Ann has been my best friend since second grade — that’s 27 years. We had lemonade stands, sold Girl Scout cookies, and had a secret hideout at the park. As we got older we worked in the theater together, went on double dates, and visited each other at college. We were maid/matron of honor at each other’s wedding, and we even got pregnant together (my second child, her first). But I married the son of an Episcopal priest and became Episcopalian. The granddaughter of a Lutheran minister, she married a Turkish Muslim and this summer she converted to Islam.
I visited her in Florida as soon as school let out for summer vacation. On the third day she told me she was converting to Islam. I wasn’t sure what to think or feel. I simply asked why. I didn’t understand why someone couldn’t get what they needed spiritually from Christianity. But then I get what I need. I felt confused. On the one hand I was really happy because she seemed to have a true sense of spirituality. On the other I felt like she was somehow abandoning me and my Christian ideology. In the end, her spirituality is most important. It is, after all, the same God.
Ann explained that she became Muslim because of the powerful emphasis on self-examination and improvement. She believed in the Muslim commitment to service to others without recognition, and that being a good person was the way to God. She gave me a small book on the religion and the five pillars of Islam. When I finished it, all I could think was “and what exactly is the problem between Islam and Christianity?” Everything Islam stands for I believe. There is no real conflict between these two religions. Christ was a great prophet. I just happen to believe he was the son of God as well. Mohammed was a great prophet. He taught his people to love and care for one another. Sound familiar?
Now, I am scared. Scared for Ann, her family, and all the other families in America and around the world that are Muslim. The anger I have seen on television, heard on the radio, and seen in print are terrifying for someone who loves a person of the Muslim faith. I can’t imagine what it would be like to actually be Muslim. Ann by herself is in no real danger; her Swedish blue eyes and blonde hair will not come into question. But her mosque has been threatened, its sign burned, and she attends regularly.
Her husband, Aytekin, however, is a different story. His Eastern looks will cause instant suspicion among those who do not understand the differences between the people who terrorized our nation and true Muslims. They may not take the time to see the hardworking business owner who went out and got a cake to celebrate his wife’s best friend’s birthday and played in the pool with three little girls so the women could go out. They do not know the man who has struggled to be accepted by his wife’s family, who helps smooth cultural differences between his family and Ann’s, and who has chosen America to be his home. For Aytekin became an American citizen this June after years of waiting for approval, and it was a celebrated event for all who know him.
The events of Sept. 11, 2001 were an act of hate. Neither God, Jesus, or Mohammed would have condoned such an act. While the terrorists claim Islam as their religion, their ideas and acts are as much against their faith as the acts of
Hitler, the KKK or the Irish Republican Army are against Christianity.
In a recent column, Ellen Goodman said, “This is an atmosphere in which hate is easily confused with patriotism and revenge confused with justice.” What we do now “may decide whether we can defeat our enemies without becoming like them.” Through my anger at the dancing in the streets of some of the people in Middle Eastern countries, I turn to my faith. So when I am watching the celebrations of a few Arab people, or hear the words of one radical man, and my thoughts turn toward the natural human reaction — blast them off the planet, just leave a hole where they once were — I remember the words of a meek and lowly carpenter ... Love your enemy.
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