Listening by Dave Mckay Mckay (best big ereader TXT) 📖

man. "How can a Jew have such a name?"

"But every name has a meaning," said Sonali, who was still standing. "What does Mohammad mean?"

"It means the one who is praised," said Mashallah, and then he added "Blessings be upon him," just to be safe.

Just at that moment, they heard the secret knock at the door. It must be Gambuti, who had gone with another sister to the airport to pick up Chaim. It was only 9pm in Karachi, but for Chaim, who had just flown in from Guangzhou, it was early the next morning, and he had been up much of the night on the plane. Mashallah pulled a box over for Chaim to sit on, and he moved up onto a box beside him. The rest of the audience went quiet, embarrassed by what they had been discussing before Chaim's arrival.

"The flight was okay?" asked Mashallah.

"Yes, no problems. These are your top leaders?" he asked.

"Yes. We are happy to have you here."

Chaim looked around the room. They did not look particularly happy.

"I have taken the unusual step of asking you to meet here," said Chaim, addressing the small crowd. "I feel that there are some issues that we need to deal with." No one said a word.

"All the world is at peace at the moment. Fighting has stopped, even in the Middle East. But you and I know that one reason it has stopped is because the U.N. troops are enforcing it. Muslims did not have any choice about the new Temple in Jerusalem."

Expressions changed slowly on the faces of the people listening. This was not what they had expected.

"As you know, I am Jewish. But I do not agree with what the Government has been doing in Israel for many years. They have been cruel and unfair in their treatment of Palestinians. One does not need to be a Muslim to see that.

"But many Muslims have been cruel and unfair in return. Terrorism is not the answer. But then, I do not need to tell you, do I? You are here because you have taken what is best about Islam. And I pray that you have been able to take that which is best in other religions too.

"Right now, the religions of the world are trying to work together for Dangchao. Can we work together for Allah?"

Then he stopped, obviously waiting for some response.

Sfiya lifted her hand, and Chaim nodded for her to speak.

"Chaim, what does your name mean?"

"Chaim? I think it means life. Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing," Sfiya said sadly, and folded her hands in her lap as she looked down at them.

"We were talking about the Imam Mahdi before you came," confessed Mashallah. "Our religion teaches that he will come to prepare us for the return of Jesus."

Chaim looked around, read their thoughts, and then, pointing with both hands at himself, he broke into a grin. "Don't look at me," he said, laughing. "I'm not the Mahdi. You'll have to work that one out for yourselves!"

Becoming more serious, he said, "Is it really so important that you have a Mahdi?" Chaim was thinking of the Muslim teaching that Jews will be punished after Jesus returns. In his opinion, it was a dangerous ethnocentric vision.

Mashallah raised his hand to speak. "When I was in prison," he explained, "I prayed about what God wanted me to do. He showed me that he wanted me to look for the Mahdi. Still I am looking, but I have not found him. I cannot stop looking now."

Chaim had been leaning back against the wall. "I better stand up before I fall asleep," he said, rising to his feet. "Can I share something that I have learned about God?" he asked with his body turned toward Mashallah. Then, turning to face the crowd, he said, "Often God tells us one thing (or maybe he just lets us think one thing) in order to get us to a different place. Like sending a child to fetch the mail, so she'll find a new toy that you have left for her on the way." He paused for them to think about what that meant.

Gambuti had said nothing up to this point, but he spoke up now. "Religion allus fights over the mail," he said in his deep, mellow voice. He paused for it to sink in, then said with a smile, "God wants us to play with the toy!"

No one seemed prepared to push the point further at that time, so discussion degenerated into a few words of greeting to Chaim. Because the meeting did not seem to be going anywhere in particular, and because Chaim had said as much as he wanted to say for now, he asked if he could be excused to get some sleep in an adjacent room. Everyone agreed that it would be a good time to end the meeting, and they could resume the next day.

However, just as they were rising to leave, and as Chaim was walking out of the room, Gambuti called out. "Chaim!"

He stopped and turned; and the crowd went silent.

"What's yuh uthuh name?"

"You mean Judah he asked?"

"Yeah, that one. Has it got a meaning?"

"Comes from Yehudah," he said. "Means praised."

And he left the room.

 

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Unity

Chapter Twenty-Three--Unity

There had been much talk between the others after Chaim retired for the night, but when they awoke the next morning, Chaim was gone. So were Mashallah and Gambuti.

At a humble roadside tea shop not far from the godown, the trio were sipping sweet milk coffee and eating chappatis. Although it was still quite early, the street was alive with pedestrian and motor traffic.

"The Q'uran is a tool," Chaim was saying. "It's not God. In every religion there are people who try to trap God inside a box, and holy books can become one of the biggest traps of all."

"But the prophet (blessings be upon him), he received the words from God," pleaded Mashallah.

"Mashallah, if you have a dream and God talks to you in the dream, what language does he use?"

"Arabic, of course," said Mashallah.

"But what if he wants to talk to Gambuti? Or to me? Would he use Arabic? And if we could see him as a person, would he have white skin or black skin?"

"Well, I..." and Mashallah faltered.

"God just tells us as much as we need to know; and he says it in the language that is easiest for us to understand. He doesn't expect us to make a god out of the words he uses, or his language, or the colour of his skin. He just wants us to get the message.

"Your religious leaders, and my religious leaders became so busy trying to understand the words, that they missed the message. There's a new world coming, Mashallah, and it doesn't matter if the Mahdi has a mole on his cheek or not. It doesn't even matter if there is a Mahdi, as long as you are seeking more truth and more love every day. And if there is a Mahdi, then his job will be to help you do exactly that."

"From how they talked last night, when you were sleeping, I think they will say that you are Mahdi now," said Mashallah. "It is not what they were thinking, but... but they can change. What you say about the Q'uran is true. Gambuti, too, teaches that."

 

"You two must teach the others," said Chaim. "Get them to see that Muslims too must look for God in other religions and be open to change."

And then he turned to his plans for the day.

"I've taken a risk by letting them see me, but I can't go back. Today I'll watch only from a distance, without them seeing me. They're here for you to teach, not me. About this Mahdi thing... They can tell others that my name is Judah if they like, but do not give out my full name. We are not here to promote me or to promote the Mahdi. Understand?"

Mashallah agreed.

"So how's it going... apart from this Mahdi business?" he asked.

"Fine, fine. Here, and in Bangladesh, and in Indonesia, we are mostly Muslim. So our problems are about small, small Muslim differences. These are special people. They all know how to listen."

"They listen well to what I say," testified Gambuti.

While the world appeared to be growing together in religious unity under the leadership of Secretary General Xu Dangchao, most Muslims (and, indeed, people from many other religions as well) knew that their opinion mattered little in terms of how things were progressing. Dangchao, it turned out, had Jewish ancestors, and he had managed to use his immense power to quell any Muslim dissent to the building of a Jewish Temple in Jerusalem. On the surface, there was much cause for celebration as the Jews anticipated the opening of the Temple in just a few days. But Chaim saw more ominous warnings behind it.

"We have only three years left to prepare," said Chaim. "And then, it'll be the worst trouble the world has ever known. These next three years are going to be teach, teach, teach. I hope you and your people understand that. While everyone else enjoys the freedom, we must prepare for the reality."

"How long can you stay?" asked Mashallah.

"Tomorrow I fly to Delhi, and by Monday, I'll be back in Sydney," Chaim responded. "It's going to get harder to travel without the mark, so we'll need to depend more on email if we are to keep in touch.

"But don't forget that it isn't me you need to stay in touch with. Just keep listening to God. Stay open to change and to one another."

 

(Table of Contents)

 

 

Abounding

Chapter Twenty-Four--Abounding

"How do you survive in this heat?" Chaim asked as he, Vaishnu, and Ben trudged across Connaught Place in the heart of New Delhi.

"We think of a hotter place; then we thank the God that it is so cool here," Vaishnu joked.

"Soon we will be out of the heat," said Ben.

And soon they were, as they walked up the long drive to the Hotel Oberoi, a newly renovated five-star deluxe hotel in the center of New Delhi. They could have gone there by taxi, or even by auto rickshaw, but they were learning to get by without cash, and Vaishnu insisted that walking would be physically rewarding as well.

The lobby air-conditioning sent a welcome chill through Chaim's body. Even in his early days he would not have stayed at such a luxurious hotel, nor would he have approved of the energy spent on air-conditioning. But today, he was the guest of Vaishnu and Ben, and he was loving it.

"Says in the Bible we can be abased and we can abound," said Ben. "When we have a foreigner with us here, we can abound."

Chaim noted with satisfaction that Ben did not think of himself as a foreigner.

The three men basked in the ostentatious luxury of the Oberoi's lobby for the next two hours, as they sat deep in overstuffed armchairs and discussed the work in India. Because Chaim was with them, the hotel staff did not question the two dark-skinned men in humble dress across from him, nor did they doubt that Chaim had a room in the hotel, which he didn't. When staff came to take orders for drinks, they graciously declined, and when the staff had left, Vaishnu pulled, from the folds of his loincloth, a bottle of water and some