Is it appropriate to simply right him off as a kook? Can we afford to stand silently by? The answers to those questions have nothing to do with how one feels about Islam in general, or about the proposed cultural center and mosque to be situated a few blocks from the site of the former World Trade Center.

Whether one opposes the mosque or not, this proposed Koran burning is obscene. Tragically and ironically, this is an expression of Christianity which parallels the parts of Islam which represent a genuine threat to the human race. I guess it’s an irony Pastor Jones misses, but reminds us all that it’s not the faith which kills; it’s the fanatical attachment to it.

Before deciding what you think is the appropriate response, think for a minute about the response you would hope for, if it were bibles that someone proposed to burn? What would be the appropriate response to a religious leader calling for the public burning of a Torah scroll?

We cannot call for a vocal response from Muslims when Muslims engage in hateful acts towards the followers of other faiths unless we, who cherish those other faiths, speak out when our religious leaders behave hatefully. Ultimately, this moment is not a test of Pastor Jones, but for the rest of us. I hope we pass. I guess we’ll see.

Reprinted from Rabbi Brad Hirschfield’s blog Windows and Doors: Where politics and pop culture meet 3000 years of Jewish Wisdom on Beliefnet

Moign: What are the main reasons of, what many are calling, the floods of the century? Why have you struck with so much vengeance?

Floods: My answer is very clear. I returned to the place that belongs to me – the floodplain. It’s part of my nature. I work in cycles, patterns and shifts. Once in a while I get back to the place that I lost over the time just to assert my natural position and strength. Many people may take it negatively. I don’t care. The tasks I’m assigned to by nature must be fulfilled at all costs.

A man marooned by flood waters, alongside his livestock, in the Rajanpur district of Pakistan's Punjab province on August 9, 2010. Photo - Reuters

Moign: But why such fury? Why would you hurt so many people just to fulfill your natural obligations?

Floods: First of all you have to understand the natural cycle. You have to take into account what rules the nature has made for all of us – humans, animals, plants, water bodies, skies, air, in fact every thing that is part of our planet. While humans act according to their instincts and interests and they’re seen as natural and innate, nature’s acts differently and they are portrayed as antipathetic and cruel. That’s not right. We are bound by our duties and we have the right to defend our existence.

Moign: But still you didn’t answer my question about the death and destruction you’ve caused, victims of which are mainly poor people.

Floods: I’m going to be honest with you. Nature treats everyone equally. For us everyone is equal and we fulfill our duties while keeping it in mind. Sunlight is for everyone to make use of, air is for everyone to breathe, water is for everyone to benefit from, and many things as such.

The people living in the riverbeds, floodplains, riverbanks, meanders etc. are seen as occupiers by us. When we decide to change our course and make a come back, we do so with full force, often without any prior notice. We are the lawful owners of the land and it is our right to use them as we deem fit. We run our own system that is independent of human interference.

Residents of Nowshera city evacuate to safety following heavy flooding on July 30, 2010. Photo - Abdul Majeed/AFP/Getty Images

Moign: So it doesn’t give you an iota of sadness when you see that your actions have brought a catastrophe in the lives of millions of poor people?

Floods: I wish we had sentiments. I wish we had emotions like human beings think they have. We aspire to be ‘clever and wise’ like human beings are. But sadly we are not. We are driven by a divine agenda. A wisdom that we do not share with people who think are superior to us or undermine us. We appreciate those who protect and align with us. Those who do not, suffer.

The forces of nature are here on the earth to maintain a complete harmony and establish the equilibrium of life. We nurture and nourish life on the planet and safeguard it in our own ways. The ones who help us and give us protection are our allies. The ones who do not, find no respite.?

A young boy waits for food handouts at a makeshift camp in Sukkur, in Pakistan's Sindh province on 8 August, 2010. Photo - Reuters/Akhtar Soomro

Moign: Explain to us what violations have we, the human beings, committed that invited your wrath and fury? Why have you punished so many of us by banishing lives, property and belongings and destroying livelihood and habitat?

Floods: For years, in fact decades, we have witnessed the violations and misuse of natural amenities. This greed and rape of natural resources has taken place at both collective and individual levels. People rich or poor, strong or weak, powerful or hapless, have been involved in the plundering and destruction of Mother Nature.

For years, you people have annihilated nature’s best allies – the trees. Entire forests have been wiped out and the pillage continues to this day. These trees were for your own defence as they stopped flood overflows and restored the natural balance. They helped mop up the spill caused by the rivers and returned fertility to your soil after bagging it during rains and flooding. But you people did not spare them.

Men wade in deluge near the north eastern Pakistani city of Nowshera on 29 July. Photo - Reuters/K. Parvez

For years, you people stole the richness of the soil from the riverbeds and used it for your own purposes. And it was not a few cart or truck-loads but an army of earth-movers, dredgers and other digging equipment were employed on a massive scale that only weakened the foundations of rivers and left them frail.

You draw our waters are drawn to quench domestic and industrial thirst but what we get in return is raw sewage and toxic waste. The rivers are your lifeblood but you inject poison in them. And still blame us for the damage and destruction?

Moign: I totally understand your allegations and I’m very sorry for your loss and destruction. Do you not think it is unfair to punish people who are not directly responsible for the crime? I mean the poor have no choice but to live on the floodplains and empty riverbeds and make a living by cultivating the land. How can they be punished for something they’ve no power to decide?

Floods: It is the system that is to blame not nature. The poor peasants work for the rich feudal barons and help them consolidate their power. They’re de facto slaves. Generations after generations have exhausted themselves in this vicious cycle but not a single uprising took place that challenged the status quo and fought for their rights. Do the people in Pakistan await a flood that will sweep away feudalism and make the peasants rulers of the land? Why can’t they take destiny in their own hands and bring about a change that not only transforms their present but also secures their future?

An aerial view of a village in central Pakistan submerged by floodwater as far as the eye can see. Photo - AP Photo/Khalid Tanveer

Moign: So basically, you’re giving us a hint that these floods will trigger an uprising?

Floods: I’m not a political observer or catalyst of change. Nature is for everyone to cherish and take care of. It is upon the humans to think for themselves how to harness the forces of nature and strike a balance that ensures mutual co-existence. They should enforce a pact that guarantees the survival and sanctity of nature and paves way for human progression and prosperity.

The conditions of nature are clear. We do not want to be suppressed and tarnished for your vested interests. Our motto is clear. Live and let live! And I think this motto alone provides the inspiration for every revolution and social change.

Moign: It’s nice to Mother Nature so caring to human beings. What measures do you think could have avoided such a catastrophe?

Floods: The land floods have struck is full of inequalities and injustices. It has become the hub of mismanagement, corruption, greed, cronyism, cruelty and dishonesty. This breeds poverty, illiteracy, and factionalism that in turn hatches evils like civil strife and terrorism.

Nothing alone could have saved the country from the massive floods this year. However, short and long term planning could have minimalised the effects. The rivers overflow once every two or three years due to rainfall and other natural reasons. The glaciers in the Himalaya are melting and contributing to the additional flow of water in the rivers. Are these factors ever taken into account? How many times do you see any preparation made in the monsoon season despite predictions of heavy rainfall?

Governor’s Island is one of those New York spots where it seems as if the city is always trying to hype it up, and get people to go out and experience it.  After years of living here and never going, a Saturday afternoon found me waiting in the ferry terminal.  It was very clear we were among the few locals in the place.  This woman was clearly dressed very beautifully, but unfortunately failed to grasp the concept of bathroom lines.

There is no prohibition against playing basketball during Ramadan, a monthlong period of fasting and self-reflection for Muslims, but it has the unfortunate side effect of dehydrating its players. “Since I get thirsty, I don’t want to play that much,” Jay explained. He has fasted from sunup to sundown each day since the holiday started Aug. 11. “So I play with socks and slippers. We all do.” He pointed to a friend, also an observant Muslim, sitting one bench down at the basketball court, in flip-flops. The slippers and flip-flops slow the boys down and send a clear signal: game not on. The end of August can be an achingly melancholy season, tinged with regret and premature nostalgia for a summer not yet over. But for New York’s observant Muslim teenagers — most start fasting no later than puberty — summer as they knew it summarily ended when daytime fasting began curtailing their options. Out: jaunts to the beach (too thirst-inducing). Out: pizza lunch with friends. Out: playing basketball for keeps.

Reprinted from City of Brass, by Aziz Poonawalla on blog.beliefnet.com

One can take a spiritual journey without ever leaving home. And the notion that anyone “leaves everything behind” is actually laughable. Wherever we go, we bring ourselves – we bring all of the past experiences that make us, us. So, to borrow a Hebrew adage, while changing our location may change our destiny, the journey to transform ourselves begins with a journey inward, not outward. That’s an insight as old as the Genesis story of Abraham.

Abraham is instructed to set forth on a journey which demands that he leave his country, his homeland, and his father’s house. Clearly the ability to journey physically is not entirely disconnected from the ability to journey spiritually. But to make it a necessity, is to make spiritual journey a subset of travel and leisure for the wealthy or those willing to live a beggar’s life. That is why Abraham’s spiritual journey, like all of ours, begins not with a journey outward, but with a journey inward.

Reprinted from Rabbi Brad Hirschfield’s blog Windows and Doors: Where politics and pop culture meet 3000 years of Jewish Wisdom on Beliefnet

Like other comparative cities, Lahore also goes through the motions of preparing for, and adjusting to the doctrines, customs, and traditions of Ramadan –both local and imported. While believers, non-believers, and religious minorities alike become immediately conscious of the month at its very onset with the sighting of the new moon, other aspects of urban life undergo an interesting, almost mechanical transition into the Ramadan way-of-life.

Ramadan is legally represented in the Pakistani constitution as ordinance for the “respect of Ramadan”. Legislated by the zealous administration of General Zia, this law prohibits public consumption of food  and smoking are forbidden during the month, punishable by a fine, or imprisonment, or both. Restaurants are not allowed to conduct business until sundown. Government offices, and schools reschedule to a Ramadan oriented schedule with less taxing hours of operation. Bureaucratic inefficiencies suddenly gain acceptability in the workplace as they come under the article of faith umbrella. It suddenly becomes okay to slack off, run off to prayers, or simply be distracted at work with daydreams of tempting delicacies to be enjoyed at sundown.

Attitudes change, a sudden laxness is noticed during the mid-day and afternoon hours, around sundown a sudden chaotic urgency is unmistakably felt in the traffic and on the streets. Even the foreigner becomes weary of the changing mindset of the people. I recall last Ramadan a visiting faculty in a local university was asking a clerk where he could smoke a cigarette without offending anyone, to which the conservative minded clerk responded by pointing out some nooks and crannies in the campus where he wouldn’t get spotted. A part of me wanted to interject and tell the European that his skin color gave him license enough to smoke freely in the open.

Ramadan is seen by the somewhat-faithful as a chance to recharge their religious batteries, so to speak. The country as a whole edges a notch up the piety scale whenever the lunar month comes around, i.e. the somewhat pious become more pious, the more pious become ultra pious, and the ultra pious lock themselves in a room for the entire month, leaving the not-so-pious get lumped in the heretic category. A so called ‘bad Muslim’ who doesn’t otherwise incorporate religion in his daily life will choose to fast, and possibly even pray during this month as a way to reconnect with the faith. Some people choose to fast due to mere cultural nostalgia, or for the sake of family tradition.

For someone not so religious, who happens to find themselves in a country like Pakistan during this holy month, eating in public attracts the scorn of the public gaze as if a sinful deity is being worshiped, for eating in front of people observing a fast is to tempt them away from the right path, and to tempt is the devil’s prerogative. Afraid of irrevocably sparking the emotions of hundreds of hungry and frustrated Muslims, non-Muslims, and bad-Muslims alike have to eat in the secrecy of their homes as the Islamic Republic pretends it is wholly populated by the faithful. But then one is left to wonder why saliva inducing commercials of food and drink are allowed to bombard the airwaves all day.

When the time for breaking the fast comes about, all the local television channels start airing religious programing and interludes while announcing the time for evening prayers in different locations across the country. In anticipation of the city switching to the Ramadan schedule, the pricing of time-slots for ads on airwaves are reorganized well before time. The peak times get synced in with the rising and the setting of the sun, as more people turn on their television sets around these national meals of pinpoint accuracy.

Even the corporations, it seems, embrace Islam during this month. Large multinationals like Nestle and Coca Cola are swift to shift their marketing campaigns into Ramadan mode by replacing sexual imagery with pseudo-religious iconography along with a heavy dose of family values. The billboards that cascade around the streets and boulevards of Lahore suddenly become laced with standard Islamic symbolism such as the crescent moon and mosque silhouettes. Almost everything has a Ramadan deal associated with it regardless of religious significance. The local McDonald’s offers to shower “Ramadan Blessings” with its new combo meal, and a chance to win pilgrimage tickets in a lucky draw. Dunkin’ Donuts offers an all you can eat offer after sunset. Cellphone providers advertise hot lines to get Quranic verses for a per minute charge, and radio stations switch to more a spiritual choice of music in lieu of saucy Bollywood hits.

As the economy is affected by the holy month food and basic commodity prices in Pakistan also show a trend of steep inclines as Ramadan approaches. This year the commodity markets have been especially strained with hoarding of sugar, restricting supply to drive up the price further, the timing of a few incidences right before the month was all but too curious. While Ramadan is the holiest of months, hoarding is something that has been scorned at in the Quran. The government claims to have made arrangements and set up subsidised rate markets for the poor, but reports suggest even those arrangements are shoddy.

Stop for a second and think about me. This guy you’ve never met named Carl.  Crazy Carl.  Who do you think I am?  If you met me would we be friends?  Would I like you?

Now let me tell you a couple more things about me.  I spent three months in a tent in the middle of Yemen in 1983 as a 21 year old because there was a terrible earthquake and I wanted to help. I didn’t speak a word of Arabic and was sick most of the time with hepatitis, but somehow I fell in love with the Arab world.

I took my wife and two baby girls (17 and 4 months old), and moved to Beirut, Lebanon in 1992 – just a year and a half after the devastating 16 years of civil war were over. We mostly lived with no water or electricity – like everyone else. I taught English at a local high school to pay the bills.  We didn’t know a single person. Had no family. Had no money.  Had no friends.

Until the Lebanese rescued us.  They befriended us.  They brought us food.  Watched our kids so my wife and I could go on a date. We thought of ourselves as “Missionaries.”  People on a mission. Bringing good news to the poor. But it was they who served us!  God turned the tables and we were the poor in need of service.  God used the very people we thought we were sent to save, to save us. Our kids went to the nearby Lebanese school. Spoke Arabic. Learned French. All our kid’s friends were Muslim – because we lived on the West side of town.

When we moved back “home” to Colorado – a place our kids had never lived – they were in shock. They heard for the first time that some here don’t trust or like Muslims. They were horrified.  “They are our best friends.  Muhammad and Ali and  Zeinab and Noor. How can you not like our friends,” they said.  But our kids didn’t understand. That since most Americans have never actually been friends with a Muslim, they are suspicious. And suspicion breeds fear that leads even to hatred.

They judge what they don’t know. And it’s true the other way as well. In the small outlying villages of the Beka’a Valley of Lebanon or the Central mountains of Yemen, or the far reaches of the Omani sands – there also lies prejudice. Because they don’t know. They’ve never had a backyard barbecue at an American home. They haven’t tasted Midwestern hospitality.  How could they know?

So this is our job – to know.  We will not judge the other because we will be the ones who know. We will know each other.  My friends and I will choose to not eat with our Muslim friends during the days of Ramadan – and then will join them for the Iftar that night.   And our American Muslim friends will taste our (beef) brats on the grill and our homemade ice tea.  And we will be one. And dispel the myths that rage between us.

It is NOT enough to simply read the books and tell the stories. We must smell, taste and feel the differences between our peoples and then, only then, will be become what America is supposed to stand for.

If you are a Muslim immigrant to America – here’s my challenge to you!  Do not wait for your neighbors to welcome you.  They are insecure and may be a bit nervous. You go to them and welcome them. This is YOUR country. Do not wait for us.

Those of us who drive trucks, work at steel meals, drink Bud Light and listen to that twangy country music – we’re good folk and we’ll do the right thing if you give us a chance. We’d never admit it, but we’re just a little scared! Help us.  Just like the Lebanese rescued this lost Missionary. Maybe God sent YOU to rescue us!

When she was just eight years old, a ragtag militia from her town took control after fierce fighting with the bandits that controlled the city, terrorizing the people and holding them as hostage in their own homes. She was happy that the new militia in charge would bring peace and stability to her town and help people kick-start their lives after two decades of war and chaos. And to her utter surprise, the whole region became peaceful and stable very soon.

Things started to get better and she finally got to attend a nearby girls’ school. Her dad, who was a truck driver, could go to areas as far as Herat and make a decent living thanks to the new-found safety and security on the roads and highways controlled by the Taliban. It was the happiest day of Khalida’s life when her dad took both his daughters to the school in their truck.

But one day, on her return home she found her mother sobbing. Her dad was nearby consoling her and telling not to worry. Khalida approached her dad quietly and asked why her mom is crying. “Nothing serious dear. She wanted to educate herself and be helpful to her community but a new Taliban directive has quashed all her hopes. Nothing for you to worry about my baby,” her dad whispered in her ears and gave a big hug. The eight-year-old girl was sad but started to play with her younger sister and soon forgot about the whole incident.

Khalida used to see convoys of pickup trucks patrolling the area where her school was located. She instantly got worried whenever she saw them around though she had no idea of what they were up to. The young girl always feared the new rulers despite hearing her father praising them for bringing peace to the region. They never bothered her at all and she always felt safe while on her way to school and back. However, in the back of her mind, she always knew that they don’t seem to be reliable enough.

One day she sat anxiously in the classroom of more than two dozen schoolgirls who were playing and repeating rhymes. From the window she saw couple of pickup trucks driven by men in turbans stopping at the school entrance. They rushed into the headmistress’ room and had a quiet word with her. She thought the militiamen will storm her classroom but nothing as such happened. Then at the end of the school day, the head teacher told the kids that the school would be off for the next couple of days. The children yelled in joy but Khalida was shell-shocked. She couldn’t believe her ears.

Her mom greeted her on the door. “What happened to you today Khalida? Where is the bright smile on your face? What are these tears for? Did someone steal something from you?” her mother asked immediately. Khalida couldn’t reply and burst into tears. She wept and wept without telling her mother the reason. Her mom let her cry for a while. Once the tide of tears broke, she asked her again gently but firmly.

“Mama, they shut my school and I’m afraid it’s never going to open again,” the young girl shouted. Her mother put her hand on the crying girl’s mouth. “Keep quiet. You’ll be fine. The school will reopen. Even if it doesn’t, I’ll make some arrangement for you. Everything will be alright. Go and wash your face,” her mother assured her. “You’ll study. That’s my promise!”

The Kandahari schoolgirl was right. The school was shut down by the Taliban on concerns about the safety of the girls. Despite establishing unprecedented peace in the country, the Taliban, ironically, never trusted themselves to provide comprehensive security to the women under their rule. “Things are not yet under control when it comes to providing security to our mothers, sisters and daughters. We are working on it and very soon we’ll give them total protection so that they can become an active part of our society,” read a communiqué issued by the Taliban government in Kabul soon after it outlawed women’s education and restricted their movement.

Now girls like Khalida were left cornered in their homes. Their right to movement was severely restricted by the Islamic militia’s patrolmen roaming the streets. Khalida had no choice but to accept the services of a private tutor, a woman from another neighborhood, which her dad arranged secretly. She was not going to see her school friends any soon, which made her sad.

Time went on and Khalida’s literacy skills improved thanks to her new tutor. But on the other hand, situation in the country started to decline badly. Clouds of war started to linger and shadow Taliban rule. Then the evitable happened. Foreign forces invaded the country and people began to flee. The country was engulfed in flames of war and destruction soon after the U.S. invasion. Taliban got engaged in a fierce battle of survival and the situation of law and order collapsed completely. The old tyrants who ruled the country before Taliban were in control again.

Khalida’s family’s hopes of a decent life were also reduced to ashes. Her dad’s truck was damaged during the aerial bombing and could not transport goods anymore. Anarchy returned to the countryside due to the return of bandits in her town on the backs of occupation forces.

Despite the bleak situation, Khalida continued to study on her own. Her private tutor fled the country along with her husband and other family members. This gave the young girl a new resolve to complete her studies and help other girls do the same.

Years passed on and Khalida matured into a young woman with love for education blossoming in her heart. She regretted the fact that she couldn’t complete her formal education and could never see the face of a secondary school. However, given the fact that her town saw fierce fighting that resulted in bloodshed and heavy losses on both sides, she considered herself quite fortunate to be alive and living with her family despite hardships.

Several NGOs in the area operated a few makeshift schools where dozens of kids got some basic education. Khalida always wanted to join an honest NGO and offer her help but couldn’t do so as there was no proper security for the charity workers.

One day while she was at home looking after her sister there was a knock on the door. It was an elderly woman who came to see her. “Do you remember me? I used to be your teacher in the old primary school,” the woman who was in her 50s said in a charming tone after an exchange of pleasantries. “You’re a genius. I’m really proud of you. You’ve managed to learn on your own which is a great feat that no other woman in Kandahar has ever achieved. May God save you from bad influences,” the woman continued her charm offensive as she hugged Khalida tightly.

The woman sat with Khalida and her mom for a while and told her the reason of the visit. “I came here to tell Khalida about a teaching job. It’s not far away from the village and she’ll get to teach girls of her own age,” the woman said with a big smile on her face. “Besides all, it’s a paid job and the employers are going to provide transport and security so that she can work safely,” she continued only to Khalida and her mother’s amusement.

“I’ll have a word with her father and let you know,” Khalida’s mother told the woman very gently and said goodbye. Khalida was jumping around the house out of joy and excitement. Her father arrived quite late that evening but he was in a good mood. The prospect of Khalida teaching only made it better. “Everything seems wonderful but I’m not so sure about the security arrangements,” her father insisted. “Who can guarantee you security when both occupiers and resistance fighters find no safety and are killed on daily basis?” her father quizzed. The young girl and her mother couldn’t say a word and agreed with him. It was decided that the dad would pay a visit to this place first to assess the job offer and her employers.

The next day he visited the address given by the former schoolteacher. It was quite a huge compound where he met a couple of people from his town, including a few town elders. He was told that proper plans are in place to ensure that women of this area get some kind of education and benefit from local talent. Khalida’s father saw the elaborate arrangements in the compound and couldn’t be more content.

Khalida was so happy with herself. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she was stood in front of the girls giving them the first lesson in a proper classroom. It was like a big dream come true! With extensive security arrangements, proper teaching materials like marker boards, notebooks, textbooks and pencils in place, the young woman felt like a VIP. The girls that she taught were very happy to learn how to read and write but they had to keep it as a secret from their relatives and neighbors fearing retribution from the insurgents.

Weeks passed and Khalida helped dozens of young girls read alphabets and common words. It was a huge progress for everyone.

One day, Khalida was on a break after delivering a Basic English language class. A student approached her and asked to help read a book. “Can you keep this as a secret please? Only between you and me? I’m not allowed to show you this book but I’m curious to find out what it says,” a teenage girl patted on her shoulders with a glow on her face. “Sure! I promise. What’s in there?” asked Khalida and took the book in her hands.

She started reading the book that was some sort of a manual. The colour on Khalida’s face faded. Her hands began to shake and body trembled with fear. Her fearful eyes stared into her student’s cold eyes. “Where did you get this book from? Who gave it to you?” Khalida could only ask as shivers went down her spine.

“Well, the chief of the educational camp gave this manual to all the girls who came to attend the classes here. Some of the girls, including me, can’t read it, especially the English words so we need to ask someone what’s written in there,” the teenager with cute looks confided in her teacher. “We are strictly not allowed to discuss about this book with anybody or take it outside.”

“But do you understand what’s in there? It’s a suicide manual! It illustrates the ways you can create a suicide vest and detonate it. It also tells about different signs in English you read on daily basis e.g. police, army, NATO etc.” Khalida explained in a trembling voice. The girl seemed calm about the material whereas her teacher was dumbfounded.

The young Kandhari teacher could not believe what she saw. She felt very dizzy and struggled to stand on her two feet. “All the girls in there are would-be Fedayeen (suicide bombers)? Oh my God! This cannot be happening,” Khalida kept on murmuring as she passed out.

She never returned home. Her parents couldn’t find out what happened to their beloved daughter. They suspected she was targeted either by the occupation army or the local militia supported by them. Khalida’s dad went to the compound several times to find out about his missing daughter’s whereabouts but found no clues. He suspected the Taliban might be behind her disappearance but what proof did he have?

Nobody knew what happened to her. Some reckon she left the town secretly and crossed the border to start a new life elsewhere. The people in her town still believe she is an angel who would return to them one day…

(By Moign Khawaja. Story inspired by true events)