It is ugly, but may it make a difference. It is embarrassing, but may it spur to action. Unfortunately it is real, and may it soon disappear.
In Upper Egypt a married Christian man and a Muslim woman had an alleged romantic affair. That was bad enough, but what followed was worse. A mob pilloried seven Christian homes in the village, and dragged the man’s mother naked through the streets. Police, say the reports, did not intervene.
Arrests have been made, but in similar incidents they have been made before. The authorities call for the guilty to be held accountable, but these calls have been made before. Church figures reject the extra-judicial use of ‘reconciliation sessions’, but they have been rejected before, and held anyway.
The state has a poor record in prosecuting sectarian crime. Society has a poor record in erasing sectarian sentiments.
Religious leaders have been dispatched to address the situation. God, give the people ears to hear.
Dispatch also the hands of justice. Empower police – whether scared or sectarian – to play their God-given role in restraint. Enable judges – whether heavy in caseload or light in concern – to establish patterns of proper deterrent.
But God, fundamentally reeducate in the virtue of honor. Bless the codes that preserve worthy morality. Bless the motivation that enforces its standards.
But better integrate the virtue of mercy. Better equip the discipline of discernment. Focus responsibility on the individual; strengthen prevention in the community.
And if at heart there is religious contempt, purify the heart in personal repentance.
God, help the aggrieved to forgive; help the state to judge. In cooperation with both, may you convict and transform.
Purge Egypt of this poison, God. Honor all who honor you, and gently – but effectively – rebuke where Egypt falls short.
Photo Credit: Wing of EgyptAir plane in November 2008. By captain.orange via Flickr.
6am in Cairo, May 19, I woke to the news of another disaster. EgyptAir flight 804 fell out of the sky en route from Paris, France. The world wondered terrorism. Egypt pondered the same, but the cause almost didn’t matter. With many Egyptians I exhaled deeply, sighing in familiar resignation, “Oh no, not again.”
Writing about Egypt these past seven years, I have shed many a tear over local developments. Most have come observing the nation’s self-inflicted wounds, as young men are anointed ‘martyrs’ after near-pointless street clashes. Others have come as once hopeful faces harden into determined grimace against either the regime or its opponents, if not altogether into despondent passivity.
But that morning there was no time for tears, and one reason was personal. The next morning I would fly with my family the same route to Paris, transferring onward back to America.
For us the inconvenience was a delayed flight, a missed connection, and acute exhaustion after a very long day. But back in the United States I could soak in the green grass, breathe the fresh air of freedom, and lament a polarized political discourse that seems offensive given our comparable blessings.
But in Egypt flight 804 is far more than an inconvenience. It is hard to weep when suffering becomes endemic, when a country steels itself against the inevitable next blow. Tears were a natural response for the families who lost loved ones. The rest of the nation simply feels under siege.
“Oh no.”
When Metrojet flight 9286 crashed into Sinai October of last year, Egypt hoped beyond hope that it was not terrorism. As ISIS claimed responsibility and Russia and the UK suspended their flights, many interpreted the hemorrhaging of nearly $250 million per month in lost tourism revenue as a targeted strike at the nation’s economy.
Fortunately the hijacked EgyptAir flight 181 in March ended safely as the result of a lovestruck looney. But for flight 804 a terrorism component would almost perversely be welcome, though no claim of responsibility has yet been issued. If Paris authorities failed at least Cairo has the misery of good company. Should EgyptAir equipment or crew prove to be at fault, another mental log gets marked against a would-be pyramids vacation.
Already it is too late. Who wants to come to a nation beset by five years of upheaval? Who wants to invest when governments are shuffled like a used deck of cards? The Egyptian pound devalues as foreign reserves evaporate. The regime desperately attempts to balance between necessary economic reforms and protection of the poor. But all the while prices are rising and only Gulf largesse buys time in hope that Egypt can get its house in order.
Set aside domestic political reform, for most Egyptians have. A dedicated few strive after the liberal reforms promised early in Tahrir Square, while the Muslim Brotherhood nurses their grudge against the many enemies they feel cheated them from power. The Western press rightfully rails against the human rights failings the government admits are a necessary compromise in search of stability. But the outcome is political stagnation as leaders ask for trust, but without the reserve of transparency on which it can be built.
The resulting gap is filled in with conspiracy, on all sides. The Muslim Brotherhood blamed the regime for the crash and warned more disasters would follow unless Egyptians unite against the alleged coup. Some regime supporters suggested Israeli involvement, and many saw evidence of a Western media campaign against Egypt. No matter what the failing, they say, Egypt is made to be at fault.
Pummeled from the right and left by events not always of their own making, it is hard to determine if conspiracies are spun just to distract the populace or if they are actually believed in full. But for want of a fully developed and accountable democratic political system, someone somewhere is always conspiring behind the scenes. It is just impossible to pin down who.
“Not again.”
In the aftermath another familiar cycle begins. Anonymously sourced quotes from foreign or Egyptian figures reveal information or posit interpretation. Egyptian authorities follow behind to deny, that no official findings have been concluded. Perhaps all is true and legitimate in the moment. But the world waits and eventually loses interest; Egyptians simply add to the list of yet unaccountable deaths, stretching back to the first days of the revolution. Still unknown is who killed the protestors.
The difficulty comes in policy recommendation, especially in an atmosphere filled with punditry. Hardheaded analysis is necessary, and God bless the diplomats who must make decisions. The Christian in us wants to help, but how to advise? In the contested arena sincere critique is taken as interference, for the Arab world has suffered at the hands of our moralizing endeavors. Foreign policy is about national self-interest; they are quite used to our situational application of principle. They are also quite used to seeking someone else to blame.
What does this imply for Egypt and terrorism, Egypt and good governance, Egypt and struggling political economy? Listen to Egypt’s groan, and sigh in return. Each disaster is felt personally, every loss a tragedy. Rather than seek strategic distance, embrace a sympathetic analysis. Mourn with those who mourn. Love mercy, act justly, and walk humbly. Suffer with them, but stay true to principle. Wounds—if from a friend—can be trusted.
Now is the time for comfort and prayer. Unfortunately, it is also the time for transparent investigation. In all her calamities, Egypt alone is ultimately responsible for the latter. The West can encourage, and demand fidelity. But without the former, we are no help at all.
This article first appeared at The Table. For more articles featuring thoughtful Christian perspectives on the the nature and embodiment of love, growing through suffering, and acquiring humility, click here.
Translation: Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, pray for those who persecute you, and whoever strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also
I have long taken pride in the distinctive teaching of Christianity to love your enemy. It was not until I began learning Arabic I better appreciated what this called for.
Perhaps like many American Christians my pride was an identity marker more than a mark of Christ. I had never suffered for my faith, nor had any enemies to speak of. But in a pluralistic world of competing religious claims, widespread political polarization, and far-flung military adventures, ‘love your enemy’ became a mantra to lift me out of the morass and place my feet firmly on the moral high ground.
Only Jesus commands this, I thought; my Christian religion is different. I had always believed it was true. This was confirmation it was better.
The Sermon on the Mount allows us to cherish our ideals, with full admittance of the still mostly philosophical difficulties. Who has ever forced us to walk a mile? And beggars? They’re all in the big city. Turning the other cheek would be hard, but the envisioned moral strength? Powerful.
One morning years later I awoke surrounded by posters of smiling Arab pop stars. During vacation break from language school in Jordan I arranged for an immersion experience in the ancient city of al-Karak, home to a 12th century Crusader castle. One-quarter of the population remains Christian; one local family took me in and displaced their preteen daughter from her room.
But there at the door by the light switch a prominently placed sticker served as a reminder each morning as she left the room. Ahibbu ‘adakum. Love your enemies.
I went to the Arab world imagining a place where this command might be more practical. Muslims were not essential enemies, of course, and Jordan was well known as a place of coexistence. But perhaps they were theological enemies? In any case the region was characterized with tales of persecuted Christians. How would ordinary believers live the Sermon?
Ihsanu illa mubghideekum, the sticker continued. I was less familiar with this injunction. Baariku la’aneekum. Perhaps like many American Christians, Jesus taught me from the mountain. What I would come to learn is that Arab Christians quoted his Sermon on the Plain. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those that curse you.
The family I stayed with in al-Karak was well respected with no known enemies. But every morning their daughter entered a Muslim culture armed with instructions that have buoyed Arab Christians for 1400 years. Whether jizyah and jihad, or colleagues and citizens, they have been the minority ‘other’. American Christians, white-skinned at least, have little idea what this entails.
Going to Egypt, later still, I saw the results first hand.
I wished eagerly to explore the context. Both Matthew’s and Luke’s account end with the command to pray for those who treat you wrong, and more than other places in the Arab world, Egypt was understood to be a place of Coptic suffering. ‘It takes a presidential decree to fix a church doorknob,’ I was told. ‘Christians get attacked in their villages, and they are the ones put in prison.’ Over time I would learn that the reality is quite nuanced, but the sentiment is telling both for visceral incidents of suffering as well as the ethos they produce. Many have suspected that Christians of the region had bought a modicum of peace in exchange for evangelistic mission, beaten down by the task of communal preservation. I experienced Copts as simultaneously integrated in society and withdrawn into their churches. They would speak of Muslims as friends, but whisper of Islam as an enemy ideology.
But what of the celebrated Sermon on the Plain? How would they not just love, but also bless? Specifically and practically, how would they do good?
In one city south of Cairo I interviewed a man who provided a commendable, if telling example. Due to government difficulties in extending services to underdeveloped areas, Muslims and Christians have learned to take care of their own. Until recently Islamist groups had long provided a safety net for the majority, while the Orthodox Church ensured care for Christian widows and the Coptic poor. Neither group would profess denying help to the religious other, but both mirrored the reality of increasing emphasis on religious identity.
This man worked with a Christian agency that aimed to break the dichotomy and serve all. Unaffiliated with the church, Muslims were the employed majority as well as present on the board of trustees. By no means were they an enemy, but Christ’s love to the other was clearly among his motivations.
A jovial and cheerful man, he turned deadly serious on my next question: ‘To better reach your community, would you consider partnering with a Muslim organization?’ It seemed innocuous enough but touched a deeply sensitive nerve. ‘I swear by the Messiah,’ he answered angrily, ‘there is not one Islamic organization that also takes care of the Christians!’
He may be right; he was certainly the expert. But from the heart, the mouth speaks. Here was one of the best examples of a Christian doing good to people who many in his community would internally generalize as a sort of enemy. But despite his charity, he ultimately demonstrated an uncharitable spirit. Let there be little condemnation, but the question is fair though terribly hard: As I Corinthians 13 warns, did he risk becoming a resounding gong?
Nuance is necessary, for the other is not the enemy unless they press against you. For most Arab Christians the ordinary Muslim is an ordinary person, though the Islamist can be a threat in the desire to set his creed as the organizing principle of society. In a region with much religious conservatism, the line between Muslim and Islamist can be difficult to draw. This man railed against the latter, and perhaps with good reason. But it was clear his love for the other did not extend to love for the enemy. Instead of doing them good, whatever that could have meant practically, he was in existential competition.
In the years that followed Islamists rode a revolutionary wave into the presidential palace. Despite their conciliatory discourse with Western audiences, in Arabic some of their members and supporters uttered vile and vitriolic threats against their opponents, Christians included. One year later as Copts joined the masses that turned against the new political elite, they paid the price as their churches were burned throughout the country. Christians were praised for their patience, and rallied behind the military and millions of Muslims to oppose the Islamist enemy. In this case the term is at least rhetorically appropriate; once chosen as legislators and government ministers, they were now rejected as terrorists and an internationalist cabal.
Western opinion is divided over the veracity of this accusation, but as concerns local Christians it is largely irrelevant. Certainly they suffered; certainly they ascribed to widespread public messaging. But in the vanquishing of their enemy almost no voices of love were offered. These need not be in dissent; they might only be in pleas for due process or care for the relatives of the justly imprisoned. During Islamist rule many Christians worried and some chose to emigrate. Some, probably many, prayed for their new president. But if a few have since sought to bless the fallen Islamists who curse them still, their example has not moved the needle of Coptic opinion, where nary a tear has been shed.
How then is this spirit present in a ten-year-old girl who lost everything?
If Islamists in Egypt were a challenge, even a disaster, in Syria and Iraq they were a catastrophe. When the so-called Islamic State overran Mosul in July 2014, thousands of Christians left their homes and fled to Kurdistan. Among them was Myriam, who with her family lived in a half-built shopping mall. Interviewed a year later by the Christian satellite network SAT-7, her testimony went viral.
‘I will only ask God to forgive them,’ she said when asked how she felt about those who caused this tragedy. ‘Why should they be killed?’ Contrast her with the opinion of some Americans, who wonder why we have not yet bombed ISIS into oblivion.
Perhaps it is the depth of the loss that summons the breadth of compassion. Perhaps children are not chiseled as rigidly as adults. Beautiful testimonies of forgiveness have been offered by Egyptian Christians as well, whose family members were martyred by ISIS in Libya. Unjust suffering recalls a crucified Jesus, whose dying prayer to God was that sin not be accounted to his tormentors. From afar we recoil, and demand justice. Likewise, Egyptian Christians felt vindication when their government bombarded ISIS in Libya the next day.
Let them not be blamed on account of ‘love your enemy’. The children of Israel broke into song when Pharaoh’s army drowned in the Red Sea. David prayed for deliverance from his enemies and a psalm of exile wished their children smashed against the rocks. Romans established the role of government in the preservation of order and punishment of the wrongdoer. And one day, Christ himself will wield the rod of iron as his enemies are fashioned into a footstool. Outcry against suffering is natural and must be voiced for emotional health. Justice is real, necessary, and must never become the antonym of love.
But mercy triumphs over judgment, and love covers over a multitude of sins. The Christian ideal keeps no record of wrongs, and hopes all things. This seems impossible when facing an enemy of any caliber, let alone the Islamic State. It almost seems perverse. The higher calling of love must uphold the lower calling of justice, and demands great discernment in weighing Jesus’ instruction to be wise as serpents yet innocent as doves.
Arab Christians are in an unenviable position. The Egyptian church must navigate this wisdom-innocence paradigm with the utmost care. The Syrian-Iraqi church has been scattered. If they have not yet lived up to the fullness of ‘love your enemy’ it only serves to remind us how far we are from what they endure. That God has kept them from abject loathing is sign enough of the Spirit’s power. That they fill up in their flesh what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions is reason enough to humbly bow and support them in prayer.
Unfortunately, my proximity has not enabled the vision of practical suggestion. Lord willing, the eyes of a foreigner have helped some see afresh the demands of the gospel. Ultimately, application is up to them.
But over the years I have come to see the Sermon on the Plain as a better template than the Sermon on the Mount, especially if read in reverse.
Pray for those who mistreat you. If persecution is rare, mistreatment is not. If love if ethereal, prayer is grounding. With an act of the will I can choose to place my enemy before God. Perhaps I even begin with the imprecatory psalms. But rather than grumble or plot revenge, I turn the matter over to him.
Bless those who curse you. Once in God’s hands the prayer can change, even with rising of the nature of offense. No matter how difficult in our power, the Spirit’s power enables our will to progress further. The step is tangible, but nothing is yet asked of the heart. With gritted teeth I seek God’s grace not only for my hurt, but for the ultimate well-being of my enemy.
Do good to those who hate you. But again, God pushes the envelope as the severity of opposition increases. Anyone might curse me in a moment of frustration. Hatred takes time. But in answer to a decision that hardens a heart, my decision is to loosen my own. In asking God to bless my enemy, he transforms me to do it myself.
Love your enemies. Whatever practical action results, something mystical occurs. At least, I can only trust God that it will. Somehow, and whatever it means and feels like, love happens.
It is this love that is the hallmark of Christianity, not my initial congratulatory pat on the back that I was born into and believed in a superior faith. This is the love that can transform conflict. But it is also the love that can get trampled underfoot.
Why has the latter been the trend for Arab Christians over the past 1400 years, as their numbers have dwindled to near extinction? Have they not loved enough? Have they not stood for justice? Have they compromised too readily? Have they allowed their hearts to harden?
We cannot know, and we dare not judge. Bear well that the sermon passage ends with a plea: Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Look upon them with sympathy, and upon the region. They are brothers in sisters in faith, within brothers and sisters in humanity. Surely among them are the ungrateful and wicked, but as sons and daughters of the Most High, in imitation we are commanded to be kind.
And remember, the Sermon on the Plain places the Golden Rule smack within the section on loving your enemies. It is among the most beautiful verses in Arabic: Kama tureedun an yafal al-nas bikum, afalu antum aydan bihum hakatha. Do not let the foreignness of the language exaggerate further the foreignness of the concept. Enemies need love even more than the rest of us. Invite Arab Christians to help us learn.
In 2013 the French-Tunisian eL Seed became the first Arab artist to collaborate with fashion mogul Louis Vuitton. His unique “caligraffiti” style emblazoned their classic Foulards d’Artiste monogram scarf, and embellished their iconic Alzer luggage case.
Blending traditional Arabic calligraphy with street-style urban graffiti, his reputation grew as his murals transformed walls around the world with messages of peace. Condé Nast Traveler feted eL Seed (pictured above) as one of the year’s leading visionaries, even as he mingled with artists, diplomats, celebrities, and billionaires.
Three years later he was picking through trash in a city dump.
I wrote recently about the community that inhabited this dump, the Zabbaleen of Manshiat Nasser, and the cave church that rose out of its squalor in the Muqattam mountains. eL Seed designed a massive mural that encompasses the walls of 50 apartment buildings, visible only from the monastery above.
The elaborate Biblical rock carvings hewn by a resident Polish artist have made the monastery one of Cairo’s lesser-known gems, but to get there one must still brave the pungent smells below. That is exactly what eL Seed did to obtain the approval of now 75-year-old Fr. Simon.
The article also tells the story of Abanoub, a 23-year-old Manshiat Nasser resident who Fr. Simon relied upon to help eL Seed adapt to the area and win support for his project. But when he was done, neither Abanoub nor the residents could read what was written. Here is how el Seed explains this, and the following concludes the article:
“You don’t need to know the meaning to feel the peace,” he said, “but when you get the meaning, you feel connected to it.”
Though he chooses sayings that have a universal dimension, eL Seed strives also for local relevancy. In Bishop Athanasius he identified a champion of the Egyptian church, who preserved the orthodox teaching of Christ’s divine nature from the heresy of Arianism. This history may be little studied by the Zabbaleen, but the gesture was not lost on Abanoub, a church hymnist.
Though almost exclusively Coptic, Manshiat Nasser has seen its share of Muslim-Christian tensions. In March 2011, not long after Mubarak’s resignation supposedly marked the end of the revolution, clashes with Muslim outsiders resulted in deaths on both sides. But Abanoub remarked that he didn’t sense eL Seed was a Muslim even for one minute, an expression often used by members of either faith to emphasize the humanity of the other.
“Even though he is a Muslim, he wrote the quote of a Christian saint,” Abanoub said. “I don’t know why he chose it or what it means to him. But for me, if we want to see Christ, we must see the world around us.”
And this is the gift of eL Seed to the Zabbaleen of Egypt. Though the focus will always be on the trash, he has added a mark of beauty and dignity.
“The mural makes us feel important,” said Abanoub. “We’re not just a bunch of garbage collectors sorting trash. No, because of him the world’s media is shining light upon our community.”
Please click here to read the full article at The Media Project.
One of the 50 buildings of ‘Perception’, seen from the streets of Manshiat Nasser
From the Jakarta Post: President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo (center), accompanied by State Secretary Pratikno (second right), talks with Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) advisory board chairman Maruf Amin (second left) at the State Palace on March 31, during the International Summit of The Moslem Moderate Leader.(ANTARA FOTO/Yudhi Mahatma)
Secretary of State John Kerry recently confirmed what most already knew: ISIS is committing genocide against Christians and other religious minorities in the Middle East.
Many Islamic leaders knew it too. In January, 200 Muslim religious leaders, heads of state, and scholars gathered in Morocco. They released the Marrakesh Declaration, a 750-word document calling for majority-Muslim countries to protect the freedom of religious minorities, including Christians.
Last week, another 300 Muslim religious leaders from about 30 countries did much the same. Gathering in Jakarta, Indonesia, the country with the largest Muslim populus and historically known for its religious peace, the leaders denounced extremism and addressed its causes.
Texas pastor Bob Roberts, who has been actively building relationships with Muslims, thinks this is a sign of things to come. Roberts was present at the Morocco conference but not Indonesia.
“Muslim majority nations are now making statements globally and nationally to push back on extremism, and you will see more of it,” the evangelical interfaith leader told CT. “This is sending signals to their citizens and the world that the tide is turning.”
The Indonesian conference was hosted by Nahdlatul Ulama (NU), the largest Muslim organization in the world, and was opened by the vice president of the officially secular country.
Please click here to read the full article at Christianity Today.
Once before, Cairo burned. With fire true and abstract, she is threatened again.
The incidents are curious, God, and in the sequential diversity conspiracy spins. Familiar foes blame each other, while official authorities blame faulty wiring.
Settle the cause of every and all, holding accountable for each liability. Connect the dots or prove them random, but put the mind of the nation at ease.
For there is little shame in assuming the worst, God. A new tragedy springs every week, compounding problems as if under siege.
After a lengthy lull, unknown assailants gunned down officers in Giza. Sinai has been long troubled, but for many months the capital has been calm. The Islamic State has amped up its rhetoric against Egypt. Does this attack portend more ill?
Keep Egypt safe, God, from enemies far and near. That they exist is obvious. Identify them properly.
Concurrently investigated is a youthful online street comedy group. Much popularity has followed their satire of state, interpreted by others as incitement and insult.
God, the semi-strong can punish offense. The truly strong can bear with patience. Guide the youth from youthful indiscretion, judge them for any sinister plotting. Bless their creativity and channel it properly.
But restore to Egypt the confidence of upright conviction. Help society establish freedom, discern deviation, and reinforce responsibility. It is a hard balance, God, in the best of times. Give Egypt the strength to find it.
Which is near impossible when constantly putting out fires. Arson, accident, or negligence, God, install better detectors and sprinklers. Rid her of traditional asbestos, and cleanse her with holy rain.
From an article at the Zwemer Center, written by a philosopher fed up with popular coverage of Muslim issues:
One philosophical distinction that may help navigate this discussion is between essentialism and nominalism.
Don’t stop reading, he makes it simpler, distinguishing between Islamic religiosity and Muslim religiosity. Ok, that still sounds complicated, but here is the test to see if a pundit weighs forth well on Islam:
Give an account of what the authoritative texts seem to say about a given issue. Quote them as they are without resorting to interpretation.
Describe the various interpretations offered by individual Muslims and groups of Muslims through time.
Failing to take step #1 results in ignoring the authoritative primary sources of authority for Muslims. Failing to take step #2 results in ignoring the history of interpretation of those primary sources of authority and the rich diversity among Muslims on issues.
Still hard for the non-specialist? Yes, I presume so. So here are the crib notes on how each side of the US media spectrum fails (with a special shout-out to you-can-guess-who):
Failing to take step #1 results in understanding Muslim thought as a mere form of individual or cultural relativism, which it isn’t. Now when MSNBC ignores step #1, you can fault them.
Failing to take step #2 results in forming gross generalizations that perpetuate ignorance and prejudice. Now when FOX News or Donald Trump ignore step #2, you can fault them.
Actually, both MSNBC and FOX News fail on both counts, as do many, if not most, of our politicians.
Allow me to take the issue from media analysis to personal kindness and broadminded generosity. Grant Muslims the dignity of belonging to an ancient tradition they strive to navigate in diverse ways. And grant Islam the dignity of diverse followers who cannot be reduced to a single interpretation.
Criticize both freely, as necessary. But do not reduce one to the other. Our identities are true, but they do not define us. Our religions posit truth, but we do not define them. This is as true of Muslims as anyone else.
Should this last thought grow too philosophical, the author reminds us even the professional ones know how to make fun of themselves:
If the distinction doesn’t help you, then chalk it up to another example of confusion about what a philosopher does and still one more example of wondering why anyone in the world would want to do what we do.
Have a wonderful day, once you have set forth the necessary and sufficient conditions for what it means to ‘have a day’ and what could possibly be the conditions for it to be ‘wonderful’.
Smile, but take his words seriously. America, hopefully in correctable ignorance, is taking a dangerous path.
So much in Egypt is zero sum. Nullify correctly, or change the equation.
During recent protests over the Red Sea islands, several journalists were arrested. Many were quickly released. But when police entered the syndicate to arrest two journalists staging a sit-in, the majority believe a line was crossed.
Police had a warrant, but allegedly broke protocol and press law.
As the syndicate calls for the dismissal of the Interior Minister, police accidentally revealed an internal memo on how to discredit journalists. Newspapers united to boycott the minister’s name and use his photo in negative. Escalation is threatened, while other activists are arrested.
God, it is human to struggle. Negotiation is a vital art. But restore to Egypt the trust and decency necessary to determine what is best for all.
Best, God, is a free society with vigilant police. Best is a discerned transparency with vigilant journalists.
There are many understandable barriers to what is best, with many and diverse interpretations. But save Egypt from the barrier of protecting turf. Save her from the barrier of manipulating exaggeration.
Save her from herself, but from within herself. Promote personnel who can forge consensus while identifying wrong.
Help Egypt reform widely, discipline accountably, and fight honorably.
Make no one a zero, God, but fix every fraction. Bless Egypt, and make her whole.
The Arabic literally translates as ‘if God wills’, but it conveys a whole lot more – usually to the foreigner’s frustration. In this article for the New York Times, Wajahat Ali explains:
It’s similar to how the British use the word “brilliant” to both praise and passive-aggressively deride everything and everyone. It transports both the speaker and the listener to a fantastical place where promises, dreams and realistic goals are replaced by delusional hope and earnest yearning.
If you are a parent, you can employ inshallah to either defer or subtly crush the desires of young children.
Boy: “Father, will we go to Toys ‘R’ Us later today?”
Father: “Yes. Inshallah.”
Translation: “There is no way we’re going to Toys ‘R’ Us. I’m exhausted. Play with the neighbor’s toys. Here, play with this staple remover. That’s fun, isn’t it?”
If you are a commitment-phobe or habitually late to events, inshallah immediately provides you with an ambiguous grace period.
Wedding Planner: “We only have the hall from 7 to 10 p.m. We’ll incur extra charges if we go past 10. Please tell me you’ll be on time.”
Wedding Attendee: “But of course! Inshallah, we’ll be there.”
Translation: “Oh, you sad, sad, silly little man. I hope you have saved a lot of money or have access to an inheritance. I’ll leave my house at 9:45 p.m.”
Inshallah is also an extremely useful tool in the modern quest for love.
Man: “So, you think we can go on a date later this week?”
Woman: “Yeah, let me think about it, inshallah.”
Translation: “No. Never. There is no way we are ever going on a date. Even if there was a zombie apocalypse and you were the last man on earth, I would not consider this an option and would rather the human species perish as a result of my decision.”
I drop about 80 inshallahs a day, give or take. I’ll get to the gym, inshallah. Yes, I’ll clean up around the house, inshallah.
Most commonly, inshallah is used in Muslim-majority communities to escape introspection, hard work and strategic planning and instead outsource such responsibilities to an omnipotent being, who somehow, at some time, will intervene and fix our collective problems.
In all the above he pokes fun at his own culture, but Ali started the article lamenting the Southwest Airline crew who removed a Muslim from the plane for uttering the word.
But he ends the above with a paragraph of introspection we must demand of ourselves. Laugh freely, but for the foreigner in the Arab world, couple your inshallah frustrations with the following friendly advice from an article in Daily News Egypt:
Living here for years, foreigners often develop a natural desire to see Egypt become a better place. Thus, they begin to express their opinions on issues that could be improved—which often leads foreigners into an unpleasant area.
Egyptians generally, and their government in particular, always want to be complimented.
Foreigners may make their remarks sincerely and with the best of intentions, but voicing any sort of criticism of the “Mother of the World” affects Egyptians’ ego and is not appreciated.
The author spends most of the article lamenting Egypt’s promotion of xenophobia whereas it should more rightly, like the majority of ordinary Egyptians, respect and welcome foreigners.
In the West we want to get to the point, and being direct–with tact–is a virtue. In Egypt the emphasis must be on tact, with directness following far behind. It is a difficult skill and I don’t claim to be anywhere near mastery.
But at the minimum, knowledge of the cultural reality will make a world of difference for the foreigner, um, God willing.
Allow them to make the inshallah lament on their own. You: Just show up on time and never mind them being late. Let your generosity of spirit mirror their own, and all will learn together.
Jayson Casper 