Accused of diverting funds to Hamas, former World Vision employee still awaits verdict

Mohammad el-Halabi believes the truth will set him free.

The former Gaza director of World Vision has now spent more than half a decade in prison, and according to his lawyer, the Israeli government has offered him plea deal after plea deal. He could potentially go home if he would only confess that funding for the Christian humanitarian aid organization was diverted to support terrorism.

But Halabi has refused.

“He is saying he will not admit to things he never did,” Maher Hanna, who represents Halabi, told CT. “He will not pollute the image of World Vision just to get a personal discount and go home to be with his children.”

Hanna, himself a Christian, said this is one of the remarkable things about this case that has not been noted in the international headlines: A Muslim man who worked for a Christian organization is refusing, under severe pressure and at great personal risk, to betray one of the largest evangelical charities in the world and harm its future work.

“We should admire that position that Muhammad is taking for himself. It’s a high Christian value,” Hanna said.

Close observers and insiders say Halabi’s trial looks like it will conclude this fall. The Israeli court could reach a verdict as early as this month.

Seeking Connections, Exploring Tensions: Human Rights and Religious Values

When it comes to people’s rights to seeking refuge for social, economic or health reasons, to serving and protecting the vulnerable, and numerous other issues related to global justice, human rights organisations and religious actors often share a common cause. However, there are issues of personal moral conviction, public health, and other matters that can become points of divergence.

Recognising the connections and tensions that exist between religious communities and human rights actors, the International Dialogue Centre (KAICIID) put together this primer on how careful coordination and multistakeholder partnerships can contribute to productive dialogue and the promotion of human rights. The below is based on the event “Seeking Connections, Exploring Tensions: Human Rights and Religious Values,” a KAICIID Fellows Alumni Session which took place on May 27, 2021.

Religious leaders not only have a proactive role to play, but can lead the way in upholding, defending, and strengthening human rights across the globe.

Religious freedom: a fundamental human right

For many religious actors, human rights begin with the protection of religious freedom. As some of the oldest and most highly-valued rights, freedoms of religion and belief are addressed in Article 18 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights:

Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.

This also includes the freedom from being coerced "to adopt a religion or belief," rights to assemble, and the freedom "to ensure the religious and moral education of their children in conformity with their own convictions."

And yet, even religious freedom laws — widely recognised as a pre-eminent dimension of international human rights, according to the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) — are aimed to protect human beings and not “religions” per se, said Susan Kerr, Senior Advisor on Freedom of Religion or Belief at the OSCE Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (ODIHR). Moreover, these laws protect both internal and external aspects of religious belief and behaviour, she said, but it is only internal aspects of religion — thoughts, beliefs, etc. — that are unconditionally protected. There are limits and conditions placed on external practices.

For example, while the OSCE underscores that everyone is guaranteed the right to adopt a religion or belief of their choice, either individually or in community with others, in public or private, and to manifest that religion in worship, observance, practice, and teaching, there have been robust discussions about the limits afforded to religious actors and institutions when those practices are deemed to be at variance with other fundamental human rights, contravene public health and safety, or do not constitute a core religious belief. According to legal scholar Farrah Raza of Oxford University, the debate continues around the “normative clarity” around the conditions placed on religious freedom. 

Ioannis Dimitrakopoulos, Senior Scientific Advisor at the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights (FRA) emphasised how religious freedom, and the beliefs and practices defended therein, should be viewed as one part of a wider suite of rights that must be held in balance with each other.

Even so, Kerr believes religious freedom laws can be a good place for religious actors to begin to think about how they can contribute to the realisation of human rights more broadly.

“When a member of one religion speaks out on behalf of the religious rights of others, that’s particularly powerful,” she said.

How can we address issues that are sources of tension between religious freedom and human rights?

The public recognition of diverse family forms and sexual orientations, questions of conversion, and backlash against certain religious practices have triggered negative responses from some religious communities and created tension between them and human rights advocates. Other times, religious actors can feel singled out for human rights violations when there are other factors at play or when they feel a violent, vocal, or fanatical minority within their community is confused with the majority.

Dimitrakopoulos said that the potential tensions between human rights and religious values is not between “religion” and “human rights” per se, but about  how both are interpreted and applied. There is no basis to frame these tensions as an unassailable antagonism between the two.

“Our holy books have peace and have war, our societal histories have peace and have war” said Dimitrakopoulos, “it’s up to us to choose which one we emphasise, which one we live.”

Skepticism around human rights by some religious leaders and suspicion of religious actors by human rights advocates comes down to a lack of awareness, education, and interaction, said Kerr.

Dimitrakopoulos and Kerr agreed that the best way to seek this balance — and avoid strained relations — should be to regularly, substantively, and actively include religious actors in discussions around human rights. For example, when the European Union was considering its constitution, religious actors were involved in the dialogue, said Dimitrakopoulos. From the very beginning, partners on both sides recognised that “social law and divine law had to be in dialogue” to make the process successful and sustainable.

“Because religious leaders shape public opinion around laws governing society,” said Dimitrakopoulos, “it is important to engage with them to find some sort of shared space with human rights actors — to build up trust to support and empower the vulnerable in our societies.”

“Just including religious leaders doesn’t go far enough,” said Kerr, “it’s also important to think about, and actively include, other minorities in the same conversations: women, children, youth, etc.”

How can religious actors contribute to the realisation of human rights in the public sphere?

“Religious actors can, and do, contribute to the promotion of human rights in many and various ways,” said Kerr.

However, when it comes to how “religion” contributes to the realisation of human rights in the public sphere, things get a little more complex. Although it may appear as if “religions” enable or stand in the way of human rights, religions, as such, cannot obstruct or contribute to the defence of human rights, she said. “Religions do not have agency in and of themselves,” said Kerr, “it is religious actors who have agency — the power to make a change.”

One way to do this is to intentionally identify issues of common concern: the situation of migrants' and refugees' integration, climate change, marginalised minorities’ living conditions, racism, equity for persons with disabilities, and religious freedom, said Kerr. “By identifying shared challenges and priorities, actors on all sides can find safe spaces to come together,” she said.

Starting with dialogue, Dimitrakopoulos said, religious and secular institutions, organizations, and actors can find ways to work together to achieve change. “It’s the outcome that will bring us together,” said Dimitrakopoulos.In this regard, KAICIID has a wealth of experience, he added.

Their work on issues as diverse as hate speech, integration, environmental justice, and public health has shown not only how religious actors can be a part of upholding and advancing human rights, but often take a leading role, he said. “Organizations such as KAICIID show us how the work can be done — both in theory and in practice on the ground”.

The Little-Known Jewish History in the Heart of Germany

Berkach lies in the bucolic borderlands between the German states of Bavaria and Thuringia. Formerly divided by the hard boundary between former East (GDR) and West Germany, the one-time international frontier is now marked by an old watch tower, about a half mile outside the village.

But I’m not in Berkach today to chronicle its accounts of living on the fringes of the former GDR. Instead, I’m here to discover another significant aspect of the hamlet’s history, its once robust and significant Jewish life. 

As Germany looks back on 1,700 years of Jewish life in the country, dating back to a decree in Cologne in 321 they are recalling Judaism’s long, if complicated, history in central Europe. 

Visiting sites like Peter Eisenman’s Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin or renowned Jewish museums in Frankfurt, Berlin, or Munich, one gets a sense of the enormity of what was lost in the Holocaust — in human lives, in culture, in knowledge, in history and heart. 

Yet, despite the ways each institution seeks to personalize the ambivalence of German Jewish life over the years, there is an intimacy and immediacy that is missed if those are the only places one goes. 

To get a sense of the absent presence that Germany continues to wrestle with, one must also explore smaller, provincial places like Berkach. 

A Legacy of Transformation: Alissa Wahid and the Gusdurian Network Indonesia

Inheriting a father’s legacy is never easy — especially when that father was the first democratically elected Indonesian president in a generation.

When President Abdurrahman Wahid — popularly known as “Gus Dur” — died in 2009, millions of people visited his grave in the remote East Javanese town of Jombang. Even now, twelve years later, the East Java Tourism Agency reports that half-a-million people visit each month.

While president of Indonesia for only two tumultuous years, Gus Dur’s legacy endures beyond his time in office. Upon his passing, people from across Indonesia’s religious and political spectrums felt a deep, personal sense of loss for a much-loved humanitarian whose compassionate activism transcended religious boundaries.

For 2017 KAICIID Fellow Alissa Wahid, 49, being Gus Dur’s daughter, not to mention the granddaughter of one of the founders of Nahdlatul Ulama — which with somewhere between 40-60 million members is the largest Muslim organization in the world — it is quite the legacy to live up to.

“You can imagine what kind of expectations I was born into,” she said with a portrait of her father hanging behind her, “it was this huge burden.”

Even so, she channelled her family’s legacy into pioneering an interreligious movement of her own: the Gusdurian Network Indonesia (GNI). Founded in 2010, GNI works with grassroots-level activists across Indonesia to promote interreligious reconciliation, active citizenship, democracy, and human rights.

It is hard to measure the full extent of the organization, as they have no formal membership structure, but it has chapters in over 114 locations across Indonesia — and international chapters in places like Malaysia, the UK, Saudi Arabia, Germany, the Philippines, and Egypt. On Twitter, GNI enjoys 235,000 followers alongside Wahid’s 449,300.

As GNI’s National Director, Wahid has been at the forefront of fighting for religious minorities’ rights in Indonesia, promoting a vision of interreligious exchange between Muslims and non-Muslims, and seeking to build on, and extend, her forebears’ legacy.

“Who Will Protect Us?”

For Wahid, the journey to being a public servant was not self-evident. While her sister — popularly known as Yenny — went into politics and took up the job of directing her late father’s research centre (The Wahid Institute), Alissa initially shunned the public eye.

But when her father passed away in 2009, representatives of various religious minorities came to Wahid’s house to pay their respects. They also shared their struggles and asked her to intervene.

“They said things to me like, ‘now that your father has passed away, who should we come to when we suffer? Who will protect us?’” she said.

“In those moments, I thought back to what my father always told us — ‘you have to realise your capacity,’ he always said we could live whatever lifestyle we wanted, but we could not abandon our calling.”

Thus compelled, Wahid founded GNI to extend her father’s work and create collaborative spaces for interreligious dialogue.

GNI’s extensive network has allowed Wahid not only to promote pluralism in Indonesia on a large scale, but also to mobilise people locally to protect marginalised communities when they come under threat.

In 2010, Wahid was sipping on a latte in Starbucks when she received a notification about an attack on a West Javan village. Largely inhabited by Ahmadis — a denomination considered “non-Muslim” by religious hardliners — assailants descended upon the village as part of a spate of vicious attacks across Indonesia. The Ahmadis feared for their lives.

The message Wahid received from 500 kilometres away not only communicated the danger but expressed the hope that Gusdurians would come to their aide. Wahid dropped the latte and sprang into action, finding Gusdurians in the area and connecting them to village residents.

The network not only responded, they formed a protective, human barrier around the village — literally standing up for the ideals of religious pluralism and freedom Wahid’s father championed.

It was a tipping point for the organization. And for Wahid. “I realised then that this work isn’t just nice talk,” said Wahid, “this is about defending freedoms, protecting people, especially vulnerable groups.”

The Persistent Pursuit Of Elusive Justice

Since those early days, the organization’s prominence, and Wahid’s convictions, led her to wade back into politics. The rise of religious extremism in Indonesia worries many members of government and in recent years, they’ve increasingly called on Wahid to help address the popular shift to the right.

During her KAICIID fellowship, Wahid came to see again how influential religious leaders can be.

“Many things can be mobilised by using religion,” she said, “religion can be a good thing or also misused as a tool for conflict.”

And so, during her fellowship, Wahid began working on government projects to advocate for more interreligious dialogue and “not only promote peace,” she said, “but advance religious moderation.”

Along with other KAICIID Fellows, Wahid saw how interreligious dialogue “is really needed to get some misperceptions, misunderstandings, and prejudices out of the way so we can go ahead and think of a better world.”

Nonetheless, Wahid and GNI continue to face opposition from traditionalists and hardliners in Indonesian society and government. The battles that her father fought are persistent, said Wahid, and she knows they will not go away without perseverance.

“You don’t have to like the work, just focus on the result you’re trying to get,” said Wahid, “politics is like dancing: One step forward, two back. Justice is elusive, but always around the corner.

Although she admits that there is still a long road ahead, she is pleased to see how her father’s ideas and legacy are not forgotten, but perhaps thriving more than ever before.

“At the highest levels of government, we have been talking about interfaith cooperation, about respect, about bringing a more just perspective into religious lives,” said Wahid, “the real achievement will be to take that talk and establish social, physical, and psychological space where people can come together based on principles of justice and humanity.”

When all is said and done, Wahid hopes GNI’s legacy will be one of long-term “social transformation.”

Recognition In Indonesia And Beyond

Despite setbacks, people in Indonesia and abroad have recognised what GNI has already accomplished. In 2018, GNI received Taiwan’s Asia Democracy and Human Rights Award and in 2020, they were named the best social media movement by one of Indonesia’s largest news agencies.

Manjid Achmad, professor at Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta who researches interreligious dialogue, said GNI and Wahid show how to promote religious pluralism and effectively protect minority rights, “not by fighting against or solving these common problems by itself, but inspiring others to solve them,” he said.

Pointing to how Catholics, Protestants, Hindus, Buddhists, and others are all part of the network, Achmad said, “the more actors that are doing this, the better for Indonesia.”

Indonesian scholar Aan Anshori and GNI member added his own personal perspective: “I’ve learned many things through her work: integrity, modesty, and courage, she is a spiritual leader for us, showing us the path that requires sacrifice for defending the oppressed,” he said, “Alissa is not only Gus Dur’s biological daughter, but an ideological one.”

In that, Anshori said, she carries the legacy of her predecessors well.

*This profile is my latest with the USC Center for Religion and Civic Culture’s “Engaged Spirituality Project.” To read other profiles in this project, see below:

• A Butcher By Name, This Muslim Surgeon Saves Lives Across Battle Lines (Mohammed Elgazzar)

• Azza Karam listens to the world’s religious women and thinks you should too (Azza Karam)

• Drawing from a broad stream of spirituality, Ela Gandhi continues to serve humanity (Ela Gandhi)

A Holy Calling: Dealing with Diversity Every Day

On a recent trip to Sweden, some friends asked me about my work as a theologian, pastor, religion newswriter and scholar.

They were, understandably, a bit confused about how it all fit together. To be honest, sometimes so am I!

They were also a bit concerned.

How do I avoid a conflict of interest as a journalist? How do I deal with my outsider status as an ethnographer working with Muslim minority communities? How do I reconcile my interreligious encounters with my calling as a theologian?

Great questions.

Last month, Cristina Ochoa interviewed me for the ATLA (American Theological Library Association) blog. To say the least, I was pretty excited. The ATLA — a membership association of librarians and information professionals, and a producer of research tools, committed to advancing the study of religion and theology — often featured in my early theological research at Concordia University Irvine and I continue to use its tools today.

The result is an exploration of how my various vocations work together. It’s also a look into how I see my efforts as a religion scholar, newswriter, and theologian as part of a larger calling toward advancing religious literacy.

“Come out from among them and be different”: An Interview with Philip Yancey

Yancey’s Where the Light Fell  (Convergent, October.) digs up his roots in the fundamentalist South in the 1950s and ’60s. Yancey not only recounts how he came to repudiate aspects of his past, but managed to rekindle his faith and share the “good news” he believes it offers the world. 

In my interview with Yancey on behalf of Publisher’s Weekly, the popular author shared why his latest book is a memoir, what he learned by digging up his past, and how it speaks to evangelical realities in the U.S. today.

“We took the Bible verse ‘Come out from them and be different’ seriously. We dressed differently, we acted differently. We stood out. We were a marginalized group. In the end, the church served as a community of support. Life is difficult, especially if you’re in a poor community and you feel like you’re on the margins already.”

— Philip Yancey

Weimar: The Capital of Contemporary Yiddishland?

In a clear homage to the Beatles’ 1967 “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” album cover and its wonderful whirl of colorful visuals, the poster for this year’s Yiddish Summer Weimar (YSW) festival features a menagerie of cut-out visages: from Johann Sebastian Bach and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, to wandering cattle and a bedecked bass drum reading, “Makonovetsky’s Wandering Stars Club Band.”

Together, the collage symbolizes the transcultural and time-spanning story of Yiddish culture and music — its progenitors and critics, its historical influences and contemporary performative interpreters.

At the center of it all stands Alan Bern.  

Bern playing the accordion. PHOTO: Yulia Kabakova, courtesy of Alan Bern

The Bloomington, Indiana-born composer, musician, educator and cultural activist made his way to Berlin, Germany in 1987. There, he helped found Brave Old World, a band described by The Washington Post as the first “supergroup” of klezmer music’s contemporary revival movement.

Klezmer music is an instrumental tradition of Ashkenazi Jews of Europe. Simply meaning “musician,” the word “klezmer” reflects, and conveys, its broader Yiddish roots.

A spoken language of a considerable portion of Ashkenazi Jews for centuries, Yiddish emerged in 9th-century Europe as a mix of German vernacular, written Hebrew, and Aramaic, Slavic, and Romantic linguistic influences and vocabulary. Meaning “Jewish” in the language itself, Yiddish is also the vehicle for a rich culture heritage of everyday Jewish life and celebration: proverbs, humor, idioms and music.

Over the last 30-odd years, klezmer – and Yiddish language and culture in general – has been enjoying quite the comeback.

Knoblauch Klezmer Band · Moustache

In the midst of this rejuvenation, Bern and Brave Old World were invited to conduct a workshop on Yiddish music in the central German city of Weimar as part of the European Summer Academy in 1999. The workshop was a wild success and Bern became the founding artistic director of what is now known as YSW — a five-week summer institute and festival for the study, creation and performance of Yiddish culture and music in the heart of Germany.

Today, it is one of the most widely recognized programs for the renewal of Yiddish culture in the world, receiving awards from the European Union and the German Music Council, among others. In 2016 Bern was awarded the Weimar Prize in recognition of his significant cultural contributions to the city.

For Bern, YSW is about more than showcasing Yiddish music; it’s about exploring Yiddish culture as a complex, and continually evolving, convergence of European and non-European customs. It’s also about empowering people for creativity and connection on a continent evermore marked by diversity and difference.

Streaming Ramadan TV to the World

Fatima al-Masri, a sales consultant in her 20s, grew up watching TV drama serials during Ramadan as a family tradition in Amman, Jordan. “We will be talking about it for hours, for days even,” she says. “You have no idea how much time we spend watching these shows, analyzing them. It opens up a lot of conversation.”

For nearly 2 billion people worldwide, the holy month of Ramadan is not just 29 or 30 days of fasting from dawn to sunset, prayer and charity. It is also a month of social gatherings and cultural events—including television dramas produced for the season.

As travel and public health restrictions have hampered in-person socializing during Ramadan both in 2020 and this year, social media and television have been playing greater roles than ever.

Now along with searching YouTube for advice on how best to fast or what to make for the day’s fast-breaking iftar,observing Ramadan also involves deciding among apps such as Ramadan Diet, Daily Dua or dozens more. It means picking out Ramadan-themed gifs to share on Whatsapp threads. And it means selecting which TV series to binge with the family—and the options are overwhelming. Traditional Ramadan programming powerhouses like Egypt and Turkey as well as ones in Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, Syria, Algeria and the UAE are all serving up ever-more sumptuous buffets of social dramas, cooking shows, music specials, comedies and religious programming.

Often described by Arab media experts as a sweeps season for the Middle East, Ramadan boosts TV viewership by up to 45 percent on traditional platforms, and YouTube has recently seen three-fold to four-fold Ramadan spikes. This is why Arabic-language networks so often premiere their top shows in Ramadan—from perennially popular prank shows like Ramez to cooking shows with popular Moroccan chef Assia Othman to Al Namous, a Kuwaiti drama featuring stories across social classes set in the 1940s and 1970s, and dozens more. 

“If you want to understand the region, you have to see it through its pop culture.”

— Joseph Fahim, film critic

While satellite channels have delivered programs like these to millions of Arabic speakers for decades, streaming platforms like Netflix and YouTube are now bringing even more to new audiences, particularly in Europe, North America and Asia, with subtitling in major world languages. 

Along with widened distribution and added viewership, streaming platforms and competitive programming are pushing producers to offer increasingly contemporary storylines and series shorter than a month’s worth of 30 episodes. Especially during the COVID-19 pandemic, Ramadan TV has offered a window on places viewers couldn’t travel to and also offered cultural insights.

“If you want to understand the region, you have to see it through its pop culture,” says Egyptian film critic Joseph Fahim. “A good way to start learning is through a show.”

After Angela: German Evangelicals Consider the Political Future

In 1987, then West German Chancellor Helmut Kohl and his party the Christian Democratic Union (CDU) ran a re-election campaign with the slogan, Weiter so, Deutschland. (“More of the same, Germany”), promising stability and security in the years to come. 

They ended up winning, but Germany—and the world—was drastically transformed with the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. 

Fast forward to 2021 and Germany and Kohl’s one-time protégé Angela Merkel is about to step down as chancellor after 16 years at the helm. A fixture of life and a living embodiment of weiter so, Merkel’s departure presents a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for change in German politics. 

“These elections are historic,” said Anna Klein, a 27 year old teacher and evangelical in the central German state of Thuringia, “we are coming off our first female chancellor and we have the opportunity to build on her legacy, to see if we elect a woman again and move in an even more transformational direction.” 

Until April, the consensus was that despite the profound quandary of a political party bereft of Merkel’s calm, disciplined leadership, her CDU and its sister party, the Christian Social Union (CSU) in Bavaria, would remain the dominant force in German politics. Even more weiter so, it seemed. 

But then, with the support of younger evangelicals like Klein, the Green Party seems to be pulling ahead in polls. It may garner enough votes to form a coalition government with the conservative bloc, the Christian Democratic Union (CDU) and the Christian Social Union (CSU).

Though the idea of a progressive party (the Greens) and a conservative bloc (CDU/CSU) working hand-in-hand to govern might sound strange, the environmental and protest party has shifted toward the mainstream in recent years, becoming part of Germany’s new, forward-looking political middle ground. 

There, at the heart of this collective of political compromise, one finds a wide swathe of evangelical voters whose values and varied priorities seem to pair well with a coupling between the Greens and CDU/CSU. 

The Value of Interreligious Engagement

While I was long interested in getting to know people of faith traditions other than my own, it was probably during my time serving at Arizona State University (ASU) that I came to appreciate the true value of interreligious engagement.

Working together with imams, rabbis, pastors, and leaders as part of the Council of Religious Advisors (CORA) at ASU, I learned how important it was for people of multiple faiths to cooperate for the sake of good will and dialogue on college campuses.

That’s why it was a true joy and special honor to be a guest on the “Neighbors of Faith” podcast, hosted by Rev. Bart Loos. Bart is a friend and colleague from SoCal, who currently serves at the University of California Los Angeles (UCLA). As part of his wider efforts there, he launched a podcast that puts him in conversation with leaders and learners of different religious traditions.

In this episode, we talk about the why, what, and how of interreligious engagement as I share some stories and insights from my work in that realm over the last decade.

Public Lecture: What hath ethnography to do with religion journalism?

Diversity and difference continue to pose a pronounced challenge to the public understanding of religion.

For decades, both religion scholars and journalists have striven to address religious pluralism and advance religious literacy through a range of critical research and explanatory reporting. One shared aspect between them has been the use of immersive techniques in order to offer more nuanced, contextual, and longform narratives of the miscellany of religious traditions.

On the one hand, ethnographers of religion have produced textured analyses of religious individuals, socialities, rituals, and material cultures, further refining and complicating our understanding of what “religion” is and how it is lived in particular places. On the other hand, some religion newswriters are afforded the opportunity to take deep dives into religious actors’ lives and contexts and tell their stories in popular fashion via features, podcasts, and video stories.

Despite their differences, qualitative religious studies scholarship and religion journalism have more in common than usually acknowledged.

As part of the series "Erfurt Monday Lectures: New Topics in Religious Studies” at the University of Erfurt, I will share some insights and reflections as both an ethnographer and a journalist and how my research and reporting on religion has led me to explore questions related to the ethics, norms, and aesthetics of both fields and how they might work together to shine light on how religion and spirituality function in the lives of religious actors and socialities in a diverse array of locales and from multiple points of view.

The event will be Monday, 21 June 2021 at 5:00 pm Central European Time (11:00 am EDT/8:00 PDT). You can learn more about the event HERE, register ahead of time via e-mail, or simply attend the event at the link below (requires WebEx software).

If you have any questions, be sure to reach out to me as well: k.chitwood@fu-berlin.de.

Health Concerns in Religious Communities: Challenges and Approaches

During the course of the pandemic, religious leaders have often found themselves on the frontlines of the global health crisis. In addition to adapting rituals to new norms of social distancing and digital worship, religious leaders became humanitarian aid providers, medical responders, and local information experts.

Now, as the world focuses on vaccine rollout and returning to some sense of normalcy in the months and years to come, religious communities and leaders, as with society at large, have to confront challenges posed by mistrust of science or government, vaccine disinformation, and concerns. In some quarters over whether the vaccine aligns with religious values and law.

At an April 2021 workshop Sarah Hess, Sally Smith, and Melinda Frost of the Information Network for Epidemics (EPI-WIN), Health Emergencies Programme at the World Health Organization (WHO) shared their insights on the importance of working with religious communities during the crisis. They also shared some tools and best practices for religious communities to confront this all-embracing global health emergency.

Respecting their holy places as our own

As fighting continues in the Tigray region of northern Ethiopia, both an historic church that claims to house the “Ark of the Covenant” and one of sub-Saharan Africa’s oldest mosques recently came under attack, with hundreds killed in the violence.

This is one example of how religious sites are becoming increasingly vulnerable. Muslims have been murdered in mosques, Jews assaulted in synagogues, Sikhs, Christians, and others killed at worship, and religious cemeteries and sites vandalised across the globe.

To help prevent such violence and promote peaceful consensus, the World Organization of the Scout Movement (WOSM) and the International Dialogue Centre (KAICIID) co-sponsored the “United in Diversity: Preservation of Cultural and Religious Sites” webinar on 12 May 2021.

Speakers addressed the responsibility of religious communities to address the protection of not only their traditions’ religious sites, cultural heritage, and historical experience, but also those of others.

Each underscored what United Nations Secretary General António Guterres wrote in his preface to the United Nations’ Plan of Action to Safeguard Religious Sites: “Religious sites and all places of worship and contemplation should be safe havens, not sites of terror or bloodshed.”

From focal points of conflict to “places of exchange”

The Plan of Action was part of the UN's response to the 2019 attacks against mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, which caused the deaths of 51 people, said Dr. Paul Morris, UNESCO Chair in Interreligious Understanding and Relations at Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand.

The attack illustrated how sacred sites can become symbolic vehicles for expressing hatred, Morris said.

“Religious sites play a role in collective identity, mobilising communities, and in individual and communal cohesion and well-being,” he said. At the same time, however, “they can also become focal points of conflict and terror,” he added.

Morris hopes that the UN Plan of Action will not only protect sacred sites, but enhance their roles as “meeting points” and “places of exchange.”

Religious sites are a living heritage, or “treasures” that can “foster dialogue and respect for diversity,” he added.

Protecting sacred heritage in Thailand and India

Lertchanta Ally Seeluangsawat, Scouts of the World Award (SWA) Coordinator for Thailand Kaengkrachan Riverside Scout Camp, shared with participants her experiences working with Scouts pursuing their SWA at Sukhothai, a historic town in the north of Thailand.

Sukhothai, the capital of the first Kingdom of Siam in the 13th- and 14th-centuries. (PHOTO: Peter Borter)

Scouts come to Sukhothai not only to learn about its history, but also to ensure its preservation: “They not only get information about a place, but also serve and help protect and sustain it,” she said.

Sukhothai – the capital of the first Kingdom of Siam in the 13th- and 14th-centuries – is one of the first UNESCO World Heritage Sites to benefit from the Scouts’ new World Heritage Recognition Achievement programme. The programme derives from a 2018 agreement between UNESCO and the WOSM through which Scouts learn to appreciate and help preserve World Heritage Sites globally.

Seeluangsawat explained that throughout the programme, she emphasises to the Scouts that Sukhothai is part of their heritage, towards which they owe a duty of care:  “I always tell them, ‘it is your duty to do something. If you do not do it, who will? If not now, when?’”

Scout Chetan Mogral's programme involves the preservation of a less tangible expression of heritage and tradition in India.

Mogral described how he works to preserve a sacred dance called barathyanatyam as well as a cultural folk fair known as Yakshagana. Together, they represent an important link between India’s past and present, he said.

“The protection of any kind of art — or site — is only possible when it is being passed on to the next generation,” said Mogral, “when people know the history and understand themselves as part of it.”

“Respect their holy places as our own”

Rabbi Ioni Shalom of the Latin American Jewish Congress told webinar participants that one of the greatest challenges involves learning to appreciate and protect the heritage of other cultures and religions as well as one's own.

Ohel Jakob Synagogue in Munich, Germany. (PHOTO: Ken Chitwood)

 "If a place is sacred to someone else, how can I learn to have empathy with what someone else feels for that site? How can I appreciate why the ‘Other’ finds a place holy?” participants were told.

Shalom shared a story of his own journey of understanding in Israel and Palestine where he found in his interaction with Christians and Muslims along the way why they found places to be sacred through the prism of their own traditions: “Through the process, I not only learned how others felt, but we became friends,” he said.

“When you have this closeness to the other it is easier to understand, but also grow together,” he added. “So what happened there on that trip is that we not only understand the thinking of the other but also feel what the other felt.”

KAICIID Fellow Fatima Madaki closed the webinar by sharing how she attempts to achieve the same experience with Christian and Muslim youth in Nigeria.

Through “Building Consensus on the Protection of Holy Sites,” an interfaith peacebuilding project promoting the protection of holy sites from destruction and desecration in northern Nigeria, Madaki aimed to show participants how “places of worship need to be recognised as sanctuaries of peace for many.”

Madaki said she focused on helping people on both sides “know the value of what we are losing, that we are destroying more than a building.”

Through women and youth-led mentorship programmes, participants learned “that there is value in holding exchanges, working with one another, rather than against,” said Madaki.

“It is only if we experience and understand the ‘Other,’” said Madaki, “we can expand our perspective and respect their holy places as our own.”

How to monitor, identify, and counter hate speech

“The words of a human being have tremendous power, to build and destroy, to give life and to take life. In Abrahamic religions, an essential part of the creation of the world was the word. It was words that created this world and it is words that will destroy this world,” said Chief Rabbi Pinchas Goldschmidt, Chief Rabbi of Moscow and member of the European Muslim and Jewish Leadership Council (MJLC).

Worldwide, xenophobia, racism, and other forms of intolerance — including antisemitism, misogyny, and islamophobia — are prevalent in public discourse, the media, and political rhetoric.

The global growth of hate speech raises the spectre of how, over the past century, it was a precursor to atrocity crimes, including genocide, from Germany to Rwanda, Cambodia to Bosnia.

“Hate speech is virtually everywhere,” said Goldschmidt, “but we must not tolerate it anywhere.”

With this in mind, the International Dialogue Center (KAICIID) has been employing a range of initiatives to help religious communities and leaders counter hate speech, from producing a guide on how to monitor and analyse hate speech to hosting consultations with experts in the field.

“Religious actors and interreligious leaders,” said Faisal bin Muaammar, Secretary General of KAICIID, “have a role to play in countering hate speech.”

Recently, I learned from KAICIID experts in partnership with the European Council of Religious Leaders/ Religions for Peace- Europe (ECRL/RfP Europe) with the support of the OSCE Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (ODIHR) to develop a guide to IDENTIFYING, MONITORING, and COUNTERING HATE SPEECH.

We all have a role to play in responding to hate speech and it begins with understanding what it is, how it manifests online and in day-to-day life, and why it is resonating and replicating. 

Lutherans for Racial Justice (LRJ) talks Islamophobia and anti-Muslim racism with Jordan Denari Duffner

Islam is not a race.

Muslims are not a race.

And yet, over time and in many and various ways, religious traditions and religious people have been racialized. 

That is to say, certain religions have been made into racial categories. 

Although there are many different people groups that can and do practice Islam is one of those religions that has been racialized. 

As a result, Muslims and others (like Sikhs) have been racially abused because of that fact. 

That’s why I think this conversation with Jordan Denari Duffner and her new book — about Islamophobia, what it is, and what Christians should do about it — is an important consideration for Lutherans in pursuit of racial justice. 

For Christians, learning more from Muslims, and how they suffer from racialized prejudice, injustice, and abuse — often because of our thoughts, words, and deeds — can help us better fulfill our call to love our neighbor.

Finding spiritual solace in Berlin, the not-so-secular city

Both before and during the pandemic — and perhaps for years to come — religion remains a potent force in Germany’s not-so-secular city, Berlin.

When Harvard theologian Harvey Cox served as an ecumenical worker in Berlin in the 1960s, he watched the city and its people wrestle with their identity , surmising that they were taking steps toward a more secular future in the aftermath of conflict and chaos. 

It was in Berlin that the seeds of an idea — later called the “secularization thesis” — began to germinate in his mind. In his 1965 book, “The Secular City,” Cox proposed that as societies develop, the need for religion diminishes, and as a result, religion itself declines. 

And yet, as cosmopolitan as ever, Berliners — its people, not its pastries — still turn to a diverse array of religious sources to meet multiple needs: from social contact to providing a semblance of order in a tumultuous world. 

Why al-Aqsa mosque is so often the site of conflict

The violence that spread from Jerusalem to cities across Israel and the Palestinian territories, leaving at least 60 dead so far, has both historical and contemporary roots.

In recent weeks, tension has flared over the eviction of Palestinian families in Sheikh Jarrah, East Jerusalem, Israeli authorities blocking access to the important Damascus Gate plaza during Ramadan, and a march of thousands of Israeli ultra-nationalists through the city on May 6, 2021, in celebration of “Jerusalem Day,” which marks the capture of East Jerusalem in 1967. 

But the one incident that led to a significant escalation involved Israeli security forces firing rubber-coated bullets, tear gas and stun grenades at worshipers gathered at al-Aqsa mosque on May 7.

When I teach introduction to Islam, I include a discussion about al-Aqsa as part of the syllabus. That’s because Al-Aqsa has deep religious significance for Muslims around the world. But, it is also important to highlight its remarkable political relevance for Palestinians. These two facts often make it a focal point for conflict.

The night journey of Muhammad

The Masjid al-Aqsa, or simply al-Aqsa, means “the farthest mosque” or “the farthest sanctuary,” and refers to the lead-domed mosque within the sacred precinct of Haram al-Sharif – “the Noble Enclosure.” The precinct includes the Dome of the Rock, the four minarets, the compound’s historic gates and the mosque itself.

Mentioned in Sura 17, verse 1 of the Quran, the mosque is linked to the story of Muhammad’s Isra – the “night journey” from Mecca to Jerusalem – that in part confirms him as the last and most authoritative of the prophets for Muslims. The Quran says the prophet was “carried…by night from the Sacred Mosque [in Mecca] to the Farthest Mosque [al-Aqsa], whose precincts we have blessed.” 

From there, it is believed that Muhammad ascended to heaven – called the Mir'aj. The Dome of the Rock – Qubbat as-Sakhra – is said to shelter the rock from where Muhammad physically ascended.

The mosque’s origins stretch back to the seventh century. It was first built in 637 C.E., just five years after the prophet’s death. It has been destroyed, rebuilt and renovated multiple times.

The current building largely dates to the 11th century and hosts daily prayers and Friday gatherings that draw large crowds. It lies adjacent to important Jewish and Christian religious locales, particularly the site of the First and Second Jewish Temples. 

At times, the Dome of the Rock – a shrine – and al-Aqsa – a mosque – have been confused as one and the same. While part of the same “Noble Sanctuary,” they are two distinct buildings with different histories and purposes. 

However, the term al-Aqsa is sometimes used to indicate the entire “Noble Sanctuary” complex. Originally, it is believed that the term “the farthest sanctuary” referred to Jerusalem as a whole. 

The Dome of the Rock, which shelters the rock from which Muhammad is believed to have ascended to heaven (PHOTO: Ken Chitwood)

Place in Islamic history

After Mecca and Medina, the vast majority of Muslims worldwide consider Jerusalem the third holiest place on Earth. 

Referenced frequently in Islamic tradition and hadith – records of something the Prophet Muhammad said, did or tacitly approved of – it is believed that while in Mecca, Muhammad originally oriented his community’s prayers toward al-Aqsa.

In 622 C.E., the community fled Mecca because of persecution, seeking refuge in Medina to the north. After a little over a year there, Muslims believe God instructed Muhammad to face back toward Mecca for prayers. In Surah 2, verses 149-150, the Quran says, “turn thy face toward the Sacred Mosque [the Kaaba in Mecca]…wheresoever you may be, turn your faces toward it.”

Nonetheless, Jerusalem and its sacred locales – specifically al-Aqsa and the Dome of the Rock – have remained sites of Islamic pilgrimage for 15 centuries.

The ‘most sensitive site’ in conflict

Given its sacred significance, there was great concern about the precinct’s fate after Israel’s victory in the 1967 Arab-Israeli War and its subsequent annexation of East Jerusalem.

Although Israel granted jurisdiction of the mosque and complex to an Islamic waqf – “endowment” – Israel still commands access to the grounds and security forces regularly perform patrols and conduct searches within the precinct. Under the Preservation of the Holy Places Law, the Israeli government has also allowed entry to different religious groups – such as Christian pilgrims. 

Many Israelis respect the sanctity of the place as the holiest site in Judaism. In 2005, the chief rabbinate of Israel said it is forbidden for Jews to walk on the site to avoid accidentally entering the Holy of Holies - the inner sanctum of the Temple, God’s place of promised presence on earth. Nonetheless, certain ultra-Orthodox Jewish groups controversially advocate for greater access and control of the site, seeking to reclaim the historic Temple Mount in order to rebuild the Temple.

Described as “the most sensitive site in the Israel-Palestinian conflict,” it has frequently been host to political acts. 

Riot gear on hand near an entrance to the “Noble Sanctuary,” Jerusalem. (PHOTO: Ken Chitwood)

For example, in August 1969, an Australian Christian named Dennis Michael Rohan attempted to burn down al-Aqsa, destroying the historically significant and intricately carved minbar – or “pulpit” – of Saladin, a treasured piece of Islamic art.

On Sept. 28, 2000, Israeli opposition leader Ariel Sharon and a delegation guarded by hundreds of Israeli riot police entered the precinct. This sparked protests and a violent crackdown by Israeli authorities, with multiple casualties. Many Muslims worldwide considered this a “desecration” of the sacred mosque, and the event helped ignite the Second Intifada, or Palestinian uprising. 

Tensions peaked again after an attack on Yehuda Glick, a controversial right-wing rabbi, in autumn 2014. In response, Israeli authorities closed down access to al-Aqsa for the first time since 1967. In March and April of that year, Israeli police used tear gas and stun grenades on Palestinians inside Al-Aqsa, prompting international outcry. 

Numerous other incidents between Israeli forces and worshipers have occurred at al-Aqsa in recent years. 

Controlled access to the site reminds Palestinians of their relative powerlessness in their ongoing land disputes with Israeli authorities. At the same time, attacks at al-Aqsa resonate with Muslims across the world who react with horror to what they see as the desecration of one of their most sacred sites. 

Defending al-Aqsa and fighting for rights to access it, I argue, have become proxy conflicts for both Palestinian claims and the need to defend Islam as a whole.

The magnificent tale of Moroccan acrobats in 19th-century England

Mohamed “Mo” Salah, the 28-year-old Egyptian professional footballer, is idolized by fans across the globe for being a goal-scoring machine for Liverpool Football Club in the English Premier League and Egypt’s national squad. But beyond his adept dribbling and scintillating scoring, the “Egyptian King” has left his mark on Liverpool in other ways. 

Researchers from Stanford University in the U.S. claimed that as a visibly Muslim, and very successful, footballer, Salah has helped humanize Islam not only in Liverpool, but in Britain writ large. They called this the “Mo Salah Effect.”

Even so, they suggested, the effect isn’t limited to Salah. They wrote that other “celebrities with role-model like qualities have long been thought to shape social attitudes.” 

Preston, UK, journalist Ismaeel Nakhuda poses beside the gravestone that gives the acrobat’s full name, Achmed Ben Ibrahim. (Photo courtesy Ismaeel Nakhuda/AramcoWorld Magazine)

For instance, about an hour’s drive outside of Liverpool lies the small city of Preston. There, around the turn of the 20th-century, a traveling Moroccan acrobat named Ali — known as Achmed ben Ibrahim — was part of a prominent community of Muslims that left their mark on Victorian British society. 

In fact, before there was a “Mo Salah Effect,” one might say there was an “Achmed ben Ibrahim Effect,” or, at the least, a “Moroccan acrobat effect.” 

The connections between the two Muslim athletes — Salah and Achmed — is a story that involves a traveling troupe of Moroccan acrobats, a Liverpudlian lawyer, and a mysterious grave located on the margins of a middle-class Lancashire cemetery.

It is also the story of the evolution of Muslim life in England and the cosmopolitan transformation of a port city like Liverpool, and how the early arrival of immigrants helped pave the way for the likes of Mo Salah to act as cultural humanitarians today.

After 1,700 years of complicated history, Germany's Jews look to the future

Just a few steps down from Erfurt’s famous Krämerbrücke and its boutique shops, bespoke ice cream, and local charm, you’ll a mikveh (bath used for ritual purification) that dates back to the 13th-century. It’s a testament to the rich, and long, history of Jews and Jewish life in the central German city.

As I was standing in Erfurt’s mikveh a few weeks ago, I took a silent moment to reflect on the immensity of 900 years of Jewish history in the city.

Staring at the steps, I imagined the women who would descend them to bathe in the Gera river’s waters and wondered what their lives were like, what stories they could tell, what histories were embedded in the dusty sandstone and murky water of the memorial right in the midst of Erfurt’s old town.

I was humbled by the immensity of that history, the honor of standing in such a space and being given the opportunity to share such stories.

Mühlhausen citizens Nancy Krug, Pastor Teja Begrich, and Dr. Antje Schloms, pictured here in the town’s 19th-century synagogue, are part of honoring the history of Jewish life in the city. PHOTO: Ken Chitwood.

Thankfully, there are plenty of opportunities to learn about Jewish history in Germany — from well-known museums and monuments in Frankfurt and Berlin to lesser-known, but equally valuable, synagogues in places like Mühlhausen and Berkach.

But for this piece, I wanted to learn about more than history. And so, I spoke to Jewish leaders, researchers, historians, and other experts to learn what their history can tell us today and what Jewish life looks like in Germany now and in the near future.

The result is my latest piece with Religion News Service: “Germany celebrates a historic milestone of Jewish culture — while looking forward.” 

*Many thanks go to the various people I spoke to for this piece. I am working on a couple of other articles related to this research, but for now I wanted to mention all the people who contributed background, provided coordination, or otherwise assisted with this piece: Kristin Luther with the city of Erfurt; Dr. Maria Stürzebecher, also with the city of Erfurt; Carolina von Stojentin with Thüringer Tourismus; Gundela Bach in the village of Berkach; Nancy Krug of the city of Mühlhausen; Pastor Teja Begrich of Mühlhausen; Dr. Antje Schloms of the Mühlhausen city archives, Prof. Dr. Annegret Schüle of Erinnerungsort Topf & Söhne; Prof. Dr. Carsten Schapkow of the University of Oklahoma; Alan Bern with Yiddish Summer Weimar; Helene Shani Braun in Berlin; Rabbi Alexander Nachama of the  Jüdische Landesgemeinde Thüringen; Manfred Levy, education director at Jüdischen Museum Frankfurt; Alexandra Husemeyer of the Tora ist Leben project; and Martin Kranz of the Achava Festspiele Thüringen.

Priest wants you to "Give the World a Shot"

When Rev. Dr. Richard Sudworth received his COVID-19 vaccine — or “jab”— he said it was more than a medical procedure, it was a solemn affair.

“It is really quite moving,” said Sudworth, Secretary for Inter Religious Affairs to the Archbishop of Canterbury and KAICIID Board Member, “we thank scientists, we thank medical professionals, but we also thank God. It’s a gift.” 

It is this gratitude, said Sudworth, that moved a coalition of partners in the United Kingdom, including Church of England, Office of the Chief Rabbi and the Mosques and Imams National Advisory Board, to work with UNICEF to launch a vaccine equity programme that would help schemes such as COVAX – an international cooperative formed to make sure low- and middle-income countries have fair access to COVID-19 vaccines.

PHOTO courtesy Khalid Bari via KAICIID.

Called “Give the World a Shot,” the programme operates on the premise that if people want to express their gratitude after receiving the vaccine, they can give money to support those communities still struggling to access it. 

“Modest in what it’s trying to do, it’s very ambitious too,” said Sudworth. With donations going to provide protective kits to health workers or to help transport doses of vaccines, they set a target of helping UNICEF deliver 2 billion vaccines. 

Although an increasing number of countries’ inoculation programmes are underway, global vaccine rollout remains an uneven affair.

According to the Duke Global Health Innovation Center Launch and Scale Speedometer’s latest data, high-income countries already own more than half of all doses purchased worldwide. At this rate, estimates suggest that vaccine supplies will be too low to inoculate the entirety of the world’s population until at least 2023.  

Experts say providing widespread access to COVID-19 vaccines is necessary to ensure global immunity against the deadly disease. It is also, said Sudworth, something the world’s faith communities must address together.