Identity Archives < Page 3 of 3 < For Better or For Worse

Nationality, Culture, and Religion

A priest friend of mine who was born in Israel and raised Jewish identifies himself in a very unusual way — he says by nationality I’m an Israeli, by culture I’m a Jew, and by religion I’m a Roman Catholic.
Before reacting to this startling statement of identity, it’s important to define the three key words. It’s a tricky business, because they frequently overlap.
– “Nationality” is becoming another word for citizenship — the country to which you legally belong. But, its root meaning has to do with the land of one’s birth; this implies ethnic identity.
– “Culture” can be used to refer to the customs, traditions, and values shared by a group of people at a certain point in time. There can also be subcultures within a dominant culture.
– “Religion” is the trickiest word. It may refer to belief as such; to a system of beliefs, worship and ethics; or to an organization or group which holds them in common.
In the southwestern Indian state of Kerala, you may meet ladies going to pray in gold-trimmed white saris, with ear lobes stretched by heavy golden bangles. A foreigner may think them Hindus, but they are Christians. It is their culture that appears Hindu.
For years in Germany, children born of Turkish immigrant parents were considered foreigners; now they can be German citizens. German identity is no longer limited to people with Nordic features or a common Germanic culture; now it also means those with the same citizenship.
Canadians describe themselves as “English” or “French.” This is a matter not just of language but of culture — and for separatists, of nationality. Paradoxically, immigrants from the world over are welcomed into both English and French Canada. Chinese-Canadians in Quebec or Ukrainian-Canadians in Alberta share the same citizenship, but not the same culture.

Historically, nationality, culture and religion tend to be mixed together. Many countries that label themselves by religion are really asserting the distinctive qualities of their cultural or national identity.
In the example of my friend, he lives in a “Jewish” state. Yet, one can hold Israeli nationality without professing the Jewish religion or being born of an ethnically Jewish family — some Israeli citizens are Muslim, Druze or Christian by religion, and one-fifth are born of ethnically Arab families.
Israel’s dominant culture is Western and Jewish. Although many Jewish Israelis are more culturally than religiously Jewish, most would object to anyone identifying himself as a Jew who professes another religion.
Israel’s Arab neighbors are similar. Except Lebanon, Arab countries identify themselves as Islamic, even though some are very secular. The dominant culture may be Arab and Islamic, but not all citizens are Muslim by religion. Also, many Muslim citizens are more culturally than religiously Muslim.
Traditionally, Western countries have been considered Christian — and similarly mixing religion with culture and nationality. Now, many embrace civic religious neutrality — the idea of separation of “church” and “state.”
Canada and the United States, for example, have pluralistic societies that consider cultural and religious diversity and freedom as desirable within the framework of a common citizenship and national identity.
This ideal is profoundly religious — not that all be the same, but that all may be one, united in diversity.
May we someday get beyond national differences too, and really join together the whole human family.

(Published in
one, 35:6, November 2009)

I’m Sincerely Yours

Have you ever been in a situation where someone else has mistaken your identity? For example:
“Nice to see you again.”
“Excuse me, who are you?”
“Don’t you remember? We met at Tom and Amelia’s house a few months ago.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know them. You must be mixing me up with somebody else.”
It’s somewhat awkward if you are mistaken for someone else, but it’s a much more serious matter if you mistake your own identity, if you don’t know really who and what you are.
The mores of modern society tend to confuse the best of us, especially those that put such an emphasis on self-fulfillment. An old, popular song sums up this point of view: “Whether I’m right, or whether I’m wrong, I gotta be me, I gotta be me.”
But, am I the be-all and the end-all of my existence? Is all that really matters me? Is my life just for me?
In a few short and beautiful words, St. Paul wrote to the Romans about their fundamental identity: “None of us lives for oneself, and no one dies for oneself. For if we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord; so then, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.”
If we really know ourselves, we know that we are creatures, yearning to fulfill the designs of our creator. For St. Augustine, this realization was the turning point of his life. In the beginning of his autobiography, he cries to the Lord, “Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee.”
Our challenge, then, is to be who we really are and are meant to be. Shakespeare expressed it well in Hamlet, “This above all: to thine own self be true…” St. John the Evangelist spelt out the implications of it, “. . . we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed.”

Notice St. John says “we”. We are the Lord’s. We are his sons and daughters, and so brother and sisters — one family.
Larger families — clans, ethnic groups, and nations — also need to know who they truly are. They, too, can suffer from mistaken identity. Sometimes others mistake their identity and worth, and sometimes they mistake their identity themselves. They, too, may live confused, with a similar song, “Whether we’re right, or whether we’re wrong, we gotta be us.”
But, each of them is the Lord’s and a part of his entire human family.
It’s painful to see people who speak as though they know who they really are, who talk of God, and yet who are contradicted by their actions. Jesus named such people “hypocrites,” describing them with Isaiah’s words, “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.”
It is even more painful to witness families, clans, ethnic groups, and nations who claim to know who they are, who invoke God, and yet whose actions speak the opposite.
Paradoxically, in that region of the world where God uniquely intervened in human history, where Judaism, Christianity, and Islam began, this hypocrisy is blatant.
How profoundly and evilly mistaken are those who randomly kill innocents in the name of God, sacrifice others for their own interests and advancement, and clothe themselves with righteousness as they violate the rights of their neighbors.
How dangerous are they who do not know who and what they are.
Thanks to you, Lord, I know who I am. In you “we live and move and have our being.” I’m sincerely yours.

(Published as
“Sincerely Yours” in
one, 35:1, January 2009)

Middle East Christians on the Move

Adapted from an address by Msgr. Robert L. Stern to the Consulta of the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem, 3 December 2008

Demographics

Years ago, a bishop from the Middle East said to me, “Monsignor, you have to understand that in our part of the world numbers have a very symbolic value.” This was a polite way of saying that certain numbers are asserted that may or may not correspond to reality.
Accurate population statistics of Middle East countries are hard to come by; Israel, however, maintains current census data. Let me propose some reasonable estimates.
As of October 2008, some 7,337,000 people lived in Israel; 147,000 or two percent of them are Christian, for the most part Arabs. This ignores more than 300,000 people who have entered Israel according to the Law of Return and officially are classified as non-Jewish. Who are they? Generally, they come from a Marxist Eastern Europe with a family background that is most likely Orthodox Christian. In addition, many Christian guest workers, Filipinos and others, live and work in Israel.
Approximately 3,800,000 people live in Palestine, i.e., the West Bank and Gaza, the occupied territories with their limited degree of Palestinian autonomy. At most, Christians of all denominations total about 40,000 people or one percent of the population.
So, in the traditional Holy Land area, you have a total population of more than 11,000,000 people with less than 200,000 Christians — the smallest proportion of Christians of any country in the region.
Today, the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan probably is home to almost 6,000,000 people. Four to six percent of the kingdom’s population — perhaps 250,000 people — are Christian.
Generally, nearly a third of these Holy Land Christians are Latin (Roman) Catholics, about a third are Melkite Greek Catholics, and Greek Orthodox Christians make up the balance. There are also some other Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant denominations.
About 3,900,000 people live in Lebanon; Christians number about 1,170,000 or thirty percent of the total population. This is a significant decline from when France created the country as a majority Christian enclave.
Syria has somewhat fewer than 20,000,000 people, and about 1,850,000 are Christian — 9.4 percent of the total population. Iraq has somewhat over 28,000,000 people; the most generous estimate would indicate that there are 760,000 Christians left, or 2.7 percent of the population. But, the real numbers are probably much smaller.
Egypt’s population of 81,700,000 people is rapidly growing. Generally, about ten percent of the population is considered Coptic Orthodox. Much smaller Coptic Catholic and evangelical churches exist; Latin Catholics are almost exclusively religious who work in church institutions.

Sociological trends

This demographic information is static. It is important to consider the situation dynamically — to examine the population trends.
Since the conclusion of World War I, which ended 400 years of Ottoman Turkish hegemony in the Middle East, Christian populations have been declining throughout the region. Look at the number of Christians living in Jerusalem a hundred years ago and today; look at Damascus, look at Iran. There is a tremendous reduction in the proportion of Christians and, for the most part, in their absolute number.
What are the reasons? First, Middle East Christians tend to be very well educated compared to the majority of the population. And, it seems that the higher the level of education and economic opportunity of the family, the smaller the family size. Accordingly, you find a steadily declining birthrate among the Christian population.
In economically less developed sectors or in the more religiously conservative sectors, larger families are the norm. For instance, ultra-Orthodox Jews in Israel and strictly observant Muslims throughout the region have a much higher birthrate.
Another reason for the declining numbers of Christians is emigration. Christians are leaving the Holy Land, the Arab world and the Middle East. Why? Most Christians feel a sense of exclusion from the predominantly Muslim or Jewish societies in which they live. Some observers allege the region’s Christians suffer persecution. This is an exaggeration, I think, but that there is discrimination against Christians in most Muslim countries is absolutely incontestable.
The degree of discrimination varies from country to country. Certainly, in a large country like Egypt, there have been distinguished Christian ministers such as Boutros Boutros-Ghali. But generally the higher levels of the political and social order are reserved for Muslims.
Further, the West has its attractions. Most Middle East Christians have family or friends living freely in Australia, Scandinavia, Latin and North America.
In summary, dispassionately and in terms of population trends, it is clear that the number of Christians is rapidly declining throughout the entire Middle East. Some sources project that it is likely the total Christian population of the Arab world will be as low as 6,000,000 within two decades.

Historical perspective

An historical perspective — a look at very long-term trends — is very useful for assessing the present.
Christianity began as a branch of Judaism in what we call the Holy Land. It was a Jewish sect and had that ethnic identity. The first Christians were Jews. Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the Apostles were all Jews, Messianic Jews. The world in which they lived was under the control of the pagan Roman Empire.
As Christianity began to spread, early Christians struggled with the question, “Are we to be Jewish or not?” The breaking point with Judaism came once pagans (Gentiles) were admitted into the Christian community without the obligation of converting to Judaism. Early Christianity quickly became, so to speak, a transnational movement. To be Christian did not demand to belong to a particular tribe, ethnic group or political body. This was a very radical departure from the norm, since religion was a component of the social and political order in all ancient societies. Christianity had the character of an organized movement without national or ethnic boundaries. In Christ, as St. Paul insisted, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free person, there is not male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”
Christianity rapidly spread within and outside the Roman Empire. But since these Christians did not always accept the religions of the lands in which they lived, they were often seen as subversive. In fact, in Rome they were killed for not being “politically correct” — they refused to offer sacrifices to the gods of the state. Christians generally refused to accommodate themselves to any state religion, whether of Rome, Persia or any other place.

Established religion of the Romans

Within a few hundred years, the fortunes of Christianity changed dramatically. By the end of the fourth century, Christianity became the official state religion of the Roman Empire. What impact did this establishment have upon perceptions of what was radically a transnational movement? Outside the Roman Empire, Christianity was seen as the religion of the Romans. In the rival empire of Persia, Christianity was seen not only as a foreign religion but the religion of the enemy. Even so, Christians and Christianity were tolerated.
Beyond the worlds of Rome and its enemies, Christianity flourished. Within a few hundred years, it spread across Asia; there were dioceses and bishops in Mongolia and China. The incredible growth of this branch of the church — what we today call the Assyrian Church of the East — was, and still is, relatively unknown to the Western world.
Yet in spite of this rapid growth of Christianity outside the Roman and Persian worlds, Christianity still was strongly perceived as the Roman religion.

Minority Christianity in an Islamic world

What happened with the coming of Islam? An important chapter of the history of the Middle East is the story of the Islamization of what were once Roman, Christian lands. For about three centuries, the populations of Egypt, Syria and the border lands of the Roman Empire were overwhelmingly Christian. However, Christianity gradually was reduced to the status of a minority religion as the Middle East increasingly became Muslim — a process still continuing today.
Islam tolerates Christians as a forerunner religion, but Christians have second-class status in Islamic society and frequently are subjected to tremendous social pressure to adopt Islam.

The Crusader interlude and its aftermath

For a relatively brief historical period, the Islamic states and jurisdictions of parts of the Middle East were displaced by Western feudal Christian rule. All of a sudden, the controlling political authority was Christian, in the sense that it stemmed from the “Christian” West. Christian Western powers imposed a new political order.
Also, the Crusader rulers displaced Eastern forms of Christianity and hierarchs with Western forms. For example, the Westerners installed their own patriarch in Jerusalem, which is why we still have a Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem today. The same thing happened in Antioch and Constantinople.
In the post-Crusader Islamic world, Christianity was viewed with now greater suspicion because of its entanglement with militant Western powers. Even centuries later, in the waning years of the Ottoman Empire, France claimed to be the protector of Catholics while Germany assumed a similar role for Protestants.
Western political powers have been almost universally perceived as religious powers by Muslims. For this reason, there has always been a lingering sense that Christians in the Middle East are of questionable loyalty because of their ties to France, Germany, Britain and the West in general.

The Western (“Christian”) mandates

Until the recent invasion of Iraq, there had been only one other brief interlude of Western, “Christian” control of the Middle East. After World War I, the Sykes-Picot Treaty divided control of that portion of the Ottoman Empire between Britain and France. During this period of the League of Nations mandates, the region’s modern nation states were created. France carved Lebanon from Syria. Britain severed Jordan from Palestine and joined three Ottoman provinces to create modern Iraq.
Only one of these modern nation-states created by the “Christian” powers during and after the mandate period, Lebanon, is nonsectarian. Israel is a Jewish state; all the rest are Muslim, either secular or religious.
Today, a Christian in the Middle East lives in a Judeo-Muslim world. Except for the unique and somewhat ambiguous case of Lebanon, Christians are citizens or subjects of either an Islamic or a Jewish political authority.

The future of Middle East Christianity

What does the future hold for Christians in the Middle East?
The nature of Christianity is for it not to be tied to any one government, ethnic group, or culture. Christianity transcends national, ethnic. and cultural boundaries. Christianity is for the world. Jesus came to save the whole world. The Holy Spirit was poured out on the whole world. The mission of the church is for the whole world — that is why it is called catholic, or universal. Human nature being what it is, the church may be at times entangled with a particular culture, ethnicity, or politics, but it serves the whole world.
The challenge for Christians everywhere, especially in the Middle East, is to not cling to a Western identity. In Lebanon, a generation or so ago, the average well-educated Christian spoke French, but could hardly speak Arabic. Effectively, Christians self-proclaimed themselves foreigners; now all that has changed. But many Christians in the Middle East still continue to identify with Western ways and Western styles of life.
Christians in the Middle East should not overly identify with a particular ethnicity either. Tribal identity remains strong in their countries. For example, many a Jordanian priest, if asked, “What tribe do you belong to?” would have a ready answer. He knows he belongs to a tribe; he has Bedouin roots.
Of course, we all belong to a family, a clan, and an ethnic group. In the United States, for example, when I went to school, other children would ask me, “What are you?” which meant, in my part of the world, “Are you Irish? Italian? German?” I could never give a simple answer; I always had to explain that though my family name is German Jewish, I am Catholic and of Irish descent on my mother’s side. We all have ethnic identity or identities. But Christianity is more than ethnicity. Christians in the Middle East — and everywhere — should not define themselves by it.
Sometimes Christians in the Middle East assert Western culture against Islamic culture. Muslims do not eat pork, we will. Muslims do not drink wine, we will. Muslims fast through Ramadan, we will not. The Christians seem to say we have to be us and they have to be them. While understandable, this attitude is another of the challenges for Christians. Christianity does not have to be — and should not be — tied to Western customs and lifestyles. Middle Eastern Christians are challenged to incarnate their faith in a culture that has been molded by Islam.

Christianity is not tied to geography

Another observation, which may generate some serious disagreement, is that Christianity has no necessary ties to geography. Judaism is land-bound. Judaism is focused on one piece of land, a small strip of land, the Holy Land, because of God’s promise to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and because of the ancient kingdoms of Judah and Israel. Because Judaism is land-bound, the creation of a Jewish homeland in the Middle East was and remains important to Jews.
Islam, too, is very tied to geography — to Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem. In a sense, Muslims are shrine-bound. Jerusalem’s Haram as Sharif with its Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa Mosque are extremely important to Islam. Ariel Sharon provoked the second intifada when he entered this Muslim sanctuary area atop the mount, where centuries ago the Jewish temple stood, to declare that an Israeli can stand anywhere in Israel. This was as dangerous as throwing a lighted match into a powder magazine.
For Muslims, Jerusalem is the third most important place in the world. Muslims are shrine-bound. Christians are not. Jesus is not buried in the Holy Sepulchre; it remains an empty tomb.
Remember the words of Jesus to the Samaritan woman, “… the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem … but in spirit and in truth.”
Where do we find Jesus? We find him everywhere. We find him among ourselves when two or three of us are gathered in his name. As followers of Jesus, we do not have the ties to a place that Jews and Muslims do. Christianity can flourish anywhere. It can flourish in China, in Georgia, in Africa and in Rome.
Particular Christian structures and institutions, however, do not flourish in quite the same way. It is hard to do things the Italian way if you live in Australia or the Palestinian way if you live in Honduras. Structures have to be adapted to the places where they are located, but Christianity itself can be implanted and grow anywhere at all.
Even though there are no geographic imperatives in Christianity, Christians have historical roots in the Holy Land. There is no place so evocative to visit for a Christian as the land of the Bible. This is a land of immense symbolic importance to Christians. But, if it should happen that not a single Christian remains in the Holy Land, it will not fundamentally hurt Christianity.

A bridge to the future for the Arab world

Notwithstanding their limitations, Middle East Christians can be a bridge to the future for the Muslim Arab world. Christians have learned certain universal values from the modern, Western world and so can bring certain perspectives to the Arab world that are vitally important for its development and maturation.
For example, what in the United States is referred to as the “separation of church and state” is a very valuable concept. Vatican II enshrined the essence of this idea in its teaching about religious liberty and freedom of conscience. The United Nations also enshrines it in its declarations. It is deeply rooted in the teachings of Jesus. It is the idea that human dignity and freedom require respect for the conscience of the individual, which in turn requires freedom of worship. This concept can be very upsetting to the Islamic world. Yet, if the Islamic world is to join fully the community of modern societies, it has to integrate this and similar values into daily life.
Religious, cultural, and social pluralism is not an evil. Pluralism is a healthy phenomenon. It has been long experienced in North America and is increasingly being experienced in many other Western countries. It is a value in itself. Christians, because they serve as a bridge to these cultures, can be instruments in assisting the growth and evolution of the Islamic and Arab worlds.
Christians can offer the Islamic world some other unique perspectives. When the president of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue recently was asked about the difference between Muslim and Christian attitudes toward God, he summarized a lot by very briefly responding that Christians see God as Father — a tremendous insight.
Christians bring the values, for example, of reconciliation and forgiveness. We may take them for granted, but in the culture of much of the Mediterranean world, you are considered weak and soft if you are too open and forgiving; traditionally, honor demands vengeance. We may think of this as a sort of Mafia code, but it is alive and well. Even in some fairly modern Middle Eastern countries, the honor of your family, clan and tribe sometimes requires vengeance.
Christians come with a message of reconciliation and forgiveness that is countercultural. Jesus taught his followers to renounce their legitimate right to vengeance. This typically Christian value is totally different from the traditional culture of much of the Middle East. Yet it is a precious contribution Christians may bring to it.
Ultimately what Christians bring to the Middle East is that they become bridges in their very selves. In Rome, the Holy Father uses the title of “Pontifex Maximus,” originally a pagan Roman title. “Ponti” refers to “bridge” and “fex,” “to make”; a pontifex is a bridge builder. In ancient times, the building of a bridge represented a tremendous advancement. Bridges allowed people to cross rivers easily, facilitated transportation and opened the way for armies.
As Christians, we are all called to be “pontifical.” Our challenge is to bridge misunderstandings and differences. Christians have a tremendous role to play in the Holy Land and throughout the Middle East, even though they are a tiny minority and may not quite fit in.
In light of the current sociological reality, what Middle East Christians need is a John-the-Baptist-type of spirituality. The church is not going to flourish in the near future in the Middle East; it is in a state of rapid decline. But, this is okay. “He must increase, I must decrease.”
It would be an invaluable contribution if the church, if Christians can become an effective instrument to turn around the Islamic and Jewish worlds in which they live. In small ways, this is already happening. For example, Christian schools serve all the people of the region. At Bethlehem University, the majority of the students are not Catholic or Christian, yet they are receiving solid values, learning about the other, experiencing coexistence and receiving a high-quality education.

Migration of Christians

Though maintaining the Christian presence in the Middle East is important, the fact is that many Middle East Christians are emigrating.
When we talk about migration, we need to recall that Christianity is fundamentally a movement. Christians from the beginning have always spread throughout the world, conscious of their mission of evangelization, of spreading the good news of the teachings of Jesus and the kingdom of God.
The movement — the migration — of Christians is not necessarily bad. The fact that many Christians leave one place and go to another is not an evil, though they may move with regret. If there are more Christian Bethlehemites in Santiago, Chile, than in Bethlehem, then so be it; it is a fact of life. Is the goal to get every Christian Bethlehemite from Santiago back to Bethlehem to create a Christian majority there? Whether or not it is the goal, it is not going to happen; this also is a fact of life.
On the other hand, is it not wonderful that Christians from Bethlehem are bringing their values and history with them to other lands? Clearly, the migration of Middle East Christians, though not necessarily a negative phenomenon, does involve the weakening and perhaps ultimately the loss of a rich patrimony and culture in their homelands.
It is understandable that Christians and other people in the Middle East want to seek better lives elsewhere. It takes a valiant minority to stay simply for the sake of maintaining the Christian presence when other parts of the world beckon with jobs, educational opportunities, freedom, and a brighter future.

Cultivating a climate of safe migration

Bear in mind that migration does not mean that individuals cannot return. One of our challenges is to create a climate for safe migration. We worry about whether storks can travel from Russia, through the Middle East flyway, to Africa and back again. We are concerned that Monarch butterflies can get from North to Central America and back again. We want to ensure that whales can migrate freely through the seas.
Why are we not at least as concerned about the migration of people? That is to say, together with environmentalists, we want animals to live in a safe place, pass freely en route to their destinations, and have a safe breeding ground when they arrive. Do not migrating people deserve at least as much?
Minimally, as responsible Christians we must become migration advocates with the United Nations and with our own governments — advocates of safeguards that allow people to remain in their own homelands if they wish and of laws that both facilitate their moving about the world and also allow them, if you will, new breeding grounds in other places.
It is ironic that we are more inclined to help birds migrate than people. And in migrations, as we know from birds, bees, salmon, and elephants, migrants return. Why cannot Christians return to the Middle East if the cultural and social climate attracts them? Why should they be excluded from returning, as is often the case?

Particular concerns for the Middle East

What then should be our principal concerns about the situation and migration of Christians in the Holy Land and the rest of the Middle East?
First, we must assist those who live there. They are our brothers and sisters. They live in a negative environment; often discriminated against, they lack many opportunities we take for granted. They need our help.
Second, if we are truly concerned with this part of the world, we must use some of our influence on governments of the lands in which we live to change their national policies concerning the Middle East.
The preamble of Pope Paul VI’s revised constitution of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre states that one of the three characteristic virtues of its members is “a courageous struggle for justice and peace.”
Not only for members of the order but also for all Christians, issues of justice, peace, human rights, and reconciliation, especially in the Holy Land and the Middle East, are of vital importance. Through advocacy in our home countries and our participation in the work of the local church, we help ensure that Christian values, Christian ethics, and Christian criteria of judgment are being brought to the negotiating table.
A very practical contribution we can make is to help those who choose to migrate — facilitate their arrival, welcome them and assist their settlement. We can also advocate less restrictive immigration policies in the countries where we live.
Lastly, do not forget those who stay. We are concerned for their survival. They need our financial help, presence and visits, promotion of education and human development, and our willingness at home to engage in the “courageous struggle for justice and peace.”

(Published in
one, 35:1, January 2009)

Pearls versus Oysters

If I were an oyster, I think I’d take a pretty dim view of pearls. After all, what makes a pearl? Usually it’s the result of some foreign and perhaps irritating particle getting lodged inside the protective shell of the living oyster.
Since the oyster can’t get away from or get rid of the foreign particle, it does its best to deal with it — the oyster secretes and coats it with the same nacre that lines and smooths the inside of its shell.
The result is an encapsulated particle in the form of a glistening sphere — a pearl. Alas, poor oyster, for the pearl is worth more to most people than the creature that brought it into being. The pearl is ripped from the living flesh in which it is nested and the oyster is cast aside to die.
It’s an odd inversion of values. Since without oysters there can be no pearls, why should the pearl be worth so much more than the oyster?
In some ways, living faith communities are like the oyster. They are confronted with disturbing foreign customs or secular traditions that somehow find their way into the fabric of their daily life.
If it’s not possible to get rid of them, living societies do their best to accommodate and incorporate them, suitably modified and rendered harmless.
Curiously, some of the things and customs most associated with the identity of a particular church or religious community often are the results of such accommodations. Further, these “pearls” are sometimes inordinately esteemed, valued and defended.
For example, appropriate religious clothing. Increasingly, Muslim women are wearing head scarves or veils that had their origin in some ancient Middle Eastern customs. They are becoming a controversial badge of religious identity.

But, how much do scarves and veils ultimately matter? With respect, the faith and devotion of the person is more than important than the clothing.
Catholics have experienced similar situations. A couple of generations ago it was unthinkable that a woman would come to church with her head uncovered; now the custom barely exists.
The founders of many religious congregations wanted their members to live simply and modestly, so they made their uniform the ordinary clothing of the poor of their day. What would they think of the post-Vatican II controversies about habits or of a religious generation more concerned about dress than mission?
Is it vital that Western prelates wear the Roman imperial purple, now the sign of the papal household? Is not the Byzantine Liturgy equally efficacious, if its prelates do not wear imperial-style crowns?
Whether the congregation prays barefoot or shod, covered or uncovered, men and women together or apart, prayer is still prayer.
Orthodoxy survived a time without its icons. Western Catholicism can manage without Latin high Masses. Protestants have grown beyond “only Scripture.” These are all precious pearls of our various histories and traditions — but the living church is greater than them all.
We dispute customs and traditions prompted by different times and places. But, the most important thing is the living, common faith that produced them.
The pearl may be of great price, but the oyster is priceless.

(Published as “Priceless Oysters” in
one, 33:2, March 2007)

Middle East Story

Maybe because I’m a native New Yorker, I really like the Leonard Bernstein/Stephen Sondheim musical, “West Side Story,” a contemporary adaptation of William Shakespeare’s “The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.”
In the play (and film), two young people, María and Tony, with ties to two rival street gangs fall in love. The hatred between the gangs shatters both their lives.
In one song, Anita warns María:

A boy like that who’d kill your brother,
Forget that boy and find another,
One of your own kind,
stick to your own kind!

This could be the Middle East’s theme song. Don’t get involved with — don’t join forces with — don’t build relations with anybody except your own kind.
But, here’s the rub: Who are my kind?
If I’m a Lebanese named Ahmed, are my own kind fellow Muslims, but not Christians and Druze? Or are my own kind Sunni Muslims, rather than Shiites?
If I’m a Shiite, are my own kind only Shiite Arabs, or do they include Shiite Persians too?
If I’m a Shiite Arab in Lebanon are my own kind Hezbollah, but not fellow Shiites who are members of Amal?

Stick to your own kind!

If I’m a Palestinian called Nabil, are my own kind Christians, not Muslims and Jews? Maybe my own kind are Orthodox, but never Catholics and Evangelicals?
If I’m Orthodox, are my own kind just Greek Orthodox or Syrian and Coptic Orthodox too?

Stick to your own kind!

If I’m a Israeli named Esther, are my own kind Jews, as opposed to Christians and Muslims? Or, are my own kind Ashkenazi Jews, not Sephardic or Ethiopian?
If I’m an Ashkenazi Jew living in Israel, are my own kind Ashkenazi Jews from Austria and Germany, but not Jews from Russia?
If you keep this up long enough, it boils down to “If I’m me, I’m not you!”
It’s absurd. It’s illogical. It’s counter-productive. Even so, we pick and choose sides and groups, clans, and tribes — and then insanely let rivalry and hatred allow us to demonize the other and force us further and further apart.
It was the rabbi from what is now Turkey, Paul, who tried to persuade his fellow Christians, whatever their background, that

you are all children of God in Christ Jesus . . . There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free person, there is not male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

May the Middle East story not always be about shattered lives nor conclude like the Shakespearean tragedy:

A glooming peace this morning with it brings.
The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished;
For never was a story of more woe . . .

(Published in
one, 32:5, September 2006)

Differentiation

Q. What’s the difference between a whiffenbird?
A. One leg’s both the same!

No, it doesn’t make any sense at all — it’s just an old nonsense riddle. On the other hand, maybe it does suggest something very sensible indeed — the absurdity of overemphasizing difference.
We seem to thrive on difference, for better or worse:

“I’m taller”—“He’s shorter”
“She’s fatter”—“I’m thinner”
“We’re richer”—“They’re poorer”
“He’s a slob”—“He’s a snob”
“She’s too pale”—“She’s too dark”
“They’ve got class”—“They have no class”
“He makes more”—“He makes less”
“I’m smarter”—“She’s dumber”
“They live better”—“We live worse”
“I’ve got friends”—“He has no friends”

After all, it’s differences that distinguish us one from the other. When we need to know exactly who someone is, we look for some unique expression of difference.
Fingerprints identify us. There are at least six billion people in the world today. That means there are at least sixty billion fingerprints. None of them is the same.
Modern technology looks for better identifiers inside us. The combination and sequencing of genes on each person’s chromosomes are unique, even though the number of chromosomes and most genes is common to all.
The Psalmist marveled at his uniqueness,

Truly you have formed my inmost being;
you knit me in my mother’s womb.
I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made;
wonderful are all your works.

You are absolutely unique. So am I. But, it’s difficult to live in solitary splendor. That’s why we seek some common ground with others.
Alas, often the common ground we find is superficial. We opt for people who look like us, dress like us, or speak our language. But, common characteristics like these can mask profound differences of values, goals, and beliefs.
Our tendency to identify with superficial characteristics can work against our best interests in still other ways. There may be people with whom we have deep feelings, values, and commitments in common, but we don’t recognize them for who they really are — superficial differences put us off.
I may have more in common with a kind and loving foreigner whose dress and language are strange to me than I do with a scheming and selfish neighbor in my hometown.
I may have more in common with a sincere and profoundly religious Jew, Muslim, or Hindu than I do with a vain and hypocritical Christian who sings beside me in church.
It may turn out that I have more in common with the one I have been taught is my enemy than with the one I presume is my friend.
A good rule of thumb is to find the best and deepest common ground and act accordingly. For starters, we’re all God’s creatures, called to be his children, challenged to live as brothers and sisters and destined for eternal life — together!

(Published in
one, 31:2, March 2005)

Misplaced Pride

When I started school at P.S. 33 in the Bronx, I had a tough time responding to the question, “What are you?” The answer expected was my “nationality.” (It was unacceptable, by the way, to say “American.”)
My parents were born in Manhattan, my mother of Irish descent (and Catholic), my father of German descent (and Jewish). I did not have a simple answer.
As a priest, when I used to visit my Spanish-speaking Salvadoran compadres and their families in New York City, my three-year-old godson was the only one who spoke to me in English! Early on, he was choosing his identity.
Pastoral work with inner-city Hispanic youth surely taught me how important it is to know who you are and to take pride in your roots.
Now, here’s the rub! How much pride in one’s roots is good? It’s the Goldilocks problem. Too little pride is bad; it starves self-confidence and cripples our lives. Too much pride is bad; it exaggerates our importance and can destroy our well-being and our neighbor’s too.
In the world CNEWA serves, balance in national or religious pride is part of the solution of many problems.
Eritreans are proud of their identity and heritage, as are the other peoples of Ethiopia; but the war for independence and rights went on for 30 years.
The peoples of the former Soviet Union are proud of their ethnic roots, but the union has dissolved into several republics, and many have internal conflicts among their peoples. Even when nationality is the same, e.g. Ukrainian, religious differences trigger division.

India is organized into national states. In Kerala, the Malayalam people are Hindu, Christian, and Muslim. The Christians are divided into Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant. The Catholics are separated into Malabar, Malankara, and Latin.
The Iraqi Kurds want to form a separate country. Armenians and Azeris fight each other in Azerbaijan. Palestinians want sovereignty and resist Israeli occupation. Lebanon is a patchwork of feuding Christian, Muslim, and Druze clans.
Sometimes what’s wrong is not too much or too little pride in one’s roots; it is that the pride is too superficial and shallow. We do not really know our roots profoundly. If we go down deeper, below the levels of political division, law, language, customs, and all the other obstacles that cause dissension, we reach common ground.
St. Paul put it to the Galatian Christians this way (Gal 3:26-28):

For through faith you are all children of God in Christ Jesus . . . There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free person, there is not male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

What a world it would be, if only all peoples, whether Christian or not, could be fiercely proud of being made in the image and likeness of the one God, of being sons and daughters, of being brothers and sisters.

(Published in
Catholic Near East, 18:3, July 1992)