Standing with Your Neighbors

by

Perspectives

Special to United Methodist Insight

On September 16 a Hindu temple in Melville, New York, was vandalized with graffiti denouncing Hindus and calling for “death to India.” This came shortly before a visit to Long Island by Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Criticizing a government for its mistreatment of religious minorities is fair. Blaming an entire faith community or an entire nation for the sins of some is not: it is the sort of bigotry the vandals condemned. Representatives of nearby churches, synagogues, and mosques, along with elected officials from both parties, rallied at the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir in Melville to support local Hindus, whether they supported the policies of the current Indian government.

In recent weeks, unhinged conspiracy theorists and unscrupulous political candidates have repeated the false charge that Haitian refugees in Springfield, Ohio, are stealing and eating pets. Bomb threats phoned in from far away have forced the closings of schools, city hall, and a festival celebrating the town’s multicultural richness. The media has covered this but has reported about how their neighbors in Springfield have responded. Garfield Memorial United Methodist Church shared signs with other congregations urging “Love Your Neighbor.” Dozens of people visited Haitian churches. Hundreds rushed to local Haitian restaurants for a meal.

In much the same way, when a mosque was attacked in Toledo, Ohio, a Christian radio station urged listeners to ring the masjid with prayers for its protection: 2,000 people added their bodies, shielding their neighbors from harm.

When a 2017 presidential executive order barred travel from seven Muslim nations, non-Muslims spontaneously rushed to airports across the land. Mustafa Umar, imam of the Islamic Institute of Orange County in Southern California, told the New York Times how moved he was when he headed to Los Angeles International Airport to protest the ban:

We expected to find maybe a few hundred people there; instead, there were thousands--most of them not Muslims--holding signs that said things like “Muslims are here to stay.”

A few weeks later, when bomb threats terrorized synagogues and Jewish community centers across the country, hundreds of Christians, Muslims, Sikhs and Jews gathered for a candlelight vigil outside the Mid-Island Y in Plainview, New York.

Gestures such as these can mean the world to those who feel isolated. They also bear witness that we will not tolerate intolerance.

When a white nationalist slaughtered 50 worshipers at mosques in New Zealand, people around the world expressed sympathy for their Muslim neighbors, visited masjids, and created memorials to the fallen. What was most striking was the way ordinary people reacted. One Kiwi, for example, kept watch outside sanctuaries so Muslims could pray in safety.

Even when tragedy strikes far away, your neighbors nearby may need you. After the Christchurch massacre, schoolchildren in California toured local mosques and a Catholic university in Santa Clara held an interreligious vigil to remember those murdered and support local Muslims. Likewise, after a terrorist gunned down worshipers at Pittsburgh’s Tree of Life Synagogue, the deadliest anti-Semitic attack in American history, Muslim communities across the nation hosted vigils to support the congregation. They also raised more than $1.4 million for survivors, guarded synagogues, accompanied Jews who felt unsafe, and attended funerals with their neighbors. After the Christchurch massacre, Jews returned the favor, organizing vigils, raising funds, and otherwise supporting their traumatized Muslim neighbors. As Prime Minister Jacinda Ardhern told the families of victims in New Zealand, “We cannot know your grief, but we can walk with you.” When your neighbor is hurt, show up.

One of the strengths of organized religion, journalist Bob Smietana observed at a Religion News Service symposium on Sept. 10, is that it has the infrastructure to help when disaster strikes. Denominational agencies such as the United Methodist Committee on Relief have supplies ready for shipment after a hurricane or tornado hits. Congregations have parking lots where aid trucks can park. Faith communities prepare and stockpile not only thoughts and prayers but also mops and buckets, tents and blankets, food and first aid. 

Perhaps, as we endure another brutal presidential election, we might prepare for man-made disasters. This would be a great time to visit a mosque or synagogue to observe Friday worship and chat with folks: The Oct. 7 Hamas massacre and Israel’s slaughter of Palestinians in Gaza have left both Jews and Muslims feeling isolated, vulnerable, and abandoned. Your presence does not mean you are taking sides in the Israeli-Palestinian war, only that you recognize the suffering of your neighbors. Wish Jewish colleagues Shanah Tovah (Happy New Year) this October. Wish Muslims Assalam Alaikum (peace be with you) anytime.

Clergy and lay leaders might call to say they are coming, giving hosts a chance to recognize your presence and clue you as to where to sit to observe — it may be inappropriate for a non-Muslim to join the prayer line in a masjid, for example, or for a man to sit on the women’s side in an Orthodox shul — or a Church of South India, for that matter. (Been there; done that. They were kind enough to suppress their giggles as I slipped across the aisle during a hymn.)

You could also visit the fall harvest booth at a nearby synagogue during Sukkot (Oct. 16-23 this year) or public celebrations of Diwali, the fall festival of lights, which is observed by Hindus, Sikhs, Jains, Brahma Kumaris, and others (Oct. 29 to Dec. 3). You might also plan to join your Jewish neighbors for Hanukkah (Dec. 25-Jan. 2), a time when vandals often attack menorahs displayed at synagogues and homes. Hanukkah is a minor holiday in Judaism—it has grown in importance only because our culture hypes Christmas shopping so much—but nobody likes to see their traditions trashed.

When several outdoor menorahs and crèches were destroyed on Long Island a few years ago, some of us visited the homes that were hit to express sympathy and attended public lighting ceremonies. The Knights of Columbus added menorahs to its Nativity displays. The Nesconset Chamber of Commerce invited the community to a Menorah-lighting and “Chanukkah Extravaganza” they sponsored, with a children's performance of Chanukkah songs, a magician, arts and crafts, goody bags, bagels, latkes, and donuts. The following week, in another community, I was invited to ride a volunteer fire company’s hook-and-ladder truck to light an 18-foot-high Menorah. Solidarity can be fun. 

Thomas W. Goodhue is a United Methodist clergyman who led the Long Island Council of Churches for seventeen years. His most recent book is Queen Kaahumanu of Hawaii (McFarland). An earlier version of this essay appeared on ALotusintheMud.com.