A wish for 2010

When school holidays came, I had this much expected visit from my Israeli friends and their children. We have cherished this friendship for 14 years since the time we started our doctorate studies in Cambridge, UK. Them being Jewish and we as Shia Ismaili Muslims we exchanged presents for Hannukah and for Imamat Day, and we also got into the spirit of celebrating the birth of Jesus, for various reasons, but more importantly, for the factual evidence that while living in European Christian societies, we - as Jew and Muslim, would not be together at this time of the year if it wasn't for the celebration of the birth of Jesus. We chatted on the meaningful facts of our religious identities and still had a great deal of learning about traditions, education, values, and the future of our children. Those who are used to reading my posts know exactly that, by stating this as a fact, I do not intend to minimize the role that Prophet Issa had in our own understanding of Islam, which was enormous and deeply formative of the religion I practice.

As the Old Year was closing its days, and as Europeans, we also joined our Christian and agnostic friends in our building to welcome the New Year. We blended into the common traditions and had extended to all our friends and loved ones the best wishes for 2010. Through mobile phones and internet we were linked to the world and the world was in our hearts, minds and prayers.

However, and perhaps because I am more exposed and challenged to think about the troubled and conflicting identities, I worry about the present and future of human relationship, especially that which fears the Other - the unknown, the less visible, yet real, and not necessarily demonising. To make this point clearer, I will use Azim Nanji's story, which I found in a enlightening article : "Some wise men who are seated around the square on a pleasant summer evening, doing what wise men do - exchanging presumed wisdom and trying to solve at the same time the problems of the world! While they are seated on this bench they see a young woman walking in front of them, going to and fro and obviously looking for something she has lost. Eventually they enquire what it is that she is looking for and she replies, "It's an earring". They ask "Do you know exactly where you lost it?". "No, I don't know where I lost it", she replies. Perplexed at the response, the wise men ask, "Why are you looking for it just in this space, walking back and forth?" And she says "Because it's the only place where there's a lamppost."

Azim Nanji is concerned about the "single lamp" from where we look at Islam, and that we should look for other "islams" under other lights or which are less visible. I would add to that thought that we should also build a world recognizing our common humanity. Furthermore, that in this process we are bound to find differences, and that's what's really interesting and beautiful about creation. The history of humankind has many a times shown that it is in difference, and through it, that human beings have managed to overcome the challenges of life, of economic failures, social disenchantments, science responses, and the overcoming of natural disasters. More than anything, I wish 2010 marks the beginning of a decade where we engage in a respectful and dignifying common humanity.

*A Salaam means peace