Increase the Light

“When a person lights one candle from another, neither flame is diminished.” 

(Bemidbar Rabbah 13)

Tziporah:

My favorite night of Hanukkah is the last night, when each of us lights our favorite menorah. That’s 45 candles: 8, plus 1 server to light the others, times 5 family members, burning for at least 30 minutes.  My spouse usually remarks that our dining room resembles the nave of a cathedral, which conjures memories of my childhood visit to St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City.  In the text that I quoted, the early rabbis use the physical properties of a candle’s flame to focus on light as a metaphor for wisdom. This is one message of Hanukkah, the celebration of which involves adding candles each night to increase the light.  Many religions prescribe candle lighting and singing to dispel the darkness of the winter solstice. When we light a flame in our own homes and houses of worship, and we keep one another in our prayers, I have no doubt that we will increase the light in the world and the warmth in our hearts.  

Grace:

Tziporah, your delightful family tradition on the last night of Hanukkah makes me smile as I imagine all that flame! It also brings to mind these words from a familiar song: “If everyone lit just one little candle, what a bright world this would be!” That same song makes the connection you make between the light of a candle and a prayer that brings light into dark places. How much we need to heed that call to prayer in our world today: Darkness and evil can never be eliminated, I think, but I also believe with people of every faith tradition that darkness cannot prevail where the light of God shines. A favorite verse of mine from Christian scripture affirms, “The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (The Gospel of John 1:5) In another account, Jesus speaks words that I see as applying to people of good will everywhere: “You are the light of the world.” (The Gospel of Matthew 5:14, emphasis mine) What an awesome calling to be light for one another!

Yasmina:

Although the Islamic tradition does not call for physical lighting of candles, the notion of sharing and increasing the light brings to my mind many positive associations. I recall immediately the beginning of a Hadith that I have memorized. It is a Hadith about charity; the type of charity that is not limited to financial giving, but encompasses any form of voluntarily sharing one’s knowledge, time, advice and emotional support: “Charity does not in any way decrease the wealth.”* Many verses of the Quran and other Hadiths emphasize the superiority of light over darkness and the many forms in which each is manifested. Light is wisdom and blessings, and all that is of benefit to us. Light is also equated with prayer, guidance, knowledge, piety and righteousness; these noble qualities will all take the form of physical light on the Day of Judgment. There is one last, unique depiction of light that is visible to the angels and attracts them to visit its source: it is the light that emanates from houses where the remembrance of God is fundamental.

---

* Charity does not in any way decrease the wealth; and the servant who forgives, God adds to his respect; and the one who shows humility, God elevates him in the estimation of the people.” (Sahih Muslim, Book 32, Hadith 6264)

Walking with the Angels

Yasmina:

Hajj, or “setting out with purpose,” is the fifth pillar of Islam. Known as the pilgrimage to Mecca, Hajj is a journey that millions of Muslims across the globe dream to take. The essence of Hajj is to be granted forgiveness from God; its meanings are countless and its benefits far reaching. In October, I was blessed with the opportunity to undertake Hajj and learn from this experience. One of the unforgettable lessons is the depth of purpose that was driving these millions of individuals, and the place where I felt it manifested the most was during the tawaf, or “circling the ka’ba,” the first house built for the worship of God. As I joined the thousands of worshippers in the tawaf, I felt a sense of calm, safety, peace and serenity that I had never felt before. While performing this ritual, each was busy with individual, silent prayers: praising God, asking for His forgiveness and guidance, offering supplications to heal the sick and invoking His mercy. Praying among millions, my sense of self was reduced as my soul yearned to connect with The Creator. I could not but think of the planets’ counter-clockwise motion as I walked in this manner; I could not help but remember that the angels are engaged in the same movement around a House of worship in heaven. It was as though we were diving—in silence and total submission—into a state of utter love and awe to The Most High. As we finished the seventh round of the tawaf, I emerged from the depths of that state to recognize Hajj as a quest for knowledge and better understanding of myself, the world around me and, most of all, God, The Truth.

Tziporah:

I remember when I first read about the tawaf in a memoir by a British-Muslim physician who was working in Saudi Arabia and decided to journey to Mecca for Hajj. Like you, Yasmina, she wrote about feeling like a small part of a larger whole while walking the seven circuits around the ka’ba: “As I looked up and surveyed the multistranded circle of humanity adorning the Ka’aba, a giant, rich choker of pilgrim pearls, I found myself among them. In this diversity, finally I belonged. Islam was many-faceted and I was simply one.”[1] My own experiences with rituals that involve moving in circles have been similar. As a bride under the wedding canopy circling the groom, I felt a sense of serenity and solitude—despite the presence of many family and friends—and a deep conviction that I was not only joining my life to my spouse’s life but also that we were connecting to God. The physical movement of these rituals, coupled with the “music” emanating from the surrounding souls, transports us to another realm.

Grace:

How transformative Hajj, Yasmina! While I have not had the privilege of participating in such a major pilgrimage, I do share both your and Tziporah’s regard for ritual that, in solitude and serenity, binds us to God and to one another. For that reason, I take periodic retreats to a Benedictine monastery, where I spend several days in total silence, enveloped, as you describe, in the peace of God’s abiding presence and love. Many Christians are now reclaiming an ancient religious practice of walking a spiritual labyrinth, whose singular, yet maze-like, circular path alternately narrows and expands as one moves slowly to its center. Perhaps in imitation of early Christian pilgrimages, walking the labyrinth reminds us of the recurring patterns in our life’s journey and brings fresh revelation about submission, guidance, trust, and promise. Some place a pebble somewhere along the labyrinth’s path as a symbol of a burden being released to God or as an offering of thanks to God for mercy and forgiveness.  Even this “pilgrimage in microcosm” helps readjust a skewed human compass!

---

[1] Ahmed, Qanta A., In the Land of Invisible Women: A Female Doctor’s Journey in the Saudi Kingdom, Chapter 14: The Million-Man Wheel, p. 149.

Thanksgiving

“…give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God…” (I Thessalonians 5:18a)

Grace:

Particularly at Thanksgiving, St. Paul’s admonition to give thanks in all circumstances is readily affirmed by most Christians and persons of other faiths too.  However, the statement that giving thanks in all circumstances is “God’s will” may strike a particularly discordant note to one whose life is in tangles or to one who struggles with a serious illness or a deep hurt or grief. Once, when I was in a particularly awful situation, I found myself responding with anger to these words. I questioned how I could be expected to give thanks; perhaps I confused giving thanks in all circumstances with giving thanks for such a circumstance. Over time, I have seen how deeply my spiritual life has been shaped by attention to gratitude and thanks to God in every circumstance. In fact, it is in the most bitter of circumstances that my spirit is lifted when I realize just how many blessings abound, even in the midst of suffering. What has your own faith tradition taught you about thanksgiving?

Yasmina:

Upon reading your reflections, I remembered how as a child I was taught that the etiquette for replying to someone’s “How are you?” is to say first Alhamdulillah, which means, All praise and thanks are due to God.  In fact, it is sometimes the only thing a Muslim answers, eliminating the need to give further details. As an adult, I have come to appreciate the five daily prayers—or seventeen cycles of prayer—I am commanded to perform every day because my preoccupation with daily life can divert my attention from “giving thanks in all circumstances.” Knowing that I have to plan my day according to the times during which I need to perform those prayers helps me to refocus, reflect, and transcend my worries and pain, as well as remember the bounties I have been blessed with. Muslims, who stop whatever they are doing to engage in the prescribed prayers to recite the opening sentence of each of the seventeen cycles, find themselves in a state of thanksgiving as they say these words: “Praise be to God the Cherisher and Sustainer of the worlds.” (al-Fatihah 1:2)

Tziporah:

Grace, I am glad you raised this question and grateful for your emphasis on giving thanks in all circumstances.  I, too, have found myself in difficult circumstances struggling to recognize the blessings in my life.  According to Jewish tradition, a person is supposed to recite a blessing upon hearing bad news, in particular the news that someone has died. The prescribed blessing is “Praised is the True Judge.” I have often choked out these words, against my will, without the proper intention of praising God.  But I believe that it is appropriate to say the words of praise or thanks without truly feeling them and hope that feelings of praise and thanks will eventually follow. The early rabbis taught, “One is obligated to bless upon the bad as he would upon the good….” (Mishnah Berakhot 5:5) Perhaps Paul and the early rabbis were responding to a natural human tendency that they observed: While it is not easy for a person in pain to offer thanks to God, there are always things for which to be thankful; and it is a worthy endeavor to offer thanks even when it is difficult to do so.

No Trick or Treat

“You shall not do as is done in the land of Egypt in which you lived, and you shall not do as is done in the land of Canaan to which I’m bringing you; and you shall not go by their laws. (Leviticus 18:3)

Tziporah:

As a young girl, I always celebrated Halloween with my Jewish and non-Jewish friends. We would carve pumpkins and bob for apples at elaborate costume parties, and, of course, we would trick-or-treat in the neighborhood.  As an adult working in a Jewish day school, I learned that these Halloween rituals are not universally accepted among American Jews. Some school administrators considered the mere mention of Halloween taboo and encouraged teachers to assign the usual amount of homework on October 31^st.  Unlike Thanksgiving and July 4^th, Halloween causes discomfort among some Jews because of its pagan roots and Christian associations with the holiday, including the observance of All Hallows’ Eve and All Saints’ Day.  While they may also forego Valentine’s Day, I suspect these Jews are more uncomfortable with Halloween because of its association with death and its emphasis on ghouls, goblins, witches and sorcery.  Many Jewish festivals, most notably the fall harvest holiday of Sukkot, incorporate what were likely pagan rituals. The ancient rabbis recognized that people would be unwilling to give up their participation in seasonal celebrations, and so they Judaicized them—imbued them with Jewish religious meaning.  I wonder if modern rabbis would be willing to attempt a similar adaptation of Halloween.

Grace:

Even though the name Halloween and its origin, All Hallows’ Eve, are associated with All Saints’ Day, I know of no Christian denomination in this country that observes Halloween as a religious holiday. All Saints’ Day, followed by All Souls’ Day, is indeed a sacred observance in Catholic tradition, but Halloween, as I know it, remains a secular holiday.  In recent years, some, primarily non-denominational, Christian churches have objected to Halloween as a glorification of witches and demons and the forces of darkness.  However, it occurs to me that Halloween could be seen from a religious perspective—actually in all faiths—as a mocking of the forces of darkness that the light of God inevitably overcomes. As Martin Luther’s famous hymn “A Mighty Fortress is our God” states: “And though this world with devils filled, should threaten to undo us/We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us.” Of course, when it comes to Halloween, I am personally a “scaredy cat,” so no trick-or-treat for me this year!

Request for our Muslim readers:

We are curious and would love to read about how American Muslims celebrate Halloween.  Please let us know in the comments section of the blog, or email your response to sheanswersabraham@gmail.com.

Yasmina is on vacation this week.

Figs and Olives

“In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate, by the fig and the olive and by Mount Sinai and by this trustworthy land, truly We have created the human being of the fairest symmetry.” (al-Tin, 95:1-4)

Tziporah:

This passage in the Quran jumped off the page at me, first and foremost because it mentions two of the seven species of the Land of Israel that are also mentioned in the Hebrew Bible. Figs and olives are known to be especially nutritious foods for humans, and are regarded by some as having healing properties. In these verses, the fruits seem to represent witnesses to an oath about humanity’s connection to the land and to God.  I was also struck by the juxtaposition of Mount Sinai—where God bestowed the Torah (law) upon Moses—with the land which God promised the people they would inhabit.  Since the remainder of the sura discusses morality and divine justice, it seems to me that the Prophet [Peace and Blessings be upon him] is reminding us that human beings must be attuned to the natural world in order to be attuned to the supernatural Presence.

Yasmina:

Tziporah, several Surats in the Quran contain oaths. Since the Quran is the word of God revealed to the Prophet [Peace and Blessings be upon him], there is an emphasis on the oaths, which are considered to be of great importance. Humans—including all prophets—may not swear by any creation; only God can do that. Scholars agree that here God is swearing by the olive and fig trees due to their benefits to humans and some add that these trees are mentioned as a symbol of the Bayt al Maqdis where Jesus [Peace and Blessings be upon him] received his message from God. The first three segments of the oath are correctly translated, but the fourth should read “and by this secure city,” not “trustworthy land.”  This refers to Mecca where the Quran was first revealed. Consequently, I view the meaning of this text from a different perspective. The Surat is a humble reminder of the greatness of God’s wisdom and justice in creating humans and holding them accountable for their actions.

Grace:

The poetic imagery of this beautiful quotation conjures for me an Eden, where God the Creator proclaimed all of creation good. Of course, the Creation story embraced by my faith tradition shows also that sin came into the world and that Adam, archetype of all humanity, hid his shame with a fig leaf! I think our spiritual journeys are about rediscovering Eden as we learn to view creation—including ourselves and other humans—with eyes trained to see through what we may otherwise be tempted to call deformed, grotesque, dirty or spoiled. Beauty must reside too in the “eye of the beholder” to recognize beauty in all. God, the Merciful, the Compassionate, the supreme Beholder, sees human beings, even with all our flaws, as an extension of all that is good.  Our challenge is to go to the Mount, descend to the valley and, as the Psalmist recommends, “taste and see that the Lord is good.”

Forgiveness

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seven times seven."  (The Gospel of Matthew 18:21-22)

Grace:
Accustomed to the “three strikes and you’re out” rule, most of us imagine forgiveness in conditional terms.  How can an Amish community, grieving the savage killing of five innocent children, forgive the perpetrator and then offer support to the shooter’s family?[1] How can a Holocaust survivor live with memories of a Nazi officer leading his parents and siblings to death in a gas chamber?[2]  How does a doctor in Gaza forgive the soldiers in tanks who decimated his home and claimed the lives of three of his five children?[3]  How can any of us forgive those who intentionally inflict harm and justify evil deeds with talk of righteousness? I think forgiving “seven times seven” calls us not to deny evil, but repeatedly to face darkness with light. Doing so requires deep faith and real courage." Yet I believe that in going through the painful and anguished process of forgiving others, we ourselves are transformed.

Yasmina:

Grace, I know this is not a mere coincidence. I attended a youth discussion this morning with my children at their first day of Sunday School and the topic happened to be forgiveness. I wish I could share in this forum the hour’s worth of sharp arguments and conversations. It was clear that forgiveness is complex, and part of the noble behavior that a Muslim strives to attain. The Quran and the Sunnah offer depictions of the virtues underlying it: determination, grace, patience, self-control and a strong desire to “do good.” Forgiveness is also described as having tangible, positive consequences; some are enjoyed in this world, such as turning adversaries into friends, and others are granted in the hereafter. Reflecting on the power of forgiveness is inspiring, and knowing that the All-Forgiving is willing to forgive us over and over again is deeply humbling. One of my favorite reminders of this is the verse, “…and let them pardon and overlook, would you not like that God should forgive you?” (al-Nur 24:22)

Tziporah:

Grace, this is also a timely topic for me, since Jews are currently in the period of what we call the Yamim Noraim, Days of Awe, a time for repentance and forgiveness.  The text from Matthew and your reflection made me think of Maimonides, who cautions: “It is forbidden for a person to be cruel and refuse to be appeased. Rather, he should be easily pacified, but hard to anger. When the person who wronged him asks for forgiveness, he should forgive him with a complete heart and a willing spirit. Even if he aggravated and wronged him severely, he should not seek revenge or bear a grudge.”[4]  Maimonides’ code is sensitive to the realities of interpersonal relations: it can be quite difficult to forgive another who has hurt you deeply, and some actions seem entirely unforgiveable. At the same time, refusing to forgive another is inevitably more hurtful to the person who bears the grudge.  I am also reminded of Pharaoh’s hardened heart and the terrible pain he ultimately endures because of his own cruelty.

---

[1] Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy, Donald Kraybill, et al.

[2] See the memoir of Holocaust survivor Benjamin Hirsch and Elie Wiesel’s The Fifth Son.

[3] I Shall Not Hate: A Gaza Doctor's Journey on the Road to Peace and Human Dignity, by Izzeldin Abuelaish.

[4] Mishneh Torah, Laws of Repentance 2, 10. There is an excellent online resource of Maimonides’ works in English translation at Chabad’s website.

Shalom-Salaam-Peace

"Blessed are You, God, the One who spreads peace over us, over all His people of Israel and over Jerusalem." (Arvit, Erev Shabbat - Friday Evening Liturgy)

Tziporah:

While Jews recite a blessing for peace in every evening service, this line is specific to the Friday prayers. I love how we welcome the Sabbath by wishing each other "Shabbat shalom," a peaceful Sabbath, and praying for God to shelter us in a peaceful embrace. For me, the phrase "the One who spreads peace" evokes an image of God covering the world with a blanket of peace just as a parent gently tucks a child into bed at night. At the same time, the ancient, three-fold blessing of "us, Israel, and Jerusalem" gives me pause. For the Jew who composed these words—probably in the wake of the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem—this prayer was intended to apply solely to Jews. However, after engaging in interfaith conversations and study of our sacred texts with you, I have come to a new interpretation of this prayer: I believe each phrase builds from the personal to the universal. First, I pray for me, my family and friends; then for my synagogue community and Jews everywhere; and, finally, for Jerusalem, the spiritual center for all of us who answer Abraham.

Grace:

How very special your prayer, Tziporah!  I am moved by blessings for peace in all our faith traditions, yet also troubled by the absence of peace in the actual lives we live.  We proclaim “peace,” but we go to war with our neighbor, whether across the street or across the world. I am troubled that we—righteous men and women of every faith, even men and women who share a faith—can so easily foment battles with one another, whether over land or a political ideology or a religious doctrine or practice. The words of the song “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me” haunt me as I ask myself, “With whom do I need to make peace today, and how do I do so?” Peace-making is rarely sweet and easy; it is very hard work! It occurs to me that, even with dedication and heightened awareness, I cannot be a bringer of peace unless I myself am profoundly rooted in the divine—where “self” is lost because consumed. Paradoxically, I believe that, in losing self, we find the self created in God’s own image, the self that does not need to be right, but only to be.  To be willing to lose one’s self in this way is terrifying, but I am convinced that only in so doing can we ever know fully “that peace that passes understanding.”

Yasmina:

Tziporah, I join my voice with yours and turn to As-Salaam, the One Who is the Source of Peace.  Like you, I wish for a peace that starts from the city that symbolizes the convergent point of God’s universal message.  As you know, the Islamic social greeting is “Peace be upon you.” You may also be aware that, in each of the five daily prayers, Muslims send prayers of peace to all the righteous servants of God.  I also join Grace in inviting myself and others to introspection of our most-inner selves: How can we learn to see past our apparent external differences? “Indeed, God will not change the condition of a people until they change what is within themselves.” (al-Ra’d 13:11) This invitation to start the process of change and make the “self” better is what will alter the perceptions we have of each other.  Islam literally means to find inner peace by submitting to the will and commands of God. I am thankful I have been able to celebrate Islam with you both, and I pray that by sharing our conversations we can inspire others to choose a similar path.

God Willing, Part 2

Yasmina returned from vacation and joined last week's conversation in which Grace & Tziporah discussed the topic of God's will. We invite you to share your thoughts in the comments section below.

Yasmina:

Grace, you are absolutely right. The concept of God’s will is one of the central beliefs in Islam, and Tziporah’s explanation of this concept in Judaism describes what it means and entails in Islam, as well. This belief applies to past and future events, and we use the phrases “In Sha Allah” and “Ma Sha Allah” to express it. Believing in God’s will is actually one of the first concepts children learn as they hear their parents respond to their demands: When children ask about going to the park in the afternoon and parents respond, “In Sha Allah,” they wonder if the answer is a "yes" or a "no." Soon they realize that it’s a "yes, unless something happens to interfere with our plans."

The words “Ma Sha Allah” are used when referring to events that have already occurred and when expressing admiration—for someone’s children or home—to ward off the evil eye.  More importantly, they are a verbal expression of the heart’s eye that fully accepts and submits.  For example, Muslims will say “Ma Sha Allah” when misfortune befalls them, accepting what God has decreed for them. This verse illustrates the point that we must equally accept the good and the bad: “And if God should touch you with adversity, there is no remover of it except Him; and if He intends for you good, then there is no one who repels His bounty. He causes it to reach whom He will of His servants. And He is the Forgiving, the Merciful.” (Yunus, 10:107)

As to the matter of justifying one’s actions by stating that they are God’s will, this demonstrates ignorance or twisted motives. When catastrophes such as the recent shootings occur, the one thing to remember is that although God has allowed the perpetrators to act, this in no way means that He has blessed their deeds. Understanding and accepting the tragedy that befalls us may be a test of our patience and trust in God’s wisdom, but this is a topic for yet another conversation.

God Willing

Grace (in an e-mail to Tziporah and Yasmina):

Christians can sometimes get very angry with one another when they express their opposing social and political viewpoints as "God's will." Yasmina, I know the phrase "God willing" is powerfully important in Islam, an ever present reminder of submission. I’m wondering if each of you would be interested in talking about how you and your faith tradition approach the question of "God's will," or is that even a concept that you deal with in those terms?

Tziporah:

The idea that God is the Ruler of the Universe and controls our fate is a centerpiece of Judaism. Philosophers throughout the ages have addressed the tension between human beings’ free will—our ability to make choices and the consequences of our actions—and God’s ultimate control of each person’s destiny.  Jewish grandmothers, meanwhile, have instructed entire generations of Jews to ward off the evil eye and recognize God’s protection of our good fortune.  Yiddish, Hebrew and English all include idioms that express this central idea.  My Ashkenazi (Eastern European) forbears would always say “God willing” when speaking of an event that would take place in the future, and in their Polish accents it would sound like “Got vill ink.” Many Jews include the acronym for the Hebrew phrase “b’ezrat ha-shem” (with God’s help) on wedding invitations, indicating that we do not take for granted that our plans will come to fruition without divine intervention. Finally, the Hebrew phrase “im yirtzeh ha-shem” (if God wills it) is recited by religious Jews whenever they speak of their hopes, goals or plans.  This is both an expression of faith in God’s providence and of humble acceptance of God’s judgment.

Grace:

I love how your take on this subject is both humorous and serious, Tziporah!  And I believe that the habitual use of the phrase “God willing” makes a powerful theological statement. Where the catch comes for me is having clarity on what God’s will is.  Did not the Crusades, the Holocaust, slavery, and the 9/11 attack all come about because of individuals' claims to be following God’s will?  I suspect that if we were to examine ourselves carefully, we would find that we are far more bent on justifying our own beliefs with the stamp of “God’s will” or approval than we are willing to engage in a deep and painful search that will probably lead to our own reshaping.  I suspect that seeking, not just claiming, God’s will is likely to disturb and unsettle us rather than allow us to rest comfortably in the beliefs we already hold.  

Tziporah:

In light of this week’s murder of Sikh priests in their Temple, I’d like to add a serious response to your question about discerning “God’s will.” In Jewish tradition, only the Prophets are privy to God’s will and the period of prophecy was determined to be finished with the canonization of the Hebrew bible.  Nevertheless, people claiming to know God’s will—false prophets—seem to arise in every generation. My favorite definition of false prophets is “those who twist God's word to fit their own fancies…who aim at nothing but their hearers' applause.”(Micah 3:5-7) In my humble opinion, those who believe in God the Creator who is eternally righteous and loves all creatures cannot simultaneously believe that God’s will is for them to destroy God’s creation or murder God’s creatures.  When we pray for God’s protection and benevolence, we use the phrase “May it be God’s will,” because we know that we cannot really change God’s will to suit our own desires. We also pray for the righteous to flourish and the wicked to perish by God’s will and not (God forbid!) by our words or deeds.

Yasmina is on vacation this week.

God, Not Greed

"To God the dearest places are the mosques, and the most unpleasant places are markets." (Reporter: Hadthrat Abu Hurairah in Sahih Muslim, Riyadus lSaeheen, #1841)

Amanda:

There are plenty of references in the Qur’an and the Hadith which teach Muslims how to conduct business in an honest, respectable way. Even a cursory examination of Islam shows that it is not anti-business, and Muslims throughout history have been prosperous businessmen and women. But this hadith does make an important point about what our priorities should be. The markets aren’t just described in this hadith as unpleasant—they are actually contrasted with the ‘dearest places’ to God, our houses of worship. That’s because there is nothing that works against our spirituality like the pursuit of worldly wealth. For most of us, our work tends to take up more time than our worship, our family time, and our creative pursuits combined. This hadith is a call for us to re-examine that inequality of spirituality in our lives and to keep the pursuit of earthly success in perspective.

LeeAnne:

Keeping our focus on worship rather than on the pursuit of wealth is also a central tenet of Christianity. All four of the Gospels include the story of Jesus clearing the Temple of money changers, who were selling animals for sacrifice and exchanging foreign coins at exorbitant rates. In addition to taking advantage of poor pilgrims who had no choice but to accept their terms, the money changers turned the Temple into a marketplace rather than a place where people could meet and worship God. It is this perversion of sacred space – and subversion of sacred intent – that so incensed Jesus. This hadith and the Gospels seem to suggest that we cannot simultaneously be concerned with worldly commerce and religious reflection. As Amanda states, business isn’t bad. But our primary focus in a holy place must be the glory of God. How does our perspective change if we consider our lives a sacred space like the Temple, best suited for worshiping God instead of pursuing monetary gain?

Yaira: 

Judaism is also rich in teachings and practices that guide us to conduct business in honest, respectable ways. Ideally, everything we do—including our monetary, worldly pursuits—is done with perfect kavanah (intention) and a spirit of holiness. But Judaism recognizes, too, that we humans are limited creatures, and it is all too easy for us to forget and go astray. Accordingly, many Jewish teachings and practices make a clear distinction between the holy and the ordinary—none more important, perhaps, than the practice of keeping Shabbat. On the ordinary days of the week—Sunday through Friday—we work and engage in worldly commerce; but on the Sabbath, we do not. On Shabbat, we are prohibited even from carrying money, in case having it handy would tempt us to spend it. The observance of Shabbat helps us more easily connect with God and the wonders of creation. This dedicated, holy time is designed to help us keep the pursuit of earthly success in perspective, even during the other, ordinary days of the week.

Test of Faith

“And Abraham put out his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son. And an angel of God called to him from heaven and said, ‘Abraham! Abraham!’ And he said, ‘I'm here.’ And he said, ‘Do not put your hand out toward the boy and don’t do anything to him, because now I know that you fear God, and you didn’t withhold your son, your only one, from me.’”

(Genesis 22:10-13)

Tziporah:

If the timeless story of The Binding of Isaac presents a test of Abraham's faith, the moment in which he reaches for the knife and is stopped by God's angel reads like the Proctor of an exam calling, “Time: Please put your pencils down and close your test booklet.”  Many accept these verses as evidence that Abraham passed God's test, that he demonstrated perfect faith through his willingness to sacrifice his child. Classical rabbinic commentary supports this interpretation, stating that the angel was forced to call his name twice because Abraham—utterly focused in his zeal to slaughter Isaac—did not hear the angel's first call.  While I can accept this story as a parable about faith and sacrifice, I still feel unsettled every time I read it. What if Abraham hadn't heard the angel's second call? Why would God wait until that moment to stop him? Wasn’t it enough that Abraham didn't question God, walked three days to the mountain and bound Isaac to the altar? And isn’t it possible to go too far in proving our faith?

Grace:

What interesting questions you raise, Tziporah!  Christians often see the story of Abraham’s offering of his only son as paradigmatic of God’s giving his son Jesus to a broken world. In our suffering we need reassurance that God brings resurrection, new life, out of death; whether physical death that is part of the natural order or a spiritual death that occurs in moments of great pain and doubt. For me, the issue is not about proving our faith, but learning to trust God’s faithfulness. The question “wasn’t/isn’t it enough that…” rings throughout all our scriptures, I think, for it is an eternal question. My husband has a humorous, but thought-provoking response: “God always comes through, but not one minute early!”  I think my own life bears testimony to that notion. Alas, God’s timing is so utterly maddening. And also so perfect.

Yasmina:

The trial that Abraham [Peace and blessings be upon him] endured, according to Muslims’ perspective, represents the epitome of submission (Islam, in Arabic). It reinforces trusting in God’s power and will, which provides anyone facing a trial with a sense of hope, without which a Muslim cannot experience a pure state of submission. In the Islamic tradition, it is Ishmael who is the son accompanying Abraham in this trial, and the moment you mention, Tziporah—right before Abraham is asked to hold his action—is specifically described in the Quran as a spiritual state of total submission in the heart, soul, and body of both Abraham and his son Ishmael: “So when they had both submitted their wills to God and he had laid him prostrate on his forehead for sacrifice, We called out to him, O’ Abraham!” (al-Saffat 37:103-104)  Every year at Ead Al-Adha[1], I am reminded that our tests of faith are best rewarded when we reach this ultimate state of submission in our hearts and accept of the will of God.

---

[1] Ead Al-Adha (Holiday of the Sacrifice) is widely celebrated, and falls during the annual pilgrimage to Mecca.

An Unpardonable Sin

And so I tell you, every kind of sin and slander can be forgiven, but blasphemy against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven…either in this age or in the age to come. (Matthew 12:31-32)

Grace:
I smile as I recall my adolescent self reading this verse out of context and wondering if a particularly naughty curse, which I equated with blasphemy, might damn me or one of my friends for all eternity! Now understanding blasphemy as an adult, I have a deeper appreciation of Jesus’ words as Matthew quotes them: blasphemy is not a single sin but a characteristic of one who calls good “evil” and evil “good.” In defending himself and others against the criticism of detractors, Jesus emphasized that “a house divided against itself cannot stand;” nor can anyone who does the will of God be demonized as an agent of evil. (verse 26) No single instance of slander or blasphemy, then, is too great to be forgiven by a loving God. Only one’s continual rejection of godly love can “blaspheme against the Holy Spirit” by closing, on the receiver’s end, the circuit of repentance that God always seeks to complete. What do your faith traditions teach about blasphemy or about unpardonable sins?

Tziporah:
There are two kinds of sins in Judaism, which mirror the two categories of mitzvot (commandments): sins against God and sins against fellow human beings. It would be natural to assume that, of the two, sins against God are more severe. For example, the Torah prescribes capital punishment for the sin of idolatry, which is viewed as treason against the King of kings. Blasphemy, however, is a sin of words and only considered a high crime if one blasphemes with the express purpose of leading others astray. Generally, actions against God and other people are punishable, while sins committed in one's heart or with one's words are left to God's judgment. The mechanism for seeking forgiveness for sins against God is the observance of fasting, prayer and repentance, especially on (but not limited to) Yom Kippur. We believe that a person who is truly repentant--who when faced with the temptation to commit a previous sin overcomes it--is forgiven by God.

Yasmina:
Muslims believe that God is limitlessly Merciful, Forgiving and Clement, and for this reason He will repeatedly forgive the one who sincerely repents. However, on the Day of Judgment, the only sin that is not forgiven is associating other gods with God. The Quran says: "God forgiveth not [the sin of] joining other gods with Him; but He forgiveth whom He pleaseth other sins than this." (al-Nisa, 4:116) As for blasphemy--and I believe this is the case with any religion--there is a wide spectrum of offenses. Muslim law, like Jewish law, makes a distinction between one who blasphemes in private and one who blasphemes publicly--who has the intentional desire to propagate false information and sway others into believing inaccurate concepts about the religion. In the first case, the individual must ask forgiveness, and he or she is not subject to any punishment. In the latter case, the punishments differ based on the situation and are only applicable in an Islamic State.

The Traveler's Prayer

"May it be Your will...to guide us in peace...to lead us to our desired destination in health and joy and peace....Save us from every enemy and disaster on the way, and from all calamities that threaten the world."

Tziporah:
Summer vacation has arrived. As the airplane lifts off the ground, I pull the gently-worn copy of the traveler's prayer from my wallet and begin to recite the words under my breath. I am immediately struck by how relevant this prayer—written many centuries ago—remains in this age of modern travel. The author of this text was most likely anxious about storms at sea, bandits along trade routes or the physical deprivations that were the hallmark of travel in ancient times. Yet his words resonate for me as I drag my suitcase through the security line which snakes through the terminal; I am reminded of the "calamities that threaten the world" as I pass a soldier arriving home on leave. When the TSA officer returned my driver's license to me and told me that I was "free to move about the country" I didn't feel entirely free. But soaring through the sky, I ask God's protection and guidance, and dream of a time when the words of this prayer will no longer be necessary.

Grace:
Tziporah, as a traveler on life’s journey (alas, not privileged with vacation at the moment), I share your mindfulness of the many “calamities that threaten the world;" in that knowledge, I too find solace in a prayer beseeching God to lead us “to our desired destination in health and joy and peace.” In a prayer for travelers from my own tradition, the invocation “O God…whose presence we find wherever we go” reminds me that all our journeys begin, continue, and end in God. Despite all dangers in our path that rob us of a sense of safety—whether they come from natural disaster, personal illness or threats of violence—I take comfort in the wisdom expressed in the words that “when God is all we have, God is all we really need.”

Yasmina:
I agree that we suddenly become aware of our potential lack of physical wellbeing and security as we leave the comfort of our dwellings. But this vulnerability does not go unnoticed in the eyes of our Creator. According to Muslim tradition, various times are considered “special windows of supplication opportunities," and travel is one of them. One Prophetic Hadith states that the supplication of the traveler will not be rejected.* In addition to reciting several prayers for his or her own safety, the conscious Muslim—in a heightened state of spiritual awareness when traveling—is often asked by friends and family members to pray for them during his or her journey. To me, the weakened emotional and physical state of a traveler is mended by the comfort and peace of being in an elevated state of connection with The Preserver and Trustee.

*Three supplications will not be rejected by God, the supplication of the parent for his child, the supplication of the one who is fasting, and the supplication of the traveler. (al-Bayhaqi, at-Tirmidhi - Sahih)

Athan

Reciter (calls each phrase, except last one, twice)                 Listener

God is Greater                                                                                  [repeats same words]

I bear witness there is no god but God                                         [repeats same words]

I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of God         [repeats same words]

Hasten to prayer                             [there is no power, nor strength except with God]

Hasten to prosperity                       [there is no power, nor strength except with God]

God is Greater                                                                                  [repeats same words]

There is no god but God                                                                  [repeats same words]

Yasmina:

The call to prayer, or Athan, marks the beginning of each of the five mandatory, daily prayers for Muslims. While we may offers prayers and supplications any time, recitation of mandatory prayers coincides with the movement of the sun.  Athan serves as a public announcement that the appropriate time to perform mandatory prayers has arrived. During this time of mental and spiritual preparation, the listener is invited to shed his or her preoccupations and humbly reflect on the meaning of the words of the call and response.  The reciter, or mu’athin, leads the community in the praise of God and reaffirmation of the Supremacy of God.  By maintaining a high state of awareness every time I hear the Athan, I am able to subdue any worries or challenges I might be facing. The opening phrase of Allahu Akbar, God is greater, unravels the Majestic generosity and Power of the One Who can uplift our hearts and elevate our spirits.

Grace:

I love the Muslim call to prayer, Yasmina, especially the melodic intoning of the Athan and its universal reach to all who respond to this call five times each day.  As the ringing of church bells often calls Christians to worship, so a “call and response” prayer is familiar in most Christian traditions; however, the when and how of Christian daily prayer is more often a matter of private conscience than public mandate.  With the exception of The Lord’s Prayer, the recitation or repetition of Christian prayers is usually denominationally specific. The Rosary, for example, is a devout supplication for “us sinners,” which Catholics recite quietly and repetitively with prayer beads. Pentecostal and other charismatic Christians pray in spontaneous, melodic utterances, “tongues,” which are sometimes repetitive and are received by an individual as a spiritual gift. Different traditions, different forms, yet all attesting to the greatness and goodness of God.

Tziporah:

Jews also include a call to prayer in the morning and evening liturgy, known as Barkhu.  All assembled stand and the leader chants, “Blessed are You, Lord who is blessed.” The congregation responds, “Blessed is the Lord who is blessed forever and ever.” Then the leader repeats the congregational response. Each time the leader or worshiper recites the word “blessed,” he or she bows before God.  Like the Athan, Barkhu marks the official beginning of public prayer. This invitation to join in communal worship can only be recited if a quorum of ten Jews is present. The call and response of Barkhu also comprises the opening lines of the blessing recited during the public reading of the Torah.  This reminds me of the concluding lines of the Athan, as these two lines also serve as an affirmation that we are about to engage in a public act of honoring God. 

Thirst for God

“As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, God.   
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”  (Psalms 42:2-3)

Tziporah:

When tragedy strikes—particularly when a young person dies—people ask me, “How can you believe in God? What kind of God would allow such terrible things to happen?” And I cannot help but agree with them. The world is filled with sorrow and we are filled with longing for something better than this world.  The image of a deer seeking water at the stream gives me a sense of serenity.  This is the natural course of the universe: creatures long to feel close to their Creator, to derive sustenance from the Source of all life.  I can almost see a reflection of God’s presence in the life-giving water. These verses from Psalms also remind me of what a Baha’i friend taught me about faith: God is like a stream of water, and we all dip our cups into the same stream and drink from it to quench our thirst.

Grace:

The words of your Baha’i friend speak to me also, Tziporah. The God for which we all yearn, especially in the midst of great pain or angst, is, I think, bigger than even our most revered Scriptures teach us, deeper than our minds can grasp, and more true than our religious traditions can codify. I think our minds correctly question “what kind of God would allow…” while our hearts tell us truthfully that the God we try to “believe in,” or the God we hate to “believe in,” is not the fullness of the living God who believes in us and loves us—even beyond belief.  Living water is an apt metaphor for a God who cannot be contained, defined, or bounded.  The flowing stream is eternally creative, life-giving, and life-restoring.  Thirst for the living God keeps us on a true path.

Yasmina:

As I reflected on these words, I understood them as a testimony given by someone who has experienced love for God, and peace and contentment from remembering Him. I was reminded of this verse in the Quran: “Those who believe and whose hearts find satisfaction in the remembrance of God, for without doubt, in the remembrance of God, do hearts find satisfaction.” (al-Raad 13:28) The awareness of being in the presence of God is a state we experience from beyond our senses; its effect leaves our hearts and souls yearning. Whether through prayer, praise, giving charity or other acts of worship, the heart eventually finds peace and satisfaction. I find the words of Muslim scholar Ibn Qayyim befitting: “Truly, in the heart there is a sadness that cannot be removed except with the happiness of knowing God and being true to Him; and in it there is an emptiness that cannot be filled except with love for Him and by turning to Him, and always remembering Him.”

Receptivity

“I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”   

 (The Gospel of Mark 10:15)

Grace:

The phrase “Kingdom of God” reverberates through Christian scriptures in the teachings of Jesus. Some Christians understand God’s kingdom to refer strictly to a heavenly realm beyond this earthly life; others understand it to refer also to an ideal state of being on this earth, in which human beings find union with God and one another.  In reading this text, I am struck especially by the simplicity of the verb receive. I recently heard someone of another faith tradition say that “One who cannot see God in all, cannot see God at all.” I suspect this is exactly what Jesus wanted his listeners to understand when he spoke of the need to be “born again” in order to receive the kingdom of God. (John 3:3)  How do your sacred scriptures invite you to see God and to receive God’s kingdom?

Yasmina:

In Islam the term “seeing God in others” is not used. Instead, Muslims recognize a person’s piety by how much their actions reflect their respect for God’s commands. This stems from the view that belief in God must be coupled with righteous deeds: “O mankind! We created you from a single [pair] of a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, that ye may know each other [not that ye may despise each other]. Verily the most honored of you in the sight of God is [he who is] the most righteous of you.” (al-Hujurat 49:13) As a Muslim, I view myself as a minute being in God’s kingdom, which encompasses the heavens, the earth and all that lies between them. I am reminded to always act with humility because achieving righteousness is a lifelong journey; only God can judge and invite whom He wills, with His grace and mercy, into the final abode of peace.

Tziporah:

To answer your question, Grace, I turn not to the “sacred scriptures,” but to the early rabbinic literature and the writings of Maimonides (1135-1204).  Many of Jesus’ parables about the kingdom of God have parallels in Jewish texts, which use this exact phrase, as well as the phrase olam ha-ba, “the world to come,” to refer to the messianic era. The rabbis of the Talmud suggest that all righteous people, including non-Jews who follow the Noachide Laws,[1] will inherit a portion in the world to come. In Maimonides’ lifetime, there was much controversy about whether olam ha-ba referred to an actual place in the physical realm.  In his treatise on the tenth chapter of Mishnah Sanhedrin, Maimonides describes the world to come as follows: “The Garden of Eden is a fertile place containing the choicest of the earth’s resources, numerous rivers, and fruit-bearing trees. God will disclose it to man some day. He will teach man the way to it, and men will be happy there.”[2] Jews are urged to be righteous and fulfill the commandments, not only to receive our portion in the world to come but also to live well in this world.

---

[1] Talmud Bavli, Sanhedrin 56a

[2] Here is a link to a PDF translation of this work.