My kindergartner is learning new words all of the time. He has recently been mixing in some thoughtful uses of “similar,'“ he’s offered a couple memorable uses of “persuade” (as in, “I am going to persuade you to buy me a bunny”), and then the week after Easter we found him having a tea party with our almost-two-year old, and as he poured tea (water) for the party, he announced, “Christ is Risen Indeed.”
Honestly, you have no idea what is going to stick.
Me? I also tried to learn a couple new words this week.
“As-salamu alaykum,” which is “Peace be upon you” in Arabic. The church I serve made plans to share an Iftar meal with a Muslim community from Dialogue Institute Austin, and their director asked if I might say a few words of welcome to open the gathering.
I knew immediately that there is a common, Arabic phrase for greeting one another. “That’s how I’ll start my remarks!” as I patted myself on the proverbial back for such thoughtfulness.
“How to you pronounce As-salamu alaykum?” I inquired of all-knowing Google, who promptly obliged my inquiry with dozens of recorded options.
I listened to six or seven, and then became rather overwhelmed by the way accents nuanced all of them. Eventually, I picked one, pressed “play” over and over, and paced my office trying to get the phrase to roll off of my tongue like I’d been saying it for years.
As-salamu alaykum. As-salamu alaykum. As-salamu alaykum. As-salamu alaykum.
Over and over. Back and forth.
Then I looked over the rest of my prepared remarks and noticed toward the end that I offered a heartfelt “thank you” to the Muslim community.
“Ah!” I thought. “That should be offered in Arabic as well!” The proverbial back was doing quite well for one day’s work.
“Shukran,” Google reminded me is the Arabic word. But a few seconds of digging makes clear you can really bring it home with, “shukran jazilan,” meaning, “Thank you very much.”
Oh yeah. We’re all about the jazlion addition.
Shukran jazilan. Shukran jazilan. Shukran jazilan. Shukran jazilan.
Over and over. Back and forth.
Eventually some mix-and-match: As-salamu alaykum. Shukran jazilan. As-salamu alaykum. Shukran jazilan.
Game time.
Monday, April 25th at 7pm members of Dialogue Institute Austin began arriving to our church. I struck up informal conversation with a few of them, and their imperfect English made clear that they were not born in the United States. Inevitably they would offer some of the story.
“The rest of my family is still in Turkey.”
“We came to Austin from Turkey last year.”
“I came from Turkey four years ago. The rest of my family arrived to Austin six months ago.” It turned out every single person from the Institute was originally from Turkey.
Eventually, I told one of them I would be sharing some remarks shortly, and he says, “‘Merhaba!’ You should begin your remarks with 'merebah,’ and they will love you! It means ‘welcome’ or ‘hello’ in Turkish.”
Turkish!?!
“Ok, ‘merhaba.’ Thank you for that. And also….what if I said As-salamu alaykum?”
“Sure,” he responded mildly.
“It is Arabic,” he added in a tone that made clear that wasn’t how this community communicated with one another (As I later realized, Arabic is generally heard throughout Turkey given that it is the language of the Qur'an, but it is not a known, spoken language for all but 1-3% of the population there). “We will understand but go with ‘merhaba,’” he added with a smile. “This will go well for you!”
Merhaba. My proverbial back now sheepish.
“And then…well…I also wanted to say ‘thank you,’ in my remarks,” I added. “Could I say, “shukran jazilan?”
“Sure. It is Arabic. But…” And I could tell a Turkish recommendation for “thank you” was just around the corner again. “If you have a little time to practice, what if you said, “Teşekkür ederim? This will go well for you!”
He quickly noted my panicked face and said, slowly, “Like this - Teh-sheh-kull-erh Ed-erh-im.”
“Teh-sheh-kull-erh Ed-erh-im,” I offered sounding as if small rocks had unexpectedly filled my throat at that very moment of pronunciation.
Eventually I gave my remarks, never mentioning the two Arabic phrases that had given my proverbial back such love. Instead, I went with the far-less-rehearsed words of welcome and thanks. And though offered with an awkward garble they were received with smiles of surprise and even a few claps of kindness.
It was humbling, though, to see the profound amount of ignorance that informed my initial preparation.
How had I not thought to inquire ahead of time about the specifics of this community?!
Why did I not think to ask what country or countries of origin would be represented?!
What if all anyone knew about me was, “He’s a Christian,” and can you imagine the rather significant differences it would make to another person if they knew that meant Catholic Christian or Eastern Orthodox Christian or Evangelical Christian or Amish Christian or Pentecostal Christian or…? (And even all of those distinctions do not take into any account my country of origin, region of origin, or further denominational nuances).
At the same time, I quickly realized that many of those from Dialogue Institute Austin spoke little-to-some English.
“My wife did not come,” one told me through developing English. “Her English is not good and…” he trailed off, but I could fill it in. “She was nervous she would not have the right words.”
“Me too,” I said.
In fact, nearly all of them who came were still trying to learn the right words.
“Similar,” Leo would say about our two communities.
When we could not find the words with one another, we instead relied on gestures, facial expressions, and smartphones filled with photos that could better tell the story of our families and homes. And you know what? It was one of the most sublime evenings of human connection I have known in a long time.
It seems even when (especially when) we are trying to find the right words to say…
at the big event
or in meeting the new person
or in reconciling with our partner
or when having a tough conversation with our child
or when stretching across religious/cultural/ethnic/political difference…
It is good to remember…
That they are also trying to find the right words.
And sometimes it isn’t until the actual conversation itself that we are given the right words (by them!).
And the right words are a far second to the right heart. A true welcome and thanks are offered in thousands of small ways that do not require words. Especially when food is shared.
It’s a simple thing to come back to, really. But maybe amid all of our pacing back-and-forth to get the next thing right, that simple truth is just the reminder we need.
(Photo: Members of Dialogue Institute Austin and First Presbyterian Church of Georgetown, TX - new friends after sharing imperfect words and perfect food)
This is great Bobby!