irshaddering thoughts

Advice to atheists, from a Buddhist Muslim

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts on May 22, 2008

My good friend Shahid is a Bu-Mu: a Buddhist Muslim. He views the teachings of the Quran through the lens of humility emphasized by the Buddha.

Recently, my Bu-Mu bro wrote to me about how missionary atheists such as Christopher Hitchens, Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris mangle spirituality through their own fundamentalist hubris. But rather than merely complain, Shahid offers them constructive guidance:

Religion doesn’t poison everything. Self-righteousness does. Self-righteousness is something that Hitchens and his boys have a heap of in their anti-God books.

It might be more productive for hardcore atheists to put aside questions of God’s existence and explore the question of what exactly is this self that’s getting all righteous. And to do so with the same spirit of scientific inquiry that generates their very reasonable skepticism in the concept of a supreme authority.

If one believes that there is a self, then self-righteousness seems a natural, even productive emotional state. I would argue that this unexamined assumption about the self, more than religion, is the greatest metaphysical problem for us as a species. That’s because self-obsession leads to dogma in all its forms.

Science, as a discipline, isn’t the answer. The illusion of self is an emotional fallacy which science has no vested interest, stated aim, or, most importantly, practical means of undoing.

But the scientific approach of experimenting can be valuable here, and atheists should practice the scientific method as much as they preach it. So I suggest that all my atheist friends go sit a 10-day Vipassana meditation course. Vipassana means to see reality as it is. (Hitch, however, might have to smoke a pack of cigarettes in the parking lot before he starts several days of exploring reality at its subtlest levels.)

My prediction? The atheists will soon discover it ain’t so easy to give up the ole’ self-concept, and just as they are attached to their ideas, so are the religious.

Demanding that religious people favor the atheist flavor of reality isn’t a very compelling offer in the face of the pain of attachment; nor do the non-believers offer a compelling navigation of reality for those of us who don’t consider ourselves loony tunes, yet feel there’s more to this world beyond what can be strictly measured.

The desire to wish away religion and its adherents may be less helpful to our species than a desire to effectively speak up for those aspects of shared humanity that all religions worth their name mention. Let intelligent consideration and practical compassion guide.

Sorry boys, I started off in your camp, but was moved by the simple and fair logic of experimenting for myself. That’s neither an endorsement nor a denial of God. It’s just that squabbling about the almighty’s existence seems like a juvenile place to start once you’ve been humbled.

Dear 2008 graduates…

Posted in Speeches, Irshaddering Thoughts on May 18, 2008

2008 graduating class of NYU’s School of Public Service

On a rainy morning, in the gorgeous Brooklyn Academy of Music, hundreds of students gathered to celebrate their graduation from New York University’s School of Public Service.  

I had the privilege of addressing them. My aim: to be honest about what they’re getting into when the politics of social justice can get downright nasty. It’s one thing to inspire. Quite another to romanticize. I wanted to do the former without resorting to the latter. You can read my remarks below.

But first, let me tell you about the woman who introduced me. Hope Tumukunde served as governor of Butare province in Rwanda. Her leadership in the fragile post-genocide era has made Hope a member of Rwanda’s National Human Rights Commission.     

In introducing me, she emphasized our Oprah connection: Hope came to NYU’s School of Public Service as an Oprah Scholar, while I earned Oprah’s first annual Chutzpah Award for “audacity, nerve, boldness and conviction.”

On that note, I began my remarks to the 2008 graduating class…

Honored graduates: If I had a Chutzpah Award to bestow, it would be going to all of you – as an expression of faith in your capacity to live life large.

You see, “chutzpah” doesn’t simply mean “guts.” It’s far more interesting than that. There’s an element of brazen, passionate zaniness to it. A zaniness that evokes reactions like, “Is she all there?” Or, “Does he really believe that’s possible?”

Chutzpah is a commitment to see something through when others shrug their shoulders and mumble, “Why bother?”

No doubt, that’s what some will be asking about your choice to pursue public service in a cut-throat culture. Why bother?

The fact that you’ve made it all the way to graduation suggests you’ve thought about this. You know why you’re compelled to serve. And frankly, you don’t need a meshugeneh [insane] Muslim reformer to tell you what you already know.

But a few years from now, you’ll need to remember why you’ve chosen public service. Because despite our ideals – universal human rights, critical thinking, eco-justice – despite such noble and shared ideals, the reality is that public service has politics written all over it; politics that can reek of hypocrisy, hysteria and myopia.

I speak with some experience. When I wrote a book calling on my fellow Muslims to affirm the dignity of women, Christians, Jews and gays, many self-described moderates labeled me a fascist – the extreme liberal equivalent of Osama bin Laden.

I recall engaging in lengthy dialogue with one group of angry moderates from New Jersey. After listening to their complaints, I asked what they would have me do now. The spokesman promptly whipped out a list of offensive passages and demanded that I remove them from my book.

 “But wait,” I thought to myself, “isn’t that what fascists would do – censor, suppress and ban? In the name of harmony, should I pretend to consider their proposal and later decline? Or, in the name of honesty, should I explain here and now why I can’t accept their approach?”

Welcome to the politics of public leadership. That’s just the beginning.

We live in a time of intense identity politics. So when immigrant Muslims are branded “inauthentic” Muslims because our ideas are incubated in the West, I have to wonder how Mahatma Gandhi would respond.

After all, Gandhi came of age in South Africa, not India. Was he therefore illegitimate?

Gandhi’s concept of satyagraha or non-violent resistance took shape in South Africa. Did that make it impure?

Gandhi studied the American philosopher and anti-corruption activist Henry David Thoreau, who wrote a classic essay on civil disobedience. By drawing inspiration from a white Western man, did Gandhi sell out?

You can see how intellectually parochial these political games are. Yet they’re emotionally powerful, especially now. In our age of instant gratification, the fastest way to belong is to sacrifice your complex self for the security blanket of groupthink.

Here’s the problem with that shortcut: It’s a shortcut. Fast does not mean fulfilling. If you bow to petty politics too often, public service will lose meaning – the very meaning that brought you to it in the first place.

The very meaning that spoke to your core commitments based, as they are, on who you are.

Your authenticity.

Your individuality.

Your integrity.

At some point in your public service career, your conscience will pose a highly inconvenient challenge. You’ll have to decide whether to speak truth to power in your workplace, in your social movement, in your family of fellow travelers, and speak that truth for the sake of a greater good.

If you do, you’ll be exercising what Robert F. Kennedy called “moral courage.” Sounds deliciously lofty. Except that moral courage comes with major costs. For starters, backlash from your own. Followed, inevitably, by loneliness.

Bobby Kennedy didn’t airbrush these realities. He admitted, “few are willing to brave the disapproval of their fellows, the censure of their colleagues, the wrath of their society. Moral courage is a rarer commodity than bravery in battle or great intelligence.”

Then why bother? When you know you’ll be flayed and a glorious outcome can’t be guaranteed for your pains, what’s the point of having moral courage? It’s nuts. It’s chutzpah.

Allow me to offer three reasons that you should bother with moral courage:

First, for the pragmatic graduates – and I’m looking at all of you – moral courage gives you a competitive edge. Bette Midler, the comedic actress, once advised, “Cherish forever that which makes you unique, ‘cuz if it goes, you’re really a yawn.” Call me cynical, but imitating everyone else isn’t exactly a selling point to innovative employers or investors.

Let me put it more positively: Nobody can execute better what you have been placed on this earth to do. In a world of puny agendas, moral courage equips you to defend your vision.

Now for the second reason to bother with moral courage: Because even if you feel lonely, you are you not alone. Gandhi is part of the company you keep. But he’s only one example.

Gandhi’s methods taught Martin Luther King Jr. a thing or two, including how to handle criticism from his own community. Liberal members of the clergy, white and black, accused Reverend King of creating “needless tension.” Rather than dilute his integrity or beg to be understood, King confronted this charge.

In his now-famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail, Reverend King wrote, “I must confess I am not afraid of the word ‘tension.’ I have earnestly opposed violent tension but there is a type of non-violent tension that is necessary for growth.”

Alright, graduates, I’m about to test you: Imagine having to navigate not just the President’s animosities toward you, not just the FBI’s dirty tricks against you, not just the media’s suspicions of you, not just the average citizen’s ignorance about you, and not just your family’s fatigue with you and your 24/7 mission.

On top of it all, there’s the insecurity and insularity of your supposed allies. Being an icon of civil rights did not shield Martin Luther King from having to deal with that noise. So when you’re facing it too, you’ve got to believe that you are not alone.

The good news is, no one’s expecting you to transform an entire culture. We only expect you to shove it forward.

Which brings me to the third reason that you should bother with moral courage: Leaps and bounds don’t happen without the pushes that generate momentum.

To this day, a lot of Americans assume that Martin Luther King motivated Rosa Parks to keep her seat on that bus. Nope. Ms. Parks hit the civil rights scene before Rev. King did. She helped move him to the front lines.

And who was Rosa? A seamstress. A tailor’s assistant. By today’s professional standards, a veritable nothing. Yet a small, strategically executed act of conscience made her the mother of America’s civil rights movement.

Our acts of moral courage won’t assure massive change today. Likely not even tomorrow. Progress is never that linear since power is never that simple. But bother anyway – because in an open society, everybody counts.

To drive this message home, I’ll finish with a deeply personal story. My family and I are refugees from Uganda. General Idi Amin, the military dictator, expelled us along with hundreds of thousands of other Muslims.

We settled in Vancouver, Canada. But our port of entry was Montreal. The immigration agent on duty had no official reason to care about us. She engaged with my mother, anyway. “Why do you want to live in Montreal?” she asked in French.

My mother grew up in the Belgian Congo, so mercifully she spoke French too. “Why do we want to live in Montreal?” mum replied, buying time. “Well, Montreal begins with the letter ‘M,’ and our family’s name begins with the letter ‘M,’ so maybe God thinks we would fit nicely together.”

(You try coming up with an answer on the spot when you’re terrified of being deported!)

Sensing my mother’s anxiety, the agent assured her that this wasn’t an interrogation. “It’s just that I’m looking at your three daughters,” she said, “and I realize that they’re all dressed for tropical weather. Madame Manji, have you ever seen snow?”

Still assuming this to be a grilling, my mother exclaimed, “No, but I can’t wait to see snow!”

“Then you’ve come to the right country,” the agent assured her. “But with your permission, I’d like to send you and your girls to the closest thing we’ve got to a mild climate.” A few stamps on the paperwork later, we were bound for the other side of Canada – Vancouver.

Some would reduce this immigration agent to a shrewd arbiter of cheap labor. And she may have been. I won’t deny that possibility. But she was also complex, risking her job by asking what we might need more of, like sunshine. Her minuscule demonstration of chutzpah, bucking an ice-cold system, helps fuel my own chutzpah today.

Bottom line: In an open society, the choices that any individual makes matter. Open societies are under constant renovation, the conclusion not yet known if it ever will be. So what you choose to do contributes to the grander narrative of who we are and what we can become.

Your voice carries. May it carry us into a future when we’ll proudly admit that a little craziness is sometimes the sanest response of all. Thank you for your service, God bless and go get ‘em, graduates!

Learn about the Moral Courage Project…

 

Inspiration for a new generation

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts on May 15, 2008

Engaging students at the Research Center for Leadership in Action, Wagner School of Public Service, New York University

This week, I’ll be giving the convocation address to the graduating class at NYU’s School of Public Service. The speech is almost written. Almost.

I’ve got room for a few more lines — and I’m inviting you to provide them.

What do you think is vital for young human rights activists, aid workers, eco-warriors and other social entrepreneurs to know?

If you could grab them by the shoulders, stare into their blood-shot eyes and mess with their heads, what would you say? And can you say it in 25 words or less?

Here’s your chance to reveal that soaring (a.k.a cheesy) phrase you’ve always wanted to use, but could never insert into a conversation with your buddies because they’d mock you forever. Let me mock you.

To get your juices flowing, I’ll confess that I’ve always wanted to tell a throng of exuberant voters, “Tomorrow begins tonight.” Of course I tried that in the draft of my convocation speech.

Didn’t work. “Tomorrow begins this morning” just doesn’t have the same ring. “Tomorrow begins today” is limp. There’s no disco ball to it. The line lives and dies by “tonight.” And maybe it deserves to die, period.

So don’t take it personally when your best suggestions flop. As some grads have heard convocation speakers spout, “If you never give up, you can’t say you’ve failed.” Damn, that’s good.

But not for our speech. We can do better.

Make no mistake: I’m thrilled with what I’ve already written. Still, over the years of engaging with readers, I’ve learned to learn. Which means inviting you into the process at precisely the moment that I’m “thrilled” and thus feeling smug about my own wisdom.

Mess with my mind if not that of the next generation. Your deadline is Friday morning, New York time.

Meet my mum, the Obama of the ummah

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts on May 11, 2008

Mum in the middle, flanked by my sister and me

Everywhere I go these days, one of the first questions people ask is, “How’s your mother?”

Already, on this Mother’s Day, I’ve received a number of emails from perfect strangers wanting me to convey their “salaams,” “greetings,” and “duas” (prayers) to my mum.

Why do they care? Because my mum is the undisputed star of Faith Without Fear. The film is being widely watched, and a lot of viewers have fallen in love with her.

I can’t blame them. In the movie, mum is dynamic, funny, humane and humanizing. And I’m not saying this because she agrees with everything I believe. Quite the opposite. She challenges me big time, even managing to shut me up in one scene.

Don’t get too excited. I recover quickly.

In another scene, mum responds to a couple of Muslim men trying to humiliate her. “Trying” is the key word: Her grace proves Eleanor Roosevelt’s point that nobody can take away your dignity without your permission.

Mind you, this isn’t the first time I’m paying tribute to my mum. In the “Afterword” of my book (written before the film), I tell the story of how she came to realize that we share the same struggle for Muslim reform. It’s just that we approach it in different ways. Which is entirely halal because unity is not the same thing as uniformity — a distinction that the worldwide Muslim nation, or ummah, would be wise to learn.

More than anybody I can imagine, my mum represents the hope for Islam today. She shows herself to be the kind of Muslim whom moderate liberals and moderate conservatives have a hard time hating. You could say she’s the Obama of the ummah.

Meet my mum by downloading video clips from Faith Without Fear. Let me draw your attention to two clips in particular:

* “Irshad and her mother discuss the dangers facing Irshad”; and

* “Irshad and her mother debate faith and prayer.” This is where she has me on the ropes.

So, to get back to the question: How’s your mother? In short, great — for more than one reason. A few days ago, she became a grandmother for the second time. Mum now has a girl and a boy who’ll see her either as a mentor or as a tormentor.

Or both, like her own daughters do.

Agent of moral courage: Roi Ben-Yehuda

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts on May 08, 2008

It’s Israel’s 60th birthday, and not every Jew is celebrating unconditionally.

Witness Roi Ben-Yehuda. He’s no party pooper. This boy knows how to have a good time. (Last year, he introduced me to the obnoxious Sacha Baron Cohen character known as Borat, and still imitates this clown at the most absurd moments in our otherwise serious conversations…)

Far from being a wet blanket, Roi is an agent of moral courage. He speaks truth to power not only when necessary, but also when inconvenient — on a landmark anniversary.

Here’s what I mean. As a rising journalist and public thinker, he’s just published a “tough love letter” to his country of Israel. A key passage from it:

“At sixty years young, you are an amazing success story and we are your grateful children. But grateful does not mean blind. When you shine a light on an object, you are also bound to get its shadow. And there is no escaping the fact that your shadow is Palestine.”

Roi goes on to write words that some will consider harsh. I consider them humane in that he sees the shared humanity of Palestinians and Israelis. So he also sees their destiny as shared. (I do, too, and I’ve blogged about the surprising insights that young Palestinians have clued me into.)

That’s why, elsewhere in his extraordinary letter to Israel, Roi writes that “the greatest gift you can give for your birthday is to lend a hand in creating a birthday for the Palestinian state. Don’t settle for just removing yourself; help construct a positive future for your sister nation.”

Imagine: a patriot who believes in giving rather than receiving on his country’s birthday. And giving not as an act of charity, but as a statement of national renewal. It’s what I’ve come to expect from these odd creatures whom I call agents of moral courage.

From the rest of the world, I’ve come to expect allegations of racism. Recently, I received several emails accusing me of anti-Semitism when I pointed out that secular Jewish women in Israel must still go to rabbinical courts for divorces. Even then, they often wind up with the shaft. Israel, in short, isn’t a perfect democracy for Israeli Jews, let alone for Israeli Arabs.

Finding this “shadow,” I suppose, makes me an anti-Semite. So be it. But what a shame for more than just Israel; for democracy itself. Democracy demands dissent — not to undermine its ideals but precisely to help realize them.

Roi Ben-Yehuda is one who gets it. He embodies a sentiment prominently showcased at the National Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC: Thou shalt not be a victim. Thou shalt not be a perpetrator. Above all, thou shalt not be a bystander.

To read about other agents of moral courage, click here.

Mullah malpractise

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts, On The Road on May 04, 2008

Signing books at one of Indonesia’s biggest universities

The best ideas can be stated simply and clearly. You’ll love this one: malpractise suits against hateful mullahs.

Let me explain.

Last week, at one of Indonesia’s biggest universities, I spoke about the need to renew ijtihad, Islam’s own tradition of independent thinking, debate and re-interpretation. Two well-known scholars joined me. To my surprise, both agreed that ordinary Muslims, not just religious authorities, have the right and responsibility to exercise ijtihad. It’s when ordinary Muslims think for ourselves that we keep God’s self-appointed ambassadors honest.

During the Question and Answer session, a woman from the local Islamic political party disputed our call to democratize ijtihad. When she needs her teeth fixed, she said, she goes to a certified dentist, not some shmo (or Mo) spreading the gospel of indie thinking.

I must tell you that I hear the dentist analogy all the time. While it’s unoriginal, it’s also effective among Muslims who equate creativity with scientific formulas. Effective, that is, until now.

One of the professors on my panel responded to the woman this way:

When dentists and doctors harm people with their decisions, they can be sued for malpractise. Sister, if you’re going to liken religious authorities to medical professionals, then Muslims should have the right to sue mullahs when their conclusions harm people. And, in effect, that’s what Irshad Manji is doing by exposing their damage in the court of international public opinion.

Direct. Concise. Logical. Maybe too logical: The woman left before the Q & A ended.

Although I’ll never know her response, I do challenge the critics who read this site to send me their replies.

Meanwhile, don’t forget to floss.

As you’re doing that, enjoy my Indonesia photo album.

Way beyond Mecca

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts, On The Road on Apr 30, 2008

In Indonesia, the book tour comes to an Islamic boarding school

Read my earlier newsletter from Indonesia and you’ll know that I’m on a mini-mission. I’m out to educate Western journalists about why they should look past the Arab world for signs of where Islam is heading.

In this spirit, let me draw your attention to a New York Times essay that compares my approach to Muslim reform with that of Ayaan Hirsi Ali. It’s an exquisitely crafted piece: respectful to each of us — neutral without lapsing into limpness. An impressive balance.

That said, I take issue with the author’s suggestion that our “most sympathetic audiences are probably Western” because neither Ayaan nor I has a “significant Muslim constituency in the Middle East.” Such a statement implies that Arabs are the only Muslims who matter.

Fact is, fewer than 20% of Muslims worldwide are Arab! Which means more than 80% of us are non-Arab. Shouldn’t media be asking how non-Arabs — the vast majority of Islam’s universe — are responding to ideas about religious reform?

Having just wrapped my book tour in Indonesia, I can help answer that question by sharing one of my favorite moments: I was invited to present my ideas at a pesantren — an Indonesian Islamic boarding school. (Notice the basketball court for girls, and the Chicago bulls backboard.)

Through my translator, I emphasized to the students that their uniquely Indonesian voices are needed more than ever. Indonesia represents the possibility for new Muslim leadership — the kind that replaces desert Arabia’s tribal mindset with a love of diversity.

Moreover, I said, the time to assert Indonesian diversity is now. Why? Not only because Saudi influences are on the rise, but also because so much of the world is thirsting for an alternative to the us-versus-them mentality of the tribe.

Witness America, struggling with itself to replace George W. Bush’s “you’re with us or you’re with the terrorists” attitude. If Americans now believe that they need a different vision, and they’re willing to challenge themselves to achieve it, what should stop Muslims from accepting the same challenge for ourselves?

Think about it this way, I proposed to the students: Barack Obama emerged from nowhere to be the champion of change. Even if he doesn’t become America’s president this time, his call for reform has been heard far and wide. It has framed the campaign. It has galvanized the silent (or silenced) masses. Young Indonesians, out of “nowhere,” can become the Muslim world’s Obama.

I reminded them that historically, the most compelling ideas have come from the periphery, not the center! Remember, too, that Indonesia is a democracy, with all of democracy’s flaws, but at least it gives citizens far more freedoms than Arab dictatorships do.

So, I concluded to the students, use your freedoms of thought, expression and conscience to imagine a fresh future for Islam — and for humanity. Then use digital media to circulate your ideas worldwide. Don’t worry about being agreed with; just spark the debate. And when you do, you’ll be showing reform-minded Muslims everywhere that they’re not alone.

At the end of our session, a gaggle of girls surrounded me to ask questions, shake hands and snap photos. One of them (ok, I’ll fess up: the one in the pink scarf) said — in slow and deliberate English — “I am so inspired now. Thank you, Wonder Woman.”

Wonder Woman! It’s not the compliment that I embraced; it’s the fact that this girl signaled, through a shared pop cultural reference, that you can withstand the bullets coming your way if you really believe in justice.

Inspired, in turn, by these young women, I went with them to visit fellow students in the dorms. The pictures below show you the warmth of the reception I got.

One of my adult hosts at the pesantren, an Indonesian scholar named Hindun Annisa, later escorted me to the boys’ side. Hindun and I had bonded earlier in the day. She served on a panel to discuss my film, Faith Without Fear, with 350 students at one of Indonesia’s largest universities.

Hindun pointed out to the students that Muslim theologians who talk about “Islamic” history usually mean “Arab” history, which is among the reasons that Indonesian thinking need not march in lockstep with that of the Middle East.

After my tour of the pesantren, Hindun’s mother — who lives at the school as its principal of sorts — invited me to come back.

I suspect it’s because Indonesians are relieved to hear a Western Muslim “get” their reality (or care about it at all) that my constituency in their country is growing big-time: Indonesia is now the third largest source of hits to this website. Currently, more site visitors are coming from Jakarta than from any other city in the world.

Question to media: Just because I don’t get love-bombed like this in the Middle East, is it fair to say that my sympathizers are Western? What are Indonesians? Chopped liver?

Hell, for the future of Islam, Indonesia might be more important than any other Muslim state. That’s for two demographic reasons: First, Indonesia alone has about as many Muslims as the entire Middle East. Second, its 300 ethnicities and scores of languages capture the pluralism of Islam’s believers with an accuracy that the Middle East simply can’t.

Look, by no means am I implying that we should dismiss Arab Muslims. God knows I don’t. That’s why I’ve translated my book into Arabic and posted it on this site for free-of-charge download. To date, there have been 300,000 downloads — never mind how that number explodes when you include the Urdu, Persian and Malay downloads. None of these languages is “Western” either.

The Prophet Muhammad reportedly encouraged a perpetual search for knowledge, even if that means going as far as China. I think he’d be equally supportive of going to Indonesia. (Similar time zones!)

Sure, for Muslim reform to gain traction, an audience in the Middle East matters. But not to the exclusion of everywhere else.

Here’s my Indonesia photo album – with many more pics to come. Give me time to get over my jet lag, would you?

Launching my book in the world’s biggest Muslim country

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts, On The Road, Announcements on Apr 24, 2008

You heard me right: the biggest Muslim country anywhere. Indonesia, baby. That’s where I am to release The Trouble with Islam Today.

That’s also where my publisher presented me with a meaningful poster: “Silence is no longer an option.” Well, it’s never been with me. Now we can say the same about Jakarta!

Three hundred human rights activists, journalists and students attended. Not everybody came to express support, but isn’t civil dissent exactly the point of this mission for Muslim reform and moral courage?

You can learn more about my Indonesian launch through the newsletter that I’ve sent to my personal mailing list. If you want to subscribe, look for the “Get Updates” box on the right-hand side of this page.

Meanwhile, enjoy more moments from Indonesia…

What Muslims can learn from the Pope’s U.S. tour

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts, Q & A on Apr 20, 2008

When I ask Muslim-Americans what they appreciate most about living in this country, the answer usually comes back, “the First Amendment.” That’s the U.S. constitution’s guarantee of free worship, free assembly, free press and, ultimately, free speech.

This past week in America, Pope Benedict gave plenty of free speeches. We all expected him to be on his best behavior. But I hoped that his “best” would mean daring Americans of all faiths — Muslims, included — to use their constitutional freedoms and push their own religious leaders.

Push them to do what?  To speak up for the human rights of all, from Muslims facing genocide in Darfur to Buddhists fighting Chinese occupation in Tibet to Christians struggling for survival in Iraq. Delivered from the podium of the UN general assembly, what a message this would have sent on the 60th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

His Holiness might even have celebrated American Catholics as an example of how constitutional liberties can elevate people of faith into people of conscience.

For years, Catholics in the U.S. have exercised their freedom of expression to defend the dignity of young parishioners who’ve been molested by priests. In short, they pushed their religious leaders to respect human rights.

They’ve finally succeeded: On his American tour, the Pope surprisingly — and repeatedly — acknowledged that the Church has abused Catholic children through sexual malfeasance and official silence. According to The New York Times, victims, many of them adults by now, may be getting more opportunities from the Vatican to report their experiences.

The moral of my story is simple. Full-bodied use of the First Amendment can compel a Pope once known as “God’s rotweiller” to reveal his deeply human conscience.

Muslim-Americans ought to follow the Catholic lead. And, having shown that he’s trying to practice what he preaches, the Pope should challenge them to do so. No doubt, many moderate mouthpieces of Islam would accuse Benedict of “offending” Muslim sensitivities. Let them howl.

The Pope’s past perceived slights against Islam have sparked new conversations between Muslims and Catholics. At seriously high levels, I might add: An open letter from 138 Muslim scholars, a response to it from numerous Christian authorities and, later this year, an unprecedented formal dialogue where the participants will be received by the Pontiff himself.

To be sure, I’m no fan of scripted inter-religious dialogues, which usually amount to heart-tugging, mind-numbing gestures of little impact and less consequence.

But I’m a huge partisan of unexpected conversations.

Which is exactly what I had in Rome a year and a half ago with Pope Benedict’s then-deputy for inter-religious affairs, Cardinal Paul Poupard. At one point, the Cardinal grabbed my hand and showed me around his personal library. The 76-year-old effused about his books like a child who’d just decorated his room with the funkiest glow-in-the-dark planets. I say that affectionately: Cardinal Poupard couldn’t contain his joy at hosting a young Muslim woman who shared his love of big ideas. It was utterly charming.

It was also sincere. On the day that I met him, he and the Pope had just arrived home from a diplomatic mission in Turkey. They wanted to mend fences after the global uproar over Benedict’s speech at Regensburg University, in which he quoted an obscure Byzantine emperor who thought Islam had nothing to offer civilization. (In a minute, I’ll link you to a statement I made about why I don’t share Muslim anger about those remarks.)

In the wake of a bridge-building breakthrough, and exhausted from the trip anyway, Cardinal Poupard could have canceled his appointment with a Muslim reformist. But he kept it. Truth is, I’m the one who had to beg off to make my next engagement! What can I tell you? I figured that my audience with the Cardinal would be 15 minutes of polite formalities. It became a hi-octane 90-minute exchange about the need for an intellectual renaissance in every faith, including that religion called atheism.

See my point about embracing unanticipated dialogues, even (or especially) when they emerge from “offensive” remarks?

With that in mind, here’s a TV commentary I delivered after the Pope’s controversial speech at Regensburg U. I’m addressing why, as a faithful Muslim, I don’t believe he should have to apologize for causing offense. Once you watch the video or read the text, tell me where you think I’ve gone wrong. Create a conversation where none would have existed before.

Meanwhile, may His Holiness continue to hear Catholic dissidents. In so doing, may he affirm that introspection is the enemy of dogma, not of faith.

With the Pope in America, Bush should confess

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts on Apr 17, 2008

This is what President George W. Bush said in welcoming the Pope to America: “[W]e need your message to reject this dictatorship of relativism and embrace a culture of justice and truth.”

Really? Judging by how Bush’s administration has acted in Iraq, the President is practically swimming in relativism.  Here’s what I mean.

I pray that before the Pope leaves Washington, President Bush will pull him aside and make a confession. 

Pages (9): Previous 1 [2] 3 4 5 6 7 Next ... Last »