Reichsmarschall
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I’m a Pakistani-American Muslim and I met a Pakistani Jew in Israel. This is what he taught me.
01/01/2018 05:03 am ET
Overlooking the Holy City of Jerusalem
On my first day in Jerusalem, I woke up that morning, preformed wudu and donned a new shalwar kameez that my grandmother had sent from Pakistan.
I thought to myself, “Today, I am representing my culture, religion, and family and I will do it with pride.”
As I boarded the bus to the Western Wall, my driver asked, “Where are you from?” and proudly, I announced that, “I’m from Pakistan!” to which he replied, “I’m from Pakistan, too!”
I was stunned. There are Pakistanis in Israel?!
“What’s your name?” I asked in broken Urdu. “My name is Shimshon!” “Shimshon?” That’s an odd-sounding Pakistani name, I thought. “How long have you been in Israel for?” “Since 1957.” “Wow, that’s a while. When were you last in Pakistan?” “1957.” Confused, I asked, “And why haven’t you gone back since?” “Because I can’t – it’s not safe for me.”
And then it hit me… Shimson is Jewish!
Shimshon and I, right before we parted ways...
I was shocked. I never imagined that there could be Pakistani-Jews…
He told me about growing up in Karachi – the city my family’s from – and fearing for his life. He was harassed in the streets, his synagogue was targeted and along with the rest of Karachi’s Jews, he had to flee to the only country that would take him, Israel.
After we parted ways and I made my way to the Western Wall, Shimshon was all I could think about.
We come from the same land, speak the same language, and he could even pass for one of my relatives but because of his religion, our country failed him and now he’s here, the only place where he feels safe.
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From feeling pride in my heritage, I was overcome with shame. How can I be proud of being Pakistani when this is how we treat our minorities?
When you enter the Wall, you’re overcome with its sheer beauty and life. People are dancing, children are singing, and everyone, irrespective of faith or nationality, is vibrating as one.
And that’s when I got it.
No matter how I feel about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, upon witnessing the wall, I realized that Israel is a place where people like Shimshon can find peace.
The next day I had the privilege of going to the Dome of the Rock. And unlike the Western Wall, which is a space of globalism and life, the Dome is one of serenity.
“Isn’t this place peaceful?” My Palestinian guide asked me. “It is.”
When you look around, you see hills of green, children playing tag and hide and seek, and men and women relaxing in the shade.
Jerusalem is a busy city.
But for the first time, I could hear myself think. For the first time, I could feel God around me. For the first time, I felt at peace.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t grow up with an Islamic education. Much of what I learned about faith I picked up from friends and college.
I didn’t really understand the importance of the Dome.
So I asked my guide, “What does this place mean to you?”
“This is the only place where we feel safe. My family lives under the Occupation without electricity and water and my home has been demolished at least three times. Without this mosque, we have nothing. So I will fight to preserve this place to the death, if I have to.”
Standing at the Dome of the Rock
These days, I see a lot of Muslims and Jews talking about Jerusalem, debating over who it belongs to, who it should belong to, and what it’s status should be.
But missing from this discussion is the recognition that Jerusalem is not just a city for Muslims, Jews or Christians; it’s a city of refuge for people who have fled from and who live under oppression to find themselves amongst God and make sense of their world.
In a way, that makes it a city for all of us. But now I’m scared that the tranquility and peace that makes Jerusalem, Jerusalem will soon be cast aside.
I see my Jewish friends celebrating Trump’s decision and I read about Muslim leaders calling for another intifada and I think to myself,
“If we can’t have peace where God is so close, how can we live in peace anywhere else?
Thus, on our end, I ask all Muslims, no matter where you come from, who you are, or your politics, that you recognize that we, as an Ummah, failed the Jews.
We failed them by kicking them out of our homes and treating them as everything but our brothers. And it’s because of our Antisemitism that they hold onto Jerusalem so tightly.
But no matter what happened in the past, that doesn’t have to be our future. If we exercise restraint and moral courage in the upcoming days, we can bring back the days of our early history when the Jews came to us for security.
Islam means peace.
Now, more than ever, it’s time for us to start living by our faith.
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entr...3efe4b06cd2bd03e165?ncid=engmodushpmg00000003
01/01/2018 05:03 am ET
Overlooking the Holy City of Jerusalem
110
On my first day in Jerusalem, I woke up that morning, preformed wudu and donned a new shalwar kameez that my grandmother had sent from Pakistan.
I thought to myself, “Today, I am representing my culture, religion, and family and I will do it with pride.”
As I boarded the bus to the Western Wall, my driver asked, “Where are you from?” and proudly, I announced that, “I’m from Pakistan!” to which he replied, “I’m from Pakistan, too!”
I was stunned. There are Pakistanis in Israel?!
“What’s your name?” I asked in broken Urdu. “My name is Shimshon!” “Shimshon?” That’s an odd-sounding Pakistani name, I thought. “How long have you been in Israel for?” “Since 1957.” “Wow, that’s a while. When were you last in Pakistan?” “1957.” Confused, I asked, “And why haven’t you gone back since?” “Because I can’t – it’s not safe for me.”
And then it hit me… Shimson is Jewish!
Shimshon and I, right before we parted ways...
I was shocked. I never imagined that there could be Pakistani-Jews…
He told me about growing up in Karachi – the city my family’s from – and fearing for his life. He was harassed in the streets, his synagogue was targeted and along with the rest of Karachi’s Jews, he had to flee to the only country that would take him, Israel.
After we parted ways and I made my way to the Western Wall, Shimshon was all I could think about.
We come from the same land, speak the same language, and he could even pass for one of my relatives but because of his religion, our country failed him and now he’s here, the only place where he feels safe.
Subscribe to The Morning Email.
Wake up to the day's most important news.
From feeling pride in my heritage, I was overcome with shame. How can I be proud of being Pakistani when this is how we treat our minorities?
When you enter the Wall, you’re overcome with its sheer beauty and life. People are dancing, children are singing, and everyone, irrespective of faith or nationality, is vibrating as one.
And that’s when I got it.
No matter how I feel about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, upon witnessing the wall, I realized that Israel is a place where people like Shimshon can find peace.
The next day I had the privilege of going to the Dome of the Rock. And unlike the Western Wall, which is a space of globalism and life, the Dome is one of serenity.
“Isn’t this place peaceful?” My Palestinian guide asked me. “It is.”
When you look around, you see hills of green, children playing tag and hide and seek, and men and women relaxing in the shade.
Jerusalem is a busy city.
But for the first time, I could hear myself think. For the first time, I could feel God around me. For the first time, I felt at peace.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t grow up with an Islamic education. Much of what I learned about faith I picked up from friends and college.
I didn’t really understand the importance of the Dome.
So I asked my guide, “What does this place mean to you?”
“This is the only place where we feel safe. My family lives under the Occupation without electricity and water and my home has been demolished at least three times. Without this mosque, we have nothing. So I will fight to preserve this place to the death, if I have to.”
Standing at the Dome of the Rock
These days, I see a lot of Muslims and Jews talking about Jerusalem, debating over who it belongs to, who it should belong to, and what it’s status should be.
But missing from this discussion is the recognition that Jerusalem is not just a city for Muslims, Jews or Christians; it’s a city of refuge for people who have fled from and who live under oppression to find themselves amongst God and make sense of their world.
In a way, that makes it a city for all of us. But now I’m scared that the tranquility and peace that makes Jerusalem, Jerusalem will soon be cast aside.
I see my Jewish friends celebrating Trump’s decision and I read about Muslim leaders calling for another intifada and I think to myself,
“If we can’t have peace where God is so close, how can we live in peace anywhere else?
Thus, on our end, I ask all Muslims, no matter where you come from, who you are, or your politics, that you recognize that we, as an Ummah, failed the Jews.
We failed them by kicking them out of our homes and treating them as everything but our brothers. And it’s because of our Antisemitism that they hold onto Jerusalem so tightly.
But no matter what happened in the past, that doesn’t have to be our future. If we exercise restraint and moral courage in the upcoming days, we can bring back the days of our early history when the Jews came to us for security.
Islam means peace.
Now, more than ever, it’s time for us to start living by our faith.
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entr...3efe4b06cd2bd03e165?ncid=engmodushpmg00000003
