Donkeys and Questions

3.Donkeys and Questions (11 April 2017)

A racehorse, far from the Beirut Hippodrome

            Two days ago, on Palm Sunday, as Maria and I were making our way by car on the coastal highway to a nearby Starbucks for a post-worship cappuccino, our driver (and friend) said, “Get your camera ready.” We were right next to a McDonalds restaurant when we saw what he meant: a jockey was leading a horse. With a saddle. On the highway. Why? That’s easy to answer. It’s because the sidewalk isn’t big enough for a horse to walk on, of course.

            Asking the question “why” is not only one of the most valuable ways of learning, it is also the key concept of the past several weeks in my Arabic class. We are learning that in order to answer “why”, there are at least six ways of saying “because” in Arabic. Why? Because there are so many different reasons things happen. And because we are practicing our becauses just because. There’s so much more to learn . . .

My Arabic study-buddy, Hilmar, at a café (in Ain Mreisse), which uses old sewing-machine legs as tables

            You know the claim (or hoax) that there are a hundred different words for “snow” in some Eskimo languages. Why? Supporters of this claim say that it’s because snow is an important part of their lives (global warming notwithstanding). Well, we found out that there are five (and counting) ways of saying “friend” in Arabic. Why? Because friendships and relationships are so important in this culture. People you know and people you don’t know all get involved in your life, and some become your friends. Whether they are helping you park a car or stopping you on the street so you can help them find an address, I’m learning to value those relationships over what I used to consider my “rights”. Like the right to walk on a sidewalk without finding a car parked on it, or the right to pull out of a parking lot without finding a parked car blocking the exit. Or the right to have things go my way, or that my way is of course the right way. Did all of that sound very Western? It should, because that’s where I learned about “rights”, but not so much about the surpassing value of relationships. In this new environment it’s time for me to tell myself, as that arbiter of world conformity, Apple, used to say in its advertisements: “Think Different”.

            So why did we see a horse, and not a donkey, on Palm Sunday here in Lebanon? Well, it’s a fine horse, don’t you think? And anyway, we’re going to learn a children’s song in Arabic class that tells us “everybody has a car, but grandfather (jiddo) has a donkey.”

            We saw something else, too, this Palm Sunday. This unholy week. Blood and death in Egypt, attacks intended to exterminate Christians from a land that has been their home since Christianity was new. We have dear friends there, and we mourn, and we ask “why”. Especially, we ask “why” in our prayers to God, because we know that the only satisfactory answer to that question is something that doesn’t sound much like an answer: “Why? Rely on my grace. It’s sufficient.” (Check it out in II Corinthians 12.8-10.)

            And only a few days before that, we heard of a chemical attack in Syria, that was followed by an aerial attack on Syria. Why? Lots of answers are being offered, but little proof or sound reasoning. Why? Who needs proof when you’ve got bombs? No matter which of the five words for “friends” in Arabic we use, we nonetheless have many of them in Syria. What will come next, and how will they endure the unrelenting pressure on them to abandon their homes, livelihoods and roots. And why should they have to?

            In the aftermath of this week of horror, Pope Francis’ words this Palm Sunday are the sanest and most sobering thoughts I can pass along: “May the Lord convert the heart of those who sow terror, violence and death… and also the heart of those who make weapons and trade in them.”

LebCat 2 (11 Feb. 2017)

            Now it’s spring in Beirut, which means before long the snow will melt from atop Mount Sannine, and we probably won’t see rain (to speak of) until the fall. Yet since it’s early spring, everything is still green – a delight to the eye, and a balm for the soul.

            So, I offer you the next LebCat, caught in action (cat-action, that is) atop a car, a couple of streets over from where we live. I’d love to know what you think is in its “thought balloon”! [LNB]