The day before yesterday marked the beginning of the holiest time of year for Christian’s worldwide. But Christmas, isn’t that in December? Yes, Christmas is in December, and with all the snow the U.S. received these past few weeks it might have felt like December.  In actuality, however, the holiest holiday for Christians is Easter. Easter is the focal point of Christianity, based on the belief Jesus Christ, the only begotten son of the Father, was crucified on the cross (Good Friday), and on the third day rose again (Easter). Easter is on Sunday, so what happened the day before yesterday? Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, which marked the beginning of Lent.

Lent is a forty day period during which Christians fast in what is considered to be the preparation of the believer. Historically, observing lent meant all animal products were forbidden and even went as far as to require only bread was to be eaten. With that said, as civilization evolved so did Christianity. Present day Irish Catholics like myself are required to abstain from the consumption of meat on Ash Wednesday and on each Friday during the holy period. The forty day fast is meant to signify the forty days Jesus spent in the desert being tempted by the Devil. 

Catholic credence aside, religion, regardless what the belief system it may represent, is on the outs with the younger generation; and not just here in the United States, but the world over. Increasing fanaticism within all of the prominent religions has overshadowed the positive place religion has in our cultures. The Catholic Church has been marred by numerous counts of child molestation, the Jews are frowned upon for their abhorrent treatment of Arabs in Gaza and Palestine, and Islam is viewed with negativity and even fear throughout the world for the horrific actions of only a few. Today, more than ever, it’s clear being religious not only carries a stigma, but requires one to constantly defend their beliefs.

It is hard to get the whole picture when we constantly see only one side. Being Irish Catholic, this week was another wake-up call, as the Pope meet with Irish bishops about a widespread cover-up over abuse reports. Perhaps if we were to take a look at Religion from another view point, it would change your perspective.

I often hear the argument that religion is outdated and that modern constitutions and laws have taken its place. However, in looking at the pillars of modern law it is hard to find anything that hasn’t been influenced by religious text. Far before formal governments, religion guided one’s life. Religion is a vessel that offers interpretations and explanations for many of life’s greatest questions. 

Religious texts offer us a guide by which to live our lives. Many of the lessons we teach our children, “Turn the other cheek,” or “Do onto others as you wish done onto you,” are rooted in religious texts. Religious texts are rich with lessons to help guide one’s life and manage interactions with others.

Religion has a very constructive place in our society, but the modern media chooses to ignore positive stories and impact of religion to do good in the world. With its constant trumpeting all that is wrong with religion, the media has played a large part in turning many Americans against religiosity as a whole. Gone are the days of a quality Christian education bringing together mind, body, and spirit – at least in the United States. Even Christian soup kitchens and homeless shelters have come under fire.

Older people often have a tendency to believe that to be religious one must strictly adhere to all that a religion requires, whatever that religion may be; but I’m not so sure.

So many times I’ve heard people say I was raised Christian, Muslim, or Jewish, but I’m not anymore. That being the case, they still continue to hold on to the core values and beliefs found within their Holy Scripture. When we’re young, religion provides the black and white structure needed to give our lives a moral compass. When we grow older, religion evolves with us as well - regardless if we choose to accept this. Some of us might not agree with the organized faction of a religion, or the path upon which a religion choose to relay its message.  With that said, so much of what is good within us is derived from faith and religiosity.

And for those of you who think we would eventually learn the moral essence of humanity within a secular vacuum free of religion, I ask you to consider Thomas Hobbes.  The politcial philosopher believed people were in fact inherently evil, and if given the opportunity, would act devilishly in the name of hedonistic self-preservation.

So the next time you’re walking around and happen to see someone wearing a cross, don’t assume they support priest abuse, are abortion fanatics, or gay bashers. If you see someone wearing a yarmulke, don’t think they’re an Arab hating Zionist. And if someone is wearing a hijab or a kandora, don’t assume they’re going to blow something up. Why not ask about their beliefs and what their religion means to them. Because if you just walk by blindly, and continue to believe in the preconceived notions you hear in the news, you are no-less of a fanatic than the people you criticize.

Your fanaticism lies in your prejudice. 

From Gibbs Burke…

Writer’s Note: In the spirit of Lent, I would like to wish everyone good health, love, and prosperity. I know that I am not without sin, so I am sorry to all those whom I’ve offended.

Yemen is one of the most impoverished and religiously fundamentalist places on the planet. Its own government even understands the fact that urgent political and economic reforms are needed to fight the cancer that is al-Qaeda, slowly spreading throughout the nation. They recognize the fact that continued al-Qaeda militancy risks stability and will only bring problems to an already troubled country.

Poverty is conducive to an atmosphere of radicalization and with nearly half of all Yemenis living on $2 a day, millions of people feel alienated and disenfranchised. Roughly half the population is also illiterate and the nation recently ranked 182^nd out of 191 countries in general knowledge aptitude tests. In other words, Yemen is prime territory for al-Qaeda recruitment. Hopelessness, poverty and illiteracy are all hallmarks of those most often drawn into terrorism.

Following the December 25^th attempt to blow up an American Airline with 300 people on board, under pressure from both Saudi Arabia and the Unites States, the Yemen government officially declared war on al-Qaeda. The States and Saudi also happen to be Yemen’s two biggest donors. Al Qaeda aside, Yemen is also facing a nation wide water shortage, a secessionist movement in the south, and a Shiite Muslim revolt in the north. In other words, it is a country on the verge of both chaos and collapse.  

“The challenges in Yemen are growing and, if not addressed, risk threatening the stability of the country and broader region. The government of Yemen recognizes the urgent need to address these issues which will take sustained and focused engagement,” said a government statement.  

In an emergency interventionist meeting planned for this week, the G8 nations (Canada, the United States, Japan, Italy, France, the UK, Germany and Russia) the Gulf Cooperation Council (the UAE, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain and Oman) along with Jordan, Egypt, and Turkey will meet to discuss Yemen’s fragile and potentially hazardous state. United Nations representatives and officials from both the Word Bank and the IMF will also be present at the meeting set to take place in London. Security, health, education, and economic reform are expected to take center stage.

The attempted December 25 made the international community realize that if Yemen is left on its own, al Qaeda could transform the country into something along the lines of Somalia, the tiny nation’s lawless neighbor just across the Gulf of Aden.

From David Anthony Hohol…

Anyone who knows me or RELATIVITY OnLine knows full well we have done our part to criticize and confront the numerous instances of stereotypes, misinformation and propaganda  incorporated by the global powers that be in terms of the Middle East. This writer has gone to great lengths to expose Israel’s occupation of Palestine as a barely veiled attempt at ethic cleansing. We also have pointed out that groups like the Taliban and Al-Qaeda are in fact fueled by unjust, manipulative and / or misguided Western actions. In short, we have championed the cause of Arabs time and again.  Now, however, I must turn my critique towards the Muslim world. It is a place not known for tolerance of criticism, but criticism is necessary if it is to purge itself of the deadly cancer known as extremism. More importantly, it is a criticism that must be heard before its too late. Life and death weigh in the balance.        

Western actions, however unfair they may appear to be, are no excuse for the extremist violence seen in Iraq, Pakistan, or Afghanistan. There is zero excuse for blowing up hotels in Jordan, buildings in the United States, embassies in Kenya, trains in the United Kingdom, Night Clubs in Indonesia, Souks in Egypt, compounds in Saudi Arabia, subways in Spain, or Markets in India.  How is killing innocent men, women and children supposed to serve as payment for unjust Western policies and ignorance? How? These so-called Muslims, these so called defenders of Islam, target innocent people to make their so-called religious attacks. They are gutless cowards in every way someone can be. They are the great shame of Islam.  

Even more vile and insane are those who cold-bloodedly kill their own, the slaughtering of fellow Muslims in the name of God.  This is what makes them true monsters – they are not invading occupiers, but neighbors to those they kill and maim. Above all else, manipulating 14-year old children into sacrificing their lives before they have even had a chance to experience it is the epitome of cowardice evil.  Thousands upon thousands of innocent people have died in the mindless violence, with few ever really knowing why.

It’s time for the Muslim world to take a long look at itself in the mirror and be brutally honest with its own reflection. Some of the worst crimes against Muslims have been committed in the name of Islam by Muslims themselves. This is the reality Muslims have to both face and confront.  

Grand Mufti Sheikh Abdul Aziz Al-Sheikh in an address to nearly three million pilgrims in Mecca during last year’s Hajj raised this point at a time and place it never had been before. He harshly condemned extremist attacks in every way, calling such actions “the curse of Muslim lands.” He called extremism and suicide bombers the “most serious problem” facing the Muslim world. In other words, he looked the Muslim world in the eye and said out loud for everyone to hear that members of the Muslim Community itself are the biggest problem Islam faces today – not Israel, not the United States, but members of their own brethren.  The sad part is that few people even know the Grand Shiekh made these statements, and this includes Muslims themselves.

The very fact that a Muslim of his stature spoke such words, and at the Hajj address no less, reveals the Grand Sheikh’s acknowledgment that Muslims have to be the first to condemn extremism and to do so loudly.  Muslims the world over, be they politicians, presidents, academics, religious scholars, business leaders, or just ordinary everyday folk need to offer up a collective voice of condemnation so as to pull Islam out from under of the ugly light cast upon it by extremists. Islam needs its people to do what’s right, now more than ever before.

From David Anthony Hohol…

When mobile cell phones with cameras first caught on, they spread through the world like wildfire. In conservative Saudi Arabia however, there was concern. Back in 2004 there was initially a ban on importing cells phones with cameras on what Saudi clerics called religious grounds, but this was later lifted.  Sheik Abdul Aziz bin Abdullah Al al-Sheik, Saudi Arabia’s highest religious authority at the time, announced the religious edict in remarks to al-Madina daily newspaper. The devices, he said, were “spreading obscenity in Muslim society.” Something obscene did come from cell phone cameras arriving in Saudi, but not in the way you might think. RELATIVITY OnLine’s Saudi Arabian correspondent Eman Al Nafjan talks of the obscene nature of blackmail, all of it revolving around the seemingly simple cell phone.  

This is a quite expressive cartoon by a longstanding cartoonist, Al Rabea, from yesterday’s edition of Al Riyadh newspaper. It depicts a recurring and widespread situation in Saudi Arabia. In it a woman is backed against the wall in a helpless and hopeless fetalposition and a man is pointing his camera equipped cell phone at her. The man has his understanding and polite face mask pulled off to reveal the meanness and devil ears beneath. Around the couple are scattered Bluetooths. The story behind this drawing is that many men take advantage of the oppressive nature of this society by befriending and pursuing vulnerable Saudi women until they let down their guard and send photos of themselves to these men. These men then use the photos to blackmail the women, mostly for sex but also for money and sometimes just for the fun of it.

In many cases the photos are usually quite innocent and if seen anywhere else in the world, it would not mean much. But here the possession of a photo of a Saudi woman with only her regular clothes on and without an abaya or hijab is scandalous and could cause a lot of trouble for the woman. Husbands divorce their wives solely on that basis. Even worse, a woman’s children could be taken away because she would be considered an unfit mother and a bad influence on her daughters.

Two extremely high profile cases that happened a decade ago, just when digital photography started going mainstream here caused the government to issue laws against men who use these photos. The first case was of an average single Saudi girl who during a trip to Makkah visited a young man’s apartment after a phone relationship. The guy took photos, some of which were compromising and explicit. Later in the relationship he got mad at the girl for one reason or another and posted the photos with a map to her family’s home in Riyadh and her full name. The aftermath was tragic. The girl was taken to a remote part of the desert and burned to death by her own brothers. The other case was that a young man who belongs to a high status family got mad at his teenage girlfriend and asked his slave* to rape her while he filmed it on his cell phone. This particular Bluetooth really got around and only Saudis living under rocks haven’t seen it. The girl was still in her school uniform and begging the guy to call the slave off. These two cases got so much attention that they pushed the government to act. Now a man who is caught blackmailing or passing out photos of a Saudi woman can be prosecuted and punished. On the other hand, this will also need the woman or at least her family to come forward and press charges so it doesn’t work that well if the woman comes from an extremely conservative family. Note that these cases are handled with the utmost sensitivity on the part of the government and the name of the woman is kept secret throughout the process. But if the girl cannot confide in her family because they might literally kill her or at least inflict serious physical and emotional harm, how is she supposed to be able to confide in the authorities? I have heard of cases where more mature women skipped family support and went directly to the authorities via the vice patrol (muttawas). Surprisingly, the muttawas are very forgiving. As long as at the end of the day they have someone to prosecute, they will willingly overlook the woman’s original discrepancy that got her into trouble in the first place.

The comments that this cartoon got on the newspaper’s website were about 140 in less than 24 hours. I skimmed through them and a substantial number of them blame the women. They write that if women observed the correct hijab and cover then they would not have gotten into trouble. They go as far as to write that women are completely to blame because they seduce naïve and innocent men into doing these things. Some simply thanked the cartoonist for airing the topic. Many used terms like wolves to refer to men and condemned them. A few men wrote about how the sympathize with women and how sad and lonely life can get for women here. 

From Dr. Ron Villejo…

In the United States, I turned off to Christmas.

Living in Chicago is not very pleasant around Christmas time – with December temperatures usually very cold, days depressingly grey and short, and snowfall causing havoc in the streets.  The shopping malls are crawling mad with people, parking lots over full, and budgets cracking from the weight of spending.  Plus, the year end push at the office brings added pressures around this time of the year.

Don’t you see why I got turned off?   

Americans are predominantly Christian.  By virtue of this fact alone, Christmas is BIG in the US.  But I railed at what I saw as the misguided secularization of one of the holiest days on the calendar.  I saw this holiday as being commandeered by commercialism and materialism.  Add a dose of self-centeredness disguised as gift-giving – that is, focused more on what ‘I myself will get.’  If these were the underpinnings of a secular Christmas, then I no longer wanted any part of the holiday. 

And I used to really love Christmas!

I don’t begrudge retailers from what they have to do – simply, to sell their merchandise.  It’s what business – and society as a whole – are all about.  Economies thrive in good measure on people spending their cold hard cash.  For that cash provides jobs, necessities and comfort for the retailers’ employees, who then ‘cycle’ the cash back with their own spending.  But the things I’d hear too much of were news reports of quarterly and year-to-date revenues for these retailers.  It was almost as if the Christmas season was deconstructed to figures on the cash flow tracking record, income statement and balance sheet.  

I love commercials, too – on TV and radio.  I enjoy figuring out the strategies by which companies position their products and services and attract their customers.  I reveled at the cleverness of some of the advertisements I’d see.  Still, because many retailers make a good chunk of their yearly revenues around Christmas, it seemed that all modes of communications in our everyday lives in the US were dominated by commercials.  Virtually mind-numbing!  There was always that gnawing, persistent ‘call’ to parents to buy whatever the most popular toys were for their children, their nieces and nephews, plus all their neighbors’ children and their children’s children.  There was always the guilt-inducing ‘call’ for lovers to buy whatever was supposed to be their partners’ hearts’ content.  Don’t have the cash?  No worries, just use the ‘plastic’ (credit card). 

What’s more, in America, in well-meanings efforts to stamp out prejudice, discrimination and all forms of socio-cultural hatred, there was another phenomenon that eroded Christmas.  We know it as ‘PC’ – political correctness.  Yes, we’d all have the trappings of the holiday – the tall trees, the colorful lights, and of course the jolly, stoutly fellow in the red suit.  But you dare not say “Merry Christmas” widely or indiscriminately.  Nothing on cards.  Nothing, it seemed, on TV or radio.  It had to be “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings.”  Why?  So as not to offend others who weren’t Christians or didn’t quite celebrate Christmas.  It was better to know the specific holiday or practice our friends, colleagues and neighbors followed, and to wish them accordingly – “Happy Hanukkah” to Jews and “Happy Kwanzaa” to African Americans. 

These are all dear holidays, endowed with a richness of history, lore and culture.  But I hated how Christmas got transformed into a generic greeting!  (Interestingly, in the Middle East, my Muslim friends are quite comfortable wishing me “Merry Christmas” and, what’s more, they enjoy me wishing them “Merry Christmas.”  Here, as another example, many people of different nationalities and religions openly wish each other “Eid Mubarak.”)  Not so, apparently, in the US, as the PC police seemed to lurk in every corner, just waiting to pounce on any violator of the holiday protocol!  Imagine the mad ‘double-bind’ feeling:  Symbols of Christmas were virtually all around you, yet you couldn’t necessarily acknowledge it so easily or openly.  Strange, huh. 

One reader recently wrote to the Chicago Tribune, and argued that Christmas cannot be secularized.  A secular Christmas, he said, was “oxymoronic.”  Why?  The very name of the holiday speaks to the solemn and joyful – read:  religious – importance of the birth of the baby Jesus Christ.  He said that to discourage or prohibit office workers from freely wishing each other “Merry Christmas” was to delegitimize this holy birth!

So this is where the very quandary of a secular Christmas lies.  If we are not Christians, does it mean we cannot – or do not – appreciate the precepts of Christianity?  Conversely, if we are indeed Christians, does it mean we cannot – or should not – openly but respectfully celebrate our faith on the most holy day in the year?  How do we as a society navigate our faiths in such dizzying environments of diversity, plurality and sensitivity?  I’ve lived in and visited many, many cities in the world, and such an environment is so dynamic, sometimes so complicated that it’s not easy at all to keep up with it, never mind grasp it. 

For me, here is an open way forward and through this quandary of a secular Christmas.  I tell you a story…

First, very recently, a writer from Khaleej Times asked me to comment on how Filipinos celebrated Christmas here in the UAE and in the Philippines.  He has now asked me several times to comment on various events, from the Philippine Independence Day to the launch of the Dubai Metro.  And he’s been very commending of me   But my first reaction to his recent request was – quietly, to myself – “Man, I have no idea!”  I hardly lived in the Philippines, and I’d been in Dubai only three years.  So what did I do?  I promptly called some dear Filipino friends, and got their take on how they celebrated Christmas. 

One friend, in particular, suggested that I go see the Christmas tree at St. Mary’s Church here in Dubai.  I was still in the office, and she knew that I was closeby.  I hesitated on the phone – remember, I’m largely turned off to Christmas – but she insisted.  So off I went.  There were the usual congestion of traffic near the Church, the dirt and diversions of a construction site, and a moderate crush of people on foot.  I parked the car a fair distance away, and patiently made my way to the Church.  

When I entered the courtyard of St. Mary’s, I immediately knew that I had a visited a simple but very solemn place.  Filipinos and Indians gathered together here, with that colorfully lit Christmas tree stretching 20 feet (6 meters) into the air.  There were just a couple of merchants plying their Catholic and Christmas wares.  Some prayed in front of the Virgin Mary, situated in a grotto, mostly standing but a couple kneeling on the hard pavement.  Still more, there was a scattering of worshippers before a large outdoor TV screen, on which mass inside was broadcasted, so we could all hear the sermon and song in the solemnity of that “Simbang Gabi” (Night Mass).  The words I came up with to describe my experience were these:  Here, the pace was slower, the mood more reflective, and the prayers deeper.  These words kept coming to me, while I was there and in the ensuing days.   

You see, I believe in fate.  I believe that things happen for a reason.  For not only was I asked to comment by this Khaleej Times reporter and not only was I urged by my friend to visit St. Mary’s, but the Editor-in-Chief of this magazine also recently asked me to write about Christmas!  So this convergence of messages told me to have another look at this holiday.  But more than just a look, it told me to re-open myself to a deeper experience of the holiday.  I live in an Arab Muslim country, so you can appreciate my feeling a bit stunned at this convergence of personal messages around a Christian holiday. 

Here’s a way forward for a secular Christmas…  Regardless of your faith, feel free to enjoy various symbols of Christmas around you, if you so wish – besides the tree, perhaps a wreath, a candy cane, or a red Santa Claus hat.  Feel free to wish each other openly “Merry Christmas.”  Remind those who might take umbrage at this that it is the essential spirit of Christmas that we can all celebrate – love, kindness, even redemption or salvation.  Remind them that the jolly fellow – Santa Claus – isn’t just a European or American fabrication, but a universal symbol of the joy of giving.  Emphasize the giving, for Christmas is NOT about spending or getting!  I am very fortunate that money has rarely been an issue in my life.  Whatever I needed or wanted, I usually had the cash to buy it.  But the gifts I’ve gotten from many, many friends at Christmas have been absolutely free – sweet text messages on my mobile, cool greetings on Facebook, and the oh, so simple and sincere “Merry Christmas” said to each other in person.  I’ve reciprocated such gifts, plus recited and given my poetry to friends.  People say, “It’s the thoughtfulness that counts.”  Absolutely, that in brief is what Christmas is all about. 

So contrary to that reader who wrote to the Chicago Tribune that a secular Christmas was a contradiction in terms, I say, “Not necessarily.” You may not believe in the birth of Jesus, that’s fine.  You may, on other hand, love the festivities and trappings of Christmas, that’s great.  But above all keep the spirit of what Christmas means – again, love and kindness.  Find that balance of joyfulness and laughter, on the one hand, and the meditative, solemn spirit of the holiday. 

Do not fall into the trap of those who would commercialize, materialize and otherwise secularize Christmas in ways that I had described earlier.  Now, that’s a holiday mouthful to add to your festive meals, eh    

Ron Villejo, PhD

+971 50 715 9026

ron.villejo@gmail.com

This is the promotional introduction to a documentary entitled “IN GOD’S NAME”, a CBS special produced in partnership with French filmmakers Jules and Gedeon Naudet. The film explores some of the most complex questions of our time and does so via the intimate thoughts of 12 of the world’s most influential spiritual leaders. Listening to the challenges our religious leaders face within their own religions, despite their absolute dedication and constant discipline, it becomes clear that simply to love our neighbors and accept them as we would ourselves is humanity’s biggest and most difficult test. In the end,  a planetary theology is without question an impossibility, but a universal experience is not.  At film’s end, it becomes clear this, above all else, needs to be our goal.

Religious radicalism is often attributed to the East. Brain-washing, extremism, indoctrination, marginalization of others, and learned hatred are time and again used to describe religions like Islam, amongst others, by the West. Extremism, however, is not indigenous to the Middle East. This is a clip from the highly controversial documentary “Jesus Camp,” a chilling reminder of how the perversion of any ideology, including religion, is tantamount to extremist mind-control. There are more of them out there than you think, and most especially in the United States of America. And let us not forget that George W. Bush is an evangelical Christian who often credits Jesus Christ with saving his life. No one can deny that the kind of thought process seen in this documentary influenced his now infamous administration.

Since the dawn of time, religion has meant so much to so many people. Even in a postmodern secular world, with words like “spiritual” and phrases like “life-force” becoming a part of the social matrix, religion and its many forms still make up the very backbone of cultures the world over.  For many, its different than it once was, but no less important. Staff Dr. Ron Villejo takes RELATIVITY OnLine readers into his own personal journey of faith.

Religion.  What comes to mind, when you hear the word?  What does religion mean to you?  How religious are you?  

What I write about, here, is a sensitive matter.  You may like it, perhaps because it resonates with what you believe or what you’ve experienced.  Great.  Conversely, you may detest it, perhaps because it runs counter to or even disrespects your beliefs and practice.  Apologies.  Regardless, please comment below.  

I’ll navigate this sensitive terrain, first, by owning up to some facts about me:  

I was born as a Catholic in Manila.  Filipinos are largely Catholic, because this religion was one of the enduring imports from the Spanish colonization of the early 1500s to the late 1800s.   

I am not a religious expert.  Outside of having attended all-boys Catholic schools, plus a Buddhism course in the university, what I know of religion comes from observation and experience, from readings, hearsay and conversation.  So this article is purely personal in its views and account.  Again, please comment and correct any mistakes I’ve made.

I no longer follow Catholicism and I am not religious by any stretch.  But I do very much believe in God and have worked to build what I feel is a good relationship with Him.  

One school I attended as a boy in the Philippines was Don Bosco, situated in Parañaque, a well-to-do suburb southwest of Manila.  We had our morning calisthenics in the expansive, cement grounds.  We’d also have our daily prayers at church.  The classroom process mirrored the regimented nature of our schedule, with obedience, discipline and attention being paramount.  

Some of our teachers were nuns.  I took a liking for our primary teacher – who was a petite lady, whom I found to be kindly by and large, but who also had a very strict, even mean streak about her.  I was occasionally petrified of this lady, but this incented me more to stay on her good side.  We had a fund-raising activity at one point, and I worked like gangbusters to raise the most money – mostly from my family and relatives.  And she loved it!  

But, at one time, someone did something wrong.  No one confessed to it.  So our teacher had us line up in a single file toward the front of the class, where she’d whack us on our ass, one by one, with a wooden yardstick.  For the life of me, I cannot remember actually being whacked.  But we know the defense mechanism of repression can serve to protect us from emotional or physical pain, that is, by conveniently sliding such a thing outside of our memory.  We can thank Sigmund Freud for this insight and mechanism :]

What’s more, my favorite teacher used a form of punishment that wouldn’t be acceptable, in the least, in many schools now:  She’d command a transgressing boy, for example, to drop his shorts and underwear, whack him on the ass, then have him stand outside the classroom for a period of time.  Half-naked!  I remember one boy, in particular, suffering such a shameful punishment.  He seemed like a nice and sweet enough boy that my memory of him – there, half-naked – is a discordant set of images about what the hell he did and why he was punished.  

So there you have it:  These were among my early inculcation into the Catholic religion – sacred and regimented, comforting yet embarrassing.  

Our journey from the Philippines to the US in 1968 seemed interminably long.  We had a 24-hour layover in Japan, and had a chance to tour jam-packed Tokyo and to shop and eat.  From there, it was a trans-Pacific flight to Seattle in the northwest corner of the US.  It was a mad rush to catch our connecting flight to Chicago.  I remember my 5-year old brother, feeling very tired and out of sorts, sitting on the floor and refusing to go any further.  I remember us being very irritated with him, but who could blame the weary kid for his recalcitrance?      

We as a family brought our Catholic practice to the US.  My friends over the years, both in the US and from different countries, saw the country as being diverse and tolerant of religious practice.  From my experience, I can vouch for this view as being spot-on.  In fact, it is the official position of the US to keep church and state separate – that is, the government is to remain secular and to allow its people the freedom to exercise their faiths.  Different countries forge different relationships between church (or mosque or temple etc.) and state:  Compare, for example, France, Turkey and Saudi Arabia.   

The majority of Americans identify themselves as Christian, while a notable clutch of them say they have no religious affiliation.  Many things about American life, broadly speaking, were different from Filipino life.  But somehow the Catholic churches we attended – from our first Chicago neighborhood, to the suburb of Arlington Heights – had that same somber, sacred and regimented feel I had at Don Bosco.  So, in this respect, we felt very much at home in that new country.  

The handful of homes we lived in had just a smattering of religious objects – portraits of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, a couple of strands of palm tied into ribbon-like loops, a candle in small red glass holders.  But what I remember most was the crucifix in each of our bedrooms.  Our parents were clear that the crucifix was to be set high on the wall at the head of the bed.  It was never to be fixed on the wall, where our feet would be pointed to, when lying down in bed.  That would’ve been sinful, we were told.    

We attended church every Sunday morning, fasting for a short period before mass.  I cannot speak to all that was going on in my head in those fateful first few years of attending church in the US.  But, remember, American society is liberal and pluralistic.  Within such a milieu do Catholicism, its churches and its people lie.  For me, it meant that I began to wonder about and reflect on and to question and challenge what I was hearing and seeing.  

For example, in preparation for communion, the priest would refer to “the body and blood of Christ” – a small round wafer-like thing symbolized His body, and wine (or grape juice, I believe) represented His blood.  One by one, in a processional, each of us would walk on the center aisle toward the altar, and consume the body and blood of Christ.  Such consumption was, for me, one of the holiest moments at church.  Think about this:  To take-in, essentially, our messiah was quite a heady, remarkable thing.  But as a boy, I grappled with how to reconcile the physical reality of body and blood and the Jesus Christ we were symbolically consuming.  I grappled with this a fair amount.                  

Moreover, I understood in a general sense other key Catholic notions of “original sin,” crucifixion of Christ, and His rising from the dead.  I began to rail, in my mind at least, at the religious doctrine of humanity’s sinful nature – which we as Catholics, by default, inherited from the fall of Adam and Eve, when they ate of the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.  Yes, of course, I understood as an adult that original sin was distinct from personal fault.  Still, I came to sense some Catholics’ pervasive posturing of forgiveness, as if they were living proof of that sinfulness.  Of course, I do not believe there is an adult who is so saintly as to be doing everything perfectly right.  So he or she conceivably could have something, on any given day, to ask forgiveness for.  But think about a newborn:  This babe apparently needed salvation. too.  Why, I thought, isn’t a babe born innocent and pure?   

The answers to why are, of course, given in various texts and teachings, and one can basically make sense of such reasons and explanations – even if one doesn’t quite agree.  But here’s my point, as a boy growing up in the US, American culture was instilling in me its values and these I was taking in – in time more forthrightly than the body and blood of Christ.  What were those values?  Independence.  Autonomy.  Freedom.  Basically, accountability to self.  The self was where relationships, action and thought began.  Yes, if I did something wrong, I needed to be held accountable.  If not, then, it was flatly wrong, I believed, to be faulted by others or to accept blame willingly.  

My intentions here aren’t to get into a treatise about religion or to make this a lengthy memoir of my resonance and criticism of Catholicism.  Instead, it was to portray the culturally-derived seeds of rebellion germinating within my body, mind and soul.  In time, I stopped going to church.  I questioned many more things about what I was hearing and seeing – why, additionally, the church did not allow women to be priests?  The equality of men and women was being fought bitterly in many segments of American society, and this was yet another value that I came to adopt – egalitarianism as a fundamental right of both man and woman.  The church didn’t appear to espouse this.  

Why, more importantly, did some Catholics, whom I knew or heard about, lie to others, break the rules, hurt or kill others, and altogether sin?  Yet, they’d have the gall to expect that they will be forgiven just by attending church, praying regularly, and taking the body and blood of Christ.  Hypocrisy!  I don’t know, but I imagined that God did forgive them.  But didn’t they know that God was aware of every moment of their transgression – as well as the sincerity, or lack thereof, of their commitment to do right going forward?   Foolishness!

I remember, one time as a boy, a friend and I ditching Catholic Sunday class.  We didn’t just skip class, we actually snuck into a couple of adjoining rooms and disrupted the session by creating a bit of noise and teasing the students from the opposite side of the glass dividers.  We were being foolish, to say the least.  At bottom, we were being bad.  We owned up to that.  We didn’t get caught, so we never got into trouble.  

My rebelliousness, thankfully never an outright or major problem, was to evolve into an adulthood of choice, confidence and efficacy.  I never lost my belief in God, though I questioned Him several times.  Still, I never returned to the Catholic church, for I came to believe in the notion that God and His Kingdom were within each of us.  I never rid myself of my faultiness or limitations, but I’ve owned up to them and, most importantly, I don’t impose this on others or complain about it as if it were others’.  I came to believe that, based on God and His Kingdom being within all of us, to do good for others was in fact to serve God.  

For me, going to church and following its sacred yet curious rituals weren’t necessary.   

Ron Villejo, PhD

ron.villejo@gmail.com

+971 50 715 9026

There’s no two ways about it – the Burka is a scary looking thing. Far beyond a simple scarf, like that used by Orthodox Christian women in Church, Hijabs worn by more than half of all Muslim women, or even Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the Burka is enigmatic symbol of oppression. The vast majority of women in the world, regardless of religion or region, would concur. Seeing a woman with a full hood pulled over her entire head, only a piece of mesh stretched across her eyes for her to see, is down right bizarre.  Simply put, it’s scary and can remind one of the walking dead. When this writer sees women like this, my immediate reaction is one of sympathy. I feel sorry for the women, making up less than 5% of the Muslim world, who feel they need to wear such a ghastly and horrible thing that in no way is called for by any Islamic verse. They make the average person, man women or child, feel uncomfortable at best, fearful at worst.

With that said, French President Nikola Sarkozy is an idiot for trying to legislate its use. Yes, it’s bizarre, but what’s next? Banning the overly tattooed? Drafting a law against freaks with twenty-five ear rings, another dozen nose rings, along with pierced lips and tongues? In the end, we do not have the right to draft laws against that which makes us uncomfortable or afraid. Sarkozy is blind to the fact that drafting laws to dictate the dress codes of women is exactly what the backwards dictatorships in Saudi Arabia and Iran do, making himself an inverted reflection of what he says he is standing against.      

Us Westerners should also know better when it comes to dress codes anyway, but we’ve forgotten who Christ really was – a brown-skinned Jew from a Middle Eastern Land that bridges Africa and Asia. He wore a robe like the African dashikis or Arab kandoras and often wore a head dress of some kind. He sang and danced to the rhythms of the Eastern world, and lived a life within a culture far removed from the West. He certainly was not of one “us.” Too bad Sarkozy wasn’t around then; maybe he could have stopped that whole opened-toed sandal fiasco of days gone by.  

On a final note, when I have spent time in Paris, the porn that was on TV all hours of the day really did seem to elevate the status of women. Vive la France!

The human experience offers us more perception and less reality. RELATIVITY OnLine’s own Editor in Chief takes us inside his journey into the desert. David Anthony Hohol’s tale of a Canadian farm boy’s Middle Eastern adventure is one of surprise and enlightenment and conversely, one that brings his heart closer to home than ever before.

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up in the middle of the desert. I grew up on the other side of the planet, in Canadian small town, on a farm in the middle of an ocean of prairies. It’s been years since I’ve lived there, but every time I return to Canada from another year in the Middle East, the vision in front of me is always the same.

After walking through the markets of Cairo, the streets of Amman, the ruins of Baalbek, and the bridges of Esfahan, I climb into my 1973 Chevy pick-up on a glorious summer morning, and make the short drive in from the family farm just north of town. As I make my way down Main Street, the little town has been awake for a while is bustling with activity. The bank and supermarket parking lots are full, mothers are dragging their little kids down the sidewalks, people are darting in and out of the pharmacy, and farmers drive by in their trucks, still half-loaded with hay bales.  As the warm sun sparkles through the thick white clouds, nearly everywhere I look, people have stopped for a quick chat. As a young boy, this was something I took for granted, but in a small town one can rarely take more than a few steps down the street without saying hello or stopping to talk to someone.  I’ve had the privilege of spending time in places ranging from less than one hundred to tens of millions people, and have developed the ability to feel comfortable in either. A small town, however, to those who have lived there to then occasionally return, is a place that will always feel safe, comfortable, and familiar. In other words, it will always feel like home. To this day, my hometown of Two Hills is the only place where my feet truly feel as though they’re firmly planted beneath me, and while under the soft and comforting wing of my humble beginnings, the rest of the world often seems like a noisy, cluttered, and fast-paced dream.

My journey started in academia and upon graduating from the University of Calgary, I took a job teaching at small local college. Not long after, I left for Asia and chose Tokyo as my initial destination. One of our planet’s most amazing cities, for more than three wonderful years the center of the Asian world was my home and I will forever be indebted to the Japanese people for teaching me the virtue of humility, the necessity of patience, and the importance of respect. After spending time in places like Indonesia, Thailand, Korea, and China, in the summer of 2004 I decided to leave Asia behind and make a rather adventurous move to the Middle East. I wanted to see for myself what made this part of the world tick and was drawn to it in a way that is difficult to explain; and with the world in a post nine-eleven haze, a part of me felt it was almost my duty to do so. I suddenly found myself living in the little country of the United Arab Emirates, in the booming city of Dubai. I was soon provided with an opportunity to learn about a part of the world so many have an endless amount of pre-conceived notions about. With Saudi Arabia to the west, Kuwait to the north, Iran to the East and Yemen to the south, I was right in the middle of a culture and lifestyle I knew little about and I sunk my teeth into all that surrounded me. So much of what I had been force fed via CNN and the North American mass media was debunked in less than a year.

When I first informed family and friends of where I was planning to go to next, almost everyone asked me why, told me to be very careful, and often enough even tried to change my mind. “What? You gotta be kidding Dave. Why? It’s so dangerous over there,” was something I heard over and over again. Time and again I was told that because I was a white Westerner, I was placing myself in harms way simply by choosing to live in the Middle East. “They don’t like anyone who isn’t Muslim, they’ll think you’re American, there’s wars breaking out all the time,” and more was directed my way, right up until the day I once again left Canada behind. I didn’t agree with what people had to say or I never would have come to this part of the world. With that said, even my liberal minded thought process was surprised at the openness and acceptance from the world that was soon to be my own.

The vast majority of the U.A.E. is indeed Muslim, but with that said, there are churches available for all those who need them and Christianity is practiced freely. In fact, after having traveled through a variety of Middle Eastern countries, I can safely say I was never once made to feel conspicuous about who I was. The average minded Middle Eastern citizen seems to be more aware than we are that a nation’s people and its government are two very different things. Most even counted the United States as a good country filled with good people, who just happen to be represented by a rather unfortunate administration. If only more of us Westerners could make the same distinction in terms of their corner of the world. Whether it was Syria, Lebanon, Egypt, Jordan, Oman, UAE, Qatar, or Bahrain I was made to feel welcome and times, even treated like VIP of sorts. Even while venturing into Iran, and spending time in part of the so-called ‘Axis of Evil,’ I saw a church in downtown Tehran. Further still, the hospitality and kindness of the Persian people made me feel more welcome than I ever expected. Iranians were as hospitable and curious as any I’ve encountered in all my travels, only to be matched by the Jordanians in terms of kindness and hospitality. Whether it was an older gentleman introducing himself and spending nearly two hours walking me through the streets of the ancient capital of Esfahan, before taking me to a tea house and insisting on paying; or a young university girl, who asked me if she could practice her English by offering to answer any questions I had about her country, before taking me to her family’s shop and introducing me to her mother, I was made to feel like a true guest. This is certainly not what we see playing out on our televisions nearly every night. In my experience, no matter where I was in the Middle East, I was never once made to feel apprehensive and further still, was never expected to be anything expect who I am.  

With a population of just over five million, my current home base of the United Arab Emirates is a small country indeed, but when taking into consideration less than one million are actual Emirati nationals, it becomes even smaller. This means well over three million foreign workers, or expatriates, live there. Within a few weeks of my arrival, I’d met people from Pakistan, Afghanistan, Russia, Ukraine, China, the Philippines, Iran, Egypt, Iraq, Lebanon, Hungary, Turkey, Armenia, the United Kingdom, Australia, Belarus, Romania, the U.S.A and of course, a my beloved Canada. There is indeed a hierarchy in place steadfastly based on the immovable capitalistic pillars of education and finance. Those from G7 nations fill out the large majority of professional jobs, while those who stem from the poorest countries work as laborers, and the rest then fill out the many vocational possibilities that lie in between. The lifestyle choices of expats, most especially those from the upper tier, are thus readily supplied with all the trappings of Western culture. There are posh night clubs, low-key bars, casual pool halls, well stocked shopping malls, high end beach resorts, five star hotels, and upscale restaurants serving food from every conceivable corner of the world. Whether it’s The Dark Knight or Indiana Jones, you can catch the latest summer blockbuster at the Cineplex, after which you can grab a coffee at Starbucks or Mister Donuts. If fast food is your game Burger King, KFC, and McDonald’s outlets are located on every other street, with places like Chile’s or T.G.I. Friday’s readily available, if you want to take things up a notch. The Emirati nationals, an extremely likeable group of people, for the most part, stick to themselves. By extension, the country is an eclectic expat mix of race, religion, and values that result in making the UAE a most unique patch of earth.  

Following several years in Tokyo, the Arab world, a collectivity of 22 countries stretched throughout Asia, Africa, and the Middle East, has been my home for the last five years. We plan a return to Canada soon, but living here has quite simply changed me forever. I’m always telling my family and friends not to take what they see on their televisions and in their newspapers as the absolute truth. I also say the same to my Arab friends from countries like Lebanon, Jordan, Syria, Kuwait, and the U.A.E. about the image of North American life they see on their televisions and in movies. One thing I know for sure is that the many souls on this amazing planet are all simply people, working hard, wanting the best for our children, and hoping for a better future. We all love laughter and take pride in who we are; we all cherish our families, and count dignity as paramount to life. All that is needed to bridge the gap between cultures is to remove the biased middle-man that is the mass media and replace it with simple exposure; simplicity is often the truest form of beauty and so much of the world has forgotten.

We can live our whole lives and not know who we really are, until we see the world through the eyes of another. When we first get to know someone, all we notice are the differences, but as time passes we begin to notice the similarities – that’s how any relationship begins.  My wife, a Jordanian National, and I, a Canadian from the Alberta Prairies, learn from one another everyday, as do all those around us. It’s at least a start, but then again every great journey will always start with a single step towards to that which we do not know. Sometimes in life we need to remove the glasses prescribed to us by the culture from which we stem and step closer. Give it a try. Afterwards, you just might be surprised at what you’ll find.