October 16, 2007

Dear Friends,

Greetings from Jakarta, Indonesia, where I have begun teaching at Jakarta Theological Seminary, my home for the next three years.

My first task is to thank everyone who is reading this newsletter. In some way, through prayers or financial contributions or words of kindness, you have helped me embark on this great adventure. I feel your presence here with me and deeply appreciate your support. I’m especially thankful to the three people who endured my franticness on the last day of packing and got me to the plane on time. As the Indonesians say, “Receive love!” (terima kasih).

Although I’m a professor and not a travel agent, let me start with a travel hint: September 11 is a good day to travel. The Atlanta airport was nearly empty. The ID checkers were having long conversations with passengers, and the guards at the metal detectors were calling out, “This lane is free, come over here!” It was a relief to enjoy easy passage to my new hometown. That new hometown is Jakarta, the eighth-largest metropolitan area in the world (15 million people).

The day I arrived, September 13, was the first day of Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting. Every healthy adult Muslim fasts from sunrise to sunset for 30 consecutive days. It is a period of self-reflection, a time to remember the blessings God has given (by being temporarily deprived of some), and to be in solidarity with those who go without year-round.

Dates are part of the traditional food for breaking one’s fast each day in the Middle East. Although Indonesia hasn’t taken on much of the cultural baggage that usually comes with religious evangelization, eating dates is an exception. The government subsidizes date imports so that people can taste the same fruit that the Prophet Muhammad himself would have eaten—just as we Christians import palms for Palm Sunday to get a feeling of what Jesus experienced on his entrance into Jerusalem.

Becca Young and Wendy Kakerissa, dean, attend a faculty meeting on October 9 at the seminary.

But what I find surprising is how Ramadan has crept into the marketing in Indonesia. We complain of Christmas’s commercialization in the United States, but people seek to make a profit from religious observances in Indonesia as well. The first place I noticed it was at Starbucks, which is offering a Date Frappucino. Another U.S. company marketing M&M’s offers a Ramadan card attached to a bag of the familiar candies. An Indonesian pharmaceutical company encourages Muslims to use their brand of antacids to “make your fast more comfortable”—which seems a tad contradictory to the intent of fasting.

Other people have nobler regard for those who endure a month of fasting. A nearby Presbyterian church has a banner across their entrance that proclaims, “Blessings on Those Worshipping God in the Ramadan Fast.” At a recent Catholic Mass, the priest opened his homily by asking if we had been praying for our Muslim brothers and sisters during Ramadan. Because they are undergoing a significant step in their faith journeys, he said, sacrificing life’s comforts in order to repent and become closer to God, they deserve our prayers and our respect.

Vita, Becca, Nuriati, and Ayu celebrate Eid ul-Fitr at Nuriati's home in Jakarta, October 13.

Last weekend was Eid ul-Fitr, the end of the fasting month. Jakarta Seminary gave its staff and students a holiday on Friday and Monday, with the instructions that we spend the weekend visiting our Muslim brothers and sisters. I was privileged to stay at the home of a “mixed” family: a Muslim mother and a Catholic father (who fasted for the 30 days with his wife and children).

Friday, October 12, was the last day of fasting. At exactly 6:00 p.m. the celebration began with a light mixture of fruit. We were surrounded by the sound of the Muslim imams, calling from the mosques at this auspicious moment. The Muslim members of the family went to say their prayers. When they returned we enjoyed a simple meal and pleasant conversation.

The next day reminded me of our own Thanksgiving. For the first time in a month, Muslims can eat during the day and they make the most of it, snacking on goodies that moms and grandmas have been preparing for days. At midday, we sat down to a huge meal, filling our plates over and over, while enjoying one another’s company.

At one point things became quite serious. The eldest member of the family, the Muslim grandmother, sat on the couch. One by one, each family member came and knelt down before her, asking her forgiveness. During the month, each person has reflected on their sins over the past year, so now is the time to make a new start and ask forgiveness of those you have wronged. The expression used translates roughly, “Forgive me for my physical and spiritual sins.” Having asked forgiveness of their elders, each person turns to the others in the room and does the same, from the oldest to the youngest.

Although at first I felt a little embarrassed by the ritual, much like the first time I participated in the Christian ritual of foot bathing, by the end I felt an amazing lightness of spirit that everyone else shared as well. I was in awe of the sincerity with which this process was undertaken. Tears were shed, followed by laughter and wishes for the good health of everyone. I felt privileged to be part of such a gathering.

I end this with a sincere expression to you who are reading this message: although I cannot claim to have fasted for the past 30 days, I join my Muslim friends in saying, please forgive me for whatever way I have offended you in thought, word, or deed. The blessings of God be upon you!