Qatar Women Want Dress Code to Maintain Cultural Norms
Every year around this time The Peninsula (Qatar) runs an article reminding other nationalities to respect Qattari values on modesty, and asking women to wear loose clothing, cover arms and shoulders and wear skirts at least to the knees. This year, there are comments about women wearing ‘indecent’ clothing around the hotel swimming pools, and calling for a national dress code with enforcement.
Qatari women lament disregard for norms
By Huda NV
DOHA: Dress code in any country is a very sensitive topic, for, while it protects the rights of many, it may hinder the rights of many others. When France issued ban on Hijab in public places, many Muslims who used the attire had to let it go. Same is the case in Saudi Arabia where all, including non-Muslims have to wear the abaya.
As of now, there is no strict ruling on dress code in Qatar except that it asks for modest dressing in public. The rules are with loose ends, according to some. With the on going development much have changed in dressing over the last 10 years.
Some Qatari women who spoke to The Peninsula said that due to the lack of awareness or mainly due to disregard for local norms, many people flout with the Qatari Penal Code that “prohibits wearing revealing indecent clothing”. Since no action is taken against the violators, rules or laws are being flouted with.
“The law asks one dress decent lyto protect oneself and the society as a whole. We are functioning in a society in various roles and at various levels. We go out, do what we need to do and go home, as other women do. But it pains to see many women bring with them negative influences into the community and dress in a way which is against the discipline of the community,” said Sheikha Al Naimi, a Qatari woman.
“We are not asking them to use hijab or abaya. We just want them to be modest, by which we mean covering the arms and shoulders, wearing skirts at least up to knee length, and wearing loose clothes. We are asking for respect not hindering their personal choices,” said Asma Abdullah.
RIGHTS?
So would not any law or dress code be against personal rights? Then, is not smoking or drinking a personal choice and a law banning these are against the so called rights, ask some.
“There are laws banning smoking and penalties for violating traffic rules, which are issued in public interest and these are strictly followed, for fear of heavy fines on violations. So a dress code is also needed for public security. We all have our own freedom, but in public we need to check the rights of public too. One’s freedom should not hinder other person’s rights and people should realise that rights come along with duties,” said Mariam Al Ali.
However some argued dressing in skimpy clothes is not freedom, but rather lack of self respect. “We would say the western idea of freedom and right is twisted and is not based on truth. For example, when it comes to dressing, the so called right is more or less like what men want to see,” said Tammy, a US expatriate.
“Our policy is you see what we want you to see rather than you decide what you need to see. We choose to whom we show our beauty. It is not for public attention,” one of the Qatari women said
THE WORRIES
One of the key problems, most of the Qatari women who spoke to The Peninsula, was on encroachment on their identity. “We are a minority in our own land; this does not mean we leave our identity. We are trying to pass it over to next generation and all these influences is a threat to our identity as Muslims, Arabs and Qataris,” Al Naimi said.
“All the expats come here for a reason, mainly financial, and hence they need to respect the culture here but now its more on destroying the society,” she laments. “Even in some schools and colleges, teachers dress badly. Even if it’s a girls-only school, it does not mean teachers show their body parts which we ourselves do not show to our children. Wearing translucent dress, shirts which are waist length and short skirts are in no way modest for a teacher,” said Al Ali
PROTECTING IDENTITY
Some Qatari women revealed the measures they take to ensure their children are not influenced by the changes. “My children have gone to the malls or shopping centers only few times. I want them to know what the Qatari identity is. They are not usually taken for shopping here. For their amusement and entertainment, I built a house away from Doha with all the amenities.
“So the question would be how will they learn to live in the society if they are kept isolated? Its just that we do not want these influences at very young age. After they get to know their roots, children will go out and understand the world,” said Asma.
“Earlier, when I was young, we used to go out to the beaches and enjoy as a family. But now we cannot take our children to the beaches as people wear indecent clothing even in public beaches,” said Sara Yousuf.
“Even some of the Qatari media post almost nude pictures, especially when it comes to movies. So we do censoring at home so that our children at young age do not have to distinguish between the right and wrong,” Sara said. “I would love to take my children to hotels here and enjoy time with them in the pool. But how can we do it when many are indecently dressed,” said a Qatari woman.
DRESSING WHEN ABROAD
Even when dress code is debated here, Qataris are much criticised for not abiding to the Qatari customs while abroad. “These are mainly people who are ashamed of their identity. Abaya or hijab is part of culture and our culture is based on Islam, which is same throughout the world. Hence, indecent dressing while abroad tarnishes the whole Qatari community. I have gone abroad, and even recently when I visited Thailand, I was wearing the exact costume – abaya — which I wear here. They should respect laws of other countries when abroad but at the same time try to protect their identity,” said Sara.
“I was educated in the US. I did face few problems but I knew the influences were coming from all directions and made sure I held on to my traditions,” said Asma.
THE CULPRITS
Majority of the Qatari women say that some of the Arab communities themselves are responsible for violating the dress code. “We feel that majority of the westerners and Asians know and understand us and respect the culture. People from sub-continent culturally they have their own modesty which is almost similar to ours. If these people are dressing badly it is because they think ‘if Arabs can do, why not we’,” says Al Ali.
“The sad part is that there are some Arab communities who mock themselves and us wearing skimpy dresses. Also some are so talented that they know how to dress exactly as Qataris and impersonate — they actually tarnish our image. They also talk indecently when faults are pointed out,” said Hessa Al Kuwari.
“Worse is when many dress indecent inside the abaya and pose as Qataris. The very purpose of abaya is to cover, but now it is turning into something that is used for showcasing the body,” Sara said.
SUGGESTIONS
1. Set up a new committee to establish and implement specific regulation with regard to dress code
2. Define exactly what modest dressing means
3. Malls should have individuals to warn people as they have people to keep out bachelors on family days.
4. While issuing visas, embassies should inform people about the dressing. They should also make strict rulings.
5. The existing laws on dresses should be activated by the authorities.
URGENT ACTION
Few of the women say there is an urgent need for a law or enforcement of existent regulations, as the situation is getting worse. “Over last three to four years, we are seeing women wearing very-short shorts in public places. I would ask what next? Will we have to see ladies in bikinis in malls in the next few years? It can happen if there is no enforcement,” said Sara.
“The identity change that we talked is not going to happen today or tomorrow. We will see the effect in some 10 to 20 years — majority of our people will not know what being an Arab or Qatari means. The values what we have will be lost,” Asma said. “We need development, but it should be framed in our identity. It’s not fair to cut our roots and establish on top of us,” she said.
The Peninsula
Businesses Support Police Blue Shepherd Sting
I love it. Operations like this cost money, and Pensacola businesses stepped up to the plate, even though they could not be told what the operation was about. It makes all the difference in the world when a police force has the community support. From today’s Pensacola News Journal:
It takes a village to catch a predator
Written by
Jamie Page
When undercover law enforcement officers slammed accused child sex predators to the ground and arrested them, the police had plenty of backup.
That is, financial backing from at least four local businesses that sponsored the sting operation by providing food, water, paper products and Internet service.
It’s a novel concept, but a necessary one for a budget-intensive operation such as this one, said Pensacola Police Chief Chip Simmons.
“We have had to do what we could to maintain that undercover location, and to do that we had to make it have everything a normal house would have,” Simmons said.
“So, we contacted businesses and they agreed to donate things to the cause. It’s always good to know there are good people and businesses to chip in and help.”
For a month, law enforcement agencies rented a vacant northeast Pensacola home to use as the point of arrest for 25 men during the weeklong undercover Operation Blue Shepherd. Suspects were accused of using the Internet to set up sexual encounters with children.
The suspects came to meet the minors at the home.
“We had to make it look like a living, breathing home with toys, bicycles, mailbox and trash cans outside, and we had to have furniture inside to make the view from the roadway consistent with what an average home would have,” Simmons said.
Many of those things came from police-seized items or were contributed by officers or others for use in the sting.
But the police needed help with other things, such as food and supplies, which were provided by the Apple Market, Dillards, Pensacola Improv Event Center and Cox Communications.
Businesses were not told the nature of the sting, but simply that their contributions would go toward a Pensacola Police Department operation.
“I did not know what they were doing, I just had an officer come to me and ask if I would be willing to provide meals for several people for several days in a row, but I couldn’t talk about it, and I said fine,” said David Apple, owner of Apple Market in Pensacola.
“I just knew I was assisting the Police Department. And anything we can do to assist them, well, we are always eager to support our military and law enforcement any way we can.”
Apple had to sign a confidentiality agreement and could not talk about his catering, which he provided to officers at a rate that allowed him basically to break even.
Apple Market could not deliver the food. Officers would pick it up and take it to the location, which Apple also was not told about.
“The only complaint they had about the food was that everybody gained weight,” Apple said. “It was pretty enormously satisfying to know we helped feed those guys and they were so successful in what they set out to do.”
Representatives from Cox, Dillards and Pensacola Improv could not be reached for comment.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: The Thing Around Your Neck
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has compiled a series of elegant vignettes in her most recent book, The Thing Around Your Neck. I had just read Half of a Yellow Sun, and was still wallowing in stunned admiration, when I heard an interview with the author on BBC, and learned she had written this book, The Thing Around Your Neck.
I loved Half of a Yellow Sun. I loved Purple Hibiscus. I felt I began to understand just a little bit about life in transitional Nigeria, with all the social and political forces blowing to and fro, straining the very fabric of nationhood.
In The Thing Around Your Neck, something else happens. It shares with Cutting for Stone and other books I like the impressions of those who come to live in the USA for the first time.
“Would that the wee wee giftie gi’e us, To see ourselves as others see us . . . ”
I’ve had a lot of experience going to live in foreign countries. One of the things I learned is that most of what I learn the first couple years isn’t much. You learn a lot of things wrong. You filter everything through your own cultural biases; you judge, you interpret, you try to make sense of things that just seem wrong.
I love to watch Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s characters do this in reverse, come to America and make judgements based on their own cultural expectations. I love to see us through these eyes.
Once, many many years ago, we entertained a Nigerian in our home, and when we served dinner, steaks, he looked at his plate and said “This would feed my family for a week.” We kind of laughed. We kind of thought he was exaggerating, or even kidding. We just didn’t know. We had never seen anyone truly hungry, we had always lived in this land of plenty. We had no idea what we didn’t know. We saw only what we knew.
Each story is a gem. Each treats the expat experience, coming here, or the reverse, coming to America and then going back and seeing Nigeria through eyes which have changed.
One story I had read before, in the New Yorker magazine and loved reading again, The Headstrong Historian. It starts with a smart woman, weaving her way among the ways of her people, whose husband’s family wants her husband to take another wife. He doesn’t want to. These two chose each other, and managed to live their lives together as best they could, by their own standards. Her son disappoints her, but her granddaughter – she sees her husband’s brave, courageous spirit in the eyes of her little grand daughter. You’ll have to read the story to find out the rest.
Other stories have to do with newlyweds, with students, with love and marriage and affairs – the full spectrum of human experience, through Nigerian expat eyes. There are settings common from all three books, the college campus at Nsukka, a prison outside of town, small villages outside the city. If you read all her books, you recognize place: “Aha! I’ve been her before, in Purple Hibiscus!” You learn how to bribe the guards so you can bring in food for your imprisoned family member, you learn to keep your eyes down to show respect, you learn how Nigeria smells when the rains come, and how dry and dusty it gets during the harmattan.
I’m just sorry there isn’t another book by this author – yet – that I can read!
I guess these books that I love deal with a theme dear to my heart – that we are culturally blind to so many things, and that as human beings we are more alike than we are different. Short of packing up all our lives and our assumptions and moving to many different countries, the best we can hope for in learning different ways of thinking is for books like these by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, which show us how differently we perceive things, depending on our cultures, and how alike we are in the things that we feel, as human beings.
Jeannette Walls: The Glass Castle
The Glass Castle was a hugely popular best seller in the USA, and it must have been while I was gone. A part of me remembers reading a little bit about it and deciding it wasn’t my kind of book, but after reading Half Broke Horses, I had forgotten what the subject matter was and was excited to have another Jeannette Walls book I could read.
Big mistake. This book is nothing like Half Broke Horses.
Or maybe it is. Maybe what I loved about Half Broke Horses was the voice of an amazing woman, and maybe what kept me reading The Glass Castle is the voice of an amazing child who tells a heart breaking story. Or maybe it isn’t so heartbreaking, because the children survive. They are scarred and damaged, but never so damaged or loony or self-deceived as their parents.
I don’t like reading books about kids whose parents don’t take good care of them. Oprah chose a lot of those books in her book club. These books depress me. I cannot imagine how parents can be so self-absorbed, how they can take on the responsibilities of children and then not put those children first. How can they?
The Glass Castle stars the daughter of Lily Casey Smith, who is the mother of Jeannette Walls, and her husband, who is Jeannette’s father. The book opens with little three year old Jeannette proudly cooking up a hot dog. Her mother is busy painting and has told her to find something to eat. Her nightgown catches fire, and she is terribly burned. She spends a long time in the hospital, which ends with her father taking her out in a hurry, bundling her into the car, already loaded with her family, and “doing the skedaddle” which is leaving town just in front of the bill collectors.
This is her life. From time to time, their alcoholic Dad will take a job and bring home some of the paycheck (he drinks and gambles most of it) and when he won’t work, on rare occasion, their mother will take a teaching job, but the kids have to get her out of bed in the morning, have to grade her papers and make her lesson plans. Often there is not enough for the family to eat. They don’t stay in one place; they ‘skedaddle’ before they are evicted for non-payment of rent. They eat cold food – when they eat – because the parents didn’t pay the electric bill.
The Dad is smart, charming and cajoling, and when he is sober, the kids learn amazing things from him, and educated engineer. Unfortunately, he is not often sober. He chases after alcohol and he chases after women; the people in the towns where they live know it and the children learn to know it, too, to their constant humiliation. When he wheedles money off his kids, and promises to repay, he asks “Have I ever let you down?” The answer is so stunningly obvious as to be heartbreaking – Yes. Yes, again and again and again.
The Mother is equally irresponsible. One time, when the family is starving, she is in bed and occasionally goes under the covers, where Jeannette discovers her mother has a chocolate bar hidden that she can eat – while her children go hungry.
The author’s voice is never self pitying, she just lays it all out and leaves us to draw our own conclusions. Each child escapes the family as soon as possible; the children plan and save their money to get out, first sending off the oldest sister, then Jeannette, then the son. They all head for New York, where they find work and support themselves. Like bad pennies, Mom and Dad show up in New York, cadge meals and money and join the ranks of the homeless in New York, going from food pantry to soup kitchen, and diving dumpsters for their worldly needs.
This is not a feel good novel. The good part about it is that children can survive this kind of criminal neglect, and become a successful author as Jeannette Walls has done. I am so glad I read Half Broke Horses first, because her grandmother is such an admirable character, whereas her parents are scum and I just felt so angry when I read the matter-of-fact descriptions of their behavior that I was glad they were not where I could get my hands on them.
I don’t know any parents as bad as Rose Mary and Rex Walls, but I know I believe this – if you choose to marry, and if you choose to have children, know that children require time, and love, and energy, and patience. Know that if you have grand ambitions, or an addiction, or a character flaw, you won’t be able to provide for your children’s physical, emotional and spiritual needs, unless you are willing to sacrifice your own needs and wants. While the children in the book loved their parents, they recognized that their parents were sadly lacking in the parenting roles. The way these children were neglected will make me remember this book for a long time.
Would I recommend it? Yes. It is a gripping book, at times even horrifyingly humorous, as when Jeannette figures out how to find lunch food in the garbage cans when all the other kids have finished eating. It is not a feel-good book. It is a horrifying indictment of self-absorbed, neglectful parents, parents you will love to hate.
If I sound a little overwrought, it’s because I worked with the homeless. We were able to help many, but I also ran into families like this family, families who would prefer not taking any help if it meant they had to play by the rules, you know, rules like “you have to take care of your children.” We had all kinds of classes and forums and mentors to help with learning skills, like feeding children well on a small budget, learning to discipline, simple skills, survival skills.
The problem is that these skills require self-discipline, and many of the parents would rather not take help than have to exercise self-discipline. I saw women who would sacrifice their children for their current boyfriend, a woman who was severely angry with her daughter for reporting a family member had molested her, a man who didn’t want to take a job that would ‘tie him down’ when his family was starving. I saw this, with my own eyes, and there is no way you can MAKE people take good care of their children. You have to ask if the children are better off with these parents, or ‘in the system.’ Not a pretty choice.
This book, too, is on Amazon.com. Reading it is like watching a disaster on CNN. You don’t want to believe it is happening and you can’t look away.
Listmaker
“Why are you smiling?” AdventureMan asked as he read the Sunday paper on our bed, the ceiling fan whirling madly to cool him down after his post-Church yard work – feeding the birds, shoveling up all the birdseed hulls, putting recycle materials into the compost bin.
I was doing something I do only rarely, changing purses. At the last minute, all in navy, I decided to do the navy purse instead of the tan. Now, back home, I was re-transfering all the important things, and checking pockets for stuff that accumulates and needs to be thrown away.
“I found a list,” I began. “It says:
fruit cake
kick board
book
peanut brittle
photos in frames
calendar
soap”
He laughed. “I know exactly what that was, “he remembered, “my Christmas box.”
More specifically, my tag on the outside of the box reminding me of what was inside when I had to affix a customs tag to send the box to hubby in Kuwait. These days, as I send boxes, I (mostly) no longer have to fiddle with customs tags or leaving the box open until I get to the post office so that customs officers can affirm what I included in the box. Every time I send a box, still, I think of those customs tags and give thanks not to have to do those irksome little steps.
I keep my lists now, in a folder marked, predictably,
-
To Do Lists
This one goes in there. On days when I feel bad about myself, or overwhelmed, I can look at my to-do lists and have a record that my time was not mis-spent. I can see all the little chores and fix-it projects we have finished, all the dinners we have done, house guests we have had . . . These little to-do lists keep track of the little things you do that take up so much time, and then at the end of the year, you ask yourself “where did the time go.” These help me know that I didn’t waste the time, I used the time, a little here, a little there, to bring order out of chaos in our daily existence, to brighten a life, maybe to help others, or to meet a goal I have already forgotten.
Some of the lists, like the moving lists, remind me of God’s gracious hand in helping me to do the things I’ve had to do, and could never have managed without his help. When I read some of them, I almost laugh out loud thinking “I did all that??”
It also reminds me how very happy I am to have AdventureMan back home with me, not far away at Christmas time. 🙂
Did you Tell Him We’re Going Dancing?
I was laughing as I heard AdventureMan talking with his Saudi friend, making a time when they could get together. I knew he had called about tonight.
“Did you tell him we were going dancing?” I laughed as I asked him.
“Uhhh . . . no,” he said.
This is new to us. We are taking dancing lessons, ballroom dancing, at the YMCA. We both had those lessons you take in eighth grade, but we’ve forgotten most of what we learned. I don’t care about going dancing, or fancy dresses, or competitions. I don’t even watch dance stuff on TV; I just don’t care that much. These classes are something we’ve wanted to do for a long time, and it really takes us out of our comfort zones.
We really are having fun. The first lesson – not so much. It is hard work! It doesn’t come naturally, it comes with PRACTICE! Lots of PRACTICE! It’s like fencing lessons, or horseback riding, or karate, or gymnastics – After a while, your body knows what to do, but at the beginning, it can be a little excruciating. As for AdventureMan and I, we mess up a lot, but we laugh a lot too. We are getting better, but best of all we are having a lot of fun. These kinds of things rewire your brains; it may not be easy, but it is good for us.
And I am still laughing, thinking of AdventureMan not telling his friend that he was going dancing with his wife, LOL!
Two Saints of the Church
Here is the prayer given for today in the Lectionary:
PRAYER (traditional language)
Loving God, we offer thanks for the ministries of Edward Thomas Demby and Henry Beard Delany, bishops of thy Church who, though limited by segregation, served faithfully to thy honor and glory. Assist us, we pray, to break through the limitations of our own time, that we may minister in obedience to Jesus Christ; who with thee and the Holy Spirit livest and reignest, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
BISHOPS, 1928, 1957
Delany, Henry Beard [Feb. 5, 1858-April 14, 1928] was the second African American bishop in the Episcopal Church, being elected Suffragan Bishop of North Carolina in 1918. He is probably better known as the father of Sadie and Bessy Delany, authors of the popular book, Having Our Say, which chronicled their lives.
Edward Thomas Demby [Feb. 13, 1869-Oct. 14, 1957] was the first African American bishop in the Episcopal Church. He served his first parish in Mason, Tenn. He became “Suffragan Bishop for Colored Work in Arkansas and the Province of the Southwest” in 1918. His career has been covered in a book, Black Bishop.
As we begin to transition from the Lenten season to the great feast of Easter, my heart takes hope from the courage of those who stood in the face of prejudice and exclusion, and focused on doing their jobs and doing them with grace. I think of how hate blinds us. I think of how Catholics and Protestants slaughtered one another, how Mormons were driven West, how Sunnis and Shiites are clashing in Iraq, how Christians and Moslems are battling to the death, and when I am near to losing hope, I try to focus on how earlier conflicts have almost totally disappeared. We are all believers. We believe in the one true God. We squabble like children over his inheritance.
Anniversary and Punch List
It’s been a year since we bought the house. We had to have it entirely rewired before we moved in, and now, we are so glad we took that time and spent that money; the insurance companies have gotten more and more finicky about insuring houses in Florida. One of the newest causes for non-renewal is aluminum wiring, which is what we had taken out and replaced with copper wiring, not cheap, we can tell you.
We are so glad our contractor made that recommendation. For one thing, we sleep well at night, knowing the wiring is new and well-installed. For another thing, it was good to get it done while we had nothing in the house, and the workers had easy access to everywhere they needed to tear out walls, rewire, put back walls, etc.
Do you make lists? I have a list I made in November, and today I finished off the list. It had unfinished tasks going back to the move-in. You prioritize, you know? Even when you have accomplished the most important things, sometimes it is just too overwhelming to tackle the next thing so you take a break . . . and that break can stretch.
The little plumbing things are all done. Every single one. Wooo HOOOO. The final light fixtures are all up. Woooo HOOOOO! The outside watering system is working, woooo HOOO, and we have a guy helping us restart our lawn – wooo HOOOO!
It’s kind of like having a baby. If you think about all the things that need to be done before you do it, you might have second thoughts. It’s all-consuming, and it can be exhausting, emotionally and physically and financially. Just like having a baby!
And, now that I have come to the end of my punch-list, I would celebrate, except that new things are cropping up – the gutters, the drainage, the driveway, the air conditioning . . . nothing that needs to be done, no emergencies, but all which need some attention, some fine tuning, so that we are not dealing with an unexpected disaster.
It’s not like Trust Towers in Kuwait, where we lived in Fintas, or Al Fardan Gardens in Qatar, where we could just call the management if anything went wrong, and someone would show up to fix it. Now, we have to think about what we want, how much we are willing to pay, and we have to make decisions.
We are waiting for the air conditioning man to come. The electricians have told us that the inside and outside units (the expensive pieces) are fine; it is the thermostat that needs replacing, so we have to have the A/C people replace that. Meanwhile, I think I will sit back and enjoy our new light fixture.
Here is what I love. AdventureMan and I are so often on the same track. We wanted traditional – a crystal chandelier – but we didn’t want elaborate, we wanted simple lines, not a lot of embellishment. When we found this, we both knew it at once – welcome home, new light fixture!
And here is one other thing we love. Through our contractor, we met the best people. The plumber is good, and thorough, and honest. The electricians are good, and hard working, and serious. They are all knowledgeable professionals, people we can trust.
The electrician didn’t want to charge us. He said these were leftover tasks from last year. We insisted – a year later, this is on us, not on them. We fiddled around a whole year looking for what we wanted; it’s not fair to not pay after a whole year.
Sometimes we just feel so blessed, having come to this broad and spacious place, Pensacola.
Ash Wednesday in Pensacola 2011
Luke 18:9-14
9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. 11The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. 12I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” 13But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’
(From the Lectionary readings for today)
“I forgot to set my alarm” AdventureMan said, coming down the stairs, “we missed the first service.”
Today is Ash Wednesday, the day Lent begins for Christians. We go to church, the priest puts a cross on our forehead in ash, to remind us “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”, that our life here on earth is only temporary, and that our true home is heaven.
It’s easier to believe that in your gut when you are an expat.
My cousin wrote to me, and in his email, he wrote that I write about my own culture the same way I wrote about Germany, about Qatar, about Kuwait – as an expat, as an outside observer. Pensacola is like my foreign assignments; I could live here for twenty years (God willing) and I will never be a native, I will always be from somewhere else, the kind of person about whom others will say “she must not be from around here.” I am guessing I will get more comfortable, more confident, but I will always be not-quite-right among the natives.
And that is how we are supposed to be living here on earth – as people not-quite-right, as people eager to return to our true heavenly home.
Lent in my own country is odd to me, now. In a foreign country, you are accustomed to thinking of yourself as a minority; your differentness makes you more aware or who you are, and what you value. There is a part of me that thinks Lent would be a lot easier if, like Qatar, and like Kuwait, and like Saudi Arabia, religious practices were state enforced, like everyone in the USA fasted at the same time, maybe nobody would sell meat or chocolate or alcohol. And then, I think “but what is the point?” The point is our own sacrifice. Is it a sacrifice if it is enforced from the outside?
I can’t sacrifice cussing in traffic this year. Pensacola traffic, by the grace of God, is nearly non-existent, and it is mellow. I’m not even tempted. I’m trying to figure out what I will sacrifice.
Father Neal Goldsborough at Christ Church Episcopal told us on Sunday how all the children come in from the Episcopal Day School to have the ashes imposed, and how poignant it is for him, and I can’t help but think of all the soldiers he has been with at their death, mere children, children of God, and how he must see the faces of these soldiers in the faces of these tiny children. My heart would weep, even knowing they are on their way home.
“Love Your Enemies and Pray for those who Persecute You”
Today’s reading in The Lectionary is the heart of the Christian faith. Jesus told us many things that turned the world upside down. If we as Christians, truly practiced the teachings of the Christ, what a different world this would be:
Matthew 5:38-48
38 ‘You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”
39 But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also;
40 and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well;
41 and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile.
42 Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.
43 ‘You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.”
44 But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,
45 so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.
46 For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax-collectors do the same?
47 And if you greet only your brothers and sisters,* what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?
48 Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.
If YOU were to pray for your enemies, who would you pray for?
I tried it one time, almost as a challenge to God, I didn’t believe it would change anything but I would do it because it was required – and it turned out well – for God. When you pray for your enemy, you open a door for change to happen, unexpected change, miraculous change, transformational change.
As a young woman, I studied power and it’s application, reading books from many cultures on strategies of winning. This gospel summarizes a totally unexpected and wildly successful use of the spiritual power in each one of us, the God-given power to turn evil to good, to bring friendship out of enmity.
So today I challenge you. Is there someone in your life whose very presence makes you miserable? Pray for that person. As often as that person comes to mind, send up a prayer. I challenge you to see what happens in your life.
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