Longing For Peace

Israeli and Palestinians have been fighting each other for the last 61 years. I no longer understand the conflict. I only know that innocent women and children continue to die on both sides of the conflict.

Would peace ever prevail in the Holy Land? I doubt it.

You can't expect peace when children grow up in fear of the other side.

You can't expect peace without having the will to accept the similarities between you and your so-called enemy. Peace starts with dialogue between ordinary people, especially children and women, from both sides.

When the latest conflict started, I watched filmmaker B.Z. Goldberg's documentary "Promises." When the two sides reached a cease-fire this weekend, I watched the movie "Arranged."

Promises is a must-see documentary to understand the conflict from a children point of view. Children are the future. If we fail to bring them together, there won't be peace in the region no matter how much we try.

Arranged is a wonderful movie of friendship, understanding and tolerance between an Orthodox Jewish woman and a conservative Muslim woman both living in New York. The story shows how much both women have in common in a good way.

I gave up on governments in the Middle East to achieve peace for their people. I wonder if the people of the Middle East can reach a middle ground for peace - A word that lost its meaning in this long conflict.

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Promises

Arranged

The Morrocan Muslim-Jewish Ties

It's rare to read pleasant news about the Arab-Jewish relations. But, there's always an exception. Serge Berdugo wrote in the Christian Science Monitor:

CASABLANCA, MOROCCO – As the flames of anti-Semitism continue to be fanned across much of the Islamic world, there is a risk that today's youth will grow up believing that Arabs and Jews were simply not meant to coexist, let alone thrive together.

That idea conflicts with history - and is a falsehood today. My country, Morocco, illustrates the viability and vitality of a Jewish community - my community - in an Arab country. It's a model of harmony other Muslim nations should follow.

And here's the good part of his article:

Morocco's leaders have always made the well-being of the Jewish people a top priority. During World War II, when the Vichy government of occupied France announced that it had prepared 200,000 yellow stars for the Jews of Morocco, King Mohammed V replied that he would need 50 more for him and his family. He refused to make any distinction between his citizens.

If rest of the world follow the tolerant spirit of the Moroccan society, the world would become a better places for all of us.

Praying With The Iraqi People

A Christian Science Monitor journalist/Writer/Contributer wrote last week:

Does it matter that Iraq is almost completely a Muslim society and I'm a Christian? As I pondered this question, I found where Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of this newspaper, wrote: "God is universal; confined to no spot, defined by no dogma, appropriated by no sect. Not more to one than to all, is God demonstrable as divine Life, Truth, and Love; and His people are they that reflect Him - that reflect Love" ("Miscellaneous Writings 1883-1896," p 150).

There isn't a Muslim God and a Christian God. There is, I believe, only the one infinite All-power. This makes us all children of the one God, and therefore we have a brotherhood that is wider than the narrow confines of religious dogma

Read more...

Prayers have no boundaries. When in need of a prayer, don't hesitate to ask a Muslim, a Christian or to pray with you. I believe in the power of interfaith even when some people disappoint me. I always think back to myself and say, "There are good and bad apples in the basket. Pick the good ones."

Iraq certainly needs your prayers these days.

Indian Day With The Alabama-Coushatta Tribe Members

Last year, I accompanied Mark during his assigment to cover the Indian Day celebration at the Indian Village Assembly of God church near the Alabama-Coushatta Indian reservation in Southeast Texas.

On Sunday, we were invited to the annual event. Mark had the day off. So, he didn't take any pictures. That's cool with me because I didn't have to compete with his excellent photojournalism skills.

It was a very nice experience. As usual, the food was great and made with love. We felt honored to be invited to the event.

The Middle East Inerfaith Blogger Network

In May 2006, the Middle East Youth blog was born. The authors of the blog come from Bahrain, Israel, Iran among other countries. This should give you an idea about the spirit of the blog.

Esra'a, the founder of Middle East Youth, had another dream. She wanted to bring together Middle Easterners who don't share the same faith. She has been working hard for a while now to launch the Middle East Interfaith Blogger Network.

I'm glad to announce the birth of the Middle Eastern Interfaith Blogger Network. Thanks to the efforts of Esra'a and her wonderful team. The site is a proof that there are Middle Easterners who are working to make a difference in the region.

Congratulation folks, you're the best of the web.

A Tasting For Some Other Place

On Tuesday evening, the Beaumont Civic Center buzzed with people who came to taste the delicious food made by different organizations and churches for the annual "A Tasting For Some Other Place." The proceeds from the event go to Some Other Place. The Beaumont Enterprise states:

Some Other Place - an ecumenical mission that provides food, clothing and household goods as well as financial assistance for rent, medications and utilities for the indigent in Southeast Texas.

This was my first time to attend the event. I enjoyed the atmosphere and the spirit of good will and giving. I didn't taste any of the food because I was busy making photographs to document the event for this blog.

Finding Common Grounds

 
It's always good when people of different faiths can find a common ground to better understand each other. A Rabbi and a priest were able to achieve that successfully.

The Register-Guard reported:

Jonathan Seidel and Tom Yurchak sometimes like to share jokes with each other. Rabbi-priest jokes, to be precise.
They probably can be forgiven, since Seidel is rabbi of Eugene's fledgling Or Hagan Light of the Garden minyan, and Yurchak is the parish priest at St. Jude Catholic Church. But the two men's shared passions go far beyond a good punch line.

When Seidel decided last year to start a new, conservative Jewish congregation, he knew he needed to find a worship space to rent. So he went to St. Jude, widely regarded as Eugene's most liberal Catholic parish, to inquire about the availability of its chapel sanctuary - on Saturdays, the Jewish sabbath, not Sundays.

That's when he first met Yurchak, who had arrived at St. Jude only months earlier after serving St. Patrick Catholic Church in Canby for 10 years.

"We just really hit it off right away," said Seidel. "He has a good sense of humor, and we recognized right away that we both had an interest in scholarship and religious studies. I'd studied Christian thought and he'd studied Judaism. We had a language to speak to each other."

And so speak they did. Yurchak learned that Seidel had written articles and part of his doctoral dissertation on amulets - religious icons worn on the body because of their supposed power to protect against harm.

Seidel, in turn, learned about Yurchak's remarkable personal library -25,000 volumes, on virtually all aspects of religious history and church law, not to mention a Yiddish Bible - and his collection of nearly 100 crosses, amulets and other religious icons.

Read more...

Shared Prayer

I found the following story on beliefnet and thought to share it with you:

When I was growing up, I lay in my bed every night and silently said my prayers. In synagogue, during the time for private contemplation, I could not hear a whisper, a sigh, or a plea from those around me -- only the organ playing. As an adult, I prayed late at night, my head under the covers. For me, prayers were private, on the list of taboo topics, along with sex and money.

When my friend Bev asked me if I wanted to be prayer partners, I stared at her.

"What does that mean?" I asked her.

"We pray together every week," she said. "We each write down our prayers, then read them aloud to each other."

"Read them aloud?" I repeated. That seemed like some sort of heresy—blithely stating my deepest spiritual thought to another mortal.

"It's quite powerful," Bev assured me. "It adds energy to your prayers." My palms were wet, my mouth was dry. I was both scared and curious. Bev and I held different religious doctrines: hers was Catholic and mine was Jewish. We would be directing our prayers to different names —- Bev to her Jesus, me to my God. Bev was used to praying with others; but I had never done so. What would it be like to pray together? How could I reveal even to a friend my very private conversations with God? Yet I had been reading about the power of collective prayer and the idea intrigued me. I agreed to try it.

We met a week later, early in the morning, before work. Our chapel was a coffee shop. Our spiritual music was supplied by the espresso machine. Bev had a short list of nondenominational responsive readings as a warm-up. How odd, to sit over a cup of coffee and read, "I surrender. I know that I need God's help." How unusual to sit among the bagels and pastries and ask out loud for help and forgiveness.

"Now, think of things you usually pray for and write them down," Bev instructed. My mind went blank. Though I prayed every night, those prayers seemed too childish and mundane to write down.

I smoothed my paper and fiddled with my pen. The cash register clanged. The red-cheeked baby across from me threw her pacifier on the floor. It tumbled near my feet. I picked it up and handed it to her mom. Behind me a newspaper rattled as a woman with wild gray hair turned to the features section. "You're not listening," a blond woman told a silver-haired man two tables over. Usually when I prayed, the world stopped or at least seemed to. But this time my prayers were not cloistered and hallowed; they were just another conversation in this busy coffee shop.

I picked up the pen and wrote "I pray for self-love." I took a deep breath. "I pray for more fun," I wrote. "I pray for meaningful work." I forced myself to put at least five prayers on my list. Was that too many, too greedy? I wondered.

"Are you done?" Bev asked.

I nodded, my voice in hiding.

"Want me to go first?" Bev asked. I nodded again. Bev read, "I thank God for my blessings. I pray to check in with God throughout the day and to listen to God's guidance."

As I wrote down her words, I savored the prayer. What a good idea, checking in with God. I had never thought to make that desire so intentional. Then I wondered, was there a copyright on prayers? How would Bev feel if I added that prayer to my list? She read another prayer: "I want to embrace beauty and order and release clutter with ease and grace." I thought of my kitchen, my garage, my basement-teaming with clutter. Yes, that too. I was practically bouncing in my seat as I read Bev's prayers back to her.

When it was my turn to read my own prayers it took me three tries to get the first sentence out. Bev wrote it down. I stumbled over the second sentence and marched my way through the third. I felt I had conquered something large when I finished reading her my list. It was quite remarkable, listening to her read aloud my sacred secret prayers as though they were already true.

"I love your prayer for a more compassionate world," she said. "I'm going to add that to my prayers."

I smiled, as if I'd just landed on my feet after a triple somersault.

We were just finishing when Carol, one of my coworkers, walked up to our table, to-go sack in hand, newspaper tucked under one arm, laptop slung over the other. "Hey, you seem pretty intent. What are you doing, cramming for an exam or something?"

I felt as if I'd just been caught peeling off my panty hose in public. I put my arm over my list of prayers and thought of saying, "We're just talking." But telling even a little lie during a prayer time seemed ill advised.

"Well," I said, looking at Bev for guidance, "we're, uh, praying." I watched Carol's face carefully.

"Good for you. I used to pray with a group on Saturday mornings. I really miss that," Carol said and walked away.

"Want to meet again next week?" Bev asked, putting her papers in her briefcase.

I nodded. I was already thinking of all the prayers I was going to add, real-life stuff that I wanted help and support for.

Bev and I have now been praying together for nine years. I still love silent prayer and I still do a lot of it. But I also love the vulnerability and openness of sharing my prayers. Writing down my prayers makes them more real for me. Saying them aloud makes me feel closer to God. Hearing Bev echo back my deepest spiritual desires makes me feel like they are already coming true.

Beyond the individual prayers, I like our intention: a Jew and a Catholic, gathering to make a "joyful noise unto the Lord," praying for ourselves and for a kinder, more compassionate world.


-- Deborah Shouse

Let's try to pray together?