At the end of 2017, I published a book with Liturgical Press entitled Finding Jesus among Muslims: How Loving Islam Makes Me a Better Catholic. Written for a Catholic and broader Christian audience, the book shows how interreligious dialogue with Muslims can deepen Christians’ relationship with God. In this post, I share a bit about the book, which you can learn more about at findingjesusamongmuslims.com.
In many ways, the book grew out of my own experiences of dialogue with Muslims, both in the United States and in the Middle East. In it I draw on church teaching, statements from popes, and the stories of Catholic saints and martyrs. Woven throughout the book are also quotations from the Qur’an, references to Islamic history and scholarship, and excerpts of Islamic mystical poetry.
The book is available for purchase online through the publisher and major booksellers, including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Target. The e-book version is available here and here. You can also ask your local Catholic bookstore to carry it.
Finding Jesus among Muslims has received endorsements from Christian leaders from various denominations, including Bishop Mitchell Rozanski and Gov. Martin O’Malley, and from a range of Muslim scholars and religious leaders including Eboo Patel, Omid Safi, and Omar Suleiman.
Appropriate for those with little prior exposure to or knowledge of Islam, Finding Jesus amongMuslims includes an extensive glossary and discussion questions for each chapter, making it suitable for individual reading as well as study groups and high school and college classroom discussions. Written primarily for a Catholic Christian audience, its educational message can be enriching for readers from any faith (or no faith) background.
At the end of the book, I provide an interfaith prayer for use in Muslim-Christian dialogue, as well as thorough guidelines for organizing events with Muslims and a list of resources for further reading and study. This book endeavors to be the first step on readers’ journey of the “dialogue of life” with Muslims and those of other faiths. For more resources related to the book, check out the Resources page on the book website.
Over the past several months, I have spoken to diverse audiences about Finding Jesus among Muslims at universities and parishes across the United States. I have also met with groups over Skype to discuss the book. If you are interested in setting up a speaking engagement, please reach out through the contact page on this website or at findingjesusamongmuslims.com.
This summer, we’ve seen a string of anti-Muslim incidents across the country. Many of them — including several brutal attacks of Muslim individuals outside of their houses of worship — occurred during Ramadan, Muslim’s holy month.
Amid these concerning events, I’ve written and spoken about Islamophobia and how it is a threat to American Muslim’s religious freedom. Below I share excerpts from an op-ed I wrote for Crux, a panel I participated in hosted by Georgetown’s Initiative for Catholic Social Thought, and a Huffington Post article I was quoted in.
Young Muslim students have been bullied and called “ISIS” or “terrorist” at school. Some women have considered taking off their headscarves so they don’t appear Muslim. And even children have approached their parents with the heartbreaking question: “If Donald Trump is president, will we have to leave?”
In the wake of the gay nightclub shooting in Orlando, some Muslims decided to stay away from their mosques for fear of being targeted.
The comedian and actor, Aziz Ansari, told his parents not to go to services, even though it was the festive and holy season of Ramadan. In a recent op-ed in the New York Times, he wrote, “I realized how awful it was to tell an American citizen to be careful about how she worshiped.”
At its most basic level, Islamophobia is a religious freedom issue. American families can’t go to their houses of worship without fear of them being sprayed with bullets or graffiti. Men and women feel they must change the way they dress to receive fewer stares and the threat of assaults. Children are bullied at school because they are Muslim.
This is a reality that should alarm all Americans, especially Catholics concerned about issues of religious liberty. Continue reading
Video from “Faith, Hope, and Courage in a Time of Fear” event:
Given these incidents, many [Muslims] are understandably fearful to go to their houses of worship. And this is a shame in a country where freedom of religion is supposed to be a basic right. As a Catholic, I can’t imagine what it would be like to find my church vandalized or shot at during the lead up to Christmas, or to learn that in many places around the country, people who share my faith were beaten up outside their place of prayer. It would be extremely frightening. This is the reality American Muslims are living with. Continue Reading
When I arrived back to my apartment late on Tuesday night, the eleventh anniversary of September 11, 2001, I opened my laptop to find a burning, bright orange image of a man stoking fire and a New York Times headline reading, “Anger Over a Film Fuels Anti-American Attacks in Libya and Egypt.”
As I read on about the violent demonstrations in Cairo and in Benghazi, and as I watched the offensive, bigoted video that apparently sparked these riots, my stomach began to drop.
I was at a loss for words, didn’t know what to say or even think.
How could this be happening? And why the hell was it happening on September 11th? And what can I do that will ever, in some way, pull us out of this cycle of bigotry and violence?
Over the past week, as I’ve thought about how to comment on these unraveling events and answer these questions, no clear explanation or response has been easy to find. Instead, I keep coming back to the place I was just before I opened my laptop to discover this terrible news—in Copley Crypt Chapel at Georgetown.
“I wish you didn’t…” said the Jesuit priest who was giving the homily at the nightly 10pm Mass. About thirty of us, mostly students, were seated in a semi-circle in the small, arched space, where faint gold light rests on the curved walls. The stained glass windows, depicting the martyrdoms of North American Jesuits like Jean de Brebeuf, let in only darkness from outside.
“I wish you didn’t live in this time, this era, where things are so hard and unclear. I wish you were graduating at a time like the one when I did—when walls were falling down and a man was released from jail to lead his country.” Our priest graduated from Georgetown in the nineties, optimistic that the Cold War had ended and that Nelson Mandela was free. Things seemed to be looking up—and then 9/11 happened.
“But you are living in this new, troubled world. And our world needs you.” He was crying, and I began to cry, too. On the anniversary of 9/11, I’m always reminded how much my life, my passions, and my career have been shaped by that event and what’s happened after.
Our priest then spoke of the group of us gathered there for Mass, about the difference we must make.
And it was then that I became completely overwhelmed by the good that will be done (and is already being done) by the thirty-some people sitting with me. To my right and left sat two of my closest friends, who have dedicated their lives to address two of our generation’s most pressing issues: migration and climate change. I thought of others in the room, and my friends who weren’t there, who are going into education and business, medicine and healthcare, just to name a few. My eyes welled over not just with amazement at my friends’ love and self-sacrifice, but also with a heavy sadness at the challenges we face and the suffering experienced by those with whom we walk in solidarity.
The priest concluded his homily, explaining why we come to Mass. He said that it’s not inside the academic buildings on campus where we can be transformed to make the difference our world needs.
“It’s right here, with Jesus,” he said.
I’ve come to learn that becoming closer to God doesn’t mean becoming happier or even more at peace. It means coming face-to-face with, and even entering, suffering. Jesus was at his best on the cross, and in order for me to be a better, more loving human, I have to meet him there, both in nightly Mass and in the work I do during the other 23 hours of my day.
The loving Catholic community and the time of prayer that helps orient me toward a more Cross-centered life are the reasons I continue going to nightly Mass at Georgetown. But I wouldn’t even be there in the first place were it not for the group of believers on the other side of the chapel wall—the Georgetown Muslim community. While the Catholics are participating in the nightly 10pm Mass, the Muslim students are completing their nightly 10pm isha prayer in the musallah next door. Over the past three years, I’ve witnessed my Muslim friends’ devotion to prayer, and it’s made me want to have the same commitment to my own prayer life. That’s why I decided to become more active in my own Catholic community, and to make nightly Mass a regular part of my day during my senior year.
As I sort through and begin writing about these confusing, troubling “eleventh anniversary” events, which mark a new low in the downward spiral of Muslim-Christian tensions, I remember the good that will be done by those on both sides of the chapel wall, and the support we will provide one another as we take up our crosses.
When it seems that violence and bigotry will win out, the passionate commitment of these Catholic and Muslim communities remind me of the quiet, Arabic words that echo from the musallah into the chapel every evening: God is greater.
A few weeks ago, I co-organized and participated in Georgetown’s annual Interfaith Thanksgiving Prayer Service. Brought together by the Office of Campus Ministry and the student Interfaith Council, students representing different religious groups on campus gathered to share prayers, songs, and reflections of gratitude from their particular traditions. Diverse members of the Georgetown community were also present, including the university’s five full-time chaplains (Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Orthodox, and Protestant). After the service, we all mingled while eating fall desserts and drinking hot cider.
The other organizers and I encouraged attendees to take what they’d seen and heard and talk about it with family and friends over the Thanksgiving break. Prayer services like this are sources of learning and should be challenging, eye-opening, and spiritually renewing. But they don’t have their full impact unless they reach beyond those who attended the event. The Arabic-inspired hymn sung by the Orthodox Christian Fellowship and the simple prayer presented by the Buddhist Meditation Sangha should not only affect the hearts and minds of those in attendance, but others in the community as well. Otherwise, we may just be preaching to the choir.
With this blog post I hope to share a little bit of the service with my wider community, particularly by sharing the remarks I made to open the event. (A video of my speech can also be seen here.)
Good evening everyone. On behalf of the student Interfaith Council and the Office of Campus Ministry, I’d like to welcome you to our annual Interfaith Thanksgiving prayer service. I’m Jordan Denari, the current president of the Interfaith Council.
If you’ve attended this service in past years, you’ll notice that this year we are seated differently. This choice to sit around a single table was deliberate, and we hope it points to the symbolic way in which we, as an interfaith community, come together in prayer and gratitude, to invoke God’s name in Arabic, Hebrew, Sanskrit, and Pali.
As people of faith, we often express our gratefulness for our blessings throughout the year, at Mass or Shabbat or other religious services, among those who share the same theological beliefs. Our American holiday of Thanksgiving, then, provides us a particularly special time to gather in this interfaith setting around one table and as one community.
Before we hear from representatives from the student religious groups on campus, I’d like to walk us through a short reflection, in the spirit of St. Ignatius and his Spiritual Exercises.
Settle yourselves, maybe by closing your eyes, and remember that you are in God’s presence. (Pause)
Recall all the things you’re grateful for, and focus on a few things in particular—perhaps a family member, a caring friend or mentor, or an opportunity you’ve been given here at Georgetown. (Pause)
Allow these things to fill you up, and push out all the worry, frustration, and sadness you may be feeling. (Pause)
Gratitude helps us to achieve better perspective about what’s important in our lives. And I encourage all of you to give yourselves these short moments of reflection during your busy days at Georgetown. You may open your eyes. (Pause)
This year, I’m particularly grateful for the interfaith community at Georgetown—for all the people seated around this table.
We truly are an interfaith community. Our Catholic students attend Muslim prayers, and our Muslim students participate in Hindu services. We work together to reach shared goals of alleviating poverty and improving educational opportunities. And most of us have skipped studying for an important midterm to have a late-night discussion about religion and God with a roommate.
For me, this inter-religious engagement has not only helped me to learn about others. It has also strengthened my own convictions and given me a better view into who God is.
I think back to an informal interfaith event I participated in a few weeks ago.
My Catholic faith-sharing group and I sat in the musallah, the Islamic prayer room, having been invited there for a Muslim Students Association reflection about forgetfulness. The discussion centered around prayer and making time for God in our busy days. As the Muslims described their struggles, the Catholics nodded eagerly, saying, “I know what you mean—I’ve had a hard time with that too!” And when the Catholics expressed their difficulty of actually thinking about God during formalized prayer, the Muslims smiled and said, “We get that!”
As we laughed and talked, I began to realize what others in the room were surely thinking: that we aren’t alone on campus in our struggle to find God and live as people of faith.
Though we, as Buddhists and Mormons, agnostics and un-affiliated believers, may go about the practice of our faith in different ways, we all are searching. And that is one commonality that we will always share. Knowing this, we can look to one another for support, even across religious lines.
Just last week, one of my friends, Wardah, called me before we went to dinner at Leo’s. She asked if she could come up to my room quickly to pray, and I said of course. Wardah is Muslim, and we used to be roommates in the Muslim-Interest Living Community on campus. As she situated herself toward Mecca, I sat on my bed with St. Ignatius’ Daily Examen, and we completed our short prayers. (If she hadn’t come over to pray, I probably would have skipped mine for the day.)
Neither of us gave much thought to the significance of this little “interfaith prayer session”. It wasn’t a big deal; we simply got up and went to dinner. Our accommodation for one another’s beliefs isn’t questioned or even consciously considered, because it is something that stems from our friendship.
And inviting Wardah to pray in my room was really the least I could do for her. Thanks to the support of her and the Muslim community on campus, I was able to reclaim my own Catholic faith during my freshman. It’s because of them that I’m a better Catholic.
It is this supportive, curious, and passionate interfaith community that I am so grateful for tonight.
As we remember the gifts we’ve been given, and pray for those who lack essential necessities like food, protection, and love, let us also be grateful for our friends who are seated around this table.