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.

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[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.