c. 2006 Religion News Service
(UNDATED) It happens every year: a friend or group of colleagues ask me out for lunch. “I won’t join you for the food, but I’d love to join you for the company,” I say. Invariably my friends’ eyes fly open, “Oh my gosh! We forgot it’s Ramadan. We’re so sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” I tell them. And it’s true. After all, it’s my holiday, not theirs.
It was my choice to fast. I don’t expect them to join me, to pretend that they aren’t eating whenever I’m around, or go out of their way to not even mention the fact that 97 percent of Americans are still enjoying their midday meal. In no way is the fact that they are still eating an affront to me or my religious sensibilities.
And I assure you, neither I, nor the millions of American Muslims who are fasting this month, will be offended. We will be pleased at the invitation to spend some time with people we like.
We also won’t be offended at honest questions about our fasting, or our clothing, our prayers, or anything else to do with our religion. I encounter this tiptoeing around the everyday things of being Muslim on a nearly daily basis. As a woman who wears the traditional Muslim headscarf, I do get a lot of questions about my clothing, usually couched in copious apology for the effrontery of asking a personal question.
It’s OK. Women who make the choice to wear a scarf are well aware that people will be curious. It’s even one of the factors most women consider when deciding whether to wear the hijab or not _ do I want to put myself in a position where I may get a lot of questions about my faith? The answer for most of us is yes, we don’t mind.
We expect a certain amount of curiosity. As long as the questions are sincere, we’re glad to explain why, when, how and that, no, wearing a scarf doesn’t make us hot.
This fear of asking simple questions, or even mentioning differences, strikes me as odd. Would we apologize to Catholics if we mention food during Lent? Would we hesitate to ask a Hindu about Diwali, a Jew about Rosh Hashana or a pagan about Samhain?
Is it generally a reflection of the American belief that religion is a private matter, a relic of our mothers’ admonitions not to stare at, make comments on, or ask questions about people who were different from us? Or is this fear of inquiry reserved for Muslims, rising from a perception that Muslims are less tolerant in matters of religion, or from the fact that some Muslims overseas are oversensitive to anything that can be perceived as an insult to Islam? Either way, it is not a healthy trend.
We live in a multicultural society, and we have to learn to live together in harmony or else suffer continued friction and conflict between various communities. In order to achieve that harmony, we must understand one another.
Lack of knowledge creates discomfort, estrangement, anxiety and alienation. Understanding dispels fear and fosters acceptance and appreciation. Given the level of tensions between people of different religions around the world today, we cannot afford to be afraid and estranged. Far too much is at stake.
We need to share our experiences of the divine, our struggles to be good human beings and to make the world a better place. We need to share our moral dilemmas, our satisfaction and reservations in our religious communities and in others. Only when we truly know each other in deep and meaningful ways, will we be able to honestly call each other friends.
(Pamela K. Taylor is co-chair of the Progressive Muslim Union, and director of the Islamic Writers Alliance.)
KRE/JL END TAYLOR
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