November/December
2003 A Muslim-Jewish Initiative
by Lynn Gottlieb
Congregation Nahalat Shalom of Albuquerque, New Mexico wanted to deepen its outreach to the Muslim community, especially in the aftermath of the tragedy of September 11th. Inspired by the Hiroshima Flame pilgrimage, which came to the shul in March of 2002, the community decided to explore the possibility of a peace walk from its synagogue to the local mosque. Many members also wanted to express their opposition to Israel’s ongoing military occupation of Palestine in a way that might bring new people into their circle of concern.
I called my friend Ahmed Lobad to find out who at the mosque had the authority to make a decision about the walk. Ahmed gave me the numbers of the president and the general secretary, Abdul Rauf Campos-Marquetti. Early one morning I dialed the president, but his line was busy. Being anxious to contact someone, I tried the general secretary. Abdul Rauf answered with his usual warm greeting of “as-salaamu `alaykum”—“peace be upon you.” After introducing myself briefly, I asked Abdul Rauf if he was interested in participating in a peace walk from the synagogue to the mosque the following Saturday morning, just five days hence. His response was an immediate yes. Five days later, an interfaith crowd of over 350 people gathered at 6:30am to walk the 6.6 miles from Congregation Nahalat Shalom to the Islamic Center of New Mexico. A new peace partnership was born. To initiate the first Muslim-Jewish peace walk, we wrote a statement that reflected our commonly held beliefs. It was read as part of our opening prayers. The Islamic Center of New Mexico and Congregation Nahalat Shalom invite people of all faiths to participate in a historic walk for peace from a synagogue to a mosque. As people of faith we give witness to our belief that peace between Israel and Palestine is possible. As people of faith, we mourn the tragic loss of innocent life, especially the children. We call on an end to violence and the speedy establishment of a free and secure Palestinian state along side a free and secure Israeli state. We support the voices on both sides who remain committed to honoring the dignity and security of both peoples. In this time of despair, we choose to embrace hope. As people of faith, we remain committed to a future based on mutual recognition. We believe that enduring security for Israel is inextricably linked to a secure and viable Palestine that can realize its dream of freedom. As people of faith, we place our trust not in military might, but in God’s demand for love and justice as the true pathway to peace. The morning of April 13th gifted us with a brilliant turquoise sky. Slowly, people began to arrive at the shul on Rio Grande Boulevard. The number who showed up exceeded our expectations. Everyone was smiling. As people greeted each other, we passed out cardboard hamsas (a protective hand symbol familiar to all the communities of the Middle East). These hamsas, created by Ilene Weiss, read “Shalom Salaam Peace” and were decorated with a star and crescent moon, a Magen David, and a heart. The hamsa symbols, mounted on sticks, and two banners created by the children of Nahalat Shalom were the only signs we carried that day. After opening prayers that represented many faiths, we released doves into the morning air. Erwin Rivera, a member of Santa Clara tribe, handed kernels of Santa Clara blue corn and Chiapas white corn to people as they began the walk. The kernels stood for the seeds of harmony and peace “we have to grow in our hearts.” As he gazed at the crowd, Erwin told us that our eyes reflected all the colors of the global rainbow. At that very instant, a rainbow-colored hot-air balloon floated over the crowd. We all gasped in amazement at the synchronicity of the moment.
The walk brought together Jews and Muslims, native Americans and Chicanos, Buddhists, Christians, and Baha’is. All were able to hear each other’s prayers for peace. There were people in wheelchairs and people pushing baby strollers. There were Jewish survivors of the Holocaust and Germans who grew up under Hitler. There were five peace vans to carry tired pilgrims, and police along the way helping us cross at intersections. There were Israelis and Palestinians seeking each other out. That day we heard Arabic, Hebrew, Persian, Spanish, English, Tewa, and German spoken prayers. That day, we called out the words for peace in the languages we love. Ahmed is a Palestinian born in Kuwait who often visited his remaining family in Gaza. He, like most Palestinians, has lived a refugee’s life, moving from place to place, seeking security and a future. Until coming to the United States to pursue academic studies, the only Jews he had ever seen were uniformed Jewish soldiers holding guns. Crossing the borderlands of Jewish territory in Israel left him with the impression that all Jews were militarized and bent on the destruction of Palestinian lands and people. Only in North America did Ahmed begin to meet Jews who were willing to struggle on behalf of the Palestinian dream of freedom. Since that time, Ahmed has joined a local organization comprised of Jews, Christians, and Muslims who work for the end of occupation through educational outreach, citizen lobbying, and ongoing people-to-people projects. During the peace walk, Ahmed encountered an Israeli named Noam. Noam had served in the military and subsequently fled Israel. He is one of the many thousands of young Israeli men who are not willing to surrender their lives on behalf of a seemingly endless war against a civilian population. Noam struggles to find healing from the trauma of growing up with the expectation of serving his country by defending it against the Palestinian armed struggle, only to discover that what was asked of him involved intense levels of brutality that included shooting children. Ahmed and Noam met each other at the shul and walked together to the mosque. Their conversation explored the terrain of peacemaking as they shared the pain they felt at the untenable conditions history has placed upon their lives. They talked about Zionism; about life as a refugee, a soldier, a dissenter; about the child who chooses to leave home for moral reasons. In the face of this history, they chose to walk together. Shoshana was born after the war in a Displaced Persons’ Camp and grew up in Israel. Rudy spent his youth living in Germany amidst the destruction of the Jews. He now spends his life trying to offer an ongoing atonement for the Holocaust. That day, Shoshana and Rudy crossed paths under the banner of peace at the mosque. They spoke of their frustration at the seemingly endless inability of humanity to learn to accept each other’s differences and see each other as relatives. In the face of this difficult history, they chose to walk together. Their mutual presence at this event comforted both of them.
After the first peace walk, members of both our communities wanted the opportunity to meet again. This desire evolved into a Jewish-Muslim spiritual fellowship that continues to meet weekly. We studied together last year in preparation for the second peace walk (which took place on September 11, 2002) by reading the texts of Qur’an and Torah that concern the story of Abraham. We focused on his devotion and vision of oneness. During that time, Abdul Rauf traveled to Mecca twice, and was able to circle the Ka`bah and experience praying with thousands of Muslims from throughout the world at his religion’s holiest place during the month of Ramadan. The Jewish members of the group found the presence of Muhammad, peace be upon him, begin to awaken within us—as well as a deepening respect for the Muslim way of life. The second peace walk received the official support of the board of the Islamic Center. They graciously opened the mosque at 6:30am to an interfaith crowd of over 200 people. The unusual heavy rains that morning did not deter those committed to the walk. We sat close together, shoes waiting at the entrance, while we were welcomed by male and female members of the masjid, and then were invited to pray. Voices from many traditions offered prayers of peace and solidarity. We put on our pilgrim shoes (mostly sneakers) and began the seven-mile walk to the synagogue through the rain, stopping at Civic Center, a Native American church, and the Quaker Meeting House along the way. Civic Center was lined with fire and police people, the stage draped with a giant American flag. Dignitaries, a military band, and families stood around waiting an hour in advance of when the ceremony was scheduled to begin. Into this crowd we walked, dressed in white, to pray in front of the flag. Nasir opened with the adhan (the Muslim call to prayer) and we again offered our prayers of peace for those who perished on 9/11, for the families and friends who remain behind, and for healing between peoples. One man from the mosque who joined the walk that day had fled as a youth, together with his family of eighty-five people, out of Afghanistan into Pakistan during the Russian invasion. He remembered the height of the mountains, so high “you could hang your hat on the moon.” They walked for over a week, elders and young alike, finding shelter in villages along the way, until all of them miraculously reached safety. He was walking on behalf of refugees everywhere who desperately need peace. He told his story several times on the walk. Nataniel, my son, brought several of his high school friends on the walk. They noticed the crawdads swimming in the acequias of the once rural north valley. One by one, everybody scampered up the slight hill to peer into the ditch and look at the crawdads. The teens scooped a few out of the water so we could all get a closer look. We entered the shul soggy, tired, and happy. We sat for final prayers and each person in the circle offered his or her vision of peace. Abdul Rauf said, “The real jihad is the jihad for peace. And our weapons must be compassion and courage of heart.” Later, in an act of commitment to the work of dialogue and spiritual partnership even in the face of the most difficult challenges, Abdul Rauf and I traveled together, in our capacity as peace partners, to Israel and Palestine. We went with an FOR Interfaith Peace-Builders delegation.
This is a journey into the heart of sorrows. We saw amazing courage in the daily deeds of so many people living under the terrible condition of military occupation and lawlessness symbolized by the Wall of Separation. We saw Palestinians resisting military occupation through acts of cultural expression, political organizing, medical service, educational efforts, and simply refusing to give up the family home. We witnessed the variety of life inside the Green Line—Israelis coping with suicide bombing and their own versions of uncertainty and despair. Both of us returned convinced of the need to let people know about the Wall of Separation and the terrible impact it is having on an already impoverished and beleaguered Palestinian society. The last night, as the sun set over the Dome of the Rock, the FOR delegation stood listening to our Palestinian guide’s story of this place. As we listened, Jerusalem the Magnificent was bathed in rose light, soft yellow hues of the sun reflecting the golden dome. From this ancient scene of stone and light arose the first adhan, piercing the air with its soulful song, then another and another adhan—wave after wave of Muslim prayer, voices of gratitude on God’s eternal shores. Upon our return, Abdul Rauf and I founded the Jewish-Muslim PeaceWalk. We hoped that other cities would be interested in the idea of walking between mosque and synagogue, visiting other religious communities along the way, in order to nurture Jewish-Muslim dialogue and peace action. Immediately upon our return, we presented what we had seen in Israel and Palestine to some of the interfaith communities that had joined us on the walk. And we started to receive inquiries about the walk from outside of New Mexico. As a result, we are currently planning peace walks in Tucson, Las Vegas, Philadelphia, and New York City to help foster interfaith relations between Muslims and Jews and to give witness to the impact of the Wall of Separation. Between the walks, our local spiritual fellowship continues to study and pray together. Lately we have been discussing the Ninety-Nine Names of God in Islamic tradition, and the equivalent names of God in the Jewish tradition. We have shared our understanding of Oneness, Compassion, Justice, Peace, Truth, Joy, and the Lawgiver, among others. We read from Qur’an and Torah, Hadith and Midrash, Shari`ah and Talmud. We talk about our faith understanding of the texts, our doubts, our struggles, our sources of strength. Our third peace walk in Albuquerque was smaller and quieter than the first two. Our elder Bob Levin joined us and blessed us to continue to travel down the river, even if he must soon leave us behind. Bob became a conscientious objector during World War II and joined the FOR during that time. He has remained a devoted activist throughout his life. Bob continues to support the work of Jewish-Muslim dialogue, as well as challenging the mainstream Jewish community to face Palestinian suffering and to rebuild from the Holocaust by creating a peace-oriented Judaism. Pat Jojola also joined us. She is a member of the Isletta nation and deeply devoted to peacemaking. She shared her vision of Indian peoples and Muslims standing together, drawing upon the same sacred energy, in a prayer at the mosque. Pat also feels a deep connection to Jewish people and religion through her close friends. Her vision and prayers brought Jews and Muslims closer together on that day. We pray that the work of PeaceWalk continues to bring people together on the literal road to the heartland of peace. Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb is one of the first ten women in Jewish history to become a rabbi. She is a kabbalist and storyteller, Klezmer dancer and drummer, author and ritual artist. Her book, She Who Dwells Within: A Femionist Vision of a Renewed Judaism is available at the FOR Bookstore.…©2003 Fellowship of Reconciliation |
