Augusta Victoria Hospital

Thursday, February 28, 2008

MUSLIM WOMEN


In Canada we identify Muslim women by what they wear. If we see a young woman wearing a hijab, a kind of shawl, we know that she is Muslim. Below the hijab she may be wearing an abaya, a plain but attractive ankle-length dress that is supposed to hide the female form but often doesn’t quite do the job, or she may be wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but she is definitely Muslim. And, of course, if she is wearing a burqa, sometimes called a “veil”, that covers her whole body except for a slit across the eyes, she is ultra-Muslim. So, what do hijabs and burqas say about Muslim women?

A number of years ago I attended Guelph University’s annual College Royal, and one of the information tables was sponsored by the Islamic Student Society. The young women at the table were wearing hijabs and I asked them why. They answered that they were proud to wear them “because the Qu’ran required it and it was a symbol of their freedom”. Their freedom? How so, I wondered. I had swallowed the North American line that Muslim women are an oppressed lot, and their clothes prove it.

An historical note! Muhammad was the Prophet of a revolutionary society called Islam. Naturally, as Islam began to supplant old, tribal polytheism in Arabia, people wanted to meet Muhammad, and they came to his home in Mecca. Since his wives were there too, he and his advisors felt that the wives should remain behind a veil while male visitors were present in order to have more privacy and feel safer. The burqa has become a kind of “portable” veil. Anyway, it was never intended that all Muslim women should be “veiled”. Probably Muslim women in Mecca heard that Muhammad’s wives were veiled and thought that they should do likewise. That’s how traditions start.

Yes, I did say “Muhammad’s wives”. I’ll refer to that a few paragraphs hence.

Many of the medical staff who work here at AVH are Muslim women with MD degrees, nursing degrees, pharmacy degrees , just to mention a few. Are these a small minority of Muslim women? I don’t think so, at least not in this part of the Muslim world. But what about the average Muslim woman, the one who doesn’t pursue a career? First of all, as a teenager, she is protected by her family, so much so that she does not go out on dates unless chaperoned by a male family member. A western girl would say “That’s oppression”, but a Muslim girl would say “I feel safe”.

In downtown East Jerusalem teenage Muslim girls walk in groups, whispering to each other and giggling, just like Western girls, wearing their hijabs. Teenage Muslim boys are typically macho and loud. They sneak peeks at passing girls, but the boys and girls don’t mix as they do in Canada. And it’s all for the safety of the girls, just like the hijab and the burqa. As an adult, the same rules apply until a Muslim woman is married.

If the things I’ve said about women in Islam are true, why so? First of all, the Qu’ran doesn’t give any reasons for vilifying women. Here are the words of Allah dictated to Muhammad by the angel Gabriel and preserved in the Qu’ran: O mankind, We have created you male and female, and appointed you races and tribes, that you may know one another. Surely the noblest among you in the sight of God is the most god-fearing of you. God is All-knowing and All-wise. In the Qu’ran’s creation story man and woman are created equal, and there is no mention of “original sin”. Woman cannot be blamed for causing the fall of humankind as she has been blamed by Christians.

After Muhammad made the move from Mecca to Medina with the Qu’ran in hand, he proceeded to establish an Islamic society in which both men and women would enjoy equality. In pre-Islamic Arabia women had few rights, but Muhammad changed that by allowing women to inherit, to keep their dowry, and to testify before a judge, just to name a few of the changes. We say in the West “So what!” but in 7th century Arabia this was revolutionary, and centuries ahead of Christianity, which had had more than six hundred years to institute women’s rights and had not even begun to do so.

Earlier I mentioned Muhammad’s wives. Polygamy was part of pre-Islamic Arab society, and the practice continued. But Muhammad even reformed that practice. He suggested four wives, but only if the husband promised to treat each wife equally in all things and spend equal time with each. This, of course, is impossible and so monogamy became more common. Another thing about polygamy was that it provided a haven for widows who were left destitute. Muhammad had more than four wives because the widowed wives of his followers needed to survive. Did he have his favourites? You bet! But if we brush off the Islamic practice of polygamy as only as a male fantasy, then we’ve missed the point. In Islam it was a way of protecting women and making life safe for them.

By 632 CE Muhammad had re-established himself in Mecca where he put into practice his vision of an Islamic society based on Qu’ranic principles of justice and human rights. In his farewell address at the mosque Namira near Mount Arafat in Arabia, just before his death, Muhammad told his people (the umma) “to deal justly with one another and to treat women kindly”. Are women always treated kindly in Islamic society? No! There are abuses as there are in any society. But there is no doubt about Islam’s deep and abiding respect for women and its concern for their safety and well being.

My comments are not intended to be a definitive, sociological commentary on the place of women in Islamic society. They are only a sharing of some personal observations and a few surprises. What have I learned? Things are never as they appear.

Monday, February 18, 2008

DINNER WITH NEW FRIENDS























































































The village museum and curator


















Muhammad is an x-ray technician who works in nuclear medicine at Augusta Victoria Hospital. He prepares patients for radiation therapy and wheels them into the room housing the linear accelerator. The original patient load was intended to be about 25 patients a day, but often 40 patients are treated. It’s the only linear accelerator in the Palestinian territories, and AVH is presently looking for donors to fund a 2nd.

Muhammad is an out-going young man who likes to talk to foreigners, especially English-speaking foreigners. He wants to learn English so that he can immigrate to Canada and practise his profession there. He often has lunch and supper with Donna and me and tries out his English, which is moderately functional and getting better. I practise my minimal Arabic on him. We have become quite good friends and Muhammad invited us to his home.

He lives in village close to Hebron. In a perfect world he could commute to the hospital daily because his village is only about an hour away by car, but Muhammad’s world isn’t perfect. A trip to and from his village would require passing through Israeli check-points and roadblocks forcing him to go kilometres out of his way and take 2 to 3 times longer to get home. So Muhammad stays in the hospital dorm and goes home once a week on his day off.

Donna and I accepted Muhammad’s invitation and, on a Saturday in February, we went with him to his village. We started with bus 75 that took us to the terminal in East Jerusalem. We transferred to bus 21 which took us to a point just outside of Beit Jala where Muhammad thought it would be better to switch to a van for the rest of the trip to Hebron.

If Muhammad’s world were normal, we could have taken a main highway directly to his village, but just outside an illegal Israeli settlement all Palestinians have to take a special back road into Hebron. The main road is only for Israelis and tourists. There are many “settler” roads like that in the West Bank and some of them slice through farms that Palestinians have owned for generations.

In downtown Hebron we changed buses once again for the last lap to the village. We’ve all heard the Zionist propaganda about how the land was empty when Jews began to come from Europe to Palestine. The centuries-old hillside terraces where generations of Palestinians have cultivated olives, grapes, dates and vegetables belie the Israeli tales told to us in the West that the land was empty before the arrival of the Zionists.

As we drove through the countryside, Muhammad pointed out illegal hill-top settlements from which untreated sewage runs down into the valleys polluting Palestinians farms. He showed us how the Israeli settlements surround Palestinian villages and spoke of the harassment the settlers use to force Palestinians to leave their land. Israeli settlers can harass Palestinians with impunity. Even with all the forced detours to get to the village, our bus had to do some fancy wheeling between strategically placed boulders forcing the van onto a narrow, almost impassable road that led into the village.

Muhammad’s youngest sister met us at the gate of their home, greeting him with a big hug and us with a big smile. She led us into an attached parlour while Muhammad went into the main house to tell his mother that we were there. Soon she and an older sister appeared and welcomed us with cups of sweetened sage tea. Then an aunt and uncle arrived with their son and daughter, and soon the room was resounding in Arabic, English, good conversation and laughter.

Soon Muhammad’s father, who had been at the mosque for mid-morning prayer, arrived home. He is a history teacher in the village secondary school that Muhammad, his sisters, father and several generations of the family attended. He teaches history and specializes in Palestinian and Arab history. Our conversation about Palestinians and Israelis, with Muhammad translating, was interesting. His father held out some hope for a just resolution eventually. Muhammad’s uncle was more pessimistic about the future.

Dinner was Arab style. Traditionally the women eat separately from the men, but Donna was invited to eat with us guys. Muhammad’s youngest sister sat with us too so that Donna wouldn’t be the only female. The meal was the traditional maklouba (which means upside down). It’s made of rice, cooked with carrots, cauliflower, and saffron, and then flipped over and topped with chicken pieces, pine nuts and almonds. We squatted or sat in a circle on rugs with the platter in the center. Each of us had one large spoon and a bowl of laban (a kind of yogurt) which we spooned on to the mixture in front of us as we all ate from the common platter. Truly an agape meal!

After dinner, more conversation, Arabic coffee, and tea! Muhammad had to be back in Jerusalem for a 2nd job in an x-ray lab, and so in mid afternoon we said multiple good-byes. They were surprised by our custom of bringing them a gift and intrigued by the inclusion of Canadian maple syrup. The family told us that we are welcome any time.

Muhammad’s uncle gave us a quick tour of the village, including the museum and the cultural centre, and then drove us to Hebron to catch the bus back to Jerusalem. It was a memorable Saturday.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

LENT ALREADY! TEMPUS FUGIT!


Pastor Michael & David




Dale dancing with Gillian







Canadian Tourists sampling the
Grog

















Fasching Celebration





Shrove Tuesday
at the Guest House









"Jesus' footprint" (to the right) in the Chapel of the Ascension























Stairway at Dominus Flevit with a view from same













































To the right looking down into the Kiddron Valley through an olive grove










Shopping at the At Tur greengrocer












The German expats helped us get ready for Ash Wednesday. On the last Saturday of the Epiphany season they organized a Fasching costume party with a “Stunksitzung, Musik, Tanz und Grog.” Donna and I put on our Tilley clothes and went as “Canadian tourists”, complete with name badges and Canadian pins! Viel Spass!

On Shrove Tuesday, Donna and Suzanne Wagner, a pastor from the U.S on sabbatical, made pancakes for the guest house folk. Pancake Day with Canadian-style pancakes and maple syrup from St. Jacob’s was a new experience for the Europeans and the Australians.

We observed Ash Wednesday at Pastor Holman’s flat with the Ash Wednesday liturgy, including the Imposition of Ashes and Holy Communion. After worship we all partook of a potluck meal. It seems contradictory, doesn’t it? One of the four disciplines of Lent is fasting and we had a feast on the 1st day of Lent. For Lutherans it’s more like “fating” than fasting. I guess it’s just that profound Lutheran sense that we don’t do things like fasting to win God’s love. Jesus has done that for us! Maybe fasting for Lutherans is giving up a part of one’s self out of love for others in response to God’s unconditional grace. Whoops! I’m starting to write a sermon. This Wednesday the Brown’s have invited us to the Stone House for midweek devotions, and potluck, of course!

On the 1st Sunday in Lent Donna and I walked down the Mount of Olives to the Garden of Gethsemane where the Greek Orthodox Church seems to be in control. We looked at the rock where tradition holds that Jesus was praying just before his arrest, and descended into the grotto where the Greeks think Mary was placed in a state of dormition (deep sleep) and where her assumption (being taken up bodily into heaven without dying) took place.

We crossed the street to visit St. Stephen’s Greek Orthodox Church and got a rather unfriendly welcome from the woman caretaker. She was suspicious of us when we entered the church, and we were barked at when we tried to go into a small room that was apparently out-of-bounds. “That’s the church out there! And no pictures!” she snarled. And as we left, I said something to her in Arabic. That was the last straw. “Why did you speak to me in Arabic? Didn’t you see the Greek flag on the roof? I’m Greek.” I replied that I spoke Arabic because this is Palestine, and she was insulted that I had taken her for a Palestinian. As far as she was concerned, in a Greek church under a Greek flag, she was in Greece. So much for Christian love and interfaith dialogue!

On the way back home, we walked through our village of At Tur and stopped at the Chapel of the Ascension. Inside is a roped-off rock with an indentation that looks a bit like a footprint. It is supposed to be the place where Jesus ascended. I guess the footprint was left when he “pushed off”. The Chapel is really part of a mosque, but remember that the Qu’ran treats Jesus as a prophet and proclaims that Jesus will play a role in the end-of-days, and so it’s appropriate that a mosque should house the place where Jesus ascended into heaven.

As Lent begins, spring seems to have sprung. We had our snow days 10 days ago, but when Donna and I took our 1st-Sunday-in-Lent walk, the temperature was close to+20C, and the sun was shining. The anemones are blossoming in guest house garden, yellow daisies are looking bright-eyed, the lemon trees are in blossom, and I’m told that the poppies are about to put on their red dresses. The almond trees won’t be far behind. We could get used to this.

On the way back to Augusta Victoria, we stopped for some fruit at the neighbourhood greengrocer in At Tur.