Tuesday, April 26, 2004

Dear friends,

It feels wrong to spend time visiting the beauties of Jordan, while so much suffering is going on. But perhaps we still must actively celebrate beauty. One bright gift of the last few weeks is that I met a friend from South Bend! Naji, whom I first met at the mosque community in Mishawaka, is here on business. He called us up at our hotel and invited us to visit the Dead Sea. Again, a different world. Miles of desert, as we descended the hills and the temperatures rose, until we were at the lowest point in the world, several hundred meters below sea level! Naji brought a video camera so that I could record a message for my beloved South Bend community, and Stewart brought the digital camera so that I could take a picture of him and Matthew floating effortlessly in the salt-laden waters.

We next visited the Jordan River, near the spot where Jesus was baptized. Naji helped me climb down an embankment so I could touch the waters that John the Baptist touched. We filled a bottle to bring back to Iraq, as a gift to Musa’s wife. She is from the Sabean community, a religion whose members follow John the Baptist as their main prophet. I have the bottle in my knapsack right now, in the hopes that I will soon be able to carry it back to Baghdad.
On the way home, we talked about Iraq and the whole situation. Naji, like many friends in Iraq and elsewhere, easily distinguishes between individuals and governments, between soldiers and military systems. He worries for the soldiers. “I have lived in the United States for 14 years, I know these people, they are good,” he says. “And so I cannot believe what they are doing in Fallujah. How will they live with themselves when they return home?” He talks about the increased suicide rate and psychological distress among soldiers in Iraq, and fears for them. “I do not blame the soldiers,” he finishes. “But I do blame their leaders.”

Last night, I talked with Sattar, a beautiful and gentle young Iraqi, father of four, and faithful friend of Voices in the Wilderness and CPT folks for nearly eight years. He is an engineer, but has spent the last several years as a driver, endlessly ferrying NGOs and business people along the road between Baghdad and Amman. It was a joy to see him again. Sattar told me about his three-year-old son Mustafa, how little Mustafa sits up in his chair at the table when Sattar is away, and says “I am Sattar, I am in charge now!” He also told us how Mustafa cringes when he hears the helicopters and planes over Baghdad.

Like many Iraqi friends, Sattar does not agree with the violent tactics of the mujahadeen or Moqtada al-Sadr. But he is equally upset by the violent tactics of the US military. “I don’t understand why the Americans are doing it this way. There are many ways to bring these changes to Iraq. Why are they doing it like this?”

He shared: “I think that God always sent a Prophet to the people during times when they were lost, when they needed to be brought back to the path. God sent prophets like Jesus and Mohammed. But today, I think that people’s minds are more open. They do not need another prophet from God. But they need to listen to the prophets that God has already sent. I think Judaism, Christianity, Islam -­ and all the religions -­ lead to the same thing. They do it in different ways. But I think if we could see this, we could see that we are all human beings, members of the same family.”

I love listening to Sattar. I myself often think that at the Heavenly Banquet, we will all be quite surprised at who will be sitting across the table from us. Will we each be willing to embrace our enemies -­ whoever they are for each of us -- as members of our family?

Much peace to each of you.

Thank you for your many messages of love and prayers.

Sheila