Just when I thought I was above judging others, I had to make a decision based on religious beliefs. My faith was tested as I struggled to do the right thing.
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Kam and Sami
Aiza and I met while visiting a community playground. Aiza’s daughter, Safa, and my grandson, Kam, were 5 years old at the time. The children took turns crossing the monkey bars. They swung as long as their arms allowed, then dropped into the sand and sat cross-legged, facing each other.
Aiza and I exchanged smiles as we watched them play. The children represented the heritage of two continents: Asia and Europe. Safa’s grandparents were in Pakistan, Kam’s grandparents came from Germany. One is Muslim, the other is Christian, and neither child knew the meaning of religion.
Safa and Kam were born in 2001, the year the towers fell. I am certain that Aiza was as much aware as I was about the significance the children’s interaction displayed. There were many reports pertaining to the growing distrust between Muslims and Christians, the fear of Islam, and the newly awakened sense of “us versus them.”
Christian and Muslim
Our meetings by chance soon turned into expected get-togethers. We shared a bench in the shade, and we marveled about the friendship our children developed. Aiza found this to be very symbolic for the hope of peace. She always shared an excitement about her thoughts, and often asked, “Why can’t adults get along like that?” I wholeheartedly agreed.
Before Aiza married a doctor and moved to the United States, she was a teacher in Pakistan. She laughed when she heard that I was a teacher, as well. We never talked about our faiths. My school was not too far from the playground. On quiet days, we could even hear the church bells ring. I told her that was where I worked. It is a parochial school. Since I never take off my necklace with the little golden cross, it was quickly established that I was Christian.
Aiza wore long skirts and scarves. Sometimes they were solid color cottons, other times they were brightly shiny silks. She often left before sunset to arrive at the mosque in time for prayers. There was no doubt she followed the faith of Islam. It appeared that we quietly acknowledged and respected each other’s beliefs.
The Mosque
In the fall of 2006, Aiza surprised me with a pretty scarf, along with an invitation to Iftar. It was the month of Ramadan and time to break the fast. I didn’t know much about this holiday, but I looked at Iftar as something similar to our Thanksgiving Day. Aiza explained that the Muslim community from our area would gather at the mosque. I was excited. It would be a new cultural experience. She asked that I’d wear the scarf that night. We had fun practicing the head covering, as I certainly wanted to be respectful to everyone there.
Stepping into the mosque was like stepping into another world. Two entrances separated men from women. I heard men’s voices, but never saw one throughout the evening. All left their shoes at the door. The call to prayer came over an intercom system in a language I didn’t understand. I followed Aiza to the prayer hall, divided by a wall. Men attended one side, women the other. I quietly observed the prayers to Allah. Everything happened in unison by old and young alike. I wondered how it would be if Christians all over the world would stop everything at the same times each day to pray. Surely, the world would be a better place. I was impressed by this type of discipline.
Iftar resembled a huge potluck buffet. Fruit, vegetables, meats, breads, and desserts. I heard different languages, and I enjoyed watching the young girls dressed up in glittery dresses with matching headwear. Some danced to the sounds of Oriental music. Everyone appeared happy, and I felt welcome.
When it was time to go, Aiza handed me a copy of the Koran. She said it is customary to give one to every visitor. I thanked her for the gifts of scarf and book, as well as that evening’s unforgettable experience.
The Koran
I thumbed through the pages the same evening. Every now and then, I stopped to read an entire page. An uneasy feeling came over me when I read:
“The Messiah, Jesus, son of Mary, is only an apostle of God, and his Word which he conveyed into Mary, and a Spirit proceeding from himself. Believe therefore in God and his apostles, and say not, “Three:” … it will be better for you. God is only one God! Far be it from His glory that He should have a son!” (The Koran, pg. 502)
Muslims don’t believe in the Holy Trinity. Islamic religion teaches about one God, that Jesus was a prophet, and we receive salvation through our own good works. I didn’t want to read any more after that. This text nullified the very core of my faith. Somehow, I felt offended.
Unexpected Request
As the days grew colder, our playground visits slowly ended. It was only during the Christmas break when I saw Aiza and Safa again. They came to visit the childcare center. I was sorting books when they knocked on the door. It was a neat surprise. Safa headed straight toward the toy shelves, Aiza and I sat down in small chairs.
“I would like to work here,” she said. It took a minute to realize that she was serious.
“Aiza, this is a Christian school,” I responded.
“I know that,” she said, “I love children and I want to work and help them learn. Ute, let’s not allow religion to stand in our way. I am a very good teacher. You will not regret letting me come to work here.”
My mind was racing. I had come to know Aiza as a friend, and now she was asking for a position at my school. “One of the teachers’ responsibilities includes praying with our students. It is extremely important they learn to include God in their daily lives,” I explained.
“You know I believe in God. It is the same God as yours. I want to teach children how to pray.”
“Aiza,” I said, “we always pray in Jesus’ name.”
“Muslims believe in Jesus,” she said, “He was chosen by God to be his messenger. Jesus was a wonderful man. I have no problem praying in his name. You tell me what to do, and I do it! Don’t you agree that it is time for the borders that separate Christians and Muslims to come down? Don’t we both want there to be peace? We can end the hate by teaching our children not to hate. We can be role models to them, living together in peace, worshipping the same God.”
True to the Faith
I could tell Aiza had thought about this for some time. I felt her excitement, and I understood her philosophy. I pictured Aiza dancing with the children at preschool, wearing her silky scarves. They would love it. The image made me smile. Then I remembered what I read in the Koran. “Aiza,” I began, “Christians believe that Jesus is the true Son of God. We believe that he died for our sins. We believe that he rose again from the dead, so we may have eternal life. We believe that there is only one way to heaven and that is through Jesus Christ. There is nothing that we can do on our own that saves us a place in paradise.”
Aiza didn’t give up. “I will study about your faith, and I will teach only what you believe!” I was getting uncomfortable. I didn’t want to destroy the reflection of the genuine acceptance that Safa and Kam displayed several months ago. I didn’t want to appear discriminating and insult Aiza’s religion.
“How can you teach it if you don’t believe it?” I asked her. “It is not in your heart, Aiza. Children will notice. It wouldn’t be right. God, whether it is yours or mine, would not like it. There is no way that I could teach at an Islamic school. I wouldn’t be able to bow down and pray to Allah. It would be a betrayal to my Savior, Jesus Christ. Do you really think you could teach children the opposite of what your faith teaches you? Do you?”
In the Name of Religion
Aiza sat back and simply watched Safa play for a while. “I am not a very good Muslim, am I?”, she finally asked.
“I understand your hope of people living in harmony with one another. I want that, too. Aiza, it has been difficult for Muslims worldwide since 9/11. I am so sorry for that. Unbelievably, there are times, even to this day, when ignorant people associate me with Adolf Hitler. It hurts. Their minds are closed to the possibility that not every German is a Nazi, just as not every Muslim is a terrorist. In their eyes, we will always be guilty by association, namely our geographical heritage. Yours and my faith differ on the deepest level. We don’t have any control over that. Still, you and I shall not fight about it. You and I shall be part of the solution, despite our religious differences.”
Aiza’s Muslim community is in the process of building an elementary school. I drive by it every day and it will open within a couple of years. I’m certain that I’ll know at least one of the teachers there. Because of religious beliefs, my grandchildren shall never attend this new school. Still, also because of religious beliefs, I shall love them as my neighbors.
Ute Hagen is the director of a parochial preschool and elementary school. She is responsible for assuring that the religious curriculum is taught according to the Christian faith. Her duties include screening and hiring new teaching staff.