Between Minarets and Bells
The photo from last Saturday shows a large banner on the street in Najaf, Iraq, where the motorcade of Pope Francis passed. He accepted a welcome into the home of the Ayatollah Ali Al-Sistani, the Clerical leader of Iraq's Shiite Muslims, there. The banner was celebrating the unprecedented and genuinely historic meeting: "Between Minarets and Bells."
Minarets and Bells. Islam and Christianity.
It was symbolic, for sure. No treaties signed or deals made, but good words shared and the world ever so slightly - but truly - changed. Neither of these two leaders represents all adherents to their religion, but their public significance and agreement to meet still speaks yards for all of us. Perhaps it will allow some good we can't yet predict.
In my humble sense of it, God was with them. The God of Abraham, interpreted in different ways by the many voices that make Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. The God of Abraham, who Christians know in Jesus.
The New York Times reports that as recently as the middle of the last century, the Christian population of Iraq was as high as 10%, divided among various sects. Between the U.S. Invasion in 2003 and 2010, more than half of them left. In the chaos, pressure, and violence of the years since 2010, even more have left—so many that the Christian population is now estimated to be closer to 1%. That kind of story is told in other countries of the Middle East too. The Pope's visit had many purposes, for sure, but one of them was to assure protection for the Christians who remain, as well as show support for other religious minorities. It was also meant to show a path forward for us all in our interconnected world.
The same day he visited with the Ayatollah, Francis also visited Ur, to the site where it is said that Avram and Sarai set out to follow God's call - to go into an uncertain future inspired and assured by the promise of God's faithfulness. Pope Francis called his visit to Ur a return home (to the home of Abrahamic faith), though if it is a return it is an ironic return. For it is a return to a departing. I say this because the lesson of Father Abraham and Mother Sarah is one of faithful adventure - into hope, into a future, because God is God.
In their reporting on this trip, Jason Horowitz and Jane Arraf offered a summary of the Pope's message from Ur.
Francis argued that “the greatest blasphemy is to profane” God’s name “by hating our brothers and sisters." . . . “Hostility, extremism and violence are not born of a religious heart: they are betrayals of religion,” he added. “We believers cannot be silent when terrorism abuses religion; indeed, we are called unambiguously to dispel all misunderstandings.” He referred to himself and the others as “descendants of Abraham and the representatives of different religions,” and said that, like “the great Patriarch, we need to take concrete steps” toward peace.
Later Saturday, Francis delivered a sermon at the Chaldean Catholic cathedral in Baghdad, invoking similar themes of common good. “Love is our strength,” he told the crowded congregation.*
May we all learn and live the lesson.
*https://www.nytimes.com/2021/03/06/world/europe/pope-francis-iraq-ayatollah-sistani.html