TJ Poortinga Presents Electric Orange - Wild Weird and Wonderful!

“Professor!” Kuiper exclaimed. “Is the rumor true? Did you tell the president to build a wall?” “Don’t Change Horses Midstream!” Verboom bayed, running circles around Kuiper and the guests. He yanked the lapels of his tweed jacket over his blond hair and looped the anchor’s desk like a headless horseman, shouting more historic slogans. “A Chicken In Every Pot! The Buck Stops Here! All The Way With LBJ!” He neighed like a feral stallion. “It’s The Economy, Stupid! Ross For Boss!” He stopped himself with invisible reins, lowered his jacket, glanced side to side, and asked Kuiper in a whisper: “Yes We Can?” “Can we, professor?” Kuiper demanded. “Can we get God out of government?” Now trotting in place, Verboom chanted boldly: “Yes We Can! Yes We Can!” “There’s no wall between church and state!” scoffed the theologian. “There’s a wall higher than any ladder!” the historian shot back. Verboom flung his arms wide and sang, “Ain’t no ladder high enough! Ain’t no pundit low enough! Ain’t no angle wide enough. To keep me here talkin’ with you.” Then he galloped off stage, tearing through the greenroom, racing down the hall, clattering down the emergency stairs, and bursting through the exit door onto the frigid streets of Capitol Hill.

“When negotiations hit a wall, the rep asked: ‘What’s it going to take to get you in this truck?’ The answer came naturally, ‘The Flying Dutchman on surround sound.’ So, the guy ran to a music shop and came back with a version on CD.” “Richard Wagner, huh?” I smirked. “Flight of the Valkyries would’ve better set the mood.” “Woulda, coulda, shoulda!” He threw up his bare arms, pretending to conduct an orchestra of what-ifs.

The car ahead of us on the freeway had a bumper sticker: HONK FOR FREEDOM. Verboom read it aloud, slowly, as if weighing each word. “Hands off the horn, Santo. No telling what kind of freedom they’re after.”

(NPR) “From Washington, the president refuses to comment on Final Freedom or distance himself from the E.C.S. fellow Dr. Pieter Cornelius Verboom. Our sources, speaking only on background, debate whether the nascent movement is a serious political force or a stunt for the attention-starved. Opinions are split—some see Dr. Verboom as the mastermind of a revolution, others as an accidental prophet whose message was taken...” “Backasswards,” Verboom said, reaching over to mute the radio. “Isn’t the phrase ass-backwards?” Without answering, he switched the audio to CD. The opening strains of The Flying Dutchman filled the truck, and he let it play through—twice—without another word about politics. As our chariot rolled into the high desert city of Flagstaff, Arizona, I asked Verboom how long he planned to stay. He laughed—sharp and unhinged, like a man in need of medication—then mumbled something about Jonah in the belly of a whale. “My father can name every kind of tree,” he said, gazing up at the mountain slopes. “Mainly ponderosa pine, some oak, a few juniper.” “Let’s not get into particulars until they’ve got my mind universalized.” At the clinic, he scrawled my name on the intake form, listing me as his emergency contact and labeling me student. Then he frowned and tore up the form. He asked for a replacement. The second time, he wrote son. I’d like to say the title meant nothing to me, but I can’t. My girlfriend believed I’d become so obsessed with Verboom that he was taking advantage of me. When I told her I was simply following my interests and had genuine respect for his research, she scoffed. She insisted I was shopping for a surrogate father—my mind colonized by his influence and the whole of Western Civilization. Then she twisted the knife, remarking on his overwhelming manliness. “He must have great physical prowess,” she marveled, “in addition to his blind obedience to capitalism.” To my knowledge, he had no commitment to a grand economic theory, but her point was clear: the fact that I so deeply admired a middle-aged Dutchman meant I had failed to see his true nature. As for my dedication to the man, my motives weren’t mixed but many—not a conflict of interests, but a confluence. He was someone I wanted to help, and he was my cover story to get out of town. My quarter-life crisis paired with his midlife crisis. 

For a few days on the open road, I could escape the heavy clouds of Lake Michigan and my heartache, narrowing my role to that of a getaway driver. To catch my breath and make sure Verboom settled in, I decided to stay at a hotel near the clinic. After three days, with my duty complete, I packed for home. Before bidding farewell to the professor, I received a text message. No greeting, no affection—just a blunt declaration: “We should see other people.” My heart pounded hard three times, heat rushing to my face. Embarrassed, I didn’t write back. I’d been saving for a ring, debating whether to surprise her with one or to let her choose. She chose: none of the above. On our first date, she told me I was too diplomatic—the only time she was polite about my politeness. A few months later, she met my mother, who, though frail beneath a wig, summoned the strength to give her approval with awkward gusto. And just like that, a year had passed. Now, I was six states away with my mentor—America’s most notorious social scientist. Not famous for his research, but for being the first man in history to have a nervous breakdown on live television with an encore on radio. Since my coursework was complete, I could write my dissertation anywhere. Why not stay in the high desert? Already sick with grief, and now unceremoniously dumped, going back to campus felt impossible. We knew all the same people. Instead of hiding in my apartment, I decided to stay in Arizona until Verboom checked out. Clearly in need of a long stay, we had his mail forwarded to the clinic. Verboom’s case manager suggested I screen my “father’s” mail for anything triggering, so I intercepted Ella’s letters and stashed them in a size-thirteen shoebox. Once the shoebox filled, I put her letters in a beat-up plastic milk crate I had found behind the clinic’s cafeteria. Some of the envelopes felt like they held Polaroids and pamphlets. I had the nerve to run my fingers over them but not to open them. In addition to Ella’s envelopes, I held back a slew of speaking invitations. On the heels of his radio finale, fringe groups and lone-wolf fanatics began to flood Verboom with speaking requests. The sarcastic screed born in madness was metastasizing, spreading like a chain letter for the terminally outraged. As a swelling congregation of zealots clamored for Verboom to lead them out of the wilderness and into the corridors of power, the media took more notice. The New York Times picked up the Final Freedom story, calling his immodest proposal “an ironic rant taken literally by literalists.” And a leading WNN pundit fumed, “Verboom crashed our last dance with democracy.” More troubling than Verboom’s unraveling was the country’s willingness to embrace a delirious dare. People on the Left understood the rant as irony—which it was. People on the Right took the rant as an invitation to man up. The provocation became a watershed moment, a defining plot point in the media’s election year melodrama. Verboom had baited the American fringe, and they had taken it as the Lord’s Supper. As the spotlight intensified, he sank deeper into denial, refusing any discussion of politics or the press. He began to see the clinic not as a place to heal, but to hide. And yet, even as he closed his eyes and shook his head, his thought experiment took on flesh—and dwelt among us. 

2 Behold! I send you out as sheep among wolves, therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves!” Verboom recited a verse from the Gospel of Matthew, lying in his bed at the clinic, staring at the ceiling... 

~~~

I have to admit a couple of things... I thought the Orange in the title was for one man we all know... I was wrong... Second, when I announced this book and said it was weird... I was right... Because it is so much more...

It is Wild, Weird and Wonderful!

There is so much in this complex book--important info that is helpful at this time of chaos... Most of all that it all started with a man who had a breakdown and threw out words that were picked up by the people who actually liked what he said... and it became a winning slogan...

First, the author started writing the book during the time period when Obama was running for office and then proceeds thereafter... Yet, it many ways, it is not a linear movement in toto. In fact the book runs much like is being used during these days of chaos... it is more by subject or topic... So there will be multiple time periods as we explore the topics presented. And don't expect the topics to be in the right time period... 

There are two main characters who run throughout the book. One of which as I read, I identified as our present president. He is a distinguished professor of psychology in the book, who has begun to have mental lapses... I can only assume that the actions of these two men are based upon similar mental disabilities which many will recognized from our present days of chaos... Only the character in the book has been actually diagnosed as having breakdowns as well as lapses into psychological trauma and flashbacks...

I held back a slew of speaking invitations. On the heels of his radio finale, fringe groups and lone-wolf fanatics began to flood Verboom with speaking requests. The sarcastic screed born in madness was metastasizing, spreading like a chain letter for the terminally outraged. As a swelling congregation of zealots clamored for Verboom to lead them out of the wilderness and into the corridors of power, the media took more notice. The New York Times picked up the Final Freedom story, calling his immodest proposal “an ironic rant taken literally by literalists.” And a leading WNN pundit fumed, “Verboom crashed our last dance with democracy.” More troubling than Verboom’s unraveling was the country’s willingness to embrace a delirious dare. People on the Left understood the rant as irony—which it was. People on the Right took the rant as an invitation to man up. The provocation became a watershed moment, a defining plot point in the media’s election year melodrama. Verboom had baited the American fringe, and they had taken it as the Lord’s Supper. As the spotlight intensified, he sank deeper into denial, refusing any discussion of politics or the press. He began to see the clinic not as a place to heal, but to hide. And yet, even as he closed his eyes and shook his head, his thought experiment took on flesh—and dwelt among us. 

It all began when Verboom was asked to participate in a televised panel discussion. Including Professor Verboom, Social Psychologist, are a theologian promoting Christian Nationalism, a historian tracing US secularism, and a political scientist exposing propaganda. The first issue was aimed at the Professor. “Professor Verboom, sources within the administration claim you told the president to ‘get God out of government,’” and "to build a wall of separation between church and state." His response took it even further. “If God is truly God, how could we get such a Being out of anything?” Then, "Let God" answer the question!"

He ran off the stage, only to have his agent stop him, unsuccessfully, it seemed, when he ran back on stage and shouted. "The Union Shall and Must be Preserved." He howled to the ceiling, darted to the camera and instead of answering the moderator who asked for verification of the first question, Verboom shouted, "Don't Change Horses Midstream..." and then started spouting all of the political slogans he could think off. That is, until he began to calm down but was still pressed as to whether a wall was needed.. to which he now replied “There’s no wall between church and state!” Which could have, of course, meant anything by that time since Verboom was clearly not capable of clearly explaining his position. But that didn't stop those listening deciding exactly what was meant... Because he had again ran out off the stage and this time out of the building...

Santo was Verboom's graduate student assistant and had become almost like a son... In fact, when he had agreed to drive Verboom to a clinic, he wrote on the entry form that the contact individual was Santo, his Son... Santa, for his own reasons, found that he didn't mind that title... But when Verboom began reviewing what had happened and the responses, he told Santo that he realized an ugly thought--he could bring the whole thing down... And heading for a clinic where he couldn't be disturbed was the best hiding place for him to be...

But you can only stay in a clinic as long as you remain visibly disturbed. And that was not true, all the time, for the Professor... Then later he stated, “A terrible notion, of course, an intrusive idea inspired by the myth of Samson pulling down the Philistine temple. The Bible is such a violent book.”

Thus begins a journey of two men--one a professor and his selected assistant... Now a professor without a career with a very intelligent caretaker... With some very interesting points of concern being spouted along the way. Fact: There are more guns than people in the U.S. We are making more guns than babies...

Fact: Americans make up 4% of the world’s population, but we own half of the entire global stock of civilian firearms! Can I get a U-S-A?” “Another fact: We own at three times the rate of Canadians. ‘O Canada! Our home and native land!’” 

“People wander the streets like they’re in another dimension. They don’t ask for money; they speak to the air. They look right through you, like you’re the air. Maybe I’m moving into the next dimension myself. Think I’ll fit in?” “Careful. Conservatives believe all behavior is a free and punishable moral choice, and Liberals think it’s rude to be fascinated by abnormalities—unless that abnormality is conservatism.”

Of course there has to be more to the book, right? Well, it surrounds the professor's agent and her obsession to be wherever the professor is... Yes, sex is involved, but is that all that is driving her to track the professor down no matter where he tries to hide--yes, he has actually asked Santo to keep her away from him... Santo knows why, the professor cannot say no when she comes to be with him... Why? Or is the more important question, why would a beautiful younger woman bother???

But the professor just can't stop talking--sound familiar? So going on the radio becomes the next big announcement! Stay tuned, you might even hear him. Well, no, because he goes by different names... LOL And talk included climate control, God, Jesus, men wearing clothes like Jesus--maybe klansmen... Yeah,,, and the Professor always wore the same outfit that appears on the book cover... Figure this one out! And have fun...

GABixlerReviews

Rachel J. Bonner Presents Strand of Faith: A love story with a touch of mystery - Choices and Consequences Book 1

 He prayed again, “Show me what this means. Give me the strength to do your will.”

The Time of Devastation, as used by this author, does not explain what had happened... Yet we can infer that the entire world was destroyed in some way. Yet some people survived; many now had supernatural abilities. With those abilities, people began to build a new town and a new place to worship, to thank God that they had survived... This begins the story of those people where Choices and Consequences still were a part of each life...

Lord Gabriel started dreaming again. The first dream was simple; a jewel, a glowing red ruby, fell into his hands. He knew that he had to do something vital with the jewel but not what that was. He awoke in fear of what the dream meant – not in itself but the consequences of it happening at all. “Not again,” he prayed. “Please not again. Please take this burden from me.” He dreamt again the next night. This time he was holding an emerald when the ruby fell into his hands. He tried to keep them apart but they were drawn to each other and began to merge together. He woke suddenly, unsure whether they had merged to form a new jewel or disintegrated to dust in his hands. He prayed again, “Show me what this means. Give me the strength to do your will.” 

Chapter 2 November The stranger 

I opened the door to the Old Chapel just far enough to be able to look in and make sure it was empty. It was, so I slipped inside and hurried to my hiding place, underneath the altar table. This was one of my favourite places to hide out, where I could relax and sleep without fear. It was on the edge of the campus, near the river and clearly one of the first buildings on the site, built not that long after the Time of Devastation. It wasn’t used now, but it was dry and looked as though it was still cared for even though I never saw anyone else visit it. I suspected that it was cared for out of respect for the memorials inside. There were three memorials along one wall commemorating the events of the Time of Devastation, but it was the fourth one, on the opposite wall, that drew me most. As the world had repopulated after the Devastation, some of those in their late teens had started to discover they had additional skills, things they could do with their minds. Some could communicate with each other, or sense where people were without being able to see them. Others could move things, or start fires, or predict the future. Those who didn’t have these skills had been scared of such magic, and the first generations were persecuted and often killed. This was a memorial to those early adepts and to those who had died assisting them. As more people developed the abilities, having such skills became more acceptable, though there were still many who feared them. Engineers had developed a Shield which could be used to prevent anyone under it using their gifts, and Shields were used anywhere people thought they might be unduly influenced, such as in shops or any building used for religious purposes. The Old Chapel still had a working Shield, triggered whenever someone entered. That was one of the reasons I thought it was still well maintained, and also one of the reasons I liked being there. Being a telepath I could always hear a background chatter of other people’s thoughts. I’d learnt how to ignore it, but under a Shield everything became quiet, peaceful, which was such a relief. Also, I’d found that I didn’t have nightmares or sleepwalk if I slept somewhere that was Shielded. My mind always felt slow and sluggish the next morning though, so I didn’t do it too often. Once I was safely curled up in my hiding place, I started to think about my current situation. I was almost happy living in this community, despite the inherent dangers and risk in what I was doing. The whole place felt peaceful, safe and non-threatening. Of course, I had to be on my guard and I did my best not to be noticed but that was the case anywhere. Now I was afraid I had been spotted. A couple of weeks ago I’d been hiding out in the cellars under the Abbey buildings. Someone had come rushing through and I had felt a current of power around them, the sort that indicated someone was using their gifts. I’d been hiding my presence physically rather than mentally, and I was pretty certain they’d spotted me where I shouldn’t be. I had got out of there as soon as the coast was clear. I’d been back once or twice, making sure I hid my presence properly, but I hadn’t risked sleeping there since because I couldn’t hide my presence mentally when I was asleep. Nothing more had happened, so I’d thought I’d got away with it. But today, I’d had classes at the college, and, as I’d been where I was supposed to be – at least as far as anyone here knew – I hadn’t been hiding my presence mentally. Doing that took a fair bit of energy so I didn’t do it when it wasn’t necessary. As I’d walked across the courtyard after class I’d felt that current of power again, whispering past my mind. I’d been surrounded by other students, but this whisper had come from a distance and I was afraid I’d been recognised. I’d shielded myself immediately, but I was very concerned that someone might have been looking specifically for me, and that they’d know me when they found me. As I thought about it, I figured I had two options. One, I could leave, find somewhere else to live, but I had nowhere else to go. And I was finding the classes in how to use and control my gifts useful, which was a bonus as it was something I very much needed to learn to avoid disaster. Or, I could stay, but I’d have to be much more careful and much more watchful. I didn’t like to think about what might happen if I did get caught. I’d have to be more rigorous with hiding myself mentally, of course, which took energy. Using my abilities always left me hungry but I could scavenge food from the kitchen, as I had today. The real danger was sleeping, as it always had been. If I started sleepwalking they’d find me, without a doubt, and I couldn’t spend every night in the Old Chapel. I figured I’d just have to sleep out in the woods more, even though the cold season was here now. I could have a fire if I was careful – it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship. More settled in my mind, I left the Chapel and set off to take some of this food I’d scavenged to those who needed it even more than I did.

~~~

It should be obvious to people, at least after the  Time of Devastation, that something had changed in the world... Perhaps Lord Gabriel was the first to learn of the future and that a monastery was to be built. He had learned much through the dreams that he began to have... Soon a campus and a place of worship were built. One of the main programs of learning was to teach those with new powers to actually know how to use them! Lord Gabriel had surely worked hard to find those individuals who had the skills to teach, but also to respond to medical needs in the new hospital... The community that had built up around them became just an extension to the community that was growing every day.

While Lord Gabriel is a wonderful character and works to fulfill God's guidance throughout the story, even he found he must begin to weigh the choices and consequences that naturally evolved from people being people, living their lives together in a community...

In this first book, readers will soon learn of a stranger who has come onto the campus. She was highly skilled in supernatural abilities, perhaps even higher than those she had sought out to help understand and use her sometimes overpowering talents--talents that even she had no way to know just how and what she was able to do... Her name was Leonie. She is your main character...

Leonie has kept herself hidden, managing to move through the campus, finding places to sleep, finding scraps of food that she could steal, for both her and others. The "others" are one of the mysteries that was not solved in this first book... But, soon, Leonie was to become the guardian of Lord Gabriel! Readers learn that God has given Gabriel a dream which explains it to some extent... But Leonie can only be thankful, but also very confused...

Soon she is living in Lord Gabriel's quarters and is able to openly attend the classes that she'd been sneaking into... But one of the things that was most needed at the beginning of her studies, was to learn exactly what skills and the strength of her skill levels. Two monks who are assigned to the hospital was given the task of testing Leonie... The trio began to learn about each other and develop a kind of friendship... None of them anticipated what was to happen within this tight connection... And I'm certainly not going to tell you... Except to spotlight that the close relationship of two, which was now three, would lead to an age-old growth of feelings that surely were not part of the life of monks...

Leonie, who had lived in the wilds since her early life soon found that having a room of her own in which to sleep--as beautiful as it was--often became confining. She would leave the grounds of the campus, seek out a perfect tree in the nearby woods, and crawl up into where two branches meet and fall asleep... Causing a panic back at Lord Gabriel's quarters. It happened quite often, so much so that soon one of the three friends was able to immediately seek out where she was and they would go out to verify she was safe and bring her back...

In the meantime, daily events would continue and Leonie, in her free time, would visit the nearby town and get to know people. She had been assigned to the kitchen where it was found she knew how to bake bread... She worked happily along baking bread for meals and then helping to serve as possible. But she was often asked to sit at Lord Gabriel's table to allow him to catch up with what has occurred. Soon he learned that in some ways, she was beyond the tests that were now available for measuring the level of her talents... Could she be a danger to herself or others?

But time did not allow for worry as a long-time event was coming during the Easter season. All of those who had left the campus would be returning. Preparations for housing, food, and special gatherings had to be planned!

The book is written so that the various main characters are speaking... as Easter was new for Leonie, she tells us what she was learning:

Easter was coming and the preparations were making Pedro – and Lady Eleanor, Edward and Chloe for that matter – exceptionally busy. I asked Pedro about Easter one evening when we were alone in the kitchen. We were kneading the bread for the next day, up to our elbows in flour, the rhythmic movement relaxing and conducive to confidences. Pedro smiled happily. “It’s my favourite time of the year,” he said. “No matter the extra work, or so many extra people here, I look forward to it all year round, and then it’s over too quickly.” “But why? And how? And what’s going to happen?” I asked. “All questions, you, aren’t you?” he responded. “Next Sunday’s called Palm Sunday,” he explained. “From Saturday onwards, our family will start to turn up. There’ll be people arriving all week, so we’re together for Easter Sunday.” I got stuck on one word. “Family?” Pedro grinned at me, almost as if he’d been expecting that. Sometimes I thought he had to know what I was but he never said anything about it, or acted any differently. “Anyone who’s got some connection here and wants to come. Brothers and Sisters who work somewhere else now, or who’ve left the Order, or people who grew up in this House and now live elsewhere. Anyone. They’re all family still. Lady Eleanor’ll find a room for them, somewhere.” “But what are they all going to do, once they are here?” I thumped my dough in frustration at my lack of understanding. “We” – and he definitely emphasised that word – “We are going to worship, and celebrate and enjoy each other’s company and remember what Jesus did for us.” Now, I was no expert, but I’d read and heard the Bible stories about what had happened. It was thousands of years ago, but they still remembered it. I thought of Jesus as being like the heir to a Great House that was ruled by some other Lord, and everyone thought he was riding into town to reclaim it. They had a big celebration when he arrived. Now that sounded daft to me; I mean either you came with a big army and a battle or you sneaked in to overthrow things from inside on the quiet, surely? Didn’t a big party warn the other side that you were coming? Not that it mattered, because one of his friends betrayed him to the authorities who arrested him and then executed him. I looked at Pedro in surprise. “They killed him,” I said incredulously. “You’re celebrating someone being killed?” “No,” he said. “Although we will commemorate his final meal with his friends and his death at services on Thursday and Friday. What we’re celebrating is that he rose from the dead.” I’d read that bit too, but I didn’t believe it. I’d seen dead bodies. They didn’t recover. “How?” I asked. I might have thumped the dough again. Pedro moved it from under my hands and gave me a fresh batch to knead. “Weren’t you paying attention at Christmas?” he asked. Frankly, no, I’d had other things on my mind. But I did remember we’d been celebrating the birth of Jesus, who was – allegedly anyway – fathered by God. Pedro didn’t expect a response and went on, “Jesus is the Son of God, wholly human and wholly God. God sent him to take our punishment for all we’ve done wrong, that’s why he died, so that we can be forgiven and able to be with God. God raised him from the dead to show that death isn’t the end, that evil hasn’t won. Because Jesus died in our place, for our wrongdoing, we can have life with God after our death as well as working towards a God filled life here and now.” It made a lot more sense when Pedro put it like that. It was clearly very personal for him, and for Prospero and Andrew and many of the others that I knew. “It can be personal for you, too,” he said. I didn’t think so. I mean, these were all good people, of course God wanted them. I couldn’t see why he would want me, not with everything that I’d been and done. Pedro was gently insistent, “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, it can all be forgiven, it was for me.” But I just looked at him in disbelief and shook my head, and he didn’t pursue it further. Anyway, given all the busyness and the extra hours and effort we were all putting in as preparation, I was pleased to find I had a free afternoon. The weather was sunny, but still cold, so I wrapped up well – it was so good to be able to – collected some food and things from the kitchen and set off to take it to those I knew needed it. They were pleased to see me and even more pleased to see what I’d brought. They were feeling the cold, though, so I left my coat and gloves and scarf and even my jumper – there were other ways to keep warm, at least if you were gifted, and I’d be fine heading back to campus. It was such a nice day that I dawdled on the way back and went the long way round by the lake. In the sunshine, the water was blue and clear and inviting and I loved to swim. And there were ways to keep the water around you warm, if you were gifted, too, tricks I knew that Prospero and Andrew hadn’t even thought to test. There was absolutely no one around, so I stripped off and dived in, enjoying the feel of the water flowing over my body.

~~~

I hope you will check this book out! It is the type of book that must be read--experienced--to find the truth and love experienced when God is part of your life. Even if you've never known about God except through stories that didn't make sense to you... Remember, this is after a major change to the world. People are fearful, hunger is solved through theft... Possible death surrounds you... And then there is found in a community of love where you are welcomed. It seems everybody cares for each other, but you've known no such thing from the past you've experienced... When love is free to flow... joy and music surrounds you... Eyes meet... And one person seems to provide a feeling of warmth and safety that you've never known... A strand of faith awakens... Where the Spirit of God is, there...is...Love!

GABixlerReviews

Finished Reading Letters to A Young Muslim by Omar Saif Ghobash - A Most Gratifying Book!

Latest Open Memoir Post on Sister Blog

I told my best friend yesterday as she was driving me to vote, that I had just finished a post and had no idea what I had written... And that, sometimes, I feel like God takes over my brain and types through me...LOL

And He certainly led me to this book, which has been one of the most gratifying books I've ever read... Yes, it was written many years ago, but "now" is the time for those of us who are non-Muslim to read it too... I encourage you to do so... And, as you do, I suggest you substitute the religion you follow every time Muslim is written. Why? Because I am positive that for many of you, as it was for me, revelatory to see that this wise man and father has something you will want, and probably, need to read...

The need to know that certain things are true is a human instinct. This is the desire for certainty. It is how we orient ourselves. It is how we give ourselves direction and protect ourselves. Certainty is the mental shell that pushes away doubt. The world you live in is different because the building of certainty requires more time, more knowledge, more experience, and more trust than ever before. Every child of your generation is in the same position,

I wish I could hand you a copy of this book, for unfortunately I have reached the limit of sharing more excerpts of what I've found to highlight for my own edification... Often during the book, a thought would make me ponder what it would have been like for me to have had a father such as this. Would I have been different? I doubt it. This father who wants to share with his sons but points out that his daughters would receive guidance, about today's world is exactly where I have found myself, only at a much older age. In fact, Ghobash shares that he hopes his children will work to start studying and considering exactly what their position is on any given subject. While he shares his own thoughts and opinions, he acknowledges that each of them will also have to do the same, because the world is changing constantly and we must be prepared to live within this world, as it is... Yes! I cried!

Why are so many living on the words of those who have lived hundreds of years ago? Is this what was gained by receiving a message from God? Did God not expect us to receive His words and then take it on ourselves to study and learn and continue ongoing study as to how what they had been taught could be applied within present circumstances and surroundings? And, if you think about it, that is exactly what the majority of people have done--have had to do to continue to live within the world as it is?

Much of the book speaks of learning the Quran--indeed in early times they were forced to be able to recite the book... But then, having learned much, questions would start. One of the major ones that Ghobash discusses is the claim that their religion is a religion of peace... That is the basis by which they teach... But, of course, as the religion spreads, and it is felt that their religion of peace is perfect and should be the only religion, then it is determined by some of their faith, that force must be used to bring about acceptance...

Deja Vue anybody? For isn't that what is now happening, perhaps, again, as has occurred in Christianity? And other religious groups? In fact, what is happening now in the United States, is not even the first time it has happened... with only one difference for us... The government is the fanatics who are attempting to force violence to make us live as they think we are supposed to... And, really, even worse is being done now, if you consider the movement against our own citizens who are not white.

This book covers every single topic that has become an issue for those living right now in the U.S. Guns, Sexuality, different religions, different people, books and activities beyond religion... Anything each of us has had questions about, but were afraid to ask, or asked and was denied an answer or just ignored... This author had been there, done that, and started to think for himself... And did not want to do the same thing to his children... That, really, is what this book is about!

Truth is obviously a key point made... How can the leaders tell Muslims that they are a religion of peace and then somebody who uses the same name, begins to kill those not of the same religion? Isn't that the same as the Crusades, Al-Qaeda, or Christian Nationalists? Choosing to use violence to mandate a God of Love? How bad can it get? When the Jewish country are murdering Palestine people, isn't that the same? So let's not pretend that anybody has the right to use violence against anybody else because of religion! (or any other reason for that matter.)

Responsibility (and accountability) - What father could forget to talk about childrens' need to accept responsibility for their own actions... Why continue to look toward other countries, when the United States has become worse... What do I mean? Well, does it really make sense that a "war on drugs" means blowing up boats without knowing who the occupants of that boat are? And yet, there is nobody stopping that action by our president who feels he owes nobody even a word of accountability? When did the power of the presidency change?

I realized that since I rarely review books on request these days, that I should clarify that when I choose to "discuss" a book rather than review it, as normal, I will be including more opinion rather than just highlighting the book's content. This has been especially true for this book... As you know, during the presidency of DJT, there was an immediate ban on Muslims coming into our country during first term... Now it has become broader, and shall I bluntly point out what everybody has seen...only "white" people are truly welcomed into The nation that once offered... "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free..." I really want to know. What has changed? Why are we seeing foreign students taken off the streets with attempts to send them back home. Where has the hate come from? Or was it always here? I doubt it or I would have seen in during my campus career...

But I do want to recommend this book to everybody, no matter your faith. I was literally shocked to read a wonderful book by someone who our president tried to ban from our nation... Lumping an entire group of people for those few who cause violence is just not right! And, especially now, since that same man is destroying our country... through violence, and more!

God Bless

Gabby

Part 2, Discussing Letters to a Young Muslim by Omar Saif Ghobash - Who On Earth Told You That? Learning Love for Neighbors...

I did not yet realize that Allah, or God as he is known in other religions, was not embodied in human form. 

--Omar Saif Ghobach

Sometimes it's kinda wonderfully scary when you open up an online site and see the exact words that you wanted to begin with...

There's no time for us

There's no place for us

What is this thing that builds our dreams

Yet tips 'em 'way from us

Who wants to live forever?

Who wants to live forever?

There's no chance for us

It's all decided for us

This world has only one sweet moment

Set aside for us

Who wants to live forever?

Who wants to live forever?

Who?

Who dares to love forever? (Oh, whoa!)

When love must die

But touch my tears with your lips

Touch my world with your fingertips

And we can have forever

And we can love forever

Forever is our today

Who wants to live forever?

Who wants to live forever?

Forever is our today

Who waits forever anyway?

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Brian May

Who Wants to Live Forever lyrics © Queen Music Limited

I remember at some young age when I started thinking for myself, I said to myself...

cause I knew nobody wanted to hear me...

Who cares about Heaven?

I wanted Joy here on earth right now...

Now, as I look back

I know and have learned through books

 such as this one

That, indeed, God has given us Heaven on earth

Not

Worrying about getting to Heaven...

Suicide Bombing with promises of virgins in Heaven...

Using guns to ensure one "religion" in a Nation...

I know that I know that I know

All we have to do is open our Hearts and Minds

And allow the Great I AM to be Here with Us as Well!

Are you like the one who was given one Talent (coin)

Who buried it in fear?

Fear stamps out the Joy of Learning

Of What We Should Do to Speak His Truth and Love!

~~~

It is strange, but very gratifying to be reading this book. Learning that the thoughts, opinions, and guidance from a man of a different faith, are, for the most part, very close to mine (thus far). Yes, there is a major difference for me. I believe Jesus, was the son of God, who left behind, if you open your heart to Him, that part of God which is now residing in all creatures can be unlocked to each of us. For me, what that has allowed is to routinely know how and, sometimes, why God is leading me this way or that... And I accept it as His living spirit in Me. 

Ghobash speaks of Muhammad who was guided by the Angel Gabriele to learn of God through revelations and teachings... Moses was a leader of the Jewish people, The Pope, Martin Luther... there are many many others who have been religious leaders... and also including Confucius, Socrates, and other philosophers... To some extent, some political leaders have acquired power which some saw as equivalent...

But does that mean that these were to be all separate groups of people, claiming that their god was the only god? Surely not, for if I, who only once opened my heart to hear Him, then surely thousands and millions have done so through thousands of years both before and after the birth of Jesus Christ. At what point, and why, did God decide to give us a son, a human who would be someone we could see and hear His words, is not a question that can be taken lightly, nor is it appropriate in this discussion. I have read somewhere that our religion is most likely based upon the part of the world in which we were born. That, to me, is logical. As we know, some accepted Christ. Others chose based upon a leader who presented something to document their relationship to God.

Still there is a major issue that must be known coming out of this book... If a Christian Woman and a Muslim Man can think through what we see on Earth, and they are so very similar--that any other part of any religion becomes minor, than I have to believe that God has been a part of both of our lives... For God seeks us to love our neighbors as the top priority... And it is my Mind that correlates all points and guides me, just as it guided Ghobash, in sharing what his mind has come to realize--that all that somebody else says, even if leaders, may not be relevant in the year 2025... and beyond... 

Consider this, if God is a Living, Loving God, should we not all grow in what knowledge and changes which occur on an ongoing basis... Rather than attempting to go back and live historically? Which has no real reference for the complexity of the world at this time, based upon the work of All God's Children? Wheels go round and round, but also moves us forward...

WHO ON EARTH TOLD YOU THAT? 

Habeebie Saif, 

Where does religious knowledge come from? Who has the right to talk about Islam? You will discover lots of people telling you what to do and when to do it. I want you to be polite, but demand respect for your mind and independence of will. 

If what someone tells you sounds convincing, ask more questions. In today’s world, take more than a step back. There are many things to consider. Stay strong and do not hand your fate to others. I remember watching TV with my father when I was about six years old. Someone was reciting the Quran on the small screen. It was late afternoon. He was dressed in the traditional clothing of a graduate from the ancient center of Sunni scholarship—Al-Azhar University. He had a gray coat with small buttons done up all the way to his chin. You could hardly see his neck. On his head, he wore the famous Al-Azhar turban with a thick white band and a ruby red flat top. His eyes were closed in deep concentration and he held his right hand up to cup his right ear. He rocked gently back and forth. As he chanted the verses of the Quran, I turned to my father and I asked him if the man on the screen was Allah. My father smiled at me and told me that Allah was not visible to us, and that the man on the screen was not Allah. 

I did not yet realize that Allah, or God as he is known in other religions, was not embodied in human form. I assumed that Allah was visible to all and that I would see him one day. This little memory makes me think of the occasions when people around us take on the authority of Allah, and demand thoughts and actions of us as though they were either Allah or his representatives on earth. 

I want you to be on the lookout for people who talk with unerring conviction and authority about what others should do. Especially about what others should do. These are the people who always seem to lead us into some kind of trouble. You will no doubt know the kind of person I am talking about. In school, on the playground, it is the boy or girl who sets the rules of the game with the loudest voice and a bit of bullying. And who then proceeds to modify the rules whenever they concern their own behavior. This is the kind of behavior that you will also notice when it comes to religion. The funny thing about those who claim authority in matters of religion is that they often make excuses for their own behavior because they have “devoted” themselves to the work of the Divine, and therefore, there is some kind of implicit leeway or permission for them to be “weak” on occasion. 

This has been seen in news about jihadists drinking alcohol and visiting bars for adult entertainment, as well as in the sexual scandals of the Catholic Church or the photos that we have seen of Buddhist monks traveling by private jet to oversee their fortunes. Of course, I do not mean to condemn all men and women of religious devotion. On the contrary. What I am saying to you is that you need to make sure that you understand that those with plausible authority are also human beings like you and me. They are human beings, who can and will be distracted by the traditional human temptations of power, money, and sex. When I was a child, I was always willing to inflate the authority of such people, based simply on the fact that they carried themselves with authority. They had special uniforms. They had specialized knowledge. They spoke with a weariness that must have come from deep thought and great suffering. They spoke to us in a mystical manner. We would not understand everything they said, because we were simply not wise enough or good enough to understand. 

The aura of authority can serve as a cloak for earthier matters. I want you to be aware of this possibility. This is a very human weakness of those who are looking for certainties in an ever changing world. We have a desire to know and believe that there are truly good people somewhere nearby. When we think we have found such a person, we are tempted to grant them our respect and even love. We slip into adding qualities to them that other observers can see they do not possess. Beware about endowing others with a goodness they do not have. Recognize that the goodness you see in them may actually be your own goodness. Turn your eyes inward to your own goodness and recognize that for what it is worth. 

The question of authority is common to all religions. It spreads wider to encompass the workplace, school, and university, and anyplace where humans interact. There is always someone who claims to know better than the others. Over the course of my life, I have gone from gullibly believing those who claim this authority in front of the group to having a more realistic view. 

I want you to make this move quicker than I did. We are often advised to give someone the benefit of the doubt. Or we are told that someone has a good heart deep down and thus we should not judge this person on the basis of their outward behavior. Or that the person in question is so learned that only those who have come close to learning as much will ever truly understand the wisdom attained. 

The other side of this relationship is that you are told that you do not have the authority to speak on certain matters. Again, you will find this in all spheres of life, including the sphere of religion. 

The acquisition of authority by one person usually correlates with a removal of authority from the other person. Here you will be told that you should simply fall in line, follow orders, be a team player, do your job, focus on what you can do, and leave more serious matters to others.

I just stopped to eat a bowl of cereal and turned on the TV...Law and Order special Victims was on, so I left it on to watch... It turned out to be quite different than a normal case of right or wrong. A child died and was buried by the mother, for she thought she had killed her baby... As the case proceeded and they found the child, it was determined that she had died from measles... Soon confusion began and more people got involved. It was discovered that another mother took her child, who had measles, to a local park. She had decided not to have her son vaccinated based mostly on her religious belief and people saying that vaccines were dangerous. She was then arrested; the jury said she was not guilty...even though she had purposely chosen not to vaccinate her son for measles...

I bring this up because of the fact that, recently, measles has been spreading in the United States. Many who are now acting against vaccinations, especially after the president spoke out against it during the Covid world-wide pandemic. Key, I think, is that while Trump initiated the vaccine to be created--remember warp speed--but then did not get elected again, he chose to change his message... If you don't know where I am going, I ask that you reread the excerpt from Ghobash immediately above... 

Simply because it was an argument that was frequently argued during the Covid Shutdown... 

Me, I had no reason to debate the issue of vaccines. I believe that by the year 2025, religious issues related to science should have been significantly changed. To me, this would negate all that God has given as gifts to doctors and scientists, who have studied and learned and worked to improve the lives of His people through the hands of His children... Thus, it is only logical that, taking the Covid vaccine was not only the right choice for me, but also because it would be helping to save the lives of others by not chancing that I would spread Covid to babies, in particular, who do not have the ability to make decisions for themselves. Frankly, a choice to not give a child vaccine based on religious beliefs, is actually denying that God's love for children is far greater than that of many parents. It is, indeed, our responsibility to spend time to do your own reasoning, to do research, but to also consider that what your choice is, will obviously affect the possible transmission to others, who are just as important as God's children all are... That is, Use the Golden Rule - Do Unto Others as you would have them Do Unto You...

Continuing Discussion soon... Comments and thoughts welcomed...

Gabby

Omar Saif Ghobash Presents Letters to a Young Muslim, (Memoir?) He and I Are Much Alike, Always Asking Why? Part 1 Discussion

 Out of respect for the Prophet Mohammed, it is customary to say the words “peace be upon him” or a variant of this phrase whenever he is mentioned. In print this is abbreviated to PBUH. Here, in the letters, I assume the reader utters it as appropriate.

The return to the practices of our seventh- and eighth-century Muslim forefathers we were promised would bring us back the power, the glory, and the success that they enjoyed. There was another layer to the things we were taught. It did not always surface, but it was always there, I realize now. It was all the ideas that seemed to contradict earlier lessons. Ideas like suicide bombing. People would say that it was a great sacrifice to give your life for the community or the country or the Islamic Ummah, the global community of Muslims. My friends and I would ask how it was possible that committing suicide was seen as a great sin against Allah if done for reasons such as sadness, or unhappiness; and yet it was the greatest sacrifice a Muslim could make if it was done to fight the “enemy”? This question was relevant in the 1980s when I was a teenager, and is still relevant today. 

When I hear of different value systems and how they are going to clash, I see the values of human beings striving for a better life. I write these letters to both of my sons, and to all young Muslim men and women, with the intention of opening their eyes to some of the questions they are likely to face and the range of possible answers that exist for them. I want to show them that there are questions that have persisted from the first beginnings of human thought, and that there is no reason for the modern Muslim not to engage with them as generations before them did. I want to reaffirm the duty to think and question and engage constructively with the world. I want my sons and their generation of Muslims to understand that we live in a world full of difference and diversity. I want them to understand how to be faithful to their inherited religion of Islam and its deepest values, as well as to see how to chart their way through a complex world. I want them to discover through observation and thought that there need be no conflict between Islam and the rest of the world. I want them to understand that even in matters of religion, there are many choices that we need to make. Not all that is presented as part and parcel of religion is necessarily the case. Much is presented as divine instruction but in fact reflects choices that other people have made for us. As I say in one of the following letters, there are structural principles in Islam, such as the search for knowledge and the command to use one’s mind and think about the world around us. I want my sons’ generation of Muslims to realize that they have the right to think and decide what is right and what is wrong, what is Islamic and what is peripheral to the faith. It is their burden to bear whatever decision they make.

More recent and more shocking videos come from the aftermath of the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003, where you can watch suicide bombings with powerful anasheed (religious songs) as accompaniment. These Muslims are true Muslims you are told. They have sacrificed their lives for the honor of Islam and the Muslims. These young martyrs are ensconced in heaven today for having made the greatest sacrifice for Islam. They are the model to be emulated, for what could be more selfless, noble, and moral than to give up your life for the greater glory of Islam?

Here, my father and his colleagues were invited by another employee in the office to start an organization for Palestinian liberation. At the time the Palestinians were only a few years into their attempt to organize themselves after the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948. In the cozy world of the 1950s, the colleague was a man called Yasser Arafat, and he was establishing something that he wanted to call the Palestinian Liberation Organization. This organization became the standard-bearer for the Palestinian people. And my father would later come across Yasser Arafat in the course of his work. For reasons unknown to me, my father did not join or participate in the establishment of the PLO. This simply illustrates how small and intimate the community of educated Arabs was at the time. It also tells you that the thinking then was not religious; it was national and social. It was about people and their rights, and not about religion and power over others. This comes later. A friend of my father encouraged him to think of moving to Germany. Job prospects seemed good. He finally settled for up to six years in Düsseldorf. The lack of information, and therefore clarity, about these years is very frustrating. It is near to impossible to know what my father did and how he thought at this time. What was he doing in Germany? What was he planning to do? The only surviving remnants of his time in Germany are a few photographs from the early 1960s as well as an address and a large number of books in German. I would often look through his books to try to understand what he was interested in, what he was driven by. Finally, my father decided to move on, and as luck would have it, the Soviet government had established a scholarship system for Arab students. My research tells me that approximately two thousand Arabs benefited from the scholarships over the lifetime of the program. My father enrolled at Leningrad Polytechnic in what is now Saint Petersburg in 1964 and graduated in 1968 with a Russian wife—my mother, Lioudmila Alexandrovna Blagoveshenskaya.

~~~

It seems my mind is being guided to consider the really important parts of the world's problems... It's not really guns, even though I will get back to that book ASAP... Frankly I never thought too much about it--I mean, how do you really know what religion another individual is unless you make assumptions, which I don't do about important things such as race, religion, sexual orientation--you know all those people who are covered under our U.S. Constitution... 

All I can remember is that when I saw the book, somewhere, I knew I should read it... I started weeks ago, where the author began to give a history of the different divisions of the Muslim religion... Historical info that I didn't see why he started with that point to talk to his son... But, as I read, it began to sink in...

That's exactly what happened to individuals who had broken off from the Catholic Church, began their own places of worship and then became another denomination under the blanket groups of Protestant.

Right then I began to wonder--it seems that people who think, that analyzes what is being told to each one, will often begin to question what they are being taught. Indeed, recently I remembered to end a discussion with my BFE to say, "remember, think with your mind rather than your heart/emotions..."

To me, that is what is meant by the Free Will that God gave to each of us... Our mind over our emotions... Or, at least, thinking through an issue, even if you choose your emotions...

I had put this book aside because of the violence being initiated by the U.S. administration across the nation as well as the world--against anybody who is not an authoritarian with whom he obviously wishes to join.

My first awareness of having a Muslim friend, or rather, an online connection with whom I enjoyed watching as a news host, was Velshi, on MSNBC. Yes, I enjoyed his comments, but he was also leading a banned books ongoing review which I immediately loved. It was just by chance that one day two Muslim individuals acknowledged their common faith, else I would never really know, would I?  Having been on a university campus for over 30 years, it was fair to say that I had routinely interacted with those of different faiths, including Muslims...

Thus my need to know more as the DEI actions by this administration has moved into extremes never known before in this land, or at least in the last 150 years, I think...

I'm about 1/3 of the way through. I've found nothing that this author is writing that is different than what I am synchronized with... 

Ghobash began his search when his father was killed early in his life. He remembers that he was pulled out of school and taken home, where his mothers was crying. But nobody explained what happened until years later. Then, he began to question what he was being told about his death... You see, he was told that a terrorist, a Palestinian had been found guilty... But Omar had understood that there was full support of the ongoing plight of the Palestinians??? Then why would one man choose to murder his father?

Omar knew that, just as he had once done, he should be prepared to receive questions from his son...thus this book...

The latest monstrosity of the Middle East is presented in its full magnanimity: the destruction of the Syrian people at the hands of the atheist, Kaffir, Baathi regime of Bashar al-Assad. You were very young when the so-called Arab Spring started in 2011. You knew that something was happening. You would catch glimpses of the news of massive demonstrations taking place in the central squares of a number of Arab capitals. These were revolutions. Tunisia was the first country to fall to the demonstrations. Its president fled. Egypt also had a revolution and its aging president was arrested and imprisoned. The Libyan leader was hunted down and killed in a gruesome manner. Yemen had an initially less violent outcome. And then all eyes were on Syria. The Syrian people demonstrated and danced and demanded change. Then Syrian children were arrested, tortured, and killed. Their bodies were returned to their families. More and more violence was committed against the Syrian demonstrators. You have grown up watching the daily reports of the deaths in Syria. You also know that the destruction of Syria and the radical forces that are operating in the territory of northern Syria and Iraq have led to a great migration of refugees into Turkey and then across into Europe. Initially, the Europeans welcomed these refugees with open arms. Other refugees had already been established in enormous camps in Lebanon, Turkey, and Jordan. This new wave of refugees came across into Europe hoping for a better life than anything possible in the Middle East or North Africa. As Muslims, we watch these refugees risk life and limb to get away from where they originated. 

In fact, they are trying to get away from what are Muslim countries and Muslim lands. The debates that are taking place in Europe have gone from theoretical openness to a practical anger and panic over the implications of the influx. As Muslims we are upset that our fellow Muslims are no longer so welcome in Europe. But as Muslims, we are also facing the question of why our Muslim societies are breaking down across the Middle East—from Afghanistan to Libya. You know that some of my work is concerned with the problem of Syria. You ask me when is it going to end. You seem to think that the world has left Syrians to their fate. 

Here the videos of tortured and maimed Muslim children are countless. The outrage you feel is completely rational, and justified. The crimes committed against the innocent and the defenseless are condemned by all people everywhere. But no one seems to be doing anything about it. Who is going to put a stop to the carnage? Who is going to take revenge against the killers? Every day in the Arab world, in Europe, and in the United States, you are told that governments are helpless in the face of global economic forces, or climate change, or extremism. Governments are not going to do anything because they do not want to or because they cannot. 

So the only one left is you. So what do you do? You are the only one who has an ounce of morality left. Only you seem to know the difference between right and wrong, between good and evil. There are others out there like you. They also feel the outrage. They feel the sense of impotence when they look at the way people seem to shrug at the news of the latest atrocity, and then get on with their mundane lives. Fast-food restaurants, TV shows, Facebook, and Instagram. You are all perplexed by the way people seem to be more interested in the petty politics of Congress and the European Union than they are by the greatest moral question of the twenty-first century. You, like human beings in general, have this constant urge to make sense of the world around you. It can be a painful process, but there is light at the end of this tunnel of worry, anxiety, and self-doubt. Could it be that the online ulema—or religious scholars of Islam—are correct? Could it be that they are the living embodiment of what Islam can and should and will become? 

The path is clear, the language is straightforward and simple. When all the clutter of modern life is removed, the path opens up before you toward meaning and purpose. The more you look, the more you find what makes sense. You are all tapping into a great civilization. Or at least a civilization that was once great, and that must be great again. You believe that your parents do not understand the issues you face. They live in a different world. They are content with the mind-numbing and backbreaking work they do. They are isolated and powerless in the face of technologies and economic forces. Can they even call themselves good Muslims? You are embarrassed to think it, but you cannot help it: your parents are cowards who do not want to face the world. They are not the good Muslims that you thought they were. Islam has demands and it has rights over us. We need to be good, and being good means living up to the demands of Islam. What are your parents doing? Nothing. They mutter things under their breath when the news comes on, they are always tired and irritable. They do not have any convincing answers to your questions. In fact, not only are they not living up to the clear and simple dictates of Islam, but they are also dinosaurs who have no role in this life. You love them, but they are peripheral in the great battle of Good against Evil. 

There is a moment when you are faced with a key question. If you are serious about being a good Muslim, a proper Muslim, a true Muslim, then you need to live like one. What are the models for this? Actually, the model is there in front of you. It is the model of the Prophet Mohammed. You are told to emulate him. In every way. This is a noble and straightforward thing. The idea of following the example of a good and noble historical figure is not strange at all. In fact, you hear about the need for role models at school, at work, and in business. Many people are trumpeted as role models—scientists, actors, singers, and scientists. Of all the role models we Muslims have, the Prophet Mohammed is the finest. Luckily, there is a long-standing tradition that outlines specific acts and sayings of the Prophet that allow you to fit yourself in smoothly. Some of the requirements, or at least what you are told are requirements, come across as quite strong, such as the need to distance yourself from non-Muslims entirely, and from Muslims who are not strictly observant. Soon, though, you join with others in expressing shock that such and such a person made what seemed to be an immoral joke, or that another Muslim was seen walking with a young lady who was not his relative. What could they be doing? you all wonder. And conclude that they must have been up to no good. 

Judgment of others comes quickly and easily. Why? Because you live a Muslim life of such high and demanding moral standards that everything around you seems ritualistically and morally incorrect. You find that you are living in a polluted world that needs radical cleansing. There is a sense of peace and balance you feel as you join the communal prayer at dawn, or after work, and mostly on Fridays, when you pray our obligatory communal prayer of the week. You feel the dread as the sermon is over and the short prayer approaches its end. We all know the mosque to be a place of warmth and community. When we are far away from traditional Islamic societies, we feel a brotherhood and a sense of recognition when we gather in a mosque. The mosque in faraway places is a gathering place, a refuge, a place to sit with your community and Allah. The best moments are the Friday sermon and communal prayer. This is the time when the mosque is most full, and most welcoming. As soon as these moments pass, you know that you will be out in the cold or in dark streets, feeling a little lost and a little lonely. There is the emptiness as a new week builds up to the next Friday prayer. You are able to console yourself with listening to the captivating recitations of the Holy Quran that are freely available online. What is special about the recitation of the Quran? The Angel Gabriel revealed the Quran to the Prophet Mohammed by reciting the verses to him and having him learn them by heart. Though you know the Quran as the beautiful leather-bound book with the wonderful calligraphy, the Quran is actually meant to be recited or read out loud. There are rules on how to read it out loud. The way it is recited today is the same way in which the Prophet recited it more than fourteen hundred years ago. In fact, today’s reciters can trace their knowledge back through their teachers along a chain of people right back to the Prophet. So what you hear today is the way it has been preserved for hundreds of years. The recitations vary in quality, depending on the age and voice of the reciter. It’s like being a musician. One reciter may have the technical mastery but lack in passion or emotional depth. You have your favorites.

My favorite is the recitation of Al Sudais, the imam of the Holy Mosque in Mecca. You can listen to him for hours and feel the emotion of his love for Allah and his Message. Some of his recitations are recordings of him during Ramadan evening prayers. Here he sometimes breaks down in tears due to the emotion of the recitation. Others cry with him. The recitations charge you up. They tap into a great river of emotion and energy. You are exhausted after listening. I am too. Sometimes I think that I should limit myself to listening for only an hour a week or an hour a day. Why? Because perhaps the intensity is too much. It jars with the outside world. Often I cannot manage the balance. The move from the beauty of the spiritual world to the ugliness of the outer world depresses me. You may feel the same way.

~~~

We who have lived with the peace, love and assurance of God in our lives... know it is difficult to understand what is happening across the world today...

May we learn and speak of God's desire for us to Love Our Neighbors... No matter who they are...

Must peace be generated by computers?

I laughed; I cried...

Can we ever depend upon those who place power over even God?

Wherever you are...Plan to vote Love!

Discussion continues...