A light in that darkened cinema...

“Paint a stone red and it becomes a god… But never solve your problems yourself. Pray five times a day, ring a bell in a temple and leave everything to God—we want to do nothing ourselves.”

-Abhishek Bachchan in “Delhi 6”



Fig1. If you watch one nontraditional Bollywood movie, watch this one

Ashutosh Gowariker’s sweeping historical epic Jodhaa Akbar dramatizes the true story of the Mughal Empire in the 16th century—a period when Islam was spreading well into South Asia under the rule of the Emperor Akbar (“great” in Arabic). The Emperor marries a beautiful and fiery Indian princess in order to quell the belligerance of the Rajput people and cement his role as the ruler of Northern India. One of the central tensions of the film is fueled by the fact that Akbar, a Muslim, and Jodhaa, a Hindu, fall in love despite their traditional differences. Their mutual respect for one another’s faiths and values leads to Akbar’s reputation for generosity and religious tolerance during his rule.

The 2008 film Thoda Pyaar, Thoda Magic is an almost Disney-style family film about an angel who gets sent by God to earth to watch over a family of orphaned children. The main characters, four children of varying ages, are visiting Los Angeles with their new foster father. When a tragedy befalls them, they turn to the most available “temple” in town: a Christian church. When they enter to pray for help, one child wonders if it’s okay to pray there, since they are Hindus. Another child offhandedly remarks that whether it’s Jesus, Vishnu, Ganesha—it’s all the same, insinuating that their prayers will be heard by God no matter where they are.

One of the orphans—adopted by the previous parents—wears a traditional headwrap, identifying him as a Sikh. At one point in the film, he laments the fact that he is a Sikh, because the other children at school bully him. His foster father cheers him up, explaining how important it is to be a Sikh, pointing out their reputation for having great courage.


Fig2. Possibly the most beautiful epic you'll ever see

The popular Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi is set in Amritsar, where the Sikhs built the famous Golden Temple. That many people of varying religions are allowed to worship there is testament to the ideals of Sikhism, which is often described as a hybrid of Hindusim and Islam. Within the film, the main characters—a newlywed couple—go to the temple at plot points when they need to seek understanding and guidance.

In the 1971 film Anand, an Indian Christian nurse prays to Jesus for a patient’s health. When the Hindu patient hears of this, he jokingly frets over whether or not Jesus and Krishna will fight over who gets to help him.

Unlike Hollywood, the folks in Mumbai don’t gag on overt religious themes and trappings within their films. Hindu, Islamic, and Sikh traditions and ideas crop up all the time, which was great for my education. I can site dozens of examples, but most of the prominent religious activities are apparent from the obligatory clichés that are lovingly included in the movies:

1) Weddings: almost always a backdrop or at least a major plot point in the stories of arranged versus love marriages, tradition versus modernization, caste disputes, and feminism.
2) The traditional mother: whether she henpecks, consoles, or encourages her children into whatever choice they make in life, she’s always seen doing household pujas (prayers) or visiting the local temple to implore the Lord’s guidance in family matters--you know, Jewish stuff ;)
3) Holidays and festivals: they may not need an excuse for dancing and partying, but a Diwali, Holi or a Lohri is always exploited for its potential as a big musical number and joyous celebration with lights, bonfires, food, costumes, and colorful powder tossed in the air.

Fig.3 Come for the cuteness, stay for the traditions

You may say, wait a minute, there are plenty of Hollywood films that show Christian or Jewish ceremonies and holidays that Americans love. We have the great Biblical epics like Ben Hur, The Ten Commandments and The Rope! Look at the sheer volume of Christmas movies out there!

The big difference here is that Christmas movies are rarely about Jesus and the epics are seldom about religious debate. Christmas themes are Christian in origin: peace, rebirth, giving, miracles, etc., but are non-denominational (e.g. The Chronicles of Narnia). In the short-lived TV series Aliens In America (that’s for another blog post entirely!), Raja, the teenage Pakistani exchange student visiting a small town in Wisconsin, wonders aloud why Jesus is so fat in all the Christmas decorations, then realizes, “Oh, that is Santa Claus!”

The epics we know and love are few and far between, and even something like the more recent Kingdom of Heaven (2005), which was severely underrated when initially released, was actually maligned for its deliberative treatment of religion and morality even though it boldly tackled some major religious and political issues that are as relevant today as they were during the crusades. Movies like The DaVinci Code and Passion Of The Christ deal with religion and faith directly, but this happens so rarely in the American film landscape that they attract a disproportionate amount of attention.


Fig.4 The Director's Cut knows best

The “Christian” weddings we see in secular Hollywood movies are set in churches, sure, but they don’t deal with God’s plans for the couple. It’s always about cold feet, whether the bride or groom cheated on each other or if someone is going to break up the wedding.

Explicit religious reflection is not the norm for Hollywood. In Bollywood, it’s standard operating procedure. I am constantly struck by the frequency of religious discussion within Indian films. They are saturated with themes of religious identity, interfaith marriage, karma, destiny, traditions and responsibilities to perform religious rites.

In Bollywood’s version of My Best Friend’s Wedding, all the same American conflicts are included, but there are constant references to how matches are made in heaven, what the Lord has planned for the couple, turning to Hindu astrology to determine an auspicious marriage date, and the main characters are shown praying in front of a shrine dedicated to Krishna in hopes of gaining insight and guidance with all their familial issues.

Sometimes marriage issues aren’t as easily overcome as male rivalries for a woman’s heart. In Yash Chopra’s classic Veer-Zaara, which is based on a true story of a Muslim Pakistani woman falling in love with a Hindu Indian man, deals with the Romeo and Juliet-like theme of forbidden love in modern India, where the politics and emotions created by the Partition of British Colonial India in 1947 still affect people today. Traditional ties between Muslims and Hindus were severely strained by the horrific events of Partition, and the bridging of that religious divide through love and marriage is a common plot point in several Bollywood films.


Fig.5 Who'd have thought Hindu-Muslim relations were so romantic?

The festival scenes always include a song, and the songs incorporate ancient religious imagery or mantras lifted from scripture every time. Characters are constantly shown attending temple services and engaging in prayer. Often the geographical settings, such as Varanasi (Benares), Hrishikesh, and Amritsar, are places of worship and pilgrimage.

One explanation for the prevalence of religious stories and themes in Indian movies is the pluralist nature of Hinduism itself. It is distinguished by its inclusivism, as it has no absolutely unified dogmatic creed. Hinduism was originally an umbrella term for the various religious traditions of India, which included many gods and demi gods or devas. Often villages and towns each adopted their own patron devas, depending on the stories and legends of the geographical area.

In Gowariker’s 2004 film Swades (“Motherland”) the main character visits the town of Charanpur (derived from the word for “feet”), which is so named because it is believed that the Hindu god Ram and his goddess wife Sita left footprints in the hardened mud nearby. Another town up the road may just as easily be named for another deva with an equally sacred and eponymous relic.


Fig.6 An inspiration to return to your roots, and have faith

Recall that in Temple of Doom, Indy and his companions arrive at a small impoverished village whose fate is undeniably linked to the relic of the stolen Shankara stone. The stone is a lingam, a common physical representation of the virility of Shiva. Lingams are indeed believed to be charged with power and strength, but the glowing diamonds inside are a dramatic Hollywood appurtenance.

Sure there are multitudes of devas to keep track of, but Hinduism isn’t technically polytheistic. Every one of the gods and goddesses we’ve heard about have evolved from a single creator god, Brahma, and all are avatars, or differing images, of Brahma. An avatar is like a facet in a diamond—it’s part of the same stone, but seen on a slightly different surface or angle.

It can also be thought of in this way: Think of your mother. You see her as your mother. Your dad sees her as his wife. Her mother sees her as daughter. Her friends see her as a friend. Her brother sees her as sister. Yet she is still the same person. She has many avatars, depending on who sees her, but they are all looking at the same person.

Hindu gods and goddess also have an evolutionary aspect to their existence. Due to the effects of the laws of karma, the avatars of say, Vishnu, appear on Earth at varying periods, each time manifesting as a more wise and powerful and loving being. Vishnu was once a fish (Matsya), a turtle (Kurma), a lion (Narasimha), then the popular human gods of Rama, Krishna, and Buddha. It’s said that when the Earth is polluted and society is corrupt, Vishnu will eventually visit humankind as Kalki and help those souls who lived with good karma in their lives.

With a concept like that, it’s easy to understand why the children in Thoda Pyaar, Thoda Magic believe that even Jesus, who has a comparable role in the Bible’s book of Revelation, can be considered another of Vishnu’s great avatars.


Fig.7 The Ramlila performed in Swades

Bollywood audiences never question or resent this propensity to showcase religious activities because Hinduism and all its interpretations, which have been around for 4,000 years, is sewn right into the fabric of Indian life. It’s always there, and every schoolchild knows the stories of Rama defeating Ravana to rescue Sita, the tale of Ganesha obtaining his elephant head, and how the river Ganges came down to Earth from heaven. Hindu culture is a national tradition, and it influences citizens’ everyday lives whether they’re Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Jain, Buddhist or Christian.

This doesn’t necessarily lead to peace and harmony, though. People within certain villages or even city blocks worship one deva more than another, or one neighborhood is majority Muslim while the adjacent one is majority Hindu. Identity wars crop up similar to those of street gangs.

Delhi 6 (2009) exemplifies one such conflict. When American-born Roshan travels with his grandmother back to her original home in Delhi, he encounters both Delhi’s deep humanity and superstitious nature first hand. The neighborhood they reside in is being terrorized by the kala bandar (black monkey), some unknown troublemaker that steals goats and sabotages public property. The tension comes to a head, and the Hindus accuse the kala bandar of being a Muslim, and the Muslims accuse it of being a Hindu. They even accuse Roshan of being the monkey because he is an outsider from America. Interfaith friendships are broken and the peace of the community is fractured until the tragic dénouement, and both sides are shamed into learning a hard lesson about living up to the “bigheartedness” of Delhi.

It’s a rich, beautifully constructed film full of complex characters and deep emotional moments that cover the gamut of modern Indian struggles: feminism, generational divisions, arranged marriage, American cultural influences (Indian Idol, anyone?), religious superstition, emerging technology, and national/religious identity. The cameo appearance of Amitabh “Big B” Bachchan as Roshan’s dead grandfather crystallizes the generational theme, since Roshan is played by Amitabh’s real-life son, Abhishek. Anyone familiar with their very celebrated personalities would be especially touched by the significance of the scene they have together. Recall that in Slumdog Millionaire, the young Jamal is so desperate to meet his favorite movie star that he jumps into a river of shit and climbs out just to get his autograph. Who on Earth is worth such a fuss? Amitabh Bachchan. Hands down. The man is his own deva.


Fig.8 Delhi hai mere yaar (Delhi is my friend)

For my birthday one year, my sister, who knows my penchant for studying the world’s gods (movie stars or otherwise), gave me a copy of Sanjay Patel’s “Little Book of Hindu Deities.” All the great gods are in there, and beautifully illustrated in bright crayon colors in an appealing big-eyed-cartoon Hello Kitty style. Each has a one-page summary of their significance and story, but these are intensely simplified from the massive epics of Hindu scripture.

One Hindu epic is the Ramayana, which depicts the journey of Lord Ram’s life story and teaches on how to fulfill life’s duties with virtue and integrity. A major turning point in the story—the abduction of Ram’s wife Sita by the evil Ravana—is portrayed as a play in both Swades and Delhi 6. These plays, or lilas (“divine pastimes”) are often put on during Indian festivals and dramatize the classic stories of Hindu gods and goddesses to teach a lesson on scripture or morality.

Bollywood filmmaking plainly reflects the ancient and deeply ingrained qualities of India’s dramatic storytelling tradition, lending it the ability to reveal the complex beauty of Hindu beliefs and culture. The movies informed my curiosity and spurred me to read Hinduism books and scripture. As a result, it’s all a little less exotic now. Busting into Indian dances is normal and to be expected, and the actors and actresses are as familiar to me as anyone else I love in Hollywood movies. Any jokes or jabs or insults I hear regarding India or its people feels very personal to me now, and it gets more personal every time I eat a new curry recipe or see a new film. It's family now.


Fig.9 SRK was so YOUNG!

When I saw Karan Arjun (1995), starring a very young Shahrukh Khan just before his days as the ginormous and influential star he is now, I was fascinated by the outlandish plot. Karan and Arjun are brothers in a small village who are killed unjustly and their mother prays to the goddess Kali to reincarnate them so they can grow up and come back to avenge their deaths as well as the death or their father by a man jealous of their family’s wealth. They are subsequently reborn and seventeen years later, the brothers visit the village. They are totally unaware of their associations with it, but through some cosmic influence, they soon realize their duty to their mother and their father and set out to kill the man responsible for their original deaths.

That man, who also worships Kali but with decidedly un-kosher evil intentions (Kali looks scary, but she’s actually a loving mother goddess), is portrayed by Amrish Puri, the same actor who plays the Kali-worshipping baddie Mola Ram in Temple of Doom. Until his death in 2005, Amrish was a veteran Bollywood character actor, starring in literally hundreds of films since 1970.

The Möbius strip of pop culture works in mysterious ways.

Islamophile: Part 2

"All you young political pundit lovers out there, set your hearts to throb!"
--Jon Stewart


Fig.1 My favorite Iranian

Soon after the start of my religious awakening, Jon Stewart opened his show with that line. It is the most astute assessment of my cardiac activity whenever the mop-topped bespectacled religious scholar Reza Aslan appears on TV.

In religious scholar/Middle East expert commentator circles, Reza is “something of a Beatle” as Jon said, also joking that when people think religious scholar, “they think younger” than thirty-something Reza. I haven’t seen any other religious scholar hip enough as to appear on all the kids’ favorite news commentary shows and Facebook and MySpace and The Daily Beast and Bloggingheads and Twitter. Beatle comparison earned.

Once I was watching a documentary on the history of the Qur’an and the moment Reza unexpectedly popped up to offer his insight on the socio-political context in which the Medinians battled the Quraysh, I had tachycardia. I have since collected some of his greatest lecture hall hits on my iPod. You know, for those cold, dark, lonely nights studying the Qur’an. Reza can give me theological exegesis any day.

Fig.2 A revelation unto pop culture

Anyway, Reza sat across from Jon that day and I fell for him the moment he displayed a sense of humor about his religion. The book he was promoting, No god but God, is the first I ever read about Islam. No god but God has since been translated into a dozen languages and is frequently hailed as a great introduction to the faith. It came just in time, too.

Through Reza’s stories of fleeing Iran when he was just a boy and his vivid descriptions of what the Prophet Muhammad experienced during the infancy of Islamic history, the most misunderstood religion in my society was revealed to me with actual truth and deep understanding. What little fear I might have had regarding Muslims was forgotten. Finally, for my part, the Prophet had a face not colored by Arabian stereotypes or tainted by propaganda. It was a face not so different from Moses: the reluctant prophet wizened by God’s words, which eventually told him to lead a faithful people out of oppression and idol worship. Reza painted a vivid portrait of Mecca and Medina at the time of the Prophet and illuminated a history and a geography I had previously encountered only by watching Sir Alec Guinness pretend to be an Arab.


Fig.3 Reza doing what he does best: teaching while handsome

What blew my mind the most after reading Reza’s book was that too many people don’t even realize or accept that Islam is an Abrahamic religion, one that traces its ancestry to the Biblical Ishmael—Abraham’s first son born of his wife’s handmaid Hagar. Moses and Jesus are in the Qur’an, and are blessed just as much as Muhammad by Muslims. The story of Adam and Eve, Noah and Joseph are in there as well, along with many more stars and celebrities of both the Old and New Testaments.

After reading that, it occurred to me that Allah is the same God that gave Moses a reverse makeover on Mount Sanai and gave Jesus the powers of a water bug (among other powers, obviously). God has 99 beautiful names in the Islamic tradition, and Allah is only one of them. The Hebrew/Jewish names for God are Yahweh, Jehovah, He, Him, Almighty, Hashem, etc. and people generally don’t think it’s a different God from the one who sent us Jesus. But the Arabic word still tends to confuse people even though Christians utter that particular name of God all the time. “Hallelujah” this and “Hallelujah” that. How do we pronounce that? "Allah-LU-yah." Praise be to God. Pretty obvious if you ask me. They’d fit right in at a masjid.


Fig.4 The beauty of God is often expressed through exquisite calligraphy

My Rezannaisance set up the modus operandi for the rest of my Islamic explorations. Reza guided my internet research with his attitude of reverent humor and respect for religious history that cut through the hurtful propaganda and revealed the heart of Islamic world culture.

Can I get an Alhamdulillah! for Mr. Aslan?

Islamophile

Yassir: You know, it's brave of you to be doing a show like this, given our political climate.
David: Right! Also, uh, we have ethnic quotas and our Jewish dude quit.
--“Little Mosque On The Prairie”

Fig.1 Allah bless & keep Morgan Freeman!

My first memory of Islam is Morgan Freeman.

I was eight or nine years old, sitting on the floor of the darkened living room as my family watched Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves on VHS. As I marveled at the epic story and the characters, I remember asking myself if I were a Christian, just like Robin Hood. When I assumed I was, I was very proud to share something with this charismatic do-gooder. I have since fallen in love with both Errol Flynn’s and Douglas Fairbanks’ portrayals of the legendary swashbuckler and Prince of Thieves makes me yearn for Renn Faire season every year.

For a very long time, the only real concept I had of a Muslim was Morgan Freeman’s character, Azeem: “the Painted Man” who accompanies Robin of Locksley back to England and has trouble finding quibla in the infamously overcast new climate. He is wise, mysterious, and sticks out like a Moorish thumb. His understanding of the world is as obviously different from the rest of the characters as his skin color, but people soon realize he’s not a “savage” and accept him because of his kindness and mental skill.

Fig.2 Morgan is God, after all

The deepest impression I got was from the scene in which a little girl timidly walks up to Azeem and asks him “Did God paint you?” He says yes, and she wonders why. Azeem smiles and replies, “Allah loves great diversity.”

Fast forward half a lifetime later, and my eyes grace Surah 49 “Al Hujurat,” verse 13 in the Qur’an:

O mankind! We created
You from a single
Of man and a female
And made you into
Nations and tribes, that
Ye may know each other

I immediately thought of Azeem when I read that. He really knows his stuff.

My second memory of Islam is 9/11. Unfortunately, for many people, 9/11 is their only memory of Islam. The smiling, freckled face of Morgan Freeman would never come to their minds.

I remember many college students getting agitated and jumping into a car late at night to steal an American flag off someone’s house to hang it high from the outside stairway railings of our dorm and yelling about “ragheads” and “camel jockeys.” The irony of stealing personal property to showboat their patriotism is totally lost on freshmen boys.

There were half a dozen of us dorm-dwellers cloistering ourselves in my room that Tuesday morning, eyes glued to the same tiny 13-inch TV I use to watch The X-Files and The Daily Show, all of us watching in confusion and sadness as neighbors called their relatives in New York City to make sure everyone was okay. Classes were canceled, of course, but the otherwise beautiful sunny day outside didn’t prevent us from envisioning the surreal image of another hijacked plane crashing into the Turlington Plaza or Ben Hill Griffin Stadium, with tens of thousands of students being burned alive.

I could only imagine how terrified the Muslim students must have been. They probably prayed that the hijackers weren’t Muslims. Many law-abiding American Muslims began to fear for their safety whenever they walked out the door.

They felt the same as every other American.

For many years, I had no idea that I had no idea. My Islamic education came slowly but lovingly.

Fig.3 Holmes & Watson of the desert

My last semester at UF, I developed a huge crush on Omar Sharif. It was Thanksgiving and I was home for the vacation. I spent that Sunday night in heaven: a long evening in the warm and Christmas tree-lit living room, watching our seasonal favorite Doctor Zhivago with the parents, glass of warm Baileys in hand. I nearly nodded off several times near hour three, and having heard Lara's Theme clinging to every tiny soundless niche of the film's soundtrack, it stuck in my head for the entirety of my dreams.

When I went back to school, TCM was re-running Doctor Zhivago, so I left that on in the background while I did homework and noticed that Lawrence of Arabia aired right after it. I thought, why not? I’ve always meant to see that one, might as well check out David Lean’s epic Panavision masterpiece on my trusty 13-inch TV-VCR combo. I cringe to think I committed such film screening blasphemy, but it was a good thing I watched anyway, because it launched my love of all things remotely Arabian.

I tracked down a copy of "Seven Pillars Of Wisdom" on Amazon and diligently read it while immersed in a motley mix of Persian/Egyptian bellydance tunes on my iPod. Nothing could beat the romance of T.E. Lawrence’s adventures in desert politics. His curiosity regarding Arabian religion and culture was enviably strong and I found myself just as intrigued by the customs of the “Moslems” as he was. I also learned an inordinate number of facts regarding dromedary gastral fuctions.

After the honeymoon period for that chapter of my intellectual stimulation, the camel love held on the longest. I still watch Omar Sharif movies every Thanksgiving, but it took another curly-haired chocolate-eyed infatuation to really fuel my interest in Islam.

To be continued...

Fig.4 I... LOVE... camels

Orthodox Jew Reggae stars and Islamic Rap artists and everything in between

"My heart, which is so full to overflowing, has often been solaced and refreshed by music when sick and weary."
--Martin Luther

Fig. 1 I Always thought clothes were overkill

I loved Ridley Scott’s Kingdom of Heaven from my first viewing at the theatre, and it wasn’t because Orlando Bloom gets shirtless in it (that’s just one reason). With institutions like Liam Neeson and Jeremy Irons involved, as well as an uncredited Edward Norton performance and Ridley’s signature mise-en-scene, it’s a masterfully illustrated story about the folly of pride and the human necessity to embrace all nations as one human family.

Perfectly underpinning this multicultural theme is Harry Gregson-Williams’ rich tapestry of a musical score. It seamlessly weaves Celtic, Mediterranean, and Persian influences into a set piece that is earthly for its mix of instruments, yet otherworldly because it makes the many cultures responsible for the different styles feel as if they were never separated by land or sea. A favorite thread in this score is the angelic echoing vocals of ancient choral hymns. I noticed the simplicity set me at ease whenever I was studying or reading, and I wanted more.

A search for Gregorian chants on iTunes yielded my now favorite group Sequentia, an ensemble dedicated to resurrecting the canticles of medieval Europe. Both male and female voices in predominantly acapella performances transport me to a musical plateau of serenity. Whenever I listen, I can practically smell the incense and feel the warmth of the sun filtering through the stained glass in colored shafts of light. As a bonus treat, Sequentia likes to toss in a few instrumental pieces that showcase the sounds of traditional strings and woodwinds.

There’s something universal and profound surrounding them. Perhaps it’s the sheer grace of God, or just the incomprehensible Latin, but I prefer to think it’s the purity of devotion that imbues them with comprehensive appeal. They were performed to praise a higher existence, not to deride or condemn, but inform listeners of the deeds and love of God.

In Mary Doria Russell’s exquisite novel The Sparrow, a young man working in Arecibo for the SETI program discovers a signal sent through space and time from a star system a few short light years away. He realizes that it’s a song, which indicates intelligent life. Scientists, humanists, and a Jesuit priest are all brought together by that ethereal music, and all of them travel to this new world on the Jesuit organization’s dime. For the Jesuits, as an influential and financially capable organization in the story, the mission is about finding rare resources that can be brought back to fund their missions on earth. For each of the characters, the journey becomes a spiritual test as they attempt to discover the source of the songs on a strange new planet.

Reading the book, I was surprised how moved I was by the description of the SETI discovery and it had me thinking for days about how I’d react to such a significant event. Hearing a song from an alien world filtering down through the stars and vast chasm of space would be a singular spiritual moment for all humankind.

Earth itself has a diversity of music that might overwhelm an off-worlder first hearing it. Even if they only listened to the religious tracks, they’d be surprised at the variety. I certainly was.

Podcasts, movies and documentaries may not be alien sources, but they provided plenty of absorbing listening from perspectives I never knew existed. Here’s a spiritual playlist of some of my favorites:



“There Is A Tree” by Carrie Newcomer
I heard an interview with this Quaker folk singer/songwriter on Interfaith Voices a while back, and was particularly impressed by the mystic quality of this song and her rich, earthy voice. It invokes a sense of the profound in everyday life, as does Carrie’s entire album “Geography of Light.” My other favorite song of hers, “Where You Been,” makes direct reference to many faiths, revealing the universality and playfulness of spirit.


“O Quam Mirabilis Est (Antiphona)” by Sequentia
The simplest, most angelic of Sequentia’s tracks. I have no clue what she’s saying, but it doesn’t beg translation. I feel the love, the dedication, the devotion, the joy. It’s beautiful in its musicality, heartbreaking in its purity.


“Hannukah on Hannukah” by Erran Baron Cohen
I read an article on Tabletmag.org (formerly Nextbook.org) on a newly released album in December 2008 that was created to “change Hanukkah’s reputation.” It’s called “Songs in the Key of Hannukah” and upon hearing it once through, I decided I could listen to it all year long. It’s composed by internationally acclaimed DJ Erran Baron Cohen, who cranks up the irony of his brother’s anti-Semitic characters by injecting a proud and somewhat fundamentalist Jewish flavor to this holiday album. Lighting the shamash and eating sufganiyot has never been so hip.


“Mul Mantra” by Snatam Kaur
Whenever I hear this song, I’m reminded of the long trip between New Orleans and Killeen, Texas with my sister and her husband. I stared out at the endless Texan grazing land and listened to the Sikhwithin podcast, where I first heard Snatam Kaur’s soothing voice. Turns out she’s something of a rockstar in Sikh circles, a California-born woman who performs kirtan devotional music on peace-promoting world tours. The Mul Mantra is the essence of the Guru Granth Sahib, the official Sikh text, and within its few words, contains dense layers of spiritual concepts. Snatam is such a gifted singer that simply hearing her version of the chant without any previous knowledge of Sikh theology, one can sense the depth and emotion and history suffusing it.


“Welcome Home” by Hamza Peréz
Featured in the excellent PBS POV documentary New Muslim Cool, this inspirational rap serves as a primer for leading a righteous life after leaving jail. Informed by Hamza’s own story as a Puerto Rican ex-drug-dealer in the streets of Pittsburg who converted to Islam, this song cuts through to the core of spiritual conversion: to change your life for the better, forever. The film demonstrates the injustices visited upon Hamza’s mosque community as well as the strength of brotherhood and sisterhood they have to endure life’s hardships, and how Islam always guides them toward kindness and standing up for themselves.


“I Will Be Light” by Matisyahu
Matthew Paul Miller, known by his Hebrew name Matisyahu, was influenced through a youth equally defined by Bob Marley and yeshiva, and his music seamlessly sews together reggae-flavored instrumentals and vocals with Hasidic Jewish theological themes. Another Interfaith Voices discovery, this song, with its “dreadlocks to sidelocks” backstory, struck me as a powerful testament to the dynamism of religion and how beautifully it can evolve and inspire each new generation.


“Jesus Is Just Alright With Me” by The Doobie Brothers
I just really love this song. It’s very catchy. Its spiritual message doesn’t detract from its pop cred at all. Anyone can listen to it, whether you’re Christian or not, because it’s stripped of dogma. It’s a simple story of finding Jesus as a friend, and no matter that I’m a Buddhist, I can still agree that Jesus is just alright.


“Pal Pal Hai Bhaarii” by A.R. Rahman
This one is on the soundtack of the excellent hindi film Swades, and it’s from the scene featuring the Ramlila, the traditional play about Lord Ram’s life and adventures. The lyrics are based on the classical storytelling style and as usual, A.R. Rahman’s underlying score defines itself as anything but simple accompaniment. Find the translation of the story on Bollywhat.com and you’ll enjoy the full impact of the lyrics, both dramatic and mystical.


“Sacred Stones” by Sheila Chandra
Oddly enough, I first heard this song on an episode of Queer As Folk, and it was played during a slow-motion sequence meant to give some pause to the usual fast-paced beats that pump through the heart of Babylon, the characters’ nightclub of choice. I noted its singularity among other songs featured in the show and discovered the meditative quality it had. It’s just the kind of song you’d hear playing in the background at a yoga class, but it constitutes more than your standard ambient vaguely South Asian-flavoured white noise. It combines a handful of religious chants in one song to exemplify the tonal, and, incidentally, the spiritual similarities among them. Listen closely.


“Muestro Senyor Elohenu” by Yasmin Levy
Listening to Vox Tablet one day at work, I heard the story of a woman whose father painstakingly preserved thousands of traditional Sephardic songs sung in Ladino—a Hebrew-Spanish language, an Iberian version of Yiddish. Having a Puerto Rican background myself, and a pretty sharp ear for music, I was struck by the instant visceral reaction I had to her voice. In her interview, she described how her feet stood in three worlds—Israel, Arabia, & Spain—and her multicultural influence was so evident in her songs, the unification of which brought me to tears. It still does, every time. Her music, especially this song, is a manifesto for the brotherhood of human life.


“Twilight and Shadow” by Howard Shore
The Lord of the Rings trilogy is no doubt three of the most spiritual and soul-searching films of any generation, and the music reflects themes as diverse as the races of Middle Earth. I find this track one of the most essential because it distills the complex bittersweet tone of the entire story into a sad but hopeful hymn that you could drop into a list of songs by Sequentia and not know the difference.

Head to the ground

"The earth has been made for me [and for my Ummah] as a masjid [place for worship] and a pureness ; therefore, anyone of my Ummah can pray whenever the time of Prayer is due."
--Prophet Muhammad

Fig. 1 A two-year-old can understand this. Someone fetch me a two-year-old!

Listening to a Speaking of Faith podcast from a few years ago, I was struck today by Ingrid Mattson’s description of her first prostration experience. This particular episode is an interview with Ingrid regarding her conversion to Islam and subsequent appointment as the first woman president of ISNA, the Islamic Society of North America.

Ingrid tells the story of being in France during her first exposure to Senegalese Muslim devotees who became her friends. One day, they invited her to pray with them and she said she didn’t know how. They said that she could just follow along with what they were doing, so she obliged. Islamic prayer, the du'a, involves many steps, including several body positions and prescribed chants and Ingrid felt extremely awkward trying to keep up.

Fig. 2 I'm pretty sure it's not quite this complicated

But once she had her forehead to the ground, taking pause in that position, she felt closer to the earth, closer to God, and in the intimacy of the moment in which she could not be distracted simply because her eyes are staring at the floor, she felt prayer as a full body experience for the first time. When I heard her say that, I remembered that I had the exact same feelings doing my first Buddhist prostration.

I don’t know about y’all, but the last time I had my forehead to the ground was last night, after dinner. My pre-yoga ritual consists of what may be called a standard Buddhist chant:

I take refuge in the Buddha.

I take refuge in the Dharma.

I take refuge in the Sangha.

I follow this up with candle-lighting and some prostrations of my own, borrowed from the Tibetans. I hold my palms together in a specific mudra (hand formation) and touch the top of my head, my forehead, my heart, and then bend down for a full-body prostration on the ground, touching my forehead to the carpet. I do this three times, each time reciting the above mantra.

Fig. 3 Olympic Cross-country prostration

When I did this for the first time, I was in the privacy of my bedroom, with nothing to distract me and no one to see me make this new step toward adopting a cultural tchotchke my new faith. It felt incredibly strange and awkward. As a not-so-churchy person to start with, when I saw movies and documentaries showing Buddhists doing this pretty obvious, involved, anti-subtle prayer ritual, I was confused. I had to keep in mind that it was a Tibetan-style prostration, one full of meaning and metaphor and even superstitious history, but it was beautiful and I wanted in.

I wanted to “create sacred space” and learn to respect it by bookending my meditations and yoga practices with a small ritual.

But the prostrations were awkward for more than one reason, i.e. I had no clue what I was doing because I had never done them before. It was strange because bowing and touching the floor, in Western society, is associated with subservience and is way too self-deprecating an act for a middle-class protestant nation that worked very hard to escape class-obsessed systems and aristocratic societal structure.

For Eastern societies, these acts are a sign of profound respect toward someone or something and in no way demeans the person doing them. It is humbling, but it’s a willful humility I adopt whenever expressing my respect for my teacher, The Buddha. I bow to him, not as a worshipper, but as a student, and in the process, I also bow to nature and the Universe, connecting myself to a stable ground beneath me through a gentle touch that always touches me back.

I definitely fulfill my quota of hours with my head in the clouds (and especially in outer space due to my love of astronomy), so it's common sense to balance it out by literally touching it down to the ground everyday.

Hollywood goes back to Arabia?

"The desert is an ocean in which no oar is dipped."
--Peter O'Toole as T.E. Lawrence in "Lawrence of Arabia" (1962)


Fig. 1 Peter O'Toole & Omar Sharif... be still my throbbing heart!

Just a few weeks ago, while seriously enjoying some frozen custard at Rita’s with my parents, we were discussing our favorite epic movies and biopics. We raved about how much we loved Kingdom of Heaven (the Director’s Cut, of course) and my all-time personal favorite, Lawrence of Arabia. We somehow landed on the absurd controversy of the Darwin biopic, Creation, which is currently having difficulty finding a distributor in the U.S., to the chagrin of intelligent Americans everywhere. Perhaps some people prefer the adventures of Alfred Wallace in Indonesia over Charles’ pedestrian Galapagos research? Perhaps I give some people too much credit.

 
Fig. 2 & 3 What do Americans have against Paul Bettany's career? Come on.

Intellectual embarrassment aside, immediately upon hitting this subject, I thought of other historical figures I’d love to see portrayed on the silver screen: Irving Thalberg, Einstein, Buster Keaton, Queen Hatshepsut, etc. But the first thing that came out of my mouth was: “Too bad we can’t portray the Prophet Muhammad because he had an absolutely riveting life story.”

My parents, being curious individuals, asked that I give them a summary. I tried my best to wrap it up in the fifteen minutes it took to drive home from the ice cream shop. I’ve read a dozen books on Islam and Middle East politics in the last three years, so fifteen minutes was easy to fill, but it did the subject little justice. It is a story better suited for books and, ideally, some cinema-oriented treatment.

This week, several of my usual Twitter news feeds lit up with commentary on the news that not one but two bona fide Hollywood biopics of the Prophet Muhammad are in the works. One is supposed to be a remake of The Message(1976), and the other will be backed by epic producer extraordinaire Barrie Osborne of Lord of the Rings/The Matrix fame. As a student of all religions, I am excited to hear such a development. As a student of Islam, I am cautiously optimistic.

Fig. 4 I can't wait to see who Andy Serkis will play. A CG camel, perhaps?

The restriction in Islamic culture of not portraying the Prophet is understandable, given the ancient Arab tendency to revere physical idols and imagery. This was the environment the Prophet was born into, and he had to find many ways to distinguish his revealed religion from the others surrounding him in Mecca at the time. He never claimed divinity, only prophecy, and didn’t want to be treated like a god. As a result, traditional Islamic art and architecture has favored expressing the beauty of God through intricate geometric designs and exquisite calligraphy often seen in mosques and textiles. The focus is on the written script of the Qur’an—the words of the Prophet—and grand physical expressions of the glory of God.

 
Fig. 6 Inside the Sheikh Lotf Allah mosque in Isfahan, Iran.


Fig. 7 Artisans decorating the kiswah covering for the holy Kaaba in Mecca

The filmmakers promise not to show the Prophet onscreen or even use his voice as a measure of respect toward the Islamic boundaries. I know from hours of Lord of the Rings Special Edition DVD extras that Barrie Osborne is a visionary guy, and a producer who respects the original material he uses to tell a story, so I’m inclined to trust his involvement in his biopic project. I’m also anticipating the novel tactics and plot devices they will have to conjure up in order to tackle this influential man’s story without ever actually affording themselves a single cameo appearance. Here’s hoping that a lot of research and respect goes into these film projects, and that the limitations provide the same creative inspiration to them as it has for Muslim artists throughout history.