Love Thy Neighbor by Ayaz Virji M.D. & Alan Eisenstock

Author:Ayaz Virji, M.D. & Alan Eisenstock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2019-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

7

FAITH IS WHAT YOU DO

“Let’s talk about terrorism.”

I slowly exhale, sip some water, and listen as the word echoes through the auditorium. I can feel its impact land. I nod and say a silent thank-you to Musarrat and Mandy for being honest about my terrible first draft. Without them, I would’ve died out here.

“One purpose I have tonight is for all of you to understand that the 0.01 percent of Muslims that you see on TV are not my spokespeople. They are not the spokespeople for my religion. Somewhere between 9/11 and now, a bait and switch happened, where all of a sudden you have been exposed to religious doctrine and teachings from the media—not from scholars, not from people like me.”

I catch myself.

Do I sound arrogant?

I hear rustling in the dark. I sense—something. A tensing. A ripple of unease, of doubt, of discomfort. I don’t mind challenging the audience; I just don’t want to lose them. And I don’t want to come across as condescending in any way. Then a lightbulb flickers on in my mind, illuminates me. I’m not teaching. I’m explaining. I need to find more common ground, more humility.

But I feel my conviction rising into my throat again. I can’t help myself. I speak through what has become a consistent burning in my throat.

“You know who does that? Bill Maher. That’s what he does. Now, Bill Maher is a funny comedian. He does political analysis. But he doesn’t know anything about Islam. He presents one side only. When he talks about Christianity, I know better than that. It doesn’t faze me. So, I would ask for the same standard when you look at me, the same standard.”

I know I’ve gone way off my outline. I don’t dare look at Musarrat. I can almost feel her shooting a laser gaze at me. Ayaz, where are you going with this? Come back. Focus.

But I have to say this. I have to go there. I will wind my way back to my outline, I silently promise.

“It’s so easy to go there because Satan comes to us at all angles. In the Quran it says he comes to you from the right, he comes to you from the left, he comes to you from the front, he comes to you from the back. He is ready. He is the deceiver. We should all be mindful. I’m not worried, though, because there is going to be a Day of Judgment. Every one of us will have to account for our sins, including me. I am not worried about anyone else. I am worried about myself. There is always justice. You cannot escape that.”

I pause. I plant my feet, face forward, not seeing but imagining the audience before me, barely stirring, their attention rapt.

“Okay,” I say. “So, we have defined a purpose for tonight.”

I hold for a longer pause now, mostly to ease my raging throat.

“We want to know one another,” I say, the emphasis surprising me.

I spread my arms wide, as if presenting myself to this audience as an offering.

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