Other Ways

Filed Under from the heart, islam | 11 Comments

Today at his blog, Rev. Thom Belote posted his sermon, Universalism Today & Tomorrow: What I Learned from the feminist Muslims, and it got me thinking again about what is going on in the Middle East right now and how I feel about it as a former Muslim who is American. On the one hand, there are good reasons I chose to leave Islam, and on the other hand I feel extremely uncomfortable with many of the things being said about Muslims, such as this posting at Shadow of Diogenes that really shocked me, seeing as how it’s coming from another UU. (My response to it was petty; I don’t really have any excuse for myself. And note: SoD replied to me privately to say he was talking about the terroristic Muslims).

In any case, the whole thing just makes me feel conflicted. The familiar arguments for the hijab recounted in Rev. Thom’s sermon reminded me of my old life, and I appreciate this point he made: that in talking with four feminist Muslim women, he was confronted with a religion that “answered questions about life in society very, very differently than I answered those questions,” and yet also “encouraged equality and wanted justice.”

Despite having supposedly crossed to “the other side” in terms of conservatism vs. liberalism, I am wary of non-Muslims who criticize Muslims seemingly to no end. Maybe it’s because they always seem to be the same types of people, who criticize not just Muslims as a whole, but a number of other identities that I’ve claimed, relentlessly propogating what they want: their vision of the world, their solutions to what they’ve deemed are the problems, and ultimately the right to remain the decision-makers over other people.

Sometimes it seems that the number of people who genuinely believe in tolerance and plurality is like, 12. But that’s just my waning faith talking. It will surge back tomorrow.

Popularity: 9% [?]

Aug

3

The Worship Show

Filed Under race, rants, religion, uu culture | 7 Comments

I’ve been thinking a lot about the recent, online, post-General Assembly discussions surrounding UU worship and cultural appropriation. As a side note, I saw very little (possibly zero) public commentary from UU people of color.

A few weeks prior to GA, a friend of mine - who participated in the closing ceremony - called to ask my thoughts about the planned use of a South African “freedom” or anti-apartheid song. I believe my first question for him was something along the lines of, “Why?”

Eventually, I told him that so long as credit was given, the meaning was shared, yadda yadda, it was oh-kay. But not before asking him again, “Why?” And yet it was something of a useless question. He wasn’t planning the worship, and it seemed to me - perhaps I assumed too much?- that whoever was planning the worship wasn’t asking IF they should use the song, but how to make the use of the song acceptable.

The larger question my friend could not answer for me was, what was the relationship of the song to the worship service and the worshippers? That speaks to a larger concern I have about UU worships in general. What I’ve seen is worships put together in the way one would put together a skit or play or musical production. Sometimes I confusedly wonder, is this worship - or is this entertainment? Let’s see … the congregants enter a big room containing a stage; they are handed programs by ushers; they sit down quietly to wait for the show to begin. And at my church, at least, the worship proceeds like a scripted performance.

Well, as I told my friend on the phone, when worship is comprised of predetermined slots to fill, it is inevitable that well-intentioned planners will say, “Hey! I know a great [insert "ethnic" programmatic piece] that would fit in perfectly there!”

And of course, as I mentioned to another, very excellent friend of mine more recently - even when the worship planner does have a personal relationship to a piece of “programming,” our audiences - ahem, congregants - may not necessarily share that experience of respect and/or collaboration. Glaring example: the long conga line that formed at the end of closing ceremony. The African song played was beautiful and rousing, and immediately I wanted to stand up and clap. I felt uneasy and annoyed not knowing what the lyrics meant (I missed the first part of the service so perhaps it was explained then), but I stood up nonetheless and clapped. However my joy was completely overtaken by dismay when I saw the audience’s reaction. What I felt from the crowd was not a vibe of “We shall overcome!” or even “We are one people!” but one that looked like, “All right! African music is on, permission to PAAAAAAR-TAY.” I saw lots of wiggling butts. I saw people bumping hips like it was a 1970s disco event. Then there was the mortifying embarrassment of the conga line. In these moments it was completely irrelevant what the relationship between the song and the music-choosers might have been. And at that point I just sighed and cringed inside because I knew that a spate of conversations and reprimands would ensue, all resulting in a lot of (mostly white) people still not understanding that horrible sinking feeling that I had felt; and asking themselves how on earth those black/brown folks can think some music is theirs.

But anyway. That cultural appropration is a recurring issue in our community doesn’t surprise me at all because I tend to experience our worships as being more about performance, than spirit or love. This isn’t to say that the people who put them together aren’t acting out of spirit or love, but the final product is often lesser than the parts. And this kind of ‘presentation’ creates a HUGE opportunity for cultural and religious goofs, gaffes and offenses. Is this because we’re tied to formats? Because we’re unsure of our spiritual heritage and traditions? I don’t know. I attend church to be in relationship with my fellow church members and to keep up on the church news. I do not actually worship anything when I am there.

Another note about my biases: I personally loathe to plan worships. You must know that I have never known Muslims to “plan” worships; we got together and we prayed, basta! Earlier this year I had no choice but to plan worships during an anti-racism conference I co-faciliated. Now, I’m a strong believer in spirituality, but I hate the idea of telling people that it’s time to feel holy now. My co-trainer, Toph, felt the same way I did, yet we managed to put together two very decent worships, one of which actually made me cry. But what?! We didn’t do anything! The youth and the sponsors present brought their spirits into that space and made it powerful and worshipful. I was in awe that first night - of them and the community they created. I do not think we would have had the same conference without that.

I also remember Toph and I fretting about the “services” initially, and we half-jokingly said, “Hey, if we can plan a 15-hour conference, we can plan a worship, right?” !!! Exactly. Not.

Popularity: 7% [?]

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