Offering the Spirit of Hope, Not Stones

What am I? I am the camera, the book, the theater, the unreal. I am the page and pen. As the Quran asks, “Is there anything more?” What is the reality behind the fact of the man writing and another reading? Who are we?

If we were at prayer, or at any gathering, we might read unity in the collective gesture and perceive signs of divine logic shimmering within the field of play. But in each serious, deliberate meeting, do we hear the dancing drum beat of our beating hearts as we stand or sit together?

I look out at our community like a lost traveler with a telescope. As in the starry sky, as on a page of news, I see signs and symptoms of disaster.

But it is better for us to remember ourselves together. And though the world is spinning into madness, let us feel compassion for fellow humanity as for the baby seeking the bosom’s comfort.

There is a man in China who gathers stones under a sad gray sky. He weeps a flood of tears, and as each drops to the ground it changes to yet another heavy stone. He gathers these stones ceaselessly --there is no end to them.

Attar tells this tale, in the Conference of Birds, commenting: “If it is necessary to seek knowledge in China, then go. But knowledge is distorted by the formal mind and becomes fossilized, like stones. How long must real knowledge continue to be misunderstood?”

In days of heaviness I lose touch with hope. I gather personal qualms, inhibitions and regrets and call this self-knowledge. The formal mind forgets the beating heart.

But the false hopes of religious identity promise to open doors to heaven. It is so easy to say, “I believe!” We note how many born again Christians have been led astray in recent years through arrogance of faith and the power of politics in the Bush Administration. But are Muslim regimes any wiser? Am I?

The US floods Pakistan with unrestricted funds for the military, ten billion dollars since 2002, while only small change is made available for rural health, education and food. Former President Carter terms the Bush Administration “the worst in history” for endorsing the policy of pre-emptive war, and for “zero peace talks” in the Middle East. A raging mob stones the police in Hyderabad, after the historic stone Mecca Masjid is damaged by a bomb. We are all weeping stones. The cycle of state and non-state violence seems without end.

In Africa, the universities are overrun with criminal gangs. In Nigeria these gangs have hired themselves out to politicians. In Senegal, swelling populations leave less than 600 dollars per university student. Dormitories are covered with graffiti and clotheslines cross the campus as in a housing project. Books and equipment are in short supply. Will Africa’s future leaders grow in such dry and stony soil?

Here in the Green Zone, our more fortunate Muslim Student Associations might think to develop projects, pen pals, sister and brother MSAs in Africa. We might also remember the millions of refugees with no lights in their refugee camps. One model program is the Solar Powered Flashlight program; see www.BoGoLight.com. Closer to home, we might donate to our programs that help detainees and victims of backlash, as well as service and self-sufficiency programs for the poor and ailing.

I do not exactly know what Dr. Rafiq Sabbir thought he was doing when he agreed to help his friend Tariq Shah. It is not clear if he thought that as a doctor he would assist Osama Bin Laden’s mujahids, as many of our fellow Muslims would do around the world unfortunately; or if he merely wanted to help the general cause of jihad with his medical skills. In any case, his detention has left a family without income. Surely a man like this has the right to some support, at least for his right to a fair trial and a decent lawyer. If you wish to assist, there is nothing illegal in that. Checks can be made out to lawyer Edward Wilford and mailed to his wife, Sister Morgan at 75 Fox Run Drive, Englewood, NJ 07631.

Offering help –or words of hope--we can develop our potential through positive actions. Can immigrants derive hope through politicians’ promises or do they need new laws enacted to offer a way to legal, normal life? Will the poor feel hope through thousand-page policies on paper, or through actual humane programs that show respect for them, that treat them like living beings instead of rags and bones?

We all need to feel hope. We also need to offer hope. Our religion is not a recipe for Pie in the Sky. Our religion is not instructions to build a bomb. Our religion may teach us to plant seeds; but the rules for planting the seeds of hope and joy should not be confused with the green and living plant when it appears. You cannot eat the planting instructions, and your soul cannot be nurtured by written rules alone.

We wait, you and I, for the Spirit of joy and the energy of hope. And God knows best what conditions of sunlight and earth, water, pain and joy, will cause the flower to at last appear at the end of the struggling branch.