As with any language there are few words in Arabic that just don't translate very well to English. (I'm sure it's the same from English to Arabic but at my level in Arabic, I usually just think I haven't learned the appropriate word yet.) There may be an official translation in the dictionary but I'm finding that doesn't always cover the local nuances. As a result, these words have started to infiltrate my English speaking to the extent that I have to consciously omit them from my skype calls. So if you hear me using these words by accident, I do apologize:
1. Adi - I think I love this one because it helps me be indecisive about unimportant things or evasive if I don't want to answer a question in detail. The general meaning is of something ordinary or commonplace. In a shop if I say this to a shopkeeper's question it generally means: do whatever you normally do and that will be fine with me. Or when people ask me how life is here, but I can tell they really don't want an in-depth answer, the temptation is just to shrug and say adi meaning: It's just ordinary life with its usual ups and downs.
2. Yanni - The closest equivalents I can find in English are the expressions: "so-so" or "more or less that's the case". When I use this in answer to a question it usually means: Well, I could have hoped for better but it's okay. There always seems to be some implied doubt in the word. For example if someone asks me: "So, you have three lessons a week?" I would then reply "Yanni..." meaning: That may be what is planned but not what is actually happening.
3. Hayk - This one basically means "that's the way it is." I end up using the negative (mosh hayk) a lot more frequently due to my status as a learner and the amount of comparisons I make in conversations. For example, I may ask someone "Mosh zaay hayk?" (Not like this?) if I am making an error or "Zaay hayk?" if I'm trying to figure out how to do something correctly.
Anyway, there are plenty more but these are three big ones that always find their way to the tip of my tongue no matter which language I'm trying to speak in.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
Percolating thoughts on faith
For the past month I've been left on my own a lot more than usual. My roommate was gone for a couple weeks, with Ramadan I didn't visit as many of my friends, and my lessons were cancelled. So, I've found myself with plenty of time to process and think. And after scanning some posts on Facebook, I suddenly found myself thinking how interesting it is to live in a country that does not deny God exists.
I really had to stop and consider that for awhile.
I think it came from reading a post online where someone was mockingly questioning the existence of God. It was intelligently written, but the words just struck hollow to me-- as if the person was incredibly proud of their witty turn of phrase, pleased with having made jabs at the stupidity of faith -- and the replies came defensive and passionate taking the general bitterness of the first commenter as a personal affront. Faith became a sparring ground to be argued over, analyzed, judged, prosecuted, and defended. And I wonder in these kinds of conversations how much listening actually takes place. It seems more of a forum to shove ideas at one another without taking the time to consider, to ponder. Is that really the way to treat the core beliefs of a person on either side?
Whereas here, faith is ingrained into the way of life and important enough to die for. My friend was astonished when I told her that there are many people in America who don't have a religion. (This is partially from the mistaken idea found here that America is Christian... and I wonder: can any one nation really make that audacious claim?) The spiritual element of life is not denied and taken very seriously. Faith is so tied up in identity. It was revealing the day I discovered that because of my strong faith, though different from my friends, I was respected more and not less.
Ironic, isn't it? Especially considering what many people think of the region where I live, particularly on the issue of religion. There are dangers to both ways of treating faith of course, but that's impossible to avoid whenever considering something human originated. However, it does make interesting processing... To use a favorite word from my high school English teacher: I feel like letting these thoughts percolate for a little longer.
I really had to stop and consider that for awhile.
I think it came from reading a post online where someone was mockingly questioning the existence of God. It was intelligently written, but the words just struck hollow to me-- as if the person was incredibly proud of their witty turn of phrase, pleased with having made jabs at the stupidity of faith -- and the replies came defensive and passionate taking the general bitterness of the first commenter as a personal affront. Faith became a sparring ground to be argued over, analyzed, judged, prosecuted, and defended. And I wonder in these kinds of conversations how much listening actually takes place. It seems more of a forum to shove ideas at one another without taking the time to consider, to ponder. Is that really the way to treat the core beliefs of a person on either side?
Whereas here, faith is ingrained into the way of life and important enough to die for. My friend was astonished when I told her that there are many people in America who don't have a religion. (This is partially from the mistaken idea found here that America is Christian... and I wonder: can any one nation really make that audacious claim?) The spiritual element of life is not denied and taken very seriously. Faith is so tied up in identity. It was revealing the day I discovered that because of my strong faith, though different from my friends, I was respected more and not less.
Ironic, isn't it? Especially considering what many people think of the region where I live, particularly on the issue of religion. There are dangers to both ways of treating faith of course, but that's impossible to avoid whenever considering something human originated. However, it does make interesting processing... To use a favorite word from my high school English teacher: I feel like letting these thoughts percolate for a little longer.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Citadel Nights
Ack! I guess since I haven't written a lot in a while all of my posts tend to go a little long. However, as this is a blog about my experiences here in a foreign land I suppose I should make some mention of Ramadan* before it ends within the next couple days. The whole month has had a very in-between feel to it. Without my usual language lessons and regular visiting of friends, I've had a lot more free time on my hands. Add to that, the fact that my roommate has been gone for the past two weeks has made this month quite unusual and seemingly empty... or not.
As is usually the case, supposed "free time" fills up very rapidly. I have spent most of this past month of Ramadan studying independently (listening to old lesson recordings and improving my reading & writing), exploring the art of making jams and scones (yum!), practicing instruments, spending a lot more time in prayer both with others and by myself, and occasionally participating in iftar (the meal breaking the fast) with a couple of my closest Muslim friends and their families. All in all, it's been a lovely month, but I will be happy to resume my normal schedule after next week.
Perhaps one of the most memorable nights of Ramadan for me was a trip to the capitol to experience "Citadel Nights", a celebration held after iftar next to some ancient ruins. (Have I mentioned yet how much I love living in a country where you can see ancient history side by side with modernity?) After a brief walk around the ruins (they were closing the gate and were only just let in to explore for '10 minutes') we then sat down to eat some snacks and watch the city come alive after iftar. Special Ramadan lights (with crescent moons and stars) lit up several windows reminding me of Christmas lights. Then we entered into the actual celebration.
Oh, it was definitely touristy but the number of Arabic speakers certainly outweighed us foreigners. There were numerous booths with crafts and food lining the walkway that made its circuit around the whole festival. We paused to examine mosaics, hand-embroidered scarves and clutches, and jewelry. There were two stages and on the smaller stage my ethnomusicologist heart was delighted to hear the rabab (a one or two stringed instrument) played live while the musician sang folk tunes. But the best for me was yet to come. At 10 p.m. the big stage opened for the main entertainment. In preparation for the professional group to play, the two hosts asked members from the crowd to come up and either sing or tell a story. This was my favorite part. Though glamorized, it reminded me of a time when perhaps it was commonplace for people to sit around in a tent telling stories and singing songs to one another. I have to admit, some of the voices weren't so great, but even that was amusing as the hosts tried desperately to get them to finish and get off the stage. However, there were also some amazing voices that were a pleasure to hear. You could always tell which ones the sound engineer enjoyed because he would add an echo to the microphone to make them sound even more professional. The group that capped off the night's festivities was led by a female vocalist and supported by an electric violin, piano, bass & electric guitars, drum set and tabla. I had fun watching the pianist and the violinist play off each other in a mixture of parallel ornamentation and some improvisation. My fingers itched to learn to play some more Arabic music.
Perhaps the most beautiful sight of the night though were the floating lanterns. Two or three paper lanterns were set off into the sky, their lights getting smaller and smaller until you couldn't distinguish them from the stars.
*For those unfamiliar with Ramadan here's the brief overview: Once a year Muslims set aside a whole month for fasting and prayer. They fast from early in the morning to when the sun goes down. This fasting includes not only food but also liquids as well. After the sun goes down then they are allowed to eat and drink. Many people stay up late at night and then rise later the next morning if they don't have work. At the finish of Ramadan there is a four day eid or festival.
As is usually the case, supposed "free time" fills up very rapidly. I have spent most of this past month of Ramadan studying independently (listening to old lesson recordings and improving my reading & writing), exploring the art of making jams and scones (yum!), practicing instruments, spending a lot more time in prayer both with others and by myself, and occasionally participating in iftar (the meal breaking the fast) with a couple of my closest Muslim friends and their families. All in all, it's been a lovely month, but I will be happy to resume my normal schedule after next week.
Perhaps one of the most memorable nights of Ramadan for me was a trip to the capitol to experience "Citadel Nights", a celebration held after iftar next to some ancient ruins. (Have I mentioned yet how much I love living in a country where you can see ancient history side by side with modernity?) After a brief walk around the ruins (they were closing the gate and were only just let in to explore for '10 minutes') we then sat down to eat some snacks and watch the city come alive after iftar. Special Ramadan lights (with crescent moons and stars) lit up several windows reminding me of Christmas lights. Then we entered into the actual celebration.
Oh, it was definitely touristy but the number of Arabic speakers certainly outweighed us foreigners. There were numerous booths with crafts and food lining the walkway that made its circuit around the whole festival. We paused to examine mosaics, hand-embroidered scarves and clutches, and jewelry. There were two stages and on the smaller stage my ethnomusicologist heart was delighted to hear the rabab (a one or two stringed instrument) played live while the musician sang folk tunes. But the best for me was yet to come. At 10 p.m. the big stage opened for the main entertainment. In preparation for the professional group to play, the two hosts asked members from the crowd to come up and either sing or tell a story. This was my favorite part. Though glamorized, it reminded me of a time when perhaps it was commonplace for people to sit around in a tent telling stories and singing songs to one another. I have to admit, some of the voices weren't so great, but even that was amusing as the hosts tried desperately to get them to finish and get off the stage. However, there were also some amazing voices that were a pleasure to hear. You could always tell which ones the sound engineer enjoyed because he would add an echo to the microphone to make them sound even more professional. The group that capped off the night's festivities was led by a female vocalist and supported by an electric violin, piano, bass & electric guitars, drum set and tabla. I had fun watching the pianist and the violinist play off each other in a mixture of parallel ornamentation and some improvisation. My fingers itched to learn to play some more Arabic music.Perhaps the most beautiful sight of the night though were the floating lanterns. Two or three paper lanterns were set off into the sky, their lights getting smaller and smaller until you couldn't distinguish them from the stars.
*For those unfamiliar with Ramadan here's the brief overview: Once a year Muslims set aside a whole month for fasting and prayer. They fast from early in the morning to when the sun goes down. This fasting includes not only food but also liquids as well. After the sun goes down then they are allowed to eat and drink. Many people stay up late at night and then rise later the next morning if they don't have work. At the finish of Ramadan there is a four day eid or festival.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Fighting a Faith of Obligation - Part Two
Part Two of the long reflective post to be concluded here...
The Seeking
Ironically in my fight against a faith of obligation, I continued to read my Bible and set aside personal time to pray even when my heart could not fully realize the benefits. I guess I just wanted to continue trying the lock, so to speak, and see if I'd rediscovered the key yet.
Well, first I traveled north for a week to help at a hospital and also with some relief work for the refugees there. I sought to be useful but also to gain perspective in the change of scenery. That I received both was very restorative. I think I now understand a little of the importance of journey to a pilgrimage. I began to realize how thankful I am for my community of friends here in the city where I live. About that time I also started listening to sermons from my home church on a frequent basis. They served as reminders to both the truth of their messages in my life, but also the memory of the fellowship there. I then spent three days in the mountains, basking in creation and the pleasures of exploration and relaxation. Each of these actions started to build in me an appreciation and thankfulness for what I have been given. I think a true awareness of thanksgiving can begin the restoration of joy.
Strangely enough, or perhaps not so strange, my fiction reading also started pointing me in the right direction. On a whim I decided to pick up The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, thinking I had never read it before and an adventure story suited my mood at the time. Well, unbeknownst to me, the first half of the story is as much a story of Crusoe's faith as it is of him trying to escape the island. (Yep, he escapes during the first half of the book. I had to peek ahead to reaffirm that his return to England was not the end of the story as I had previously believed.) Anyway, there quite a few insightful quotes, particularly concerning thankfulness: "I enjoyed so many mercies, which I had no reason to have expected... that I ought never more repine... but to rejoice, and to give daily thanks."
The Seeking
Ironically in my fight against a faith of obligation, I continued to read my Bible and set aside personal time to pray even when my heart could not fully realize the benefits. I guess I just wanted to continue trying the lock, so to speak, and see if I'd rediscovered the key yet.
Well, first I traveled north for a week to help at a hospital and also with some relief work for the refugees there. I sought to be useful but also to gain perspective in the change of scenery. That I received both was very restorative. I think I now understand a little of the importance of journey to a pilgrimage. I began to realize how thankful I am for my community of friends here in the city where I live. About that time I also started listening to sermons from my home church on a frequent basis. They served as reminders to both the truth of their messages in my life, but also the memory of the fellowship there. I then spent three days in the mountains, basking in creation and the pleasures of exploration and relaxation. Each of these actions started to build in me an appreciation and thankfulness for what I have been given. I think a true awareness of thanksgiving can begin the restoration of joy.
Strangely enough, or perhaps not so strange, my fiction reading also started pointing me in the right direction. On a whim I decided to pick up The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, thinking I had never read it before and an adventure story suited my mood at the time. Well, unbeknownst to me, the first half of the story is as much a story of Crusoe's faith as it is of him trying to escape the island. (Yep, he escapes during the first half of the book. I had to peek ahead to reaffirm that his return to England was not the end of the story as I had previously believed.) Anyway, there quite a few insightful quotes, particularly concerning thankfulness: "I enjoyed so many mercies, which I had no reason to have expected... that I ought never more repine... but to rejoice, and to give daily thanks."
I also rediscovered the writings of Stephen Lawhead, an author of quite a few novels revolving around Celtic history. The ones I read included his trilogy on the Crusades and a stand alone novel titled Byzantium. Each of his characters has a story of faith, but it wasn't their faith that challenged me but their faults. In the first book of the trilogy the main character has a keen sense of justice and as such completely writes off God due to the corruption of the church at the time. In the second, the main character treats his friend with contempt because his friend disregards his advice, even though the protagonist's judgement proves correct in the end. In the third, the main character tries to use God's plan for her own selfish desire. I read them and realized that, particularly with the first two, there were tendencies in myself I could recognize as similar. Then I read Byzantium which in essence tracks the story of an Irish monk who over the course of events in the story loses his faith due to bitterness, disappointment, and anger at injustice and corruption. It was a sobering read, especially as the protagonist continues to act intelligently and even admirably despite the condition of his heart. Again, though not to the extreme portrayed, I found elements in the protagonist's behavior that I could identify with myself. These reflections enlightened me on my own faults while at the same time renewing my thankfulness for grace and that I serve a Savior who understands all because he also lived on this earth and suffered even greater injustice than I've seen, let alone experienced.
Yet, I can't say that I recognized the restoration until last Friday sitting on my roof unable to reach my friend to discover whether she passed her exams or not. (These exams determine whether you can attend university or not, and since my friend's family is not from this country also determined whether she would be attend a university in this country or not. I had been praying for months that she would have peace despite the pressures.) Well, after pouring out my heart to God on her behalf and finally leaving it in his hands I went to bed still not knowing. Yet I think during that time I felt my heart opened again and the next day when I discovered the favorable exam results, I was able to rejoice fully.
So there ends my incredibly long story of the past two months. The words from James 4 come to mind: "Submit yourselves, then to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you... Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up."
Fighting a Faith of Obligation - Part One
BEWARE!! Long reflective 2-part post starts below...
The Discovery
At some point in June I realized there was a shift in my attitude. I felt like I was fighting something spiritually and emotionally. I described this to others as feeling "dry" and certainly with the arrival of a desert summer, I did feel physically dry as well. My heart was not engaged. Not that I ceased to love those around me but the ability to pour into others was significantly reduced. My encounters with others were still sincere and enjoyable but they were less frequent as I felt them to be more draining than before. Not less did this apply to my relationship with Jesus and my faith. Cognizant of this change and not content with it, I felt myself fighting against it not even entirely sure of its name. It wasn't until today that the elusive term finally settled on me: Obligation. I was fighting a faith and a life of obligatory action.
For the past year I think the statement from Nehemiah 8, "the joy of the LORD is your strength" has been true of my heart. Though not absent of difficulties and challenges, God always encouraged me with little joys each day. These sustained me and filled me with the desire to spend time with him and also to reach out to others. So when the same manner of encouragements ceased to make an impression on my heart in June, I was surprised and not at all satisfied with myself. I did not, and do not, want to read my Bible, pray, or serve others because it what I should do but because it is what I desire to do. I might also add that during this whole time I was consistently aware that I remained under grace, God was still faithful, and if I didn't feel close to Him it certainly wasn't an issue on his side.
Now I know that it's perfectly natural for a Christian to go through high and low spells in their walk of faith. This was certainly not the first time I'd experienced a feeling of dryness or obligation to my faith. In fact for the first couple weeks, I resolved to just continue on my course and wait it out, certain that with time and patience my joy would be restored. Psalm 51:10-12 was a very apt prayer at this time, "Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me."
Well, after a couple weeks of waiting, I came to realize that yes, it is good to wait for the Lord but seeking him out doesn't hurt either. Isaiah 55:6 "Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near." So at the beginning of this past month I embarked on a series of actions to search for God's presence in my life and the eradication of obligation in my relationship with him and with others...
The Discovery
At some point in June I realized there was a shift in my attitude. I felt like I was fighting something spiritually and emotionally. I described this to others as feeling "dry" and certainly with the arrival of a desert summer, I did feel physically dry as well. My heart was not engaged. Not that I ceased to love those around me but the ability to pour into others was significantly reduced. My encounters with others were still sincere and enjoyable but they were less frequent as I felt them to be more draining than before. Not less did this apply to my relationship with Jesus and my faith. Cognizant of this change and not content with it, I felt myself fighting against it not even entirely sure of its name. It wasn't until today that the elusive term finally settled on me: Obligation. I was fighting a faith and a life of obligatory action.
For the past year I think the statement from Nehemiah 8, "the joy of the LORD is your strength" has been true of my heart. Though not absent of difficulties and challenges, God always encouraged me with little joys each day. These sustained me and filled me with the desire to spend time with him and also to reach out to others. So when the same manner of encouragements ceased to make an impression on my heart in June, I was surprised and not at all satisfied with myself. I did not, and do not, want to read my Bible, pray, or serve others because it what I should do but because it is what I desire to do. I might also add that during this whole time I was consistently aware that I remained under grace, God was still faithful, and if I didn't feel close to Him it certainly wasn't an issue on his side.
Now I know that it's perfectly natural for a Christian to go through high and low spells in their walk of faith. This was certainly not the first time I'd experienced a feeling of dryness or obligation to my faith. In fact for the first couple weeks, I resolved to just continue on my course and wait it out, certain that with time and patience my joy would be restored. Psalm 51:10-12 was a very apt prayer at this time, "Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me."
Well, after a couple weeks of waiting, I came to realize that yes, it is good to wait for the Lord but seeking him out doesn't hurt either. Isaiah 55:6 "Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near." So at the beginning of this past month I embarked on a series of actions to search for God's presence in my life and the eradication of obligation in my relationship with him and with others...
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