, I have not met any!’ You cried in your beer,
and then I suggested you forget about marriage, have some fun, and date
some of those beautiful college girls I watched all over town.”
“Yes,
you made a good point, Art. But college girls only dated college men
who owned a car. Not only did I not own a car, I did not even know how
to drive. But, I began imagining myself behind the wheel of an
automobile and having many dates! So, the next thing I knew, we were on
Mallard Avenue, at Jim’s Used Car Lot. We were immediately pounced upon
by Jim, who demanded, ‘What are you looking to spend?’ I immediately
remembered a traumatic experience with a Syrian rug merchant when I
first fled Majd Al Krum in 1948, and I shivered and said, ‘Speak with
my advisor, Art.’ Jim placed his hands upon our backs and led us
through the lot, telling us every car was a bargain. We stopped in
front of a shiny black sedan with a dent in the passenger-side door,
and then Art took over like the master he is.”
“Right, I
negotiated a sweet deal for that pony, just two hundred dollars, cash!
But, Khaled still didn’t know how to drive. So I chauffeured him to the
public parking lot a few blocks from his boarding house, and had to
catch the bus back to the dealership to retrieve my car. That weekend
was a nephew’s bar mitzvah, but I promised, come Monday after work, I
would give Khaled his first driving lesson.”
“Ah, but I couldn’t
wait. I could already taste all those dates! I buoyantly walked to the
campus library, humming Arabic tunes, and located every book about
clutches and cars that I could find. Not until the librarian flicked
the lights at eleven at night, did I leave. I carried home a dozen
books about cars and spent the rest of the night reading.
“As
soon as the dawn broke, I headed to the public parking lot and admired
my acquisition. I carried the car keys in my pocket and thought, I
don’t have to wait for Art; I know what to do. So, I climbed behind the
wheel, located the ignition, and inserted the key. The car jumped, and
I panicked, until I located the brake, and sat gripping the wheel and
praying, ‘Please God, don’t let me hurt anyone or anything.’ For hours,
I practiced, until I mastered the clutch and was grateful I only
scratched up an old relic that someone had abandoned in the lot. By
noon, I was confidently circling the lot and tempted to venture out
into the street. I reluctantly paralleled parked, waited until Monday
morning, and arrived at work, beaming. ‘Art, I have great news. I
taught myself to drive; I am skipping lunch today. I am ready to take
my driver’s license test.’
“Well, we skipped lunch, and sure
enough, Khaled scored a hundred percent on the written exam and drove
back to work like a pro!”
“Yes, and when I got back to my
rooming house, I beeped the horn just once with sheer delight, and the
old woman who lived next door stuck her head out the window and began
cursing at me. I had feigned ignorance of English at each encounter
with her, and by maintaining a stony silence in her presence, I was
able to learn every American curse word!
__________________________________________________________________________________
1. Meyer, Marvin. The Gospel of Thomas, pg 23
2. IBID
3. IBID
4. IBID, pg. 41
5. Azar-Rucquoi, Fundamentally, It's Love Faith in Focus, April 29, 2002
6. King, Martin Luther, Jr. A Testament of Hope, pg. 217-218
7. Lewisy, San Fransisco Chronicle, Jan. 21, 2002
8. King, Testament, pg. 219
9. Micah 6:8
10. King, Testament, pg. 241
11. Peck, Different Drum, pg. 186-208
12. Columbia Encyclopedia, 5th Edition, sv. "Vatican Council, Second."
13. Einstein, Later Years, pg. 268
14. Meyer, Gospel of Thomas, pg. 43
June 2005- Video Message to USA Christians
 Click here for Vanunu's message to USA Christians filmed on 6/23/05 Windows Media
Click here to view Vanunu's Video Message on YouTube
A different excerpt:
Keep Hope Alive (an
excerpt)
by Eileen Fleming
Expressions of Nakba was an international competition and exhibition that commemorated the 60th anniversary of the Nakba: the expulsion and dispossession of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians from their homes and land in 1948.
The online gallery showcases the winning entries from the competition in addition to a wonderful range of selections in the form of visual arts, poetry, essays, music, video and digital media. --Sponsored by the US
Campaign to End the Israeli Occupation
Written Work Exhibit
The jury for the written work category carefully deliberated among the nearly 125 entries submitted to make their final selections by June 10th, 2008. The selection process took longer than expected, however we hope the results present compelling works signifying the spirit of the Nakba. The jury will provide a curatorial statement on the written work selections shortly.
Honorable Mention
Keep Hope Alive (an
excerpt)
by Eileen Fleming
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"HOPE has two children.The first is ANGER at the way things are. The second is COURAGE to DO SOMETHING about it."-St. Augustine
"He who is not angry when there is just cause for anger is immoral. Why? Because anger looks to the good of justice. And if you can live amid injustice without anger, you are immoral as well as unjust." - Aquinas |
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UNIVERSAL DECLARATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS
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The Paradoxical Commandments by Dr. Kent M. Keith People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered. Love them anyway. If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives. Do good anyway. If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway. The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway. The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds. Think big anyway. People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs. Fight for a few underdogs anyway. What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway. People really need help but may attack you if you do help them. Help people anyway. Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth. Give the world the best you have anyway. © 1968, 2001 Kent M. Keith " In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."-Mother Teresa
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“You cannot talk like sane men around a peace table while the atomic bomb itself is ticking beneath it. Do not treat the atomic bomb as a weapon of offense; do not treat it as an instrument of the police. Treat the bomb for what it is: the visible insanity of a civilization that has ceased...to obey the laws of life.”- Lewis Mumford, 1946 |
The age of warrior kings and of warrior presidents has passed. The nuclear age calls for a different kind of leadership....a leadership of intellect, judgment, tolerance and rationality, a leadership committed to human values, to world peace, and to the improvement of the human condition. The attributes upon which we must draw are the human attributes of compassion and common sense, of intellect and creative imagination, and of empathy and understanding between cultures." - William Fulbright |
“Any nation that year after year continues to raise the Defense budget while cutting social programs to the neediest is a nation approaching spiritual death.” - Rev. MLK |
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Establishment of Israel |
"On the day of the termination of the British mandate and on the strength of the United Nations General Assembly declare The State of Israel will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel: it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion it will guarantee freedom of religion [and] conscience and will be faithful to the Charter of the United Nations." - May 14, 1948. The Declaration of the Establishment of Israel
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