Unlike in Tel Aviv or Haifa, Muslim women wearing hijab (the headscarf) are common in the streets of Nazareth, and the haunting call to prayer in Arabic is heard several times each day over the loudspeakers from the minarets of the mosques. "Allahu akbar!" call the muezzins. "God is great!"
The interesting thing about this city, though, is that young Arab kids playing in the street will look up as I pass by and yell, "Shalom!" -- the traditional Hebrew greeting. Although I've heard the Arabic greeting "Merhaba" used often, I've also heard many Arab people speaking Hebrew, which I admit caused a sort of cognitive dissonance for me. I've come to make an interfaith pilgrimage, but I'm getting an intercultural one as well.
Today I met with Ghassan Manasra, a Sufi shiekh who is involved in interfaith work in Israel. I got his name from the Elijah Institute in Jerusalem, an interfaith organization I contacted when I was planning my pilgrimage in order to make contacts with some people in the interfaith community.
Ghassan met me outside the Basilica of the Annunciation and after greeting me warmly, said, "Please" -- and motioned for me to follow him down the sidewalk. We walked a few blocks away and into an old home that was in the process of renovation. Ghassan explained to me that this place was to become the new -- and only -- Sufi center in Nazareth… and also a spot for organizing and promoting interfaith dialogue. As we sat and talked, there were many people, men and women, coming and going from the room, calling to Ghassan in Arabic and greeting him with wide, warm smiles. "These are our disciples," he said. "They are coming to help work on the center." I found it interesting how he kept referring to the members of his community as "disciples," a term with deep biblical connotations for me.
Ghassan told me a bit of his story: he has been involved in interfaith dialogue in Israel for 25 years, often in the face of real threats to his life. Although he was raised in Nazareth, he and his family had been living in Jerusalem until fairly recently, but he and his family had been attacked by "radical Muslims" who were opposed to the work he is doing within Islam (trying to bring the various groups together) and with "the other" (working with people of other religions). He himself had been physically attacked, and his eldest son, who is about 20 years old, was attacked and almost died -- he was in a coma for several months. After that incident, Ghassan said, they decided to move back to Nazareth.
I asked if his son was also involved in interfaith work, or if he was attacked just because of his proximity to Ghassan. "No, no," he replied, "He is also doing this work. And he wants to continue."
Interfaith respect has been a part of the family legacy for generations, apparently. Ghassan told me that his grandfather was the ruler of this region when it was under Ottoman control and that he had made the decision to give the Christians more land around the area believed to have been Mary's house. "This is Nazareth, the city of Jesus," Ghassan told me his grandfather said. "The Christians should be having a big church here." Although it wasn't until the 1960s that the Roman Catholic Church completed construction on the current Basilica of the Annunciation, it was many years ago that his grandfather first granted the large area of land around where the basilica current stands to the Christian community.
I marveled at the determination and tenacity of this family, who continue to work for peace among faiths even when it puts them in mortal danger. Ghassan is an incredibly positive and upbeat man, with a wide and sincere smile always on his face. Although I may have come across people who are suspicious of or not supportive of interfaith work in the U.S., I've never felt that my life was in danger because I advocate for dialogue. I said as much to Ghassan, and told him that I can't imagine living under such circumstances and being able to keep going as he has.
"But we must," he said, with a smile. "We must continue to work for peace. And, inshallah (God willing), I think we can reach it."
He told me a story of how he and his "disciples" had helped to stop a more extreme Muslim group from building a large mosque in front of the Basilica of the Annunciation in Nazareth. Apparently a few years ago, a Muslim group wanted to build a large mosque right in front of the basilica, at the site of a shrine to some particular Muslim figure. The planned mosque would have completely obstructed the views of the basilica from the landscape and the skyline of the city, and was clearly a political move. It was causing lots of tensions between Christians and Muslims in Nazareth (both groups are Arabic, by the way).
Ghassan went and spoke to the leader of that Muslim group, asking them to stop their plans for a mosque. "We don't need another mosque here," he said. "We have enough mosques." When the group would not listen, Ghassan and his group staged a protest march, starting at the top of the hill in Nazareth and marching all the way down to the city square. "We started out as four or five people," he said, "but by the time we got to the basilica, we were thousands."
"We stopped that mosque," he said with a smile of satisfaction. "Many of the Muslims in Nazareth were not for it, and when we staged our march, they joined us."
(Interestingly enough, when I mentioned the so-called "Ground Zero Mosque" controversy in the U.S., in New York City, he said that he was against it, and that he personally knows the man who is behind the Park 51 project. "He is a wonderful man," Ghassan said, "but he needs to be wise. The timing is not right. The location is not right. It would be better for them not to build it there... not now, not yet. I hope he will listen to me." Here's an interesting op-ed piece I found that draws parallels between the "Ground Zero Mosque" controversy and the Nazareth mosque controversy. The interesting thing, though, is that the group in Nazareth who wanted to build the mosque were "extremist" Muslims, whereas the Muslims in NYC behind the Park 51 project are Muslims like Ghassan who are interested in promoting interfaith dialogue -- and yet they've been spoken about and portrayed as if they were of the extremist type.)
He spoke in more detail of his love for the basilica, and how it was as much a part of his growing up in Nazareth as any of the mosques were. He spoke of how he loved to go there and to pray, and how peaceful of a place it was, and how hearing the church bells ring was a part of his life and his childhood. The church wasn't just a holy place for Christians, it was a holy place for him as well.
This is why I think it's so important for us to visit one another's holy places, as I'm doing on this trip, and to have them become part of our own personal "religious landscape." Whether or not we agree with all the theology and doctrine that a particular group espouses, we can certainly find peace and a space to pray in our own way within the stillness and quiet that sacred spaces of all traditions provide. If our churches aren't just for the Christians, then it won't just be the Christians who will rise up to defend them and protect them if need be, and likewise for our mosques and temples and gurdwaras. If we can see our places of worship as places of collaboration instead of competition, perhaps plans to build a place of worship of whatever sort will not be met with conflict and anger.
"My house shall be a house of prayer for all people," was Isaiah's vision for the Temple in Jerusalem (Isaiah 56:7). May it be so for every holy place where God's name is invoked in the name of peace.
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