He Apologized but I Felt the Shame
Sacred Listening to Somali Muslim Refugees
We gathered as Christians to hear their stories. We gathered, honestly, to counter the public denigration of these fellow human beings. They are a trifecta of the ‘Other’: black, Muslim and refugee. No matter how you cut it the Somali-bantu refugees I met today are on the wrong side of every discussion in our currently divided cultural conversation.
There is too much to say in one post about what I heard today. A mother spoke of children still missing after their journey of escape. One visitor spoke of a generation of young adults who’ve only known life in a war-ravaged country. Another told of a culture that forces everyone to choose a side, even as it remains unclear as to why anyone is still fighting.
At then end of our conversation the participants were asked what they wanted us to know and to tell our friends.
“I’m really sorry,” one of the guests, Abdi, began. He proceeded to explain his apology in light of horrible things that have been done in the name of Islam. He continued with a plea for unity and explained that if anyone says, “I’m a Muslim. No one can harm [anyone]. No one can do that.” He was as earnest and sincere as I was embarrassed.
As an adherent to the Christian faith I am acutely aware of the ways in which some in my faith family have believed and perpetuated falsehoods about Muslim refugees like Abdi, Abdul and Fatuma, our visitors. I am aware that it is we who call ourselves followers of Jesus who should be apologizing. The story of Jesus is one of love demonstrated in sacrifice. Instead of following His example we, in our fear and distrust, have turned away from the suffering of those seeking peace and safety. In our “holiness” we have offered our prayers but not our boots on the ground in the search for justice. In an effort to maintain unity some of us have stayed on the sidelines, knowing more is required. In reality, we Christ-followers look very little like Jesus to our Muslim and refugee neighbors.
Today I was challenged to make my own apology, one grounded in action. Rabbi Heschel called it “praying with my feet.” In the days in months ahead I’ll be praying with my feet, my phone, my wallet and anything else I can lend to support these strong and resilient, yet vulnerable, new friends.
