Earlier this week I sent a text with a Thanksgiving message to my friend Samer Altaaba, Lubbock's Syrian-born imam who immigrated to the United States a decade and a half ago. I wanted him to know I was thinking of him and his people during this time.
I first met Samer five years ago. When the university mosque in Lubbock was defaced with anti-Muslim graffiti some members from the church I pastor who had been meeting weekly with some Muslims in an interfaith dialogue group wanted to do something of goodwill in response. They invited me to come and join them in repainting the mosque, which we agreed just seemed like the right thing to do. As we were there with buckets and brushes in our hands Imam Samer showed up with baklava pastries in his. That made for a fast friendship as I joked with Samer that I would be willing to work all day for baklava. Soon he and I were meeting and eating together on a regular basis, mostly talking about the joys and demands of fatherhood, serving as religious leaders, and occasionally world events. (Make the structure parallel)
Samer invited me to speak at the mosque's Eid friendship dinner during Ramadan. As I shared about Samer's and my friendship and how it was being used to build a bridge I shared a verse from the book of Genesis which I thought was appropriate, "What someone intended for evil, God intended for good."
A few months into Samer's and my friendship the threat of terror came close to Lubbock. A Muslim student studying at one of our local universities and unaffiliated with Samer's mosque was arrested for plotting to bomb various public utilities and the Dallas home of former President George W. Bush. A member of my church was the lead federal prosecutor in the case and asked if I could arrange a meeting with the imam. He wanted the imam and the broader Muslim community in town to know the prosecution was sure the student had acted alone and without connection to any other local Muslims. He also wanted to make it clear that the law would work to protect the Muslim community if there were any act of retaliation against it. I called Samer and he welcomed the meeting and soon representatives from the Department of Justice and the FBI were meeting with the imam and his mosque during Friday prayer.
What someone intended for evil, God intended for good.
As the war in Syria began, Samer and I would often meet at a local coffee shop and talk about all that was happening in his homeland. He showed me videos extremists were using to recruit young men to take up arms. In particular, I remember Samer telling me the story of one young man from his hometown who was being recruited to become a suicide bomber against the Assad regime. Though the word ISIS was not yet in my vocabulary, the tactics Samer said the recruiters were using were based on religious ideals we have come to associate with ISIS extremist militancy. Because Samer is an imam and knew the young man when he was a boy, someone asked Samer to talk with him. Though the young man had no clean, running water, he did have Internet access -- a peculiarity of the 21st century war theatre. Samer told me he was emailing the young man, trying to get him to see that both he and his religion were being manipulated.
Whenever I hear people ask where the moderate Muslim voice is amidst all the violence and terror we see in the world I always think of Samer here in America emailing this young man back at home in Syria, trying to save his life. The moderate Muslim voice is speaking through Samer and so many others like him, but it's hard to hear over the din of wars and rumored wars.
In 2013, things got so bad in Syria that Samer's family decided to come to America. They were the first displaced Syrians seeking refuge whom I had heard of. Samer's father would come with Samer to coffee occasionally. Samer would give reports on the war and his hopes that it would end soon so that the family could return their home. His father, who speaks very little English, would shake my hand and then sit quietly, smiling graciously at times. I don't know what Samer told him about me, but I'm sure Samer told him about how our friendship began with the repainting of the mosque. And because of that, I always got the sense that Samer's father was showing me a kind of deep respect which transcended our language barrier. Goodwill always does that; it serves as its own universal translator.
It's been a while now since Samer and I have met for coffee. We each have multiple children and faith communities which keep us both very busy. But with all that is going on now in the news about Syrian refugees I wanted to reach out to him to tell him I would be thinking of him during this holiday season, and remind him that the original Thanksgiving was a feast shared between two different peoples, one of which had helped the other to survive an extraordinarily difficult time far, far from their homeland.
Samer texted me back. He is happy with our friendship he says, and though we are both busy he wants to get together after Thanksgiving. I am happy with our friendship too. I believe it is a small yet meaningful sign of the good God can do even in the midst of evil -- of what God is doing to connect our peoples together and bring peace even as others are trying to tear us apart through war. I am sure Samer and I will talk about that when we meet next.
I think this time I'll bring the baklava.
UPDATE: The day before Thanksgiving Samer's mosque was again vandalized.
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