Will The Real Christians Please Stand Up?

By Sally Bishai

I WOULD say that this week has been a difficult one for the Middle East, the Arab world and the Muslim world. But. That would be a bit redundant, seeing how almost every week is a difficult one for those who can translate the Arabic word “Salaam,” even if they don’t live it. (For the record, it means “peace.”)

Since it’s been “that kind of week,” I’ve come across dozens of articles that have recapped the problems; Afghanistan’s control-freak “you can’t diss Islam!” issues, Egypt’s “you can’t diss Islam in a blog or build a church!” issues, and everyone else’s “you can’t wear anything but a black tent, lassie!” issues.

So. While I’ve read several articles dealing with (and debating on) what Islam actually believes, and whether conversion is or isn’t allowed (some “secular Muslims” would have us believe that one actually CAN leave the religion…and live to tell about it), it got me wondering the same thing about Christianity.

See, I was recently speaking with a young lady I’ll call Marge.

Marge belongs to one of the biggest denominations in America. She’s proud to be a virgin, goes to church every Sunday and is more involved in youth group than anyone I’ve ever met.

Unfortunately, that’s not all she’s involved with.

See, the 19-year-old is fond of going to clubs, drinking the occasional beer, and wearing tight, revealing clothing. She’s kissed a few boys, too.

On the surface, a person (a very snarky one) might wonder why such a stylish and popular girl bothered with church. (I was talking to another lady recently, and she confessed to thinking that, in her mind, anyway, being a devoted Christian equated with being a nerd. All I had to say to that was “Honey, you’d best check yourself before you wreck yourself. Or before someone else does!”)

This goes back to the whole “thing where people feel attracted to those who play hard-to-get,” and the thing that has nice girls attracted to “bad boys.”

Simply put, we always want what we can’t have. Or what we shouldn’t have.

Back to Marge, however, I am sad to report that, as close a relationship as she perceives she has with Jesus—and I obviously am NOT the Grand Arbiter of Jesus-Relationships—she really does live a life that made me very surprised to learn that she was even a Christian, much less a “strong” one.

I know what you’re thinking.
“SALLY, the Bible doesn’t say you can’t drink! Only that you shouldn’t get drunk!” and “I didn’t REALIZE, Grand Bishai, that nightclubs were forbidden in the Scriptures!”

Well, I have two answers for that.

The first is that the Bible does NOT go around naming the actual manifestations of every single thing it discourages, only the sin behind it; meaning that it may not say “Thou shalt not pick up an AK-47 to settle a dispute with your math teacher,” but it DOES warn against anger, several times, and say “A soft answer turns away wrath,” and “Thou shalt not murder.”

It also mentions that we’re to avoid the appearance of evil, and slithering about in a backless top with a micro-skirt that wouldn’t cover my entire hand is the farthest thing from “angelic.” Or, at least, it may inspire a drunken club-goer (male or female!) to force his (her!?) attentions on Aunty Slither. (This refers to the whole “stumbling block” thing.)

Furthermore, we’re told to be modest, avoid immorality, and while the Bible says nothing about wearing a black tent (thanks be to God), Clingwrap clothing doesn’t automatically scream “Christian” to me.

The purpose of today’s article isn’t to outline all the “sin-ettes” that people think they can sneak under the wire.

Rather, I am concerned with the fact that people don’t CONSIDER them to BE sin-ettes!

(For the record, the Bible very clearly states that sins are a matter of black and white—there is no big sin and small sin. There ARE moral absolutes! To God, all sins are the same in beastliness, and all good works are “as filthy rags, lest any man should boast.” Meaning that your financing a church in Swaziland will get you the same number of brownie points as would giving a glass of water to a person you just had a fight with. Or any person, really.)

For example, I recently spoke with a girl who spent 14 hours telling me about how great God was, and how she went to church 3 times a week.

Then, she proceeded to tell me that she lived with her fiancé.

Hello? It’s called “wrong” !

You may be asking “Why?” and I’ll tell you; the Bible considers any sex outside of marriage—whether adulterous or just pre-marital—to be a sin. The very thought (or thoughts, strung together like a movie) of engaging in this “illegal” sex is considered to be just as bad as actually doing it. (The sin of lust and all that..)

And dressing in clothes made for the Keebler Elves can stoke the flames of desire, which will either lead to Sins A or B, if not both.

“But what if I dress that way for my husband, Sally? Did you ever think of that? HMMMM?”

Well, I did, actually.

If you’re in your house, that’s fine. But. It’s when you go out that you could entice others to sin, even if it’s just “their” sin, and “just” the sin of lust.

Thinking “Oh, I don’t care about the sins of the man on the street!” isn’t the best, either, since we are SUPPOSED to care about our brethren, Christian or not. Furthermore, even though THEY sinned, the inciter of said sin is not off-the-hook!

So dressing like a hoochie mama is, for the most part, a bad idea all around. If you feel like claiming that you’re a Christian, anyway.

You may be wondering if my focusing on the skimpy clothes bit has to do with the fact that I’m Egyptian, but the truth is that 1- I’m also ‘American,’ and 2- the new breed of Egyptian girls—whether here or there—isn’t as scandalized by short/tight/revealing togs as I would like them to be.

You know, in light of the fact that all good deeds are nothing, and all bad deeds weigh the same, I can understand how some might think that they can get some drinking and clubbing in on the sly, without incurring the fires of hell.

And, while I can’t comment on whether it WILL be ok to pull these stunts, in the final analysis, I CAN say that, based on my reading of the Bible, God is not mocked, AND He won’t be so quick to forgive you of a sin you’re planning to do, whether it’s killing your roommate or sneaking an extra cookie (or six) after dinner (the whole gluttony thing…and that IS a sin!).

Anyway, time for me to go; I have a date with the garbage collector to throw out the stash of Doritos and Oreos that are hiding under the sink!

(PS- Just in case you’re interested in what the Bible considers “sinful,” have a quick glance over this laundry list:

Fornicators, idolaters, adulterers, homosexuals, sodomites, thieves, covetous, drunkards, revilers, extortion, sexually immoral, malicious, envious, murderers, whisperers, backbiters, haters of God, violent, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, undiscerning, untrustworthy, unloving, unforgiving, unmerciful lewd, unclean, contentious, jealous, selfish, dissentious, revelrous, angry, foolish, disobedient, deceived, hateful, lawless, offensive, insubordinate, unholy, kidnappers, liars, perjurers, lovers of themselves, lovers of money, blasphemers, unthankful, slanderers, without self-control, brutal, despisers of good, traitors, headstrong, haughty, lovers of pleasure, cowards, unbelieving, sorcerers, those who practice witchcraft, soothsayers, whoever interprets omens, conjures spells, a medium, a spiritist, one who calls up the dead, diviners, one who practices magic, whoever loves and practices a lie.

(For more info, check out: 1 Corinthians 6:9-10, Romans 1:28-31, Proverbs 22:24-25; 29:22, Revelation 21:8, Galatians 5:19-21, Matthew 13:41-42, 1 Timothy 1:9-10, Titus 3:3 ,
2 Timothy 3:2-4, Deuteronomy 18:10-14, Ezekiel 13:18-20, Revelation 22:15, Acts 19:19, 1 Samuel 15:23…)

Seeing Past Jesus

By Sally Bishai

While I don’t know the official reasoning behind the Muslim banning of images of Muhammad (I’ve heard several things, but 1- I’m no Islamic scholar, and 2- neither were any of my sources, hence my leaving it as I left it), I can certainly understand the recent to-do about the cartoons from Denmark.

See, I have Jesus everywhere—on the living room wall, in a glass-enclosed statue on my desk, on a candle from the local Catholic Church… and, rather than be happy that I can be reminded of Him every five seconds, I have begun to visually tune Him out; not out of a lack of love or respect, but because I realize that this isn’t Jesus, that looking the artwork in the eyes is nothing like connecting with Jesus Himself.

But that’s not all. Sometimes, when something (or someone) is so familiar to us, we take them for granted, we get the idea that we can get away with more. (Or less, as the case may be. Married people, back me up, here.)

Like, I know for a fact that someone would dress better for a date with someone they met only twice (and liked, obviously), than for someone they knew for 20 years. (Come back here, married people, I ain’t finished with you!)

And I know that no one in the history of the world makes it a point to appreciate the artwork on the wall or on the bookshelf every single time they walk past it. Nothing would ever get done!

Also, seeing such an exalted figure (I have no words to even express how high He is!) so often, even though we Christians take Jesus not only as a savior but as our best friend, might denigrate His status to that of, say, a boss we were fond of and respected, but didn’t tremble before.

(This is why they warn teachers against fraternizing with their students—because when there’s a power structure involved, it always changes the dynamic, and usually gets in the way.)

Another thing—and I might just be the only one who feels this way, but I’m sure that the more intelligent of my readers will at least see where I’m coming from (and where I’m going), even if they don’t agree with my statement that Jesus should be too exalted a figure in our minds to be mere artwork.

Like, I have this great poster of Him in my piano room, just behind a double-decker synthesizer stand, and between a framed copy of me on the front page of a newspaper (it was for the release of Mid-East Meets West—wow, has it really been almost three years since my first book came out?!) and a beautifully matted print of Marilyn Monroe, holding onto her poufy dress for dear life.

Did you hear what I just said?

I just informed you that I have an artist’s representation of the Son of the Creator of the whole universe between a piece of Plexiglas and some over-priced paper! And next to Marilyn Monroe, for that matter!

“Well, Sally, instead of going on for 17 hours, why not just take the poster down?”

It’s not as easy as that, though. How would it look if I were to do that? I can just see it now.

“Hey Sally! You’ve actually cleaned! There’s WALLPAPER on the walls, and not just stacks of papers and books adorning them! Wait a second.. where did that fabulous painting of Jesus with the green eyes go? Wasn’t it across from the microwave?”

See what I mean? As though I were good enough to untie his sandal, much less pick him up because he was blocking the view of the geraniums!

I can’t be the only one who thinks this, although I know I’m not going to get any support from my icon-loving Orthodox friends, who would get Jesus wallpaper if they could.

This is not to say that, because I’m a protestant, my faith or my religion is any better than theirs (they would be the first to set me straight if I was insane enough to suggest it! — only that they (oftentimes) believe you can get a blessing from touching a Jesus photo, and I don’t.

I’m sure I’ll get some comments (as usual) from some long-lost Copt (or Catholic, for that matter) who just has to inform me that this is a cultural thing, but has no Biblical backing.

That’s fine, but the fact is that there are SOME Copts (et al) who subscribe to this, and no one can ever tell me “Oh, there are NO Copts who believe in the whole superstitious-touchy-photo-thing.”

In a final point before I leave this topic, I’d like to point out that this artwork thing is NOT the same as wearing a cross around your neck or wearing a Jesus t-shirt!

Why? Well, because wearing something is, more often than not, a way to indicate that it’s a symbol that you’re behind (or not).

Like, I would never in my life wear a Budweiser t-shirt, or a pentagram around my neck. (This is not to say you COULD not, only that I, Sally, WOULD not.)

By the same token, I know co-eds who wear anything that libraries, colleges, credit-card companies or the street-teams of hillbilly recording artists would give to them.

(And rock stars love to wear the cross, or other religious symbols, for that matter.)

But a shirt or pendant is eminently changeable (and, as previously discussed, not always indicative of one’s affiliation or lack thereof), whereas it’s harder to go about changing paintings and wall treatments at one’s whim.

At any rate, I must away now; there’s a framed portrait of a blonde bombshell that I really do need to take down from the wall of my piano room…

Unwelcome Here

By Sally Bishai

Everyone knows how Black Americans were barred from certain lunch counters and water fountains in the recent past. But what people may not realize is that this appearance-based discrimination has not gone the way of the cavemen—even though the whole “judging by looks” thing is obviously a relic of more Neanderthal times.

See, the “cavemen,” whom I do NOT believe came from apes and tadpoles and whom I am not even sure I believe in, had to judge at first sight because if they didn’t, they could be eaten by some scary animal, or else killed by a poisoned spear or arrow or whatever weapons they had back then.

Makes sense, doesn’t it?

In the world of communication theory, we also have several notions that fall nicely into step with the aforementioned cavemen one, although my modern brethren generally tend to couch positive and negative discrimination in such terms as “energy-saving frameworks for determination” and the like, suggesting that a person may shy away from a person of certain races because of their previous negative experiences with them.

As with the cavemen thing, it makes sense, although this “assuming the worst” (or best, for that matter) mentality may cause us to miss out on a wonderful friendship or opportunity.

But that’s not what today’s topic is (surprise, surprise).

Rather, I wanted to share a tale from my last trip to Egypt. Don’t tune out just yet, the moral of the story is actually universally generalisable.

Anyway, there I was. In the city of my dreams, the place I’ve been haunted by since childhood, and longed for twice as long. Alexandria!

Despite a 6-year absence from my honorary hometown, not much had changed there.

The foul (fava bean, pronounced “fooool,” not like “foul,” as in, erm, horrible) sandwiches at Lotfi’s cart were still kind of horrible, the scent of jasmine still assaulted my nostrils in the best possible manner, once I got within a mile of Abdo, a flower-wreath vendor whom I’d been seeing next to my friend’s apartment since I was about five.

Some things changed, however. The percentage of women who had elected to don the higab (veil) had leapt exponentially, and more of those women than I had expected were cloaked in head-to-toe black (abaya/shroud, face mask, gloves… check my blog for a photo), in the Muslim Brotherhood style.

A friend there even told me that over 97% of Muslim women were veiled now, making the unveiled—either Christians or tourists—stand out even more.

I didn’t realize the implications of this until my friend Samia and I went shopping. I had determined to buy a new blouse to wear under my favorite black suit, and Samia immediately whisked me off to the most fashionable store she could think of.

While I didn’t find anything that caught my eye just there, I did find some shoes in the store next door. The store owner, whilst wrapping up my new 3-inch-heels, referred me to yet another store, when I told him what I’d been looking for.

He was right. I fell in love with an orange sequined tank top in the store window and bustled in for a closer look.

I pointed the shirt out to the lady behind the counter, who’d been eyeing me and Samia suspiciously since she first laid (beady) eyes on us.

I didn’t know what the problem was… After all, Samia and I were not only better-dressed, but obviously more wealthy than any of the dour-faced, veiled women around us. And I don’t look SO foreign that someone would automatically peg me an American or non-Egyptian.

The lady behind the counter shook her head and frowned sternly at me.

Maybe my accent was worse than I had imagined? I nudged Samia to say it for me.

“No, that shirt is not for you,” the lady said. I was speechless. How did SHE know? And furthermore, how did she know it was even for me?

“Uh… well, it’s not for me, it’s for her,” I said, struck by a flash of insight; maybe the matron didn’t think the shirt would fit me, so I foisted it off on my anorexic-looking friend, Samia.

No go.

“No, that is not for you. How about that?” she asked, gesturing to a navy abaya. I frowned, not bothering to tell her that I was unveiled for a reason, and that reason was that I wasn’t Muslim.

I must’ve hesitated too long, because a girl came up and snatched the shirt from me, after a token “You’re not getting that, are you?”

My jaw struggled to stay off the floor.

The lady turned away and rang MY tank top up for the girl. Who was veiled.

Samia grabbed my arm and steered me outside before I could give the matron a piece of my mind.

“Look, there’s nothing you can do. That’s just how it is. You knew that,” she said in a quiet voice.

Yes, I knew that a Christian couldn’t be the dean in a college, I knew that a Christian could be kidnapped in a village, or shoved on a city bus, but I had no idea that my being unveiled could make me less likely to buy an orange-sequined tank top!

The more I thought about it—the more I was able to picture the thousand little indignities that Christians in Egypt have to go through in the course of a normal day—the angrier I got.

Until I realized that I’m usually on the other end of the very same equation; when I go shopping for a Chanel lipstick, the attendants trip over themselves to help me out, but snub someone who’s wearing tattered jeans and a t-shirt.

When I go into a store in a less-exalted part of town, the owner looks infinitesimally less on- his-guard, upon seeing my benign countenance.

And the greeters at Sam’s Club never even hazard a glance at my store membership card. (Oh, they don’t look at anyone’s, do they..)

So why should I be so annoyed that, for once, my race (or lack thereof), my financial status, or my relatively non-threatening appearance didn’t save me?

Because.

Being denied a job or the guarantee of safety makes the discriminated-against feel like he’s suffering for an actual cause. But there’s nothing noble about being denied an orange sequined tank top because I happen to have been the only girl in the store who wasn’t veiled. (Apart from Samia, obviously.)

Don’t ask me what my point is in shedding the light on this maybe singly-occurring event, and don’t expect me to be able to give you any form of statistic on its happening within The Dear Land (as Egyptians call their home).

Although I should tell you right now that a non-Samia friend in Alexandria has recently informed me that this is actually beginning to happen a lot, and that people are starting to call the higab “the mark of the beast,” hearkening back to Revelations (in the Bible) where it says that you can’t buy or sell without the mark. (Hey, it could be true, and just because I think that may be taking it a bit far doesn’t mean that I’m right…far be it from me to stand in the way of anyone’s imagination..)

Do expect me to keep up my campaign of shedding the light on these inequalities, no matter how small they may be.

And expect me to keep praying for and working towards the day when all citizens of Egypt will be treated equally, when all religions will be equally accepted in America (ahem, ACLU..), and when all humans are valued for the mere fact that they were made in the image of a Creator who has carved us in the palm of His hand.