Seeing our neighbors spiritually

During the invasion of Kuwait by Saddam Hussein, I served in the United States Army in Iraq, and when my US National Guard infantry unit was deployed in 2003, I fully expected to return. During that time, I began to read the Quran to better understand how Muslims think. Fast forward to 2010: I was in an Arabic language program in the United States and met several men who were very anti-American and aggressive about their Islamic faith.

The two years or so that I was around them gave me a helpful perspective because many of the other Muslim men I was studying with were not impressed by such narrow-mindedness. When these extremists became too aggressive in their statements about politics or religious issues, the other men would tell them to cool down. From what I could tell, those who espoused these views marginalized themselves. Being exposed to this more balanced perspective helped me to overcome negative feelings I had long shared with many Americans about Muslims.

More and more though, as a Christian Scientist, I wished to mentally embrace my Muslim neighbors and recognize their true nature as the children of God—what I call “Love made visible.” I went to Amman, Jordan, with two goals: Beyond practicing the Arabic language, I also wanted to prove to myself that Love rules and crosses all boundaries. As I spiritualized my thinking, I became certain I would see proof of that spiritual harmony in this place where Islam was dominant.

As I spiritualized my thinking, I became certain I would see proof of that spiritual harmony in this place where Islam was dominant.

I have lived outside the US more than five years, often in places where there were few or distant Christian Science Sunday or Wednesday church services. Westerners are welcome in Jordan, but bringing Christian religious materials to any majority Muslim nation is often not allowed. So I entered Jordan without the Bible, Mary Baker Eddy’s book Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, or a copy of the Christian Science Quarterly’s Bible Lessons. But I already knew that Christ, the spiritual truth of God and man, would precede me anywhere I went.

The Arab world is a captivating mix of cultures, and it is steeped in tradition. It is true that many cling tightly to these traditions, even while incorporating the rapid changes coming from the West. But it’s a vocal few who believe the sacredness of Arab traditions are being eroded by a greedy, materialistic West that have given rise to violence and discord. Few see that a truly spiritual approach can sustain both traditions and free them from the mortal beliefs that would impede progress.

Similarly, some in the West may be tempted to buy into the belief that all or most Muslims are enemies. Many Americans think that Christians and Muslims will never experience peaceful coexistence, are deadlocked in a permanent “cosmic” conflict. A cosmic conflict is a war between gods, and in large part the tension in the Middle East stems from the different views of God that people hold.

Fringe thinkers—from those who think of God as exclusively “Muslim” and the “Christian” God as evil (and vice versa)—have capitalized on particular points about the conflict that suit personal standpoints. But does God have to be seen as “Christian” or “Muslim”? Doesn’t God transcend material definitions?

By turning away from a material sense of God, we can discover and experience Christ, Truth. I start with what the Bible declares: “God is love” (I John 4:8 ). Divine Love fills all space, and creation naturally expresses Love’s goodness and allness. Love never stops loving its creation. It cannot, since love is all that Love is and all that it does. In Islam, God is called “The Exceedingly Compassionate,” expressing God’s love for His creation.

Islam honors the Old Testament prophets like Daniel, David, Elisha, as well as Jesus’ teachings. Mohammad may have had different views of God, but there’s little doubt among Muslims and many others about his devotion to God and to his followers. I decided to take my mental stand for peace in the thought of God as divine Principle, Love, which brings all of us together.

God delights in us, His children. As His spiritual children, we are good, perfect, partakers only of the nature of our Creator. There is no void between perfect Soul, God, and perfectly delightful man. We, as God’s likeness, can only see all of His children in that likeness. But when one’s view is not aligned strictly with our Father, one may be tempted to bear false witness—to see people as other than our Father’s children. This is not in accord with the Ten Commandments, or with Jesus’ teachings, which have been summed up as “Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.”

In Romans, Paul calls love “the fulfilling of the law” (Romans 13:10 ), and Jesus’ life is the perfect example. He ministered to a wide range of people—from the ruler of a synagogue, to an insane man who was violent, and to a woman taken in adultery. In each case his response to these neighbors was compassionate and wise. He stood firm and healed.

We can too. We can stop “otherizing”—seeing individuals of other religions or cultures as enemies. In her article “Love your enemies,” Mary Baker Eddy says, “… this one enemy is yourself—your erroneous belief that you have enemies; …” (Miscellaneous Writings 1883–1896, p. 10 ).
There is, in reality, only frictionless concord between Love’s spiritual ideas.

Naturally, we need to prove this, and one way to begin is to eliminate from our thought a limited human sense of others and love our neighbors as ourselves. I had many opportunities to demonstrate this Christly love toward my neighbors over that summer in Jordan. In return, I experienced kindness from others. Here’s an example.

One of my roommates was a 19-year-old Shia Muslim named Noah. His father was from Lebanon. Noah had spent part of his childhood in Lebanon and part in the United States. He spoke and understood most Arabic dialects. He was extraordinarily protective of me and the other American students. Thanks to Noah, I was also able to help my neighbors.

One morning several students at the institute reported the theft of all their computers and electronic equipment from their apartments. Noah and I thought that if the thieves sensed foreigners were vulnerable, they would be on the lookout for others. We wanted to be watchful.

Two mornings later as I was studying my other languages at home, someone turned my doorknob from the outside hallway. It was bolted and locked, but I went and looked through the peephole. The would-be thief had moved on and was turning the doorknob of the room across from mine. I counted to three, turned the bolt, and threw open the door.

At the first sound, the thief had jumped down the stairwell and was jabbering away at me. Then he was gone. I can’t verify that thieves never returned, but I do know that during my time there, nothing else was stolen from me or others.

In the Western section of Amman one evening, a Jordanian American who had been living in Jordan for about eight years approached me. I don’t know his religious beliefs, but he said he wanted to help me with my street-level Arabic. He even took me to his home where he, his wife and daughter, and I would enjoy our evenings. He helped me set up an Arabic interview with the female neighbors for my course on women in the Arab world. The women sensed the great changes in the Arab world and were elated about the prospects for future generations.

Since my time in Amman, I have continued working and praying to change how I think about my fellow men and women, and to see them as God’s reflection, regardless of religious beliefs or any other label they may have. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.

Every moment is an opportunity to demonstrate frictionless concord, step by step, and to build on this thought: “… Now and here shall I behold God, divine Love” (Mary Baker Eddy, Unity of Good, p. 55 ). Now and here, we can behold Love made visible.