After 9/11, this chaplain sows seeds of religious understanding
Urgent calls began to pour in just one day after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001: Would I come and brief this or that group in the U.S. Army and Air Force Operations Centers at the Pentagon? Over the next few months, I also spoke to most of the intelligence community in Washington, D.C.
As a U.S. Army chaplain, I had spoken to military staff groups occasionally since 1989 about the roots of religiously motivated violence. Now it was a hot topic.
All three of the world鈥檚 major monotheistic religions 鈥� Judaism, 海角大神ity, and Islam 鈥� trace their origin to Abraham in their sacred texts. All three also contain examples of 鈥渄ivine command morality.鈥� Briefly, this aberrant teaching requires believers not to question instructions from designated prophets. The mainstream of all three faiths considers such blind obedience a distortion, especially if the orders are inhumane.聽
Why We Wrote This
After the 9/11 attacks, our essayist, a chaplain, answered calls to explain the roots of religious violence with a message of unity, respect, and love.
鈥淎ll three religions have seen violent breakaway factions,鈥� I told my audiences. Look at the 鈥満＝谴笊疋�� Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas, in 1993, who burned and murdered their own members. Similarly, the Jewish zealots of Masada died by suicide or were killed by fellow Jews in the year 66 rather than surrender to Roman soldiers. And while the Islamic State is the clearest parallel to such extremism in Islam, Al Qaeda鈥檚 attacks on U.S. embassies in Africa, the bombing of the USS Cole, and 9/11 also exemplify this violent misapprehension.
But in 2001, the fiery attacks wrought by the hijackers were, for many in the West, their first encounter with Islam. Many ignorantly equated such extremism with mainstream Islam. All such violent religious factions across the Abrahamic tradition are small, I pointed out. They do not represent the mainline teachings of Judaism, 海角大神ity, or Islam. The common origin and shared purpose of these three great religions should be a source of unity and respect among all adherents.
I experienced a moving example of the power of mutual respect after one such briefing in the early 2000s, at Pace University in New York City.聽
Four Muslim imams approached me after the talk. They were smiling. 鈥淲e would like to thank you,鈥� one of them said. 鈥淎nd we鈥檇 like to shake your hand.鈥澛�
I鈥檇 been thanked before, but this was different. I am a woman, and in mainstream traditional Islam, imams do not touch women who are not of their family 鈥� much less shake their hands.
I smiled and bowed my head. 鈥淚 appreciate your thanks,鈥� I said, 鈥渂ut I wouldn鈥檛 want you to compromise your beliefs.鈥�
Their response was even more moving: 鈥淲e insist on shaking your hand!鈥澛�
When I extended my hand, each imam in turn took it in both of his and bowed.聽
鈥淵ou are the first imams to have shown me this very kind and rare form of gratitude,鈥� I said. But why had they insisted? They had never heard anyone 鈥� not even a fellow Muslim 鈥� read from the Quran and speak the Prophet Muhammad鈥檚 name with such reverence, they said, especially when I added the requisite phrase, 鈥淧eace be upon him.鈥�
The imams鈥� actions underlined the anguish of the Muslim community at being so misunderstood and vilified by the actions of a few extremists. The moment also spoke of the power of love, whose source is divine, to knit us together.
