Listening for God? Or just for us?

I was reading Harold Kushner's book "Living a Life that Matters", when I came across a section about Jeremiah and listening to God.  He wrote:

My question to Jeremiah would be: What did you mean when you said 'The word of the Lord came to me...' How does God speak to people? How can you be sure that it is God's voice and not your own wishful thinking? Of the many voices that come into our minds, how do we recognize which is the authentic voice of God?"

That question resonated with me, especially in this election season when so many claim to know exactly what God wants us to do. Too many candidates are all too willing to tell everyone whom God loves and whom God hates.  They, as ordinary human beings, say they know what behaviors and what attitudes God approves of, and which He/She/It condemns.

So how do they know?   What tools do they have to separate the divine voice from their own biases and prejudices?  Sure, some of them can quote scripture or commentary to support their view.  But then again, others can quote from the same sources and have a totally different result. So which, if anyone, is really hearing God's voice? Which is God's message and which is our own?

The question is nothing new.  The Rabbis who wrote the Talmud claimed to be writing the will of God, and yet even amid their very closed group, there was more argument and disagreement than agreement.  Surely if they had heard the word of God, there would be no room for debate!

And any student of history knows that the greatest horrors in our world's history came from different views of what God wants, what God says.

The founders of this country understood this dilemma, too. They tried to put into place protection from a state view of religion, and Jefferson wrote extensively about the need to separate religion and government, knowing that our very human issues often cloud the real message.

So why, knowing this reality, do we still, as a country, accept candidates who claim to speak from their own religious point of view?  Why do we not tell them to leave the religious message at the door to their synagogue or mosque or church?

Why if we cannot know how to hear God's voice above our own, do we still accept the words of other humans who claim that they are immune?

Peace to us all for Pink Saturday....

Clockwise, from wind chimes: Wiccan beltane, Buddhist nuns, Muslim girl in hijab, Christian Minister, Hindu bride, Jewish woman in Tallit

We're all in this together, this thing we call life.

Most of us want the same things.  Peace.  A healthy and happy family.  Good kids.  A warm, dry and safe place to live. Enough food on the table. Love. A chance to worship as we believe is right.  We are all so much the same. And yet so wonderfully different.

It really doesn't matter whether we put on a hijab or a tallit or a robe...and when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter how we address the Creator, whether in words or song or one name or another.  Our paths are different, but the mountain top is the same one.  We have just been placed on different roads to get there.

Today, on this anniversary of an act of hate, carried out by a few individuals, let's spend time remembering that we all...

Cry
Laugh
Sing
Smile
Grow
Love

If someone else's customs seem strange, ask questions.  If their words sound foreign to your ear, listen with your heart.  If they look different, ignore their clothes or their skin colour and look at their eyes. You'll recognize the kinship there.

And the next time you're tempted to say "They all..." about another religion -- or you feel that it might be better to remain silent when someone else heads that way -- remember that it's your sister or your brother who is being hated. And speak up, in love, for peace, for every member of our human family.

A joyous and peaceful September 11th Pink Saturday to you all.

Hamsa - Five - Celebrating 5 months of marriage and my husband's birthday

Our hats on the hotel windowsill the morning after the wedding

 Today we are celebrating five months of marriage.  And at the same time, we are celebrating my husband's birthday -- there is also a 5 in his age.  And the date: 8/21/2010, if you add it up, 8+2+1+2+1=14, and 1+ 4 = 5 .

The coincidence occurred to me as I was thinking about the five months since our wedding day. And buying his birthday present. (It's amazing what runs through my mind when I'm standing in line! Sometimes I do calculus equations -- this time it was numerology. Oh well!)

Now, I am not a big fan of numerology, but that synchronicity caught my attention. Could it be just an accident?  It seems, even to the number skeptic (me!) that that is even more unlikely.

So I started thinking about the number five.  I wear a piece of Judaic/Islamic jewelry called a Hamsah.  It is a common religious symbol in the Middle East and North Africa, but in all of them, it represents protection and good fortune.  Some call it the Hand of Miriam, some call it the Hand of Fatima.  I've even heard it called the Hand of G-d.  But whatever the name, the symmetrical five finger-arrangement makes it distinctive.  In fact, the word "Hamsah" means five in Arabic.  So why is this symbol of five considered so powerful?

The Zohar, the classic work of Jewish mysticism and esoteric knowledge, has numerous mentions of powerful fives, including the five gates of salvation.  Kabbalist Rabbi Issac Luria wrote about the "... five souls, Nefesh ("Spirit"), Ru'ach ("Wind"), Neshamah ("Soul"), 
Chayah ("Life"), and Yechidah ("Singular"); the first of these being the lowest, and the last the highest. (Source: Etz Chayim)" .The Torah itself consists of Five Books of Moses. 

And Islamic practice is based upon Five Pillars.  Shahadah, a statement professing monotheism and accepting Muhammad as one of G-d's messengers. Salah, the daily prayer  which is made five times each day (another five.) Zakat, or charitable giving.  Sawm, or fasting, especially during the approximately 30 day period known as Ramadan.  And Hajj, which is a pilgrimage to Mecca.

There are also Five Precepts of the Buddha Gautama in the Theravada (mainly southeast and south Asia) and Mahayana (in China, Korea, and Japan) traditions. The Five Precepts are promises to abstain from killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying and intoxication.

I'm sure there are more, in other religions and cultures.  But the powerful presence of these major five, along with the fives in our life today feel like a great opportunity. I'm not sure how or what form it might take, but the message is too clear to ignore. 

For my husband on his birthday, and for the two of us on this five month anniversary, it's going to be a very special day. 

Happy Pink Saturday, everyone! 

Learning from the rest...

I've always believed that each religion on earth contains a bit of the truth of G-d's plan...and that no religion has it all. We are all on our paths, selected, I believe, by G-d, to meet our needs this time around. I am Jewish, so that is my path. I've explored other faiths, but I know I'm where I belong.

But because I see the value in all the paths, I've always been open to the lessons I find in other religions. I thought it might be nice to express my gratitude for some of the gifts I've gathered from other religions, other paths to the top of the mountain.






From my Muslim friends, I've learned that there is indeed enough to be grateful for in life to pray five times each and every day. And I've learned that it is possible to move through life gracefully and with focus and beauty doing the right things and helping those in need, even when half of the country is ignorant enough to label your religion a religion of terror.

From my Christian friends, I've learned the concept of faith in action. They've demonstrated to me that words don't count and showing up at a religious service doesn't count unless you're out doing something good for G-d's people the rest of the time. Through their service projects and outreach to the hungry and abused, I learned how to really BE a child of G-d, instead of just say I am.

From my Mormon friends, I've learned the way a family can be, can feel, can interact. The countless examples they've shown me of how to build a forever-family has profoundly influenced every aspect of my parenting. What I did not learn from my family of origin, I was given instead by the LDS families I came to know.

From my Buddhist friends, I've learned how to be quiet, how to be mindful, and how to experience the moment. I've discovered the profound value in sitting still and being alone with myself, free from distraction and sound and doing.

From my Hindu friends, I've been given the knowledge that G-d can take different forms for different people, different places and different times, and yet remain in unity and wholeness.

From my Quaker friends, I've been given the gift of centering down. Of finding that quiet space amid the noise, and of being free from the need to speak just for the sake of filling the silence. I've also learned that it is possible to be completely against war, and not defend that belief from those who would call it irrational or unrealistic. It just is.

For all of these, and for the countless times that a word, an idea, an image from your faith has touched me, and inspired my growth on my own path, I say now...thank you.

One hand loves, one hand hates

Last week, I went to a meeting of Jews, Muslims, Christians and others at the local Islamic Center. The attire ranged from hijabs and robes to tank tops and jeans. The youngest was, I think my daughter, age 10. The eldest was probably well into her 80's, maybe 90's. This group of about 100 or so people represented countries around the globe.

The one thing we shared? A desire to learn, to come together, to understand our neighbors and ourselves. To dispel the fear that comes from misinformation, stereotypes and media-fed hysteria.

For three hours, we sat there and talked. At the direction of the leader, each table was mixed to represent a good cross section of the religions and ethnicities present. Also at her direction, we discussed our backgrounds, our spiritual journey, our beliefs. We mulled over similarities and differences -- and found the similarities to be a MUCH longer list. We ate sweet pastries, and talked some more. At the end of the evening, each table sent a representative to the front to summarize what we had found.

It was a wonderful inspiring experience. And just the beginning. Our next meeting will be at a synagogue, where the learning and dialog will continue.

The very next day, I opened my e-mail to find a forward from my uncle. A former federal agent, now retired. It was a top to bottom diatribe of hatred against Muslims. A no-holds barred rage that "they" would dare to be in "our" country. He had not written it, but he had forwarded it. This particular uncle has forwarded hateful e-mails to me before and I have privately asked, each time, that I be left off his list. But he has not stopped.

Among my very religiously mixed family, this uncle happens to be Christian. Practicing. So I responded to him (and everyone on his sent-to list) with a message suggesting love and understanding as the only truly brave answer to such an e-mail. I then proposed that instead of forwarding messages of hatred, which of course only increases hatred and violence, perhaps he would consider forwarding a quote from the Christian Bible....

5:43-48

"Ye have heard that it hath been said, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy.' "But I say unto you, 'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and them which despitefully use you, persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.' For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? Do no even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? Do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect."

That, I wrote, would be a true act of bravery in the face of hateful messages.

The response from my family was ANGER! My answer was labeled "uncalled for" and "inappropriate" They were enraged at me. I was told to "Read a little about the Koran....and don't live in a shell."

I am saddened. Stunned. The contrast between the meeting and the message is too great.

I cannot remain silent in the face of hatred and distorted half-truths. But must I lose my family to stand up for what I know to be right? Does anyone have a suggestion?

As Ramadan comes to an end

A few thoughts as my very first Ramadan comes to an end...

This is an experience I will never forget. There will be other Ramadans and I will, inshallah, fast. But this first time will always be a treasured memory. The sensations, the people, the lessons learned.

• I have a better feel for what the people on the street are experiencing, although I am keenly aware that I always had the promise of Iftar awaiting me with its milk and dates to break the fast, and meal afterwards. Perhaps the meal we serve each week at Project Downtown is like the Iftar...a promise of something to end the thirst and hunger that makes dealing with it a little easier.
  
  
• The South Florida Islamic community is one of the most welcoming, friendly, open groups of people I have ever encountered.
  
  
• Prayer in a group is very powerful. Prayer in a group when you get to create your own sacred space inside your scarf is even more powerful.
  
  
• Ramadan isn't just about not eating and drinking for a given number of hours. It's about letting go of other things like anger, fear, greed and impatience. It is a cleansing of the body and the spirit.
  
  
• Ramadan alone would be very hard. Sharing the anticipation of the Iftar, even over the phone, makes all the difference in the experience.
  
  
• I will never take a bottle of water or lunch for granted again.
  

And the blessings go on...

Today, I will pick up my car with a new engine in it. Replaced under warranty.

Today, a check was sent for a freelance job I completed a few weeks ago.

Today, I will break the fast with friends at an Iftar celebration.

Today, I had a nice long phone call from an old friend who lives far away.

Today, I doppped my daughters off at their schools and came to work safely despite a blinding downpour.

Today, work has gone well.

Today, I have had music to listen to all day while I worked.

Today, I have fasted.

And the blessings go on.

Day 13 of Ramadan, September 26th, 2007

11 days of Ramadan and counting

Last night, I attended my first Iftar celebration. It was in the home of one of our Project Downtown members.

For three hours, we shared food and Salat and drink and conversation and laughter. We sipped hot mint tea and talked over the details of our days. This was a women's Iftar...my two daughters and I welcomed into a circle that included a few friends, some acquaintances and some women we just met. The women ranged from my daughter (aged 9) to several moms of teens and 20-somethings.

It was an amazing experience.

As Ramadan moves into its second third, I am amazed at the changes I've experienced.

• I've learned to follow a chart of times to eat and drink, instead of surrendering to the demands of my body.
  
  
• I've learned to focus on the moment -- a profound lesson in mindfulness.
  
  
• I've discovered how very little we need to eat to survive and thrive and am amazed at the vast amount we usually eat in contrast.
  
  
• I've learned gratitude for that first sip of milk and first bite of a date at the end of the day.
  
  
• I've learned the value of community, as we encourage each other along this season of fasting.
  
  
• I've learned humbleness when a homeless man, so impressed by the concept of fasting, decided to fast with us, despite the fact that his daily life already includes hunger and insufficient food.
  
  
• I've been imnpressed by the fortitude of my eldest daughter's fast, as she pushes her way through hunger and thirst through school days and household chores.
  
  
• And I am touched and grateful for the Iftar invitations that have been arriving daily as people learn that we have joined the fast.
  
  

On the 8th day of Ramadan

Today has been the hardest day so far.

I ate before dawn, but clearly not the right stuff. Shakey, sleepy, very thirsty. But I am getting through. The process is more important than my momentary comfort.

I just had a weird experience. I was updating my Facebook and the new app asked for my religion. I sat there for 10 minutes marking and unmarking two different boxes. I could not commit to where I have been for all these years, nor to where it seems I am going. I finally settled on "Multireligious" (yes that was one of the choices!) for now.

I feel that I am straddling a crevasse, trying to keep one foot on either side. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?) the gap is widening and it is about time for me to make a choice.

That's what this fast is all about. Choices.

Ramadan, Day 7

It's amazing how quickly we've adapted to the schedule of Ramadan. This morning at 5:30, my 16 year old daughter, who is also observing the fast, came into my room.

"Have you eaten yet, Mommy?" And a while later...

"It's 6. We have until 6:11. Do you want some more water?"

One week since the observance started, and our mornings have changed from a quick Pop-Tart and cup of tea on the way out the door to a real breakfast at 5:30 a.m. And an eye on the schedule posted on the fridge and the clock. No one is questioning whether they could grab another glass of water at 6:12, even though it's only a minute later. The precision of the times makes it impossible to ignore.

And it feels natural. It has already become a part of our routine.

As has the evening, when we watch the time as we prepare dinner.

"Time to break the fast", one of us will say. And the milk comes out, and the dates, and we snack gratefully on those as we get dinner on the table.

Our appetites are diminished, but what we do eat tastes so good, as though we are noticing the flavours and textures for the first time.

Ramadan has already changed us in ways we never anticipated. We expected hunger, thirst, maybe a headache. Some grumpiness. But instead, we've discovered a soothing routine, a schedule to make us aware of food and water and time and commitment. Yes, we have experienced hunger. And at times, the thirst becomes almost unbearable.

But mostly we have discovered an order and peace we had not expected. But have quickly come to cherish.

Living Ramadan

Today is Day 6 of Ramadan. My first Ramadan. Not the first I've known of, but my first fast. Before I was an observer. Now I am a part of this amazing tradition.

I got up at 5 this morning and ate a small breakfast. Less than a week into Ramadan, and it's already hard to eat very much at one time. Three glasses of water later, and it was time to start the day's fast.

The first day I was dizzy and lightheaded a few times. Now I just feel incredible. My mind is more peaceful than I can ever remember. My breath is slower. My sleep is better. Like the artist mentioned in a BeliefNet article, I feel transparent and hollow, cleaned out of all that is unessential.

And I am hungry.

Not for food. You thought I was going to say food. Nope.

I can talk about food, shop for food, even cook food, and I am able to wait until the proper time to break the fast. Last night I started making dinner before the fast ended and yet I got through all the prep without tasting one single bite. Food has become far less essential than ever before.

No, what I am hungry for are answers. And inspiration. And a clarity of purpose.

What am I doimg here in Ramadan? What am I to learn? How can G-d use my hunger and thirst to teach me things I need to learn? How can I understand the lessons and make the changes I need to make?

And where am I going after this?

My exploration of Islam began 7 years ago in a diner in rural central Pennsylvania. I was curious. I asked a waiter some questions. He told me I would make a wonderful Muslim and he let me borrow a copy of the Quar'an. I read it in a week. More questions. The waiter left to return to Egypt. I decided I needed to learn Arabic so I bought some books. I did not learn Arabic.

In the years since then, my questions have grown more numerous. Teachers have entered and left my life. Some remain. Some new ones have entered recently. I am studying Arabic at the University now, and finally learning.

I am living Ramadan as I fast. And as I feed the hungry and homeless with Project Downtown members on the streets each weekend. And as I read and think and pray. And I will experience another aspect in the next few days, as I attend my first Iftar celebrations. I am aware that I am part of a wonderful tradition stretching back centuries.

I will be blogging about this experience for the rest of Ramadan, in hopes that writing about my experience will help me to see the lessons and understand the purpose for this fast in a very personal way.

Wondering where G-d is leading me...

I received an invitation to attend an Islamic awareness day at a local public place this weekend. I've RSVP'd a maybe, because I am just learning about Islam, and doubt my abilities to answer even the most basic of questions with any degree of accuracy.

And yet, I want to go. Not to be the source of answers about Islamic practice or theology, but to be an answer to the very first question that should be asked...

Why ask about Islam? Especially as a Jew. Why ask?

Every person who walks up to this table on Sunday will have their own answer io that...curiosity about what they've heard/seen on tv, a desire to prove their own superiority to another group, genuine intellectual interest about some point or another of the faith. I'm sure that the reasons will be as numerous as the people who stop by.

And I'm sure that among all of those people, there will be a few who share my answer.

Because I could not help but ask.

Because the driving search for what this life means and what I am to do with it has led me, step by step, moment by moment to this place and this time...looking back, I can see the turns and twists that brought me here.

...to this place, and to these questions.

The next what's and why's remain to be seen. For now, knowing that I need to ask is enough.

And the hatred continues...

Yesterday in my e-mail I received a hate letter to all Muslims allegedly penned by a John Maniscalco, an American Airline pilot. A few minutes of investigating revealed that the letter was a hoax, and that their pilot by this name denies any involvement in it.

Michelle Simmons, customer relations representative for America Airlines, told BreakTheChain.org that they are investigating the matter, but have not yet found the letter's source. And that “On September 12th, our Chairman issued a statement to all American employees specifically stating that we would not tolerate hate of any kind at our Company. That statement remains true today."

And from Snopes.com, “The origins of "You Worry Me" remain murky — it first appeared on the Internet in June 2002, but attempts to verify whether its real author is an American Airlines pilot and/or someone named John Maniscalco have led to dead ends. “

The fact remains that someone wrote this piece…and here is my response. I hope you will read it…

To whomever penned this letter:

I wish I could say I understand and sympathize with your fears. But I do not.

I do not wish this because I want to share your fears and distrust, but so I could better address the many errors they represent.

Sadly, the facts and emotions you cite in your letter are born less of truth and understanding than of of paying attention to the ramblings of media talking heads who are paid to incite fear and distrust in the name of higher ratings and more expensive commercial rates.

You asked for answers...please allow me to humbly offer you a different perspective.

I would like to address your points one by one. For ease of following my response, I will be inserting my response into your original text in green. I challenge you ---all of you – to read to the end. Please.


YOU WORRY ME!" allegedly by American Airlines Pilot – Captain John Maniscalco

I've been trying to say this since 9-11, but you worry me. I wish you didn't. I wish when I walked down the streets of this country that I love, that your color and culture still blended with the beautiful human landscape we enjoy in this country. But you don't blend in anymore. I notice you, and it worries me.

Did you know that the majority of the world's Muslim population is not Arabic? And that odds just as likely that the majority of people you are "noticing" as you move through your day are Jewish, Christian, Hindu, or Sikh? People of all faiths have been attacked and even killed on our streets since September 11th simply because someone "thought they looked Muslim." Did you know that the largest population of Muslims is in Indonesia, with significant numbers in India -- not Arabic countries at all?

I notice you because I can't help it anymore. People from your homelands, professing to be Muslims, have been attacking and killing my fellow citizens and our friends for more than 20 years now. I don't fully understand their grievances and hate, but I know that nothing can justify the inhumanity of their attacks.

The men who hijacked the planes on September 11th had spent the days before hand drinking and engaging in sexual activity with women. These are documented facts. They then killed thousands of innocent people.

As the killing of innocents and to a lesser extent, both alcohol use and extramarital sexual activity are strictly forbidden by the Qu'ran, clearly these men were not practicing Muslims, any more than the members of the IRA who bombs malls or Timothy McVey who bombed the building in Oklahoma are Christians, although they all claimed to be. And we do not brand the entire Christian community for the acts of Mr. McVey and his fellow mass murders who also attacked and killed our fellow citizens. Nor do we condemn all Irish people for the acts of IRA.

As for not understanding the basis for long standing dislike of the US among certain countries, please, please start with a basic review of history...of the many governments we have set up and armed in that region, only to bomb and destroy at will when the puppet governments no longer suit our purpose or play our game. I would refer you to the archives of the New York Times, Washington Post, Baltimore Sun, Miami Herald or any other major newspaper to read the news stories concerning our friends/foes in the Middle East and North Africa. You will be amazed at the vast discrepancies between what the news media reports today about the events and what was written at the time things actually happened.

This does not justify September 11th. Nothing does. But it answers your question about hatred.

Sadly most Americans are grossly uninformed about their own history, and thus are easily swayed by the media. Shame on us...we should know better.

On September 11, nineteen ARAB-MUSLIMS hijacked four jetliners in my country. they cut the throats of women in front of children and brutally stabbed to death others. they took control of those planes and crashed them into buildings killing thousands of proud fathers, loving sons, wise grandparents, elegant daughters, best friends, favorite coaches, fearless public servants, and children's mothers.

As stated above, the individuals were no more Muslim than McVey was a Christian. History is replete with examples of people who assumed a religious label to justify horrific acts of violence. Few religions have not seen this tragedy. We should be able to see through this guise by now. But it is still trotted out by power-hungry people worldwide and in every faith, and still used to justify hatred and retaliation against honest practitioners of the target faith. Shame on us...again, we should know better.

The Palestinians Celebrated, the Iraqis were overjoyed as was most of the Arab World. So, I notice you now. I don't want to be worried. I don't want to be
consumed by the same rage and hate and prejudice that has destroyed the soul of these terrorists. But I need your help. As a rational American, trying to protect my country and family in an irrational and unsafe world, I must know how to tell the difference between you, and the Arab/Muslim terrorist.

After September 11th, did you approach your Muslim friends and neighbors to ask how they felt about the tragedy? Were they happy? Or were they as devastated as you? Did you start there when you were seeking answers?

Or could it be that you have never talked with a Muslim, except perhaps for a brief exchange in a business setting? Who are the Muslims in your neighborhood? Have you visited their homes? Invited them to yours? Shared a dinner? Gotten to know their children? Or are you relying on the sensationalist media to tell you who Muslims are and what they believe? There is hardly a person in this country who does not know that television is run on ratings...and that includes the news...and yet we are willing to swallow wholesale the "facts" they tell us and change our lives based on that "information." Why? Shame on us...it's time we considered the source before we believe anything

And once again, I need to point out that using the phrase "Arab/Muslim" as though the two are interchangeable is incorrect, as the majority of the world's Muslims are not Arabic, and many Arabs are not Muslim.

See the rest of the letter and my reply on To Be Continued ...

Since the promise...G-d's latest additions to my life -Saturday

A few days ago , I made a commitment to do one thing every day to make a difference. Since then, G-d has been acting in my life in big ways.

I wrote about the women and the overheated car. That was Tuesday evening. Thursday morning, I checked my e-mail to find information about an organization called The Project Downtown. It's a small but growing group of people in cities across the country and now across the globe that started with three men taking 30 sandwiches out to the homeless on the streets of Miami. It's still the same mission...to feed, to, to talk with, and to listen to the homeless. To be a resource there on the street. Not a formal organization. A friend. Someone who will spend an hour or two and share a meal and a willing heart with people who are struggling to survive.

I responded immediately, and got an e-mail back telling me the place and time to meet on Saturday. I went. This "chapter" of the group, headed by three truly amazing young men, was ...I am not sure exactly what word I want....

inspiring?
uplifting?
humbling?
fun?
eye-opening?
prayerful?
awe-inspiring?

The right word is somewhere among all of those, a piece of each. After we distributed sandwiches and cold drinks and talked and listened, we had had a brief meeting among the volunteers, then a closing prayer.



I was invited back to the Mosque afterwards and went gladly. We spent another 1-2 hours talking, planning for this group, and discussing obsticles to our program (the police, a local women's group...they apparently regularly harrassed the group for handing out free food to the homeless.)

"There is a big beautification move on in the cities here," I was told. "So they only want the homeless fed indoors. Out of sight. "

"The homeless are not beautiful to them, I guess."

Sad.
Wrong.
Very wrong.

Next Saturday we will be there again. I will be there again. And the hungry and homeless will still be there too. With their beautiful souls.

Perhaps not beautiful to a city...

I'm just that G-d and the people who started this group see with different eyes.

Old country ways and raising American kids

I have a friend who is from Egypt. He's the father of several children, the oldest of whom is turning 16 in about a month.

I casually asked how he was going to deal with her dating in a few weeks, as I assumed that like most conservative parents (like me...ok...conservative about some things...way to the left of liberal on others!) sixteen would be the magic number for dating. Having your oldest date is scary, as I have discovered, so I expected the usual lighthearted litany of fears and commments about waiting up with a shotgun, or interogating the boy under a bright light.

"She is not going to date," he stated flatly. I thought he was joking.

"Yeah right. You wish."

"I'm serious. I want her to concentrate on school. And when she's ready, she'll date seriously and get engaged then married."

My shock clearly showed!

He proceeded to tell me it was "the way we do things." and that I did not understand the Muslim way.

I didn't know what to say. This man who had lived in America for over 30 years, had a beer in front of him as he spoke (his third since I arrived an hour before), never went to the mosque, did not pray the daily prayers nor fast on Ramadan is telling me his daughter must not date because it is the "Muslim way?" This man who has done nothing but complain about his arranged Muslim marriage which lasted for less than a decade but still makes him furious because he so despised the woman...he is about to make his lovely, talented New York-born daughter forgo high school dating because it was not the way when he was teenager over 30 years ago in Egypt?

But she will be on her own in college in two years, I protested. Yes, he agreed. I told about classmates and roomates in college who had been so restricted at home and went completly wild with the freedom of college. I told him about my own dating, stating at 16, with boys my parents met and talked to, with curfews and rules about where and when I could go. But I was allowed to go. So when I went away to college, I knew what to expect and how to handle myself and how to say no. Loudly and repeatedly if necessary.

He became angry.

"I will raise my daughter as I please!"

"But, but..." I sputtered...

Clearly there was no argument he would hear. And as I left to go home, I wondered...

is it possible to bring old country rules into the US and try and apply them to American borne children? Without the social suppport for the rules and the familial models, is it even a reasonable idea to try?

This child will watch her peers go on dates. She will hear about movies and dinners and beach dates and tennis dates and lunches. Will being kept from participating in innocent and wholesome activities breed a respect for the rules from another time and place, or will they create shackles she will break as soon as she is on her own and able?