Reading Our Backyard

Reading our Backyard



Walking home, I read my neighbors' gardens along my street. The neighbor’s fig tree is tightly bundled for the winter and crowned with a red Santa Claus hat. Next to it, the United States flag hangs half-mast to mark the passing of former president Ford. Someone has put up stickers of the green Saudi flag on mailboxes around the Catholic Church next door. Yes, we all mark our territory in different ways.



Like many sections of New York City, this is a very diverse neighborhood, with Algerians and Albanians, Italians and Indonesians, Brazilians and Bangladeshis. I look at their Christmas or holiday lights to understand their values and culture as well as their taste. I read their decorations and the way they relate to nature. Who are they? Who are we?



In recent days, I have been assisting a political campaign in Brooklyn that is based in a diverse district. One expects that identity politics will be a major factor. Will the Haitians vote for a Pakistani American? Will Russian Jews vote for a Haitian? But it is very important to reach beyond one’s own cultural group to build the alliances we need to get anything done.



The candidate I am supporting is a very pragmatic and capable Pakistani. Would it not be great to have a Muslim in local office? But of course local identity politics intrude, even among Muslims. He is Shia and some Sunnis refuse to actively help him for this reason.



I realize people from one side of the railroad tracks may stare with suspicion at folks at the other side. This is why it is so easy for us to get played. For me as a Muslim American, the culture of a Sunni and Shia Pakistani seems identical. And we are all brothers and sisters. Traditional and doctrinal differences seem somewhat beside the point. Let the scholars debate. Allah knows best who is truly Muslim.



As long as we stay in the isolation of our own sectarian nest working with others does not seem to matter. But when the tree itself is in danger, it is necessary to work with all the other flying and non-flying Muslims. It is necessary to communicate and coordinate with all our neighbors.



Perhaps the red Santa Claus hat will help keep the fig tree warm enough this winter. But the Tree of life is dying. Around the world, forests are fading from Global Warming, Hunger and Disease. The family tree loses its roots of tradition and deep spirituality, replaced by the widely ranging network of internet family and virtual friends. Our relationships and identity as Muslims are also affected by new technology and social roles. We should be aware of these changes and dangers. We do not usually see them.



Reading the culture of your family and your local Muslim institutions, you will see a mix, sometimes in confusion, sometimes in negotiation, of values and priorities. It is not just ethnic or sectarian diversity; it is not just Saudi/Sufi or Assimilated/Militant. We contain so many class, educational and spiritual differences that we Muslims are surely called to become cultural anthropologists and subtle interpreters of their own community, not only our neighbors' gardens. Otherwise, we will be read and interpreted by others who may not have the skills to read the fine print in our context. But do we understand?



The orthodox Jewish men in fur hats all year round and the women in thick wigs surround their areas with almost invisible string that marks the boundaries of their community. In New York City, these strings go from lamp to lamp for miles and miles. We pass through these boundaries all the time, since geographical communities overlap, more than our political and social identities recognize.



The Jews are also diverse politically and culturally. In Israel, some legal scholars even doubt that other, non-observant Jews are Jews. They are not free of identity politics. However, “Cultural Jews” are generally a very accepted part of the identity.



As we try to separate cultural traditions from religious traditions, we Muslims can mark boundaries but should be careful not to build walls between people. To grow, we need each other. An imam needs young professionals. The young need scholarship and open debate. Scholarship and Spirituality need each other. Even Saudis need the Shia—and not merely as a geopolitical scapegoat.



It is therefore troubling to hear of a potential alliance between the Saudi regime, Israeli factions and the Bush Administration, creating an “arc of moderation” that may launch bunker-buster nukes to destroy Iranian Nuclear facilities at Natanz and Arak. Will this not merely backfire and unify the Iranian people behind a repressive if populist President?



Instead, let us recall our values as Muslims; especially the importance of mutual understanding. How can our studies deepen insight into ourselves and others? How can wisdom lead us to peace? We need to learn to read Truth as it unfolds in life, as coded in our behavior and in our words. Muslims need to understand Islam as set of cultures and in its role as subculture in the United States. We need to be aware of the various cultures of spirituality as well as materialism.



We see differences in personal style but it is often cultural. Why do the Orthodox Jews hide their hair? Why do many Mediterranean people keep their hair so perfect? What traditional feelings and beliefs are they transmitting through such styles? They look good, but how is it that these days so many youth feature these chinstrap face-framing beards, as well as face framing hijabs? Is there a larger, perhaps unconscious meaning? Of course, anthropology is not merely a matter of reading beards.



We think we understand each other but often do not. Quiet folks commune with the quiet; explosive people with the loud. But for a quiet and an explosive to understand each other takes work. And if we are to emerge from the destructive culture of global capitalism, from the wasteful rampage of nationalism and egotism, we have got to take an interest in the Other. Finally, the closer and truer we are to one another, the closer we are to ourselves. Time to communicate. Time to listen. And time to get real.