Vacation

In just a few hours, I'm getting on a plane.

All MCC personnel in Europe and the Middle East are attending a retreat in Barcelona from April 26th to May 1st! We'll have the opportunity to hear about the Kingdom work that our organization is doing throughout these two regions. We'll have the opportunity to enjoy great company in an amazing city.

But the best part is...

For three full days after the retreat, the four other SALT volunteers and I will chill in Barcelona on our own! We've booked our hostel, and we've talked a bit about what we want to do, but our plans for those three days are pretty much wide open. It's our time to relax, our time to commune, our time to just. be. happy. 

At our orientation back in August, the five of us hit it off right away. Even then, we looked forward to our reunion at this retreat. 

And now, it's finally here.

I'm not bringing my laptop, so don't expect any posts for the next week and a half or so. Prayers for a rejuvenating time are appreciated.

Grace and Peace.

Let me tell you a story...

Traditionally, story-telling has been revered in Arab cultures and practiced regularly in both private and public spheres. It’s a spectacular art form that most of the world has lost -- and that the modernizing Arab world risks losing as well. 

16-year-old Samer has memorized a couple dozen stories, many of which he learned from his Deaf father. Whether funny or serious, all of them enthrall the younger boys. 

Sign

Throughout history, Sign languages have been victims of discrimination. 

Though unknown, their origins are certainly ancient. In Plato’s Cratylus, which dates to 360 BCE, Socrates alludes in passing to the systematic use of signs by the Deaf. Presumably, wherever there were groups of Deaf people, Sign languages arose, developed, spread, and evolved -- like spoken languages do. 

And yet, it wasn’t until around 50 years ago that academic linguists decreed American Sign Language (ASL) to be a legitimate language in its own right, with its own grammatical rules, syntax, standards of eloquence, even dialects.  

ASL hadn’t undergone some sort of rapid macroevolution; linguists just came to realize what the Deaf had known all along. 

Before this time, virtually all schools for the Deaf exclusively employed hearing teachers whose primary goal was to teach their students oral speech. Sign was considered to be a primitive form of communication, fitting only for the unintelligent (Exhibit A, discrimination). In such contexts, signing was strictly forbidden and severely punished.

But that didn’t stop the Deaf. 

A few months ago, I read Hands of My Father, a childhood memoir by Myron Uhlberg. Myron is a hearing man with two Deaf parents, both of whom attended boarding schools for the Deaf as children. His mother’s testimony resembles that of thousands more Deaf individuals from this dark era of Deaf education...

“When the lights were turned out, we went to the bathroom, where a light was always on, and we talked till our eyes refused to stay open. We loved to talk to one another in our language. We lived for sign, and the ability to communicate with one another was like the water of life, our oasis of language and meaning, in the midst of the huge expanse of desert silence and incomprehension that was the greater hearing world.” 

Despite the misguided efforts of many over the centuries, Sign languages have survived and are thriving all over the world. Although antiquated assumptions still reign in certain places, the tide has definitively turned: more and more people are recognizing the unique beauty of Sign languages. 

This post is about that beauty. 

From Hands of My Father: “Simply put, it is for me the most beautiful, immediate, and expressive of languages, because it incorporates the entire human body.” 

Just as the human mouth holds seemingly incalculable possibilities of sound, the human body holds incalculable possibilities of movement. But moving mouths are not particularly beautiful. Bodies are. 

Faces, arms, fingers come alive, and the bodies of the hearing suddenly seem dull, dead. 

The articulate Deaf body speaks in a mesmerizing dance. It’s unlike anything else I’ve seen or heard. 

As I become more and more comfortable in Jordanian Sign language, as I develop and practice the possibilities of communicative movement within my own body, I’m having much more fun signing than I generally do when I’m speaking.

I’ll try to flesh this out with an example. 

To perform the sign for “poor” in Jordanian Sign language, place your non-dominant arm across your shoulder, clenching the hand into a fist. Then make a claw out of your dominant hand and draw it up the arm. 

As far as I know, there are no sign synonyms for “poor” -- in contrast, of course, to English. Words like “needy,” “destitute,” and “penniless” all mean more or less the same thing, but each has subtly different connotations that might lead us to choose one over another. Furthermore, we might select one of these synonyms for reasons related to the flow of our words (rhythm, alliteration, etc). 

Doesn’t this mean that Jordanian Sign language is more simplistic than English? Where’s the diversity and depth of expression?

Just watch the claw slowly wind up my arm, suggesting the twists and turns of a poverty-stricken life; or the fingernails on my rigid hand scrape my arm’s skin, suggesting a sudden and urgent crisis; the angst on my face, suggesting sorrow; the anger in my eyes, suggesting injustice.

I might never sign it the same way twice. 

Each body has its own accent in Sign. I’m growing into my own. And it’s fun. 

All of this regards the beauty and expressiveness of Sign, to which Myron refers. But what does he mean by “immediate” in the quote above?

Most likely, he is referring to the fact that Sign languages maintain a closer connection to reality than spoken/written languages do. 

The relation between (almost all) words and their meanings is utterly arbitrary. There is no self-evident reason why the word “war” means war and not play (notwithstanding a word’s etymological roots). Long ago, people just decided to call it “war,” and afterwards, people just went along with it. 

And people don’t just intellectually assent to these linguistic connections (i.e., the connections between words and the realities that they signify); over the course of our communicative development, our minds and hearts come to embrace them, to conceive of them as we conceive of truth. That’s why words have power over us, why the combination of the letters w-a-r can and should actually arouse thoughts and feelings in me. (Yo Nietzsche, holla!) 

But what if the connections between our units of communication and the meanings that they signify weren’t so arbitrary? What if the way we communicated the concept of war wasn’t through three random letters placed side-by-side, but through certain movements of our arms, our faces, our whole bodies? What if the meaning of those movements was unambiguous and intuitive? 

Embracing would come more naturally, for messages and their meanings would seem immediate. 

A final excerpt from Hands of My Father:

“I could read most of the words on the front page for myself. Even the ones I didn’t know, I could sound out. But I much preferred that my father read the front page to me. Words like war and battles, and army, and shell, and bomb were just words to me, as were wounded and dead. But when my father’s expressive hands turned these words into sign, they came alive. In the movement of his hands, I could see the fall of bombs, the flight of shells, and the movements of vast armies; I could hear the cries of the wounded and the stillness of death.”

This post has been long and winding, so thanks for sticking with it. I just had to get these thoughts and feelings out there. 

Grace and peace. 

Pictures of Hazem

Hazem regularly practices Braille with his primary teacher. By Braille, I mean half a dozen letters of the Arabic alphabet, which he doesn’t yet understand. Unfortunately, it’s still a game to him (and in my less-than-humble opinion, he’s not the one to blame). But at least he enjoys it.

One of Hazem’s favorite past-times is circling around this tree over and over again.

A story from a few weeks ago: after Hazem had been circling clockwise (as he always does) for about five minutes, I stopped him, performed the sign for “rotate,” and nudged him to turn around. (Of course, Hazem doesn’t know the sign for “rotate,” but the idea is to perform many signs with deafblind children and then immediately introduce the items/actions associated with the signs. Over time, their minds will learn to make the associations.) 

I nudged him. He didn’t budge. I took his hand in mine and began to walk around him, so that he could feel me moving counter-clockwise around the tree and then follow me. He let go of my hand. His face spoke confusion and discomfort. 

Then he started moving away. Without his walking stick. Without any clear direction. Slow and steady side-steps, that expression implanted on his face. 

This is a creature of habit, friends.

Most Mondays, Hazem and I do the dishes together. Generally, he does a good job. He likes the hot water a little too much, so he will often just stand there with a hand under the faucet and his mouth open until I tap him, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. 

In fact, I tap Hazem around every ten seconds while we’re doing the dishes. Rarely does he perform two steps in a row: he does one thing, and then either gets distracted or simply waits for permission to continue -- permission that I’m trying to convince him he doesn’t need. 

Looks dangerous to you? You’re probably right.

We’re on a field trip to a center for children who are blind and low-vision. This clay smells like bananas, one of Hazem’s most common snack foods. 

Obviously, the deafblind rely more on their sense of smell than we do. Before meals, it’s important to allow Hazem time to sniff out his dish. 

Playing alongside other Blind children at the center

A position that Hazem is in far too often

...this one, too

Asma is a Jordanian Deaf woman who works with Hazem several times a week. You wouldn’t be able to tell from this picture, but Hazem is actually quite scared of her. She tends to be stricter with him than others are, and if he misbehaves, she’ll sign with a ferocity that quickly quiets his body.

This is Mohammed (one of many Mohammeds at our school), who is responsible for eating with Hazem during meal-times. 

Rapidly-shaking hands are an indicator of happiness. 

Air is coming out of a vent and blowing a styrofoam ball upwards. That’s it. And you’ve never had this much fun. 

First Steps

From Charles Kimball’s Striving Together: A Way Forward in Christian-Muslim Relations...

“Far from being impartial or dispassionate, I begin with the conviction that achieving new, more positive relations between Christians and Muslims is a major and urgent item on the world’s agenda. ... Together, these two communities of faith encompass nearly half of the world’s population. Both communities are present in all parts of the world and both are growing rapidly. Without question, the ways in which Christians and Muslims relate and interact will shape the future of this planet -- for better or worse.” 

“It makes all the difference if one begins by recognizing that the world’s political order is necessarily changing and new forces (including Muslims inspired by their religious tradition) are at work in the process or, instead, one begins with the assumption that Islam itself is a problem that threatens stability and order in the world. The media coverage... [has served to reinforce] the latter assumption. In the process, a longstanding stereotype in the West was perpetuated, namely: Islam is inherently intolerant, fanatic, violent, and menacing. This image of Islam differs dramatically from its historical reality as a dynamic tradition, inspiring and nurturing hundreds of millions of adherents for centuries. To understand the difference between Islam as a complex, living religious tradition and the stereotypical images of Islam (particularly in the West) is the critical point of departure for those who wish to pursue a more constructive future in Christian-Muslim relations.”

“Never mind that the overwhelming majority of Muslims are horrified by a Lebanese truck bomber acting in the name of Islam, the negative image of Islam is perpetuated by the extremist, misguided actions of individuals and groups. Sadly, such behavior is a familiar component in the respective histories of both Christians and Muslims. But, the chilling examples of violence, even slaughter, in the name of God should not be equated with the religious traditions, even if the perpetrators claim to take inspiration from their faith. Such individuals and groups comprise a part of the mosaic, but they are surely not representative of the moral and ethical teachings of the larger religious communities, both of which have stood well the test of time.”

“There are real and substantial differences between Christians and Muslims. Fundamental disagreements exist, for example, in the respective theological views on the nature and efficacy of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. In the political realm, wide disparity is evident when adherents advocate theoretical understandings of the role of their religious tradition in shaping and governing contemporary nation-states. These and other points where minor or radically different positions exist should, by no means, be pushed aside or glossed over. Muslims and Christians must each deal openly with such matters of concern. The challenge and requirement for both communities is to engage one another honestly and in the light of accurate information. The bias and misinformation permeating the history of relations between the world’s two largest religious traditions must be understood and overcome.”

[The story below is especially fascinating in light of the recent and ongoing political upheaval throughout the Arab world. The context is the 1979 U.S. hostage situation in Iran. ...for those of us who know more about today’s entertainment than yesterday’s history, it’s the story of the film Argo.]

“In the early morning hours of January 1, 1980, I sat with six other American clergy in a small room deep inside the U.S. embassy compound in Tehran. Having already met with many of the top religious and political leaders in the country, we were invited to meet with the Iranian student militants who had seized the U.S. embassy two months earlier and were still holding 53 Americans captive. About two hours into the wide-ranging discussion with their leaders, one of the students declared, "The taking and holding of these spies is a great Islamic act!" To the mild surprise of several of my colleagues, I immediately replied, "That is nonsense."

     The student looked at me and, after a moment, asked what I meant. My response: "I think I understand your political motivations for seizing this embassy and holding people hostage. You have made clear your anger and frustration with U.S. intervention in Iran over the years. Given this history, I can well understand why you fear a possible U.S. military effort to reinstate the Shah [who was in the United States at the time]. Even so, you must know that your actions here are not only illegal, they are immoral. And, they are certainly not Islamic. Your responsibility as Muslims is to protect the foreigner in your midst. Although a few embassy personnel may have some connection to U.S. intelligence gathering activities [what embassy doesn't? And, Tehran was known as the center of U.S. intelligence activity in the region], the overwhelming majority are surely not spies. While I strongly disagree with what you are doing and believe it ultimately will hurt, not further, the image and understanding of Islam in the world, I must also say that your rhetoric is far from helpful. To call hostages 'spies' and declare your actions Islamic in no way helps you protect or further the fragile process of your revolution."

     After a longer pause, the student said softly, "What we are doing may not be Islamic, but it is revolutionary!"

Answers Lived

Every so often, a friend has raised the question: 

“Can Christians pray with Mormons?”

Personally, I’ve never wrestled with this question; long before I ever heard it, I had lived my answer.

Of course I can pray with Uncle Tom, Aunt Sue, my cousins! Yes I call them Christians, yes they know that Jesus is their savior, yes we’ve prayed together, and we’ll continue to do so!

More rarely, I’ve encountered a more controversial question: 

“Can Christians pray with Muslims?”

I’d never wrestled with this one either; I believed that the answer was obvious.

Of course not.

When I first arrived at the Holy Land Institute for the Deaf, I knew nothing of the school’s religious demographic. As you can imagine, I was eager to ask, “How many are Christians? How many are Muslims? Who’s who here?”

On my very first night, while I was helping put the boys to bed, one of the veteran volunteers told me, “We’re going to pray with them now.”

Pray? How? With whom? With all of them? Which ones are the Christians? How can I tell? Is it okay to pray with the Muslims? Am I personally okay praying with the Muslims?

There was no opportunity to ask such questions. 

I just started to pray with them.

All of their prayers resembled my own at their age. All of our prayers ended with big smiles and hugs. 

In the past, it was an exclusively theological question, which entailed a theological answer. Of course not, because I believe ABC, but they believe XYZ, and this means that we pray to different gods, so we cannot pray together.  

Far be it from me to minimize the theological. Certainly, I think that it’s important to ask, “Can an unspecified Christian pray with an unspecified Muslim in any given situation?” 

But the fact of the matter is that I have been forced to ask a different question, a different kind of question: 

Tonight, can I pray with these particular boys -- all of whom I love, all of whom love me? 

Before I knew it, I had lived my answer.

An excerpt from Marilynne Robinson’s novel Gilead... 

“I remember when you walked to the pulpit in that shot-up, bloody shirt with that pistol in your belt. And I had a thought as powerful and clear as any revelation. And it was, ‘This has NOTHING to do with Jesus.’ Nothing. Nothing. And I was, and I am, as certain of that as anyone could ever be of any so-called vision. I defer to no one on this. Not to you, not to Paul the Apostle, not to John the Divine.” 

...And neither Paul the Apostle nor John the Divine could convince me that God is unhappy when I  pray with Mahmoud.