I’m a Christian, a Veteran, and I Love Muslims and Goth People
Niam crouched over the stream washing his hands ritualistically while I stood guard scanning the horizon. My team leader re-checked the map while Niam continued to wash. Other soldiers fidgeted with their rifles, removing magazines, only to reload them then check the chamber for a loaded bullet. Niam finished washing and then laid out his prayer rug, asking us which direction was west. Another soldier checked his compass then pointed towards a group of nearby trees. Niam quickly readjusted his rug, folded his hands, closed his eyes and then began his prayers. I watched for a little while as he touched his forehead to the old rug where the worn spots from his knees and forehead had made portions of the rug threadbare. I wondered if it was inappropriate to watch, so I went back to scanning the horizon while he finished.
When he finished, he rolled up the rug, and looked at us through tired eyes and said, “Okay, we can go now.” We had been on a combat operation for a few days now and were smack dab in the middle of Ramadan, the holy month of fasting sacred to Muslims around the globe. Niam was not allowed to eat or drink anything until the sun went down, and yet continued to march around the mountains of Afghanistan searching for Taliban and Al-Qaeda operatives. By noon every day he looked like hell because of the physical toll placed on him.
We continued to patrol the area when curiosity overcame me. In order to better understand the culture, I had read portions of the Quran. I was especially interested in the areas regarding jihad. I had discovered that those waging jihad were not required to fast during Ramadan in order to maintain their strength to fight. Niam himself was a very devout Muslim originally from Pakistan, so I was curious as to why he hadn’t broken his fast in order to maintain strength fighting his own personal jihad (in Arabic struggle) against those he believed were corrupting his faith.
“Niam…” I quietly said as I motioned him towards me. “Why do you continue to fast, while the men we fight do not?”
Niam smiled and gestured to the heavens with one hand while the other remained on his rifle. “I want to honor Allah during this time period. It is not right to say I am on jihad simply to break my fast.”
“But the others…they believe their struggle is as just as yours, yet break it.”
“Yes, but they twist the words of the Prophet to suit their own selfish desire. They are mislead.”
“How so?” I pushed.
Niam grinned again and then pointed to the flag on my shoulder. “In America, you are a Christian nation. Many Christians there. How many Christians take the words of the prophet Jesus or your Bible and distort them? Turn them into selfish gain? Misinterpret them?”
I smiled back catching on, “Quite a lot actually.” Niam gently squeezed my shoulder and simply stated, “It is the same with Islam.”
Growing Up Goth
After September 11th, I had a lot of rage built up towards Muslims. When I first deployed to Afghanistan my honest thought process was we’d be doing the world a favor by taking out more Muslims to avoid further attacks on the United States.
But then I befriended a Muslim in the middle of a war and everything changed.
I realized I had let fear and paranoia dictate what I thought about other human beings who had different skin color and religious beliefs than I did. I had let a few crazies influence how I viewed the 1.6 billion Muslims around the world.
It suddenly reminded me of how I felt as the metal kid growing up during high school. When people hear you like metal music they typically think this:
The Goth kid in high school is often thought of as the one that’s going to pull off the next school shooting. Trench coats, dark makeup, black nail polish, and a metal t-shirt immediately depict you as a “troubled youth.” You listen to dark and angry music because you’re an angry person is the belief. However, I just happened to think shredding guitars and dudes screaming lyrics was totally awesome. I didn’t want to kill people and I wasn’t angry. I had my typical teenage angst, but I simply wore the clothes I did because I was imitating my favorite bands just like the jock did that wore Abercrombie and listened to NSYNC.
Nowadays I’m covered in tattoos and still love metal. I wear a lot of black and white because that’s what I like wearing. But I’ve had well-meaning church people try to convert me to Christianity even though I’m a Christian because they wrongly assume I might be worshipping the dark lord. Had they taken a moment to get to know me, they might like me and find we have common ground. While I was overseas and began working with Muslims I found out that a lot of them were misunderstood just like I was as the metal kid. When I came home from Iraq and Afghanistan, to counteract what others thought of Muslims I shared stories about my Muslim friends who fought beside me, the people I met there, and even cooked cultural meals that I had been shown how to make. I even befriended Muslims at my school because I understood them and could relate to their culture. However, I wasn’t naïve. I had had some radicalized terrorists almost kill me one day when they attacked our base, so I knew there were some very evil fundamentalists out there hell bent on destroying the world and causing suffering in the name of their cause. But I also knew of greedy Wall Street tycoons and politicians who did the same, just more subversively and using shady backdoor deals.
Love Casts Out Fear
Recently there’s been a lot in the news about Muslims. Our world seems to be in a state of panic over ISIS and homeland attacks such as San Bernardino. Many have taken to vocal outrage, which has fostered an environment of fear. In my own city, we recently had two young Muslim women accosted at a restaurant while everyone sat silently and did nothing. In Pittsburg, a cab driver from Morocco was interrogated and shot because of his background. Fear quickly driving men and women to perform atrocious acts against their fellow man because of their skin color and supposed religion.
So-called Christians have perhaps been the loudest of the groups acting in fear. Franklin Graham (son of evangelist Billy Graham) recently stated:
“Every Muslim that comes into this country has the potential to be radicalized — and they do their killing to honor their religion and Muhammad. During World War 2, we didn’t allow Japanese to immigrate to America, nor did we allow Germans. Why are we allowing Muslims now?”
I’m not even going to pick that apart. It’s a black stain in our history books for the way we treated the Japanese during WWII and the way we turned away German Jews trying to escape the Holocaust. Perhaps the more important thing to note is the amount of fear wrapped in that quote. Fear seems to be the fuel that’s driving many of us in the way we view people, the way we handle our lives, or even our own personal struggles. We fear what we don’t understand and will demand safeguards to assuage our fear. We will oppress and hate others using fear as a motivation. We will remain indifferent and silent for fear of judgment in standing up for what is right. We will stay stuck in our addictions because we fear change. We won’t tell anyone about our struggles for fear of what they will think.
Fear will always keep us from moving forward towards healing. Fear will always keep us indifferent. Fear will teach us to hate. And I have to wonder if Franklin Graham and many other Christians have forgotten the words of Jesus when he teaches about fear, hate, and oppressing others. I wonder if like Niam pointed out, they’re twisting things to fit their own agenda especially when Jesus says things like:
“Perfect love casts out fear”
“Love your enemies. Don’t just love your friends. How easy is it to love your friends? Even killers do that.”
And then my favorite — the Greatest Commandment, which states to “Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.”
The interesting thing about that command is that some smart ass in the crowd immediately challenges him by asking “And who is my neighbor?”
Jesus then begins telling a story about a Samaritan. Most everyone in Western culture typically knows this story as the Parable of The Good Samaritan who stops and helps an injured man on the side of the road while a bunch of religious people pass him by. But what people don’t know is that the Samaritans were hated by the Jews and seen as evil half-breeds. Jesus’ whole point is that your neighbor is the person you hate. So if Jesus were to tell the story today, it would read that a random Christian and later a Mega Church Pastor passed the injured man “but a Muslim, as he traveled, came to where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion, came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. He set him on his own animal, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.”
The only cure for our fear is beginning to love and understand others. For the Goth Kid. The Muslim. The Hindu. The atheist. For humanity. But if we fear, we’ll remain bound. We’ll oppress others unjustly. We won’t get healed and we can’t conquer addictions because we’ll stay stuck and operate out of that fear.
But love will cast out that fear. Stories of love and sacrifice will always triumph over evil. They’re the ones sung and celebrated. Fear will be the poison in which we destroy one another.
The question is, will we learn to love? Or will we spread fear like a virus infecting others?
