The Big, Awkward Question

There’s an elephant in the room… can you see it? I noticed it for the first time almost as soon as I received my invitation to come serve in East Java. People at home didn’t know much about Indo. “That’s near Borneo, right?” “Didn’t they film Eat, Pray, Love in Bali?” “My buddy went on a mission trip to Sumatra…” I heard a lot of these vague connections, and until I’d read up on Wikipedia too, I couldn’t find Jakarta on a map either. But as Americans, even though our knowledge of the world’s 4th most populous country tends to be as fragmented as the Indonesian archipelago itself, we do tend to share at least one common bit of trivia: Indo is the world’s largest Muslim country.

Enter the elephant. Life in post-September 11th America has revolved around an Islamic world that has stood at the center--or at least very near the center--of our politics, economic woes, religious life, and moral debates. And we’re definitely still struggling to make sense of this belief system and the cultures that embody it. Friend or foe, liberating or restrictive, democratic or theocratic, homogenous or diverse: our interpretations of these scales are far from stable, evidencing the breadth of the unknown that’s still out there. And let’s face it, mysteries are more easily regarded with suspicion than acceptance, and the biggest, most highly populated representation of the Islamic mystery is no exception.

And believing that “showing” is generally better than “telling,” here’s how the mystery has unraveled so far, at least in this PCV’s experiences.

In a word: it’s been fine. Case in point, a few weeks ago, a few, fellow teachers approached me at school and asked, “Meester Danil, are you free today?” Of course. “The students at [local middle school x] want to meet you. Will you follow?” Sure. So after school, we piled into the school car and drove a few miles uphill to one of the local middle school madrassahs. The teachers there had piled about one-hundred students into the mosque for a Q and A, meet-the-whitey session. Indos being Indos, of course the questions jumped straight to the personal. (1) “Are you married? Why not?,” (2) “Why are you here?,” and of course, the big one,(3) ”Are you a Muslim?” Number three always pops up, and I’ve been coached to gingerly dance around this one if need be. However, at least so far, I’ve never needed to muddy the waters, and my answer to these students was no exception: “No, my religion is different, but I want to learn about your culture and beliefs, too.”

Indos have had absolutely zero problems with this response (the kids cheered), and they seem particularly excited to have the opportunity to share their religious culture with an outsider (i.e., me, a non-Muslim and a Christan) as opposed to someone whose beliefs and practices are already integrated with their own. It’s sort of like the excitement of “show and tell” where Sharing something isn’t that exciting if that something is already ubiquitous. The discovery of sameness can certainly lead to interesting conversations, but it can also lead to awkward “Oh, then you probably aren’t that curious about this” moments, too. So openly embracing one’s otherness, then, can be a quick and effective way to encourage Indos like these kids to open up. If done tactfully, it says, “I’m not an expert, but I want to learn.”

It’s also worth noting that like other Muslims the world over, many Indos are dismayed to see their spiritual convictions misrepresented and distorted through radical acts of violence. National terror tragedies in Bali, Jakarta, and just a few weeks ago, Solo, have already left and continue to leave a sour taste in the mouths of the vast majority Indo Muslims who’d like nothing more than to attain the legitimacy and respectability that their individual-level acts of tolerance and generosity merit. And who might be some of the most significant, symbolic conferrers of this self-respect? Americans, that’s who! Specifically the churchgoing kind… because as I see it, if Indonesian Muslims can win the esteem of members of the religious and political culture historically most abrasive to their own, then they believe they’ve overcome one of the tallest hurdles towards validating themselves in the world’s eyes as a noble people.

So my religious beliefs, if framed correctly through a lenses of openness and curiosity, might give me multiple advantages in integrating into my Indonesian community that the non-religious, and maybe even American Muslims wouldn’t have… especially in terms of my community's "show and tell" fervor. Locals gets super excited opening doors for me to experience their religious culture: attending prayer meetings (selamatans), shopping for Muslim clothing, and invitations to break Ramadhan fasting with friends all come to mind. Sometimes, my co-teachers and family even go overboard, and at least a few times, I’ve had to awkwardly turn down opportunities to partake in the praying experience. “Meester Danil, we must go to pray at mosque. Do you want to try?” Thank you, but I don’t think so this time. “.....Why?” I don’t know if that’s a good idea today." Can you feel the awkward?

I hope this does give a good sense of what the Indonesian “elephant” really looks like. Few Americans have ever seen it, and the majority who haven’t have little choice but to associate the unknown with those selected, often dramatized stories fed to them by the media. But when the elephant is seen for what it really, it becomes pretty clear that (1)Indonesian Muslims are not nearly as threatening as we’re often led to assume [cliché but true] and that(2) they—perhaps more so than Muslims in other countries—are particularly driven to actively build and mend bridges between themselves and other, disparate religious cultures. By and large, they want to been seen, they want to be recognized, and they'll gladly open their arms to anyone willing to show interest.