Love Your Enemy

          If any group has been constructed as our modern day enemy, it’s the besieged Muslims under fire by our war machine across the world, as well as their relatives living inconspicuously in the United States. Instead of allowing their different perspectives and too-similar religious foundation to worry us into avoidance, we need to apply Jesus’ exhortation to embrace our enemy with agape, Christian love. This means challenging the Christianity-lite that glosses this basic Christian obligation, or trivializes it to the point of “forgiving” somebody who steals the prime parking spot, for example.

No, Muslims have been Christians’ blood enemies since the reprehensible Crusades, which are essentially being repeated under the vague guise of “security,” (i.e. access to resources so we can continue polluting the earth? Or for the sake of American imperialism?). Americans are actively defining Muslims as enemy targets, as enemies-by-association with extremists, and as theological threats. Notice that I’m not denying that Muslims are enemies (to whatever extent) to American Christians; I’m saying that Jesus says to LOVE our enemies.

          Loving one’s enemies means accepting them on their own terms.

          Whoa!!! “On their own terms”?! Don’t we expect people to meet us halfway? Did Jesus go halfway to Jerusalem, carry half the cross halfway to Golgotha, and suffer half the pain of death? Islam denies the Passion on the principle that such a beloved prophet shouldn’t need to suffer. True, the crucifixion wasn’t necessary. In fact, it’s absurd that the Son of God would die in ignominy; it’s scandalous even. Because my theology has been shaped in relation to Muslim views of Christianity, my explanation is that the Passion and Resurrection are the Great Follow-Through, the undeserved gift of hope and unification with God. Our grateful response, as limited as it is, must be to attempt to love others unconditionally, especially our enemies.       

Being Evangelized with Blessed Assurance

          We were living in married student housing and had at the time two preschoolers and a baby, when a very nice Asian Muslim came over to visit. She was a liberal Muslim, even a music student, aware that some factions of Muslims frown on music. She charitably confessed to singing classical Christian music, but she drew the line, however, at singing the Gloria Patre. I completely understood this boundary, for the Gloria Patre is dear to me as the standing up, memorized high point of a church service. Singing it I always look upwards in praise towards the cross and the sky. I rejoined her with my inability to repeat after my twinkle-eyed mother-in-law the Shahada, and we were off into a four-hour religious discussion.

          By the time she left our cordiality had leathered, and I was not just all-day-factory-tired but on the verge of resentful. She must’ve been equally surprised at the length of our discussion, maybe even at the upwelling of her own evangelism. We both tried: she, to convey the irresistible beauty of Islam, and I, to remain open. For Muslims, the religion of Islam is the culmination of the Judeo-Christian prophet cycle, which includes the beloved prophet Issa, Jesus; the Quran sets the tradition straight once and for all. It’s similar to the way Christians view the New Testament as a supplementary corrective to the Torah: why stay stuck in the old version when there is a definitive, all-inclusive update? My husband had also been genuinely surprised that I didn’t convert.

          One reason that Christian and secular Americans avoid Muslims is this very self-assured, sincere evangelism. Honestly, I wouldn’t be writing this blog if I weren’t concerned with Christian-to-Muslim attrition. I’ve even contributed to it with four Muslim offspring and now a daughter-in-law. However, another part of me says Eh? what’s the problem? they’re worshipping (and faith is good) the same monotheistic Creator called Allah by Arab Christians. What's more, my open-minded influence has a positive effect on the development of homegrown American Islam, through them. The twinge of bereavement I feel as a congregant during baptisms is a small price to pay for being an example of tolerance.   

          It takes understated courage, but it is possible to encounter Muslims without risk of loss of Christian identity. On the contrary, Christian humility as more than a stance or demeanor, but as a way of life, is not passive or weak, or easily erased. Rather, the humility it takes to undefensively hear out sincere Muslim proselytizers may strike Muslims as quaint, and most other Christians as absurdly foolish. However, there’s a proud history to Christian humility, and it’s needed now more than ever.