What I've Learned from My Muslim Neighbors

A few weeks ago, someone threw a homemade bomb through the window of the mosque down the street from us. It was a hate crime. 

Thankfully, no one was in the building at the time. In the days that followed, imams, Christian pastors, Jewish rabbis, and local leaders stood together to condemn the attack and defend our neighbors’ religious liberty. Members of the community showed up to help clean up the damage.

My heart has been heavy, and it has given me a lot to process.

Back in January I (Rachel) was asked to speak at an interfaith symposium at a local Mosque. In asking for prayer for my preparations over this event, someone asked, “Aren’t you scared?”

The question caught me off guard, and I answered a little too quickly: “Of my neighbors?”

(Side note – The morning of the symposium, I fell down my stairs, bruising several ribs and spending the day in the ER. I guess my stairs were the bigger threat).

For six years, we have lived and worked in a neighborhood of Philadelphia known for a large Muslim community.  Some of our neighbors have become lifelong friends. These years haven’t made me less convinced of what I believe as a Christian. But it has challenged many of my assumptions about the people around me.

I can reject Islam while not rejecting my Muslim neighbor. Disagreement with a belief system does not require fear, hostility, or distance from people who hold those beliefs. In fact, I believe the Gospel requires us to move towards people, not away from them, even when we disagree. 

Here are a few things I’ve learned.

1. Many of my assumptions about what Muslims believe were wrong. 

Prior to living here, most of what I knew about Islam came through a textbook or was shaped by experiencing 9/11 as a child. I knew about terrorism and religious extremism. I had picked up ideas about what “Muslims believe.”

Then I started actually knowing Muslims.

Many of our Muslim friends are horrified by terrorism committed in the name of their religion. They do not recognize that violence as an expression of the faith they practice and teach their children. 

Also, many Muslims around the world don't speak Arabic and can’t fully read the Quran for themselves. So, rather than make assumptions about what a particular person believes, I’ve learned to ask “...but what do you believe about…” 

2. Islam is diverse.

I love spending time with Maryam and Dee. Maryam is a devout Muslim from Egypt, while her best friend, Dee, is a Kurdish cultural-Muslim from Iraq. Maryam loves her hijab, seeing it as a sign of personal piety and honor, but Dee refuses to wear one. I joke with them both that perhaps I should borrow some hijabs for my bad hair days. :)

One of the reasons it is difficult to say “Muslims believe...” is that we are talking about nearly two billion people. The Muslims we know come from Syria, Iraq, Algeria, Afghanistan, Pakistan, West Africa, and many other places. There are Sunni and Shia Muslims and many different traditions within those broad categories. Some people are deeply devout. Others are Muslim primarily by culture or family. Some interpret their faith conservatively. Others do not. They also disagree with each other.

Christianity should probably make us familiar with this idea. Knowing that someone checks “Christian” on a form doesn't tell me whether they are Catholic, Baptist, Mennonite, Pentecostal, Orthodox, or something else entirely. It certainly doesn't tell me what they personally believe or how they live. I've learned to extend some of that same complexity to my Muslim neighbors.

3. Mostly, they’re people like you and me.

This may sound ridiculously obvious, but I think it is one of the most important things.

Our favorite neighbors live in the cul-de-sac around the corner. They're from Pakistan. Most evenings, Sana and I sit outside on her steps while our boys play soccer. Her son, Yusef, is Jonah’s best friend. We complain about Philly drivers and the cost of groceries. We worry about our children. We have opinions about screen time.  And sometimes we have really amazing conversations about faith. 

Sometimes fear survives because we know a category of people without actually knowing any of the people inside that category.

Proximity changes that.

4. Start by building bridges.

There are real and important differences between Christianity and Islam. Friendship does not require pretending otherwise. But we don’t always have to begin with the differences.

There are many places where conversation can begin: our belief in God, the shared prophets, the importance of prayer, and even our shared desire to understand what it means to live a life that honors God. Because for many Muslims, life revolves so deeply around their religion that talking about religious things can actually be frequent and natural once there is real trust and relationship.  

5. Choose curiosity over judgment.

One of the best things I am learning is simply to ask questions. What does Ramadan mean to you? What do you believe about Jesus? Why is this tradition important to your family? I don’t have to agree with someone's answer in order to listen carefully to it. Listening is an act of love. 

6. Hospitality goes both ways.

We talk a lot in Christian ministry about welcoming the stranger. What I wasn't prepared for was how often the ‘stranger’ would welcome me.

I remember a few years ago when Chris and I were both sick with the flu, my friend Thiziri (who had recently moved nearly an hour away) made an amazing meal of homemade stuffed vegetables and soup and drove over to deliver them to us. Some of the most generous hospitality I have experienced has come from Muslim friends and neighbors.

There is humility in realizing that the Christian life isn't always about being the person who gives. Sometimes we are the guests. Sometimes we receive the meal. Sometimes someone else takes care of us.

Real friendship must be reciprocal. 

7. Deep cross-cultural and interfaith friendship takes work, but it is worth it.

Real friendship across cultures and religions doesn't always happen easily. There can be language barriers, cultural misunderstandings, differing expectations around friendship, family, gender, hospitality, and time. There can also be understandable caution on both sides.

Friendships take time and investment. And friendships cannot mean, “I will care about you as long as you seem interested in Christianity.” Real love can’t be contingent on a spiritual outcome. People know when they are projects. 

As Christians, we can deeply desire for someone to know Jesus while also genuinely loving them as they are now. And sometimes it takes years for an interfaith friendship to develop the trust needed for deeper conversations about differences.

8. My Muslim neighbors need Jesus. And so do I.

None of these experiences have made me believe that the differences between Christianity and Islam don't matter. They matter deeply.

I believe Jesus is more than a prophet. I believe He is the Son of God. I believe in His death and resurrection, and I believe that salvation is found in Him. I want my Muslim friends to know Him (and I think they know that!). 

But I am reminded by the Gospel that I am in no way spiritually superior. I desperately need the grace and mercy of Jesus just as much as my neighbor does. And this changes the posture with which we enter into conversations and relationships. I am not standing above my Muslim neighbor. I am standing beside them as someone who also needs forgiveness.

9. We don't have to be afraid.

Humans are often afraid of what we do not understand.

And perhaps that is one reason the attack on our neighborhood mosque affected me so deeply. That building isn't an abstract symbol of another religion. It belongs to my neighbors.

As a Christian, I am not threatened when someone believes differently than I do. My confidence in Christ does not require me to fear my Muslim neighbor. 

We can listen to them. We can eat with them. We can ask about what they believe. We can welcome them into our homes and enter theirs.  We can defend their right to worship freely. We can grieve with them when they are attacked. We can tell them about Jesus and be okay if they have doubts or questions. We can love them without conditions. We can simply be their neighbors.

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“We draw people to Christ not by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it.”

– Madeline L’Engle