Bet ya thought I would give it up...I know I lag...but the last couple weeks have been rough, and dramatic, and life altering, so please forgive me. I'm not abandoning this blog...I didn't mean to abandon the Cairo blog for so long...life is sometimes so hectic...and frankly at the moment I'm having a hard time pulling those memories out...but that is another story. Right now, my Mom is here, she finally arrived...which is really good, and pretty life changing for both of us. All three of us actually.
I'm not letting this blog die because I really do want to express how I feel, and I really want to promote a better understanding of Islam, and I do want to answer those questions..which by the way, if you ever have specific ones, don't hesitate to ask me...I will answer you to the best of my ability. Wow I sound like a robot lecturer. Anyway, lately, in the midst of all this squabbling over the Islamic Center in New York, and with my mother coming to live with me and with a few other things in my life that have happened, I am really now more than ever having to be tested with how deep, and how true my faith lies. I want to tell you about Ramadan and what an amazing experience it has been so far, (and I know what I have experienced is nothing compared to what the bigger groups of Muslim communities experience during this time). I have fasted quite a bit, but since my Mom came I have not. Easier to keep the peace...even though I feel horrible and sort of guilty about it. I also want to talk a little...very little about the Islamic Center in NY. And I want to talk about how my friend Maryam was right...mothers are ok with the idea that their daughters are Muslims...but seeing a hijab changes everything.
However, right now, I don't have the time to go into all of it. But I had to say something since I stopped keeping up. So tonight I'll come back. And let it out. ;)
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Ignorance.
I took Islam expecting to learn about very strict religious tenets, extreme beliefs and rituals. I was so very, incredibly wrong. Since it was a course on religion and it's facts, there was not a lot of philosophical discussions about the religion. And what I learned at first was very basic. Islam is not necessarily a "different" religion than Judaism and Christianity. For the Jews, Jesus (as)* and Mohamed (saw)* do not exist as prophets. For the Christians, it is Mohamed (saw) that does not exist as a prophet. The other prophets, are the same. Moses (Musa), Abraham (Ibrahim), Jesus (Issa). Noah (Nuh), Adam (Adem), John the Baptist (Yahya)..and the list goes on. All 3 teach monotheism, the belief in one God. All three shun the practice of idolatry. All three follow a moral code laid out for them by God, which is more or less the same. Do not lie, steal, kill, have sex before marriage, disobey your parents, have any Gods or other entities before God, be jealous or cruel to our fellow humans and treat others with kindness and graciousness no matter how hard it is to do so...because it is the right thing to do.
I learned that the belief in one God was the most stressed aspect of the Islamic belief. Allah (swt)* was not "their" God as I had been told growing up, Allah (swt) was the word for God, and it encompassed a whole lot more meaning than the word God does. Allah (swt) is everything, created everything, knows everything. Same qualities as we know of God...but to me the Muslims seemed a lot closer to the idea of what God was.A bigger and more imposing being with no human attributes at all. A thing so great that we don't as humans even have the ability to fathom what it could even be like. And I liked that. I had always felt that way about God. Like God was not something or someone I could grasp, or imagine.I also learned that in Islam there is no clergy. There is no person or people that stand between you and God in an way. Your relationship is completely and totally personal and between you and God. And this being the case in Islam, no one has the right to judge you, but God alone. These things were natural paths of thought for me, but were not the case in my church. I understood and in fact completely sympathized with their respect, love and reverence for God. Just God.
I am falling asleep at the wheel here so I am signing off...but this discussion will pick back up tomorrow kids. Love ya'll. Nighty Night.
I learned that the belief in one God was the most stressed aspect of the Islamic belief. Allah (swt)* was not "their" God as I had been told growing up, Allah (swt) was the word for God, and it encompassed a whole lot more meaning than the word God does. Allah (swt) is everything, created everything, knows everything. Same qualities as we know of God...but to me the Muslims seemed a lot closer to the idea of what God was.A bigger and more imposing being with no human attributes at all. A thing so great that we don't as humans even have the ability to fathom what it could even be like. And I liked that. I had always felt that way about God. Like God was not something or someone I could grasp, or imagine.I also learned that in Islam there is no clergy. There is no person or people that stand between you and God in an way. Your relationship is completely and totally personal and between you and God. And this being the case in Islam, no one has the right to judge you, but God alone. These things were natural paths of thought for me, but were not the case in my church. I understood and in fact completely sympathized with their respect, love and reverence for God. Just God.
I am falling asleep at the wheel here so I am signing off...but this discussion will pick back up tomorrow kids. Love ya'll. Nighty Night.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Where From Here?
I'm not exactly sure where to go from my last post. I shared a little bit of my history in regards to my love of all things Arab.You know a little now about where and when I started to learn about what Islam really was. So maybe I should explain my history with my own religious upbringing before I get too far into talking about Islam. So here goes...
I know I was baptized at St. John's Catholic Church on 16th and Ajo in Tucson Arizona when I was a very tiny baby. My Nina (Godmother) had made my dress, I still have it today...so tiny and white and satiny and lacey with a little white bonnet. I remember going to church when I was little, but when I was 8 we moved to Indonesia and there was no church where we lived. None. But my Mom had married a Southern Baptist (who I don't think is or was ever religious) and we were Catholic so church sort of faded out for me and my Mom anyway. So for a couple of years I had no religious training or church, or anything that touched on religion. Islam was a part of my daily life, but I didn't really know it. It felt more cultural to me, like it was the way of the place I lived and not the way of a group of people who subscribed to the same religious philosophy.
When we moved back to the US, my Mom immediately put me into CCD (Catechism) and I had to go through my First Holy Communion ( I was kind of old to be doing it but since we weren't here...) as soon as possible. My Mom took me to church most Sundays. She didn't ever really talk to me about religion. When she did she definitely had more the philosophy of a Wiccan than a Catholic. I never quite knew what to think about my mother and religion. The only thing that seemed accurately Catholic about her was the fact that she was your Catholic Schoolgirl Bad Girl ( GO MOM!!!). She went to Catholic school through 8th grade and was always in trouble for her skirt being too short, or some other awful offense. She talked back, she rolled eyes, she was a brat. But as an adult, and a mother, she was free spirit...still is. She says she is a catholic but she believes in much deeper, kinder philosophies than that of the Catholic Church. She is at odds with most of it's policies, has mostly always been and probably always will be. In fact, As I got older and grew familiar with the rituals of my church, I realized that though my Mom came to church and participated, she did not take communion. Not once ever in my life have I seen her take communion. I asked her about this once and she told me that since she had me out of wedlock and had committed a mortal sin, she was banned from taking communion until she confessed and was forgiven for her great sin. She then told me that she would NEVER apologize, much less seek anyone's damned forgiveness for having me. She said the church could kiss her ass. She would never take communion again gladly. That moment made me love her even more than I already did. My strong, tough, rebellious and righteous mother. And even though they did this too her, I really grew to love my church. The more I went, the more I fell in love with the sounds, the rituals, the prayers, the smell of the incense and the comfort of the known process, and the talk about Jesus (pbuh). I loved to hear about Jesus( pbuh) There was quite awhile in my life when I thought I wanted to be a nun. But I wanted kids and a family...I couldn't be a nun. But I did love my religion and my church with a passion. Then one day, my Mom said she was done. She said she had done her job, taken me to church and raised me as a Catholic, and now if I wanted to go to church I could, but she was done.
I went myself sometimes, not as often as with her. I tried to study my religion on my own and I started to get a little confused. The older I got, the more I started to think about things like Exactly why DID Jesus (pbuh) die for our sins? HOW exactly does that tie in? How is it that that worked? When I asked in class...I was kind of just blown off after awhile, and sometimes I could tell my questions were getting frustrating so I would stop asking things. but I could really not ever reconcile (still can't) how that made sense. I had a hard time with Jesus (pbuh) being the literal son of God and God Himself. this was perhaps my biggest problem to make sense of. I felt in my heart that Jesus (pbuh) was sent by God, he did have a message, he was special and important and deserves respect but I have always, always, always sensed that God was just one. One entity, all-powerful, all-knowing, omnipotent and singular. I also started to get confused about worshiping only God, yet praying to other Saints and asking for things through Jesus (pbuh) and getting forgiven by a man in a robe for my sins. It didn't seem to fit. I couldn't make it make sense to me. But I still went to church. Reed ( for those of you that know him) used to go with me. We planned on having a large Catholic Family if ya can believe it! At the time my faith was so strong, it was easy to overlook my questions and problems and chalk it up to archaic ritual and old school values. My love of Jesus (pbuh) and my love of God was more important than "little" details.
As I got older still, and had been jaded by life experiences (Reed's suicide), I began to step back a little and examine my religion. My loss of faith in the church was definitely helped along by a professor of mine...Fred Bustamante. He was amazing, and very scary to a religious and gullible little Catholic girl who has always believed what the church has told her. His class was the beginning of the end...but it would take years for the clutches of the Catholic church to loosen their grip on me. He began by talking about the Bible...the various translations..certain words that may or may not have been translated correctly or have 5 very different meanings that could potentially change the whole sentence. The translations back and forth again, the Hebrew words that don't translate at all...the many versions and edits and things that have been taken out and added. I was shocked. I was young and didn't really know anything but his stuff was powerful. He then moved on through the politics of the church, the beginnings of the papacy and the will of the church to rule all of Europe etc etc. I had no choice but to step back and look at things. Examine what I had been told, and believed, but then look at what new ideas and evidence I had been presented. I was disturbed...but still I thought that for the most part...the church must be right.
After my semester with Bustamante, things in my life started directing me to where I am now. My love of Jesus (pbuh) started to lead me to my discovery of the events in Palestine...and the crushing things taking place against my beloved Arab people (still Islam had not entered my mind when I thought of Arabs and the Middle East) and so that issue became rooted deep in my heart. I somehow thought there was truth (and I still believe this) out there somewhere...Palestine, Jordan, Syria, Iraq...there is more truth out there. And since I knew my church confused me, but Jesus (pbuh) didn't, I thought if I could follow him, where he lived, preached, walked, sat, breathed and died...I could maybe find that truth...or at least find my own truth and contribute to the wonder of others. So I chose religion as a major.Which leads me now to my first class on Islam, but I am so tired I am going to have to stop here for tonight. I'm so glad tomorrow is Saturday!!! This is the second day of fasting for Ramadan and it really isn't too bad. I feel good and happy, even if I am alone. It's kinda nice to hear the quiet. Anyway...until tomorrow....Goodnight world. XOXO
I know I was baptized at St. John's Catholic Church on 16th and Ajo in Tucson Arizona when I was a very tiny baby. My Nina (Godmother) had made my dress, I still have it today...so tiny and white and satiny and lacey with a little white bonnet. I remember going to church when I was little, but when I was 8 we moved to Indonesia and there was no church where we lived. None. But my Mom had married a Southern Baptist (who I don't think is or was ever religious) and we were Catholic so church sort of faded out for me and my Mom anyway. So for a couple of years I had no religious training or church, or anything that touched on religion. Islam was a part of my daily life, but I didn't really know it. It felt more cultural to me, like it was the way of the place I lived and not the way of a group of people who subscribed to the same religious philosophy.
When we moved back to the US, my Mom immediately put me into CCD (Catechism) and I had to go through my First Holy Communion ( I was kind of old to be doing it but since we weren't here...) as soon as possible. My Mom took me to church most Sundays. She didn't ever really talk to me about religion. When she did she definitely had more the philosophy of a Wiccan than a Catholic. I never quite knew what to think about my mother and religion. The only thing that seemed accurately Catholic about her was the fact that she was your Catholic Schoolgirl Bad Girl ( GO MOM!!!). She went to Catholic school through 8th grade and was always in trouble for her skirt being too short, or some other awful offense. She talked back, she rolled eyes, she was a brat. But as an adult, and a mother, she was free spirit...still is. She says she is a catholic but she believes in much deeper, kinder philosophies than that of the Catholic Church. She is at odds with most of it's policies, has mostly always been and probably always will be. In fact, As I got older and grew familiar with the rituals of my church, I realized that though my Mom came to church and participated, she did not take communion. Not once ever in my life have I seen her take communion. I asked her about this once and she told me that since she had me out of wedlock and had committed a mortal sin, she was banned from taking communion until she confessed and was forgiven for her great sin. She then told me that she would NEVER apologize, much less seek anyone's damned forgiveness for having me. She said the church could kiss her ass. She would never take communion again gladly. That moment made me love her even more than I already did. My strong, tough, rebellious and righteous mother. And even though they did this too her, I really grew to love my church. The more I went, the more I fell in love with the sounds, the rituals, the prayers, the smell of the incense and the comfort of the known process, and the talk about Jesus (pbuh). I loved to hear about Jesus( pbuh) There was quite awhile in my life when I thought I wanted to be a nun. But I wanted kids and a family...I couldn't be a nun. But I did love my religion and my church with a passion. Then one day, my Mom said she was done. She said she had done her job, taken me to church and raised me as a Catholic, and now if I wanted to go to church I could, but she was done.
I went myself sometimes, not as often as with her. I tried to study my religion on my own and I started to get a little confused. The older I got, the more I started to think about things like Exactly why DID Jesus (pbuh) die for our sins? HOW exactly does that tie in? How is it that that worked? When I asked in class...I was kind of just blown off after awhile, and sometimes I could tell my questions were getting frustrating so I would stop asking things. but I could really not ever reconcile (still can't) how that made sense. I had a hard time with Jesus (pbuh) being the literal son of God and God Himself. this was perhaps my biggest problem to make sense of. I felt in my heart that Jesus (pbuh) was sent by God, he did have a message, he was special and important and deserves respect but I have always, always, always sensed that God was just one. One entity, all-powerful, all-knowing, omnipotent and singular. I also started to get confused about worshiping only God, yet praying to other Saints and asking for things through Jesus (pbuh) and getting forgiven by a man in a robe for my sins. It didn't seem to fit. I couldn't make it make sense to me. But I still went to church. Reed ( for those of you that know him) used to go with me. We planned on having a large Catholic Family if ya can believe it! At the time my faith was so strong, it was easy to overlook my questions and problems and chalk it up to archaic ritual and old school values. My love of Jesus (pbuh) and my love of God was more important than "little" details.
As I got older still, and had been jaded by life experiences (Reed's suicide), I began to step back a little and examine my religion. My loss of faith in the church was definitely helped along by a professor of mine...Fred Bustamante. He was amazing, and very scary to a religious and gullible little Catholic girl who has always believed what the church has told her. His class was the beginning of the end...but it would take years for the clutches of the Catholic church to loosen their grip on me. He began by talking about the Bible...the various translations..certain words that may or may not have been translated correctly or have 5 very different meanings that could potentially change the whole sentence. The translations back and forth again, the Hebrew words that don't translate at all...the many versions and edits and things that have been taken out and added. I was shocked. I was young and didn't really know anything but his stuff was powerful. He then moved on through the politics of the church, the beginnings of the papacy and the will of the church to rule all of Europe etc etc. I had no choice but to step back and look at things. Examine what I had been told, and believed, but then look at what new ideas and evidence I had been presented. I was disturbed...but still I thought that for the most part...the church must be right.
After my semester with Bustamante, things in my life started directing me to where I am now. My love of Jesus (pbuh) started to lead me to my discovery of the events in Palestine...and the crushing things taking place against my beloved Arab people (still Islam had not entered my mind when I thought of Arabs and the Middle East) and so that issue became rooted deep in my heart. I somehow thought there was truth (and I still believe this) out there somewhere...Palestine, Jordan, Syria, Iraq...there is more truth out there. And since I knew my church confused me, but Jesus (pbuh) didn't, I thought if I could follow him, where he lived, preached, walked, sat, breathed and died...I could maybe find that truth...or at least find my own truth and contribute to the wonder of others. So I chose religion as a major.Which leads me now to my first class on Islam, but I am so tired I am going to have to stop here for tonight. I'm so glad tomorrow is Saturday!!! This is the second day of fasting for Ramadan and it really isn't too bad. I feel good and happy, even if I am alone. It's kinda nice to hear the quiet. Anyway...until tomorrow....Goodnight world. XOXO
Thursday, August 12, 2010
10 years old
When I was 10, I lived in Indonesia. My dad worked for a copper mine in Tembagapura, a small town on the Irian Jaya side of Papua New Guinea. I was in the 4th grade at the expat school, where my teacher, Mr. Ellis was also American. My classmates however, were mostly Filipino and so there was a class period that they all went to ESL (English as a Second Language), and I was left with my teacher alone. His assignment for me was to pick another culture that I wanted to know more about and to write a research paper about what I had learned about these people I would choose. I knew right away that the people I wanted to read and write about were those mysterious desert people, women in exotic clothing and veils, men with white flowing robes from head to toe, desert tents and carpets...the Bedouins. I chose to learn about the Bedouins. From the time I was very little I was enamored with the Arab people and it's culture. The vast and ancient desert and its history, holding an intense fascination for me for as long as I can remember.
The funny thing is, at that time I did not equate Islam with Arabs. I had been living in Indonesia for a year, and heard the call to prayer (Athan) every day, five times a day. I had grown accustomed to leaving my shoes outside every door, and learned not to give anyone anything with my left hand. Most of the Muslims I knew there were nice, some were scary in that they really did make us feel unwelcome...just a tad. But it was enough to taint my thoughts and perceptions of Muslims. It was enough to make me think Muslims had hatred in their hearts for anyone not like them. So when my journey began, my love of all things Middle Eastern was completely separate from any ideas I had about Islam. I loved the Middle East, I loved Arab culture, I loved Jesus and the Holy Land, and felt pulled toward those things like a magnet for as long as I can remember. Islam floated in the background somewhere, but it was unrelated (to me at the time) to all those other things.
This next part is a little hard for me to admit, but it is the truth, and so I have to own it right? Well, to be honest, I left Indonesia with a not-so-warm feeling towards Islam and Muslims. I was convinced they were mean people who worshiped the devil and were full of hate.I felt this way throughout junior high, and high school, and then I went to college. I was taking religion anyway because believe it or not, I was a good little Catholic girl and I loved Jesus and I loved my church and God and I was pretty sure we were going to have a showdown at some point with the Muslims and so I wanted to know more about the people I thought were my "enemies" ( I really cringe to hear myself say that). So I took Islam. And more than one reason...that class changed my life forever.
The funny thing is, at that time I did not equate Islam with Arabs. I had been living in Indonesia for a year, and heard the call to prayer (Athan) every day, five times a day. I had grown accustomed to leaving my shoes outside every door, and learned not to give anyone anything with my left hand. Most of the Muslims I knew there were nice, some were scary in that they really did make us feel unwelcome...just a tad. But it was enough to taint my thoughts and perceptions of Muslims. It was enough to make me think Muslims had hatred in their hearts for anyone not like them. So when my journey began, my love of all things Middle Eastern was completely separate from any ideas I had about Islam. I loved the Middle East, I loved Arab culture, I loved Jesus and the Holy Land, and felt pulled toward those things like a magnet for as long as I can remember. Islam floated in the background somewhere, but it was unrelated (to me at the time) to all those other things.
This next part is a little hard for me to admit, but it is the truth, and so I have to own it right? Well, to be honest, I left Indonesia with a not-so-warm feeling towards Islam and Muslims. I was convinced they were mean people who worshiped the devil and were full of hate.I felt this way throughout junior high, and high school, and then I went to college. I was taking religion anyway because believe it or not, I was a good little Catholic girl and I loved Jesus and I loved my church and God and I was pretty sure we were going to have a showdown at some point with the Muslims and so I wanted to know more about the people I thought were my "enemies" ( I really cringe to hear myself say that). So I took Islam. And more than one reason...that class changed my life forever.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
It's Been an Interesting Road
So, I made it to here.
It's been almost 2 years since I "officially" converted.(Became active anyway....more on that later) I have finally gotten to know the Imam, I go to the mosque on Friday nights for the halaqa (religious study/discussion group) and I have gotten to know a few Muslimahs, and I have my prayers pretty much memorized at this point. But I am not praying 5 times a day, I stopped studying Arabic, I was starting to wear hijab more and more and get used to it, even feel strange without it, but I have strayed from this practice too. I feel like I have strayed from Islam a bit, and I swear, the Catholic in me feels immensely guilty about it. Ramadan is coming, and I am a bit nervous to go through with it. I know I can, millions do, but wow, what an undertaking right? Well, this is enough for now, its a start right?
It's been almost 2 years since I "officially" converted.(Became active anyway....more on that later) I have finally gotten to know the Imam, I go to the mosque on Friday nights for the halaqa (religious study/discussion group) and I have gotten to know a few Muslimahs, and I have my prayers pretty much memorized at this point. But I am not praying 5 times a day, I stopped studying Arabic, I was starting to wear hijab more and more and get used to it, even feel strange without it, but I have strayed from this practice too. I feel like I have strayed from Islam a bit, and I swear, the Catholic in me feels immensely guilty about it. Ramadan is coming, and I am a bit nervous to go through with it. I know I can, millions do, but wow, what an undertaking right? Well, this is enough for now, its a start right?
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