Brian McLaren recalls how he felt led to reach out to local mosques in the days after the 9/11/2001 terrorist attacks:
While praying, I felt a voice speaking, as it were, in my chest: Your Muslim neighbors are in danger of reprisal. You must try to protect them. The next morning, I wrote and made copies of a letter extending, belatedly, friendship toward Muslim communities in my area, and offering solidarity and help if simmering anti-Muslim sentiments should be translated into action. I drove to the three mosques nearby—I had never visited them before—and tried to deliver my letter in person. The first two were locked tight—no doubt for fear of reprisals….
When I arrived at the third … I clumsily introduced myself as the pastor from down the street…. I then handed [the imam] my letter, which he opened and read as I stood there awkwardly…. Suddenly, he threw his arms around me—a perfect stranger…. I still remember the feeling of his head pressed against my chest, squeezing me as if I were his long-lost brother.
“It means so much to me that you have come,” he said. “Please, please, please come inside.”… My host welcomed me not with hostility or even suspicion, but with the open heart of a friend. And so that day a friendship began between an Evangelical pastor named Brian and a Muslim imam we’ll call Ahmad.
A few days later, the youth group from our church made a colorful banner expressing their desire for there to be friendship between the youth of the mosque and the youth of our church…. The mosque began hosting community dinners to which our people were invited along with people from other faith communities in the area….
The friendship between our congregations grew through a series of interfaith dialogues … and Ahmad and I began meeting for lunch every month or so…. If Ahmad wanted to talk about something or arrange for our next lunch meeting, he knew one place one day each week where I could be found—Sunday mornings at church….
Some people were, I imagine, a little shocked at first to see a Muslim cleric walking through the church lobby as people chatted over coffee and bagels. But because our congregations had developed a friendship, he was soon recognized and welcomed…. There was something wonderfully right about Ahmad feeling so at home that he could come find me before or between services on a Sunday….
Imagine what might happen around the world if more and more Christians rediscover that central to Christian life and mission is what we could call subversive or transgressive friendship—friendship that crosses boundaries of otherness and dares to offer and receive hospitality…. Imagine the good that could happen—and the evil that could be prevented from happening—if more Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Christians, Buddhists, and others cross the roads and other barriers that have separated them, and discover one another as friends.
Reference:
Brian D. McLaren, Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? Christian Identity in a Multi-Faith World (Jericho Books, 2012), 225–228.
Image credit and inspiration: Ashkan Forouzani, untitled (detail), 2020, photo, Iran, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. Each bead in a strand could represent a faith tradition—rising beyond rivalry to something new, larger, and whole—while holding fast to the beauty of its own singular shape.
Story from Our Community:
Sometimes I see God in the most unexpected places. The other day, I was sitting in a McDonald’s, watching others enjoy their meals. I saw two female friends chatting and a grandfather giggling and holding his two grandchildren close. Most beautiful of all, I witnessed two young men pushing the wheelchair of their friend who looked unwell and emaciated. The gentleness, care, and love were so evident in their faces and actions; it moved me deeply. Truly, God was present.
—Sue W.
