Back in Jordan: Holy Land Divided and Partitioned

After a few days in Jerusalem, I made my way back to Jordan.  I had to go back the same way I went in by way of the Sheikh Hussein Bridge, but the second time around took a lot less time.  On my way up Bayt She'an, I stopped at the King Hussein crossing, but was told by one of the border guards that I could not cross because I had an exit stamp from Jordan meaning that I would need to pay for another visa to cross into Jordan.  Essentially, Jordan considers the Palestinian held territory to be theirs as well--granted it was at one point--so visiting Ramallah for instance to Jordanian authorities would be as if you had never left their country.  So in order to make it back to the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, I would need to go through either the Sheikh Hussein Bridge or head all the way down south to Wadi Araba.  I knew that a bus headed to Bayt She'an would come around in about 20 or so minutes so I parked my stuff on the west side bus stop and waited for the next northbound bus to pass through again.

Delicious falafel and Hebrew brew to wash it down

Once I arrived in Bayt She'an, I grabbed a falafel sandwich and a kosher beer at a fast-food joint just down the block from the bus stop next to the McDonalds.  The kosher beer was a decent pilsen, but nothing too exciting; however, knowing that I was on my way back to a Muslim country where drinking is haram (forbidden) even though it does happen in tourist areas , I took my time taking in what little scenery there was while I savored the brew.  The falafel was quite good actually mainly because of the tangy yogurt they slathered all over the bread.  After finishing the beer, the restaurant manager asked if I needed a cab to go to the crossing.  I said, "Yes," and within minutes the same cab driver that brought me to Bayt She'an a couple of days ago was there to take me back.  Whaddayaknow, small world!

This time around, though, he said less offensive things about his neighbors on the other side of the river and was mainly interested in how I spent my days in Jerusalem.  Towards the end of the short trip, he gave me his business card and told me to call him next time I pass through so I can dine with his family.  It was a nice gesture to leave on.

At the crossing, I paid my Israeli exit tax (98.50 NIS or roughly $30, ouch!), and on the other side I paid for another Jordanian visa (10 JD or approx $15, ouch again!).  Knowing that I would now have this visa for the next 30 days, I decided that I wasn't going to rush my travels in Jordan.  I called up my Peace Corps volunteer contacts near Irbid.  One of them told me that I could totally crash his pad for another night.  Unfortunately, the only way to get out of the crossing station on the Jordanian side was to pay 19JD or a little over $25 for a 12km ride to the Jordan River Crossing taxi service, which in NYC would be a bargain, but in Jordan, it's highway robbery.

The dispatcher was trying to convince me to go all the way to Amman and pay 35JD for the trip, which was even more obscene knowing full well that a Hijazi bus from Irbid to Amman runs about 2JD, but it was a better value per kilometer nonetheless.  This was one instance when traveling with someone else would have made the trip much cheaper.  A lot of Jordanians at the crossing were already traveling in twos or threes and split the fares to their destinations.  The few Israelis that had crossed over got into a tour bus that was waiting for them.  Finally, the dispatcher gave up trying to convince me to go to Amman and made the call for a taxi for Irbid, and I reluctantly paid the 19JD.

Once in Irbid, my volunteer host told me that he was sightseeing in Umm Qays with another volunteer and some of his Jordanian buddies that I had hung out with on my first visit to his village.  So from Irbid, I took a transit to Umm Qays for 1JD.  Normally, it's about .500 pistares/half a JD for the 15 minute ride, but because it was still Leid Kabir /Al-Adha or the Grand Holiday Feast weekend, the unlicensed, private transits wanted a little extra.

Upon arrival, they told me that we were going on a little road trip. I hopped onto another passenger van, and instead of going back on the road to Irbid, we went the opposite direction, downhill from Umm Qays and towards a military checkpoint.  Our driver and our Jordanian friend asked us for our passports, they handed them to the guards, and then went about asking the guards where they were from, which village exactly, family names, and then told them that we were American tourists passing through.  The guards took a peek in.  Saw all three of us and none of us looked stereotypically American so he asked our guide again if we were indeed American.  He confirmed we were, the guard nodded, and then signaled that we could proceed.

We went another mile or so until we reached another checkpoint.  Now, I was thinking, "Maybe I should have asked where we were going before jumping onto this van." For a moment, I thought that maybe we were headed to Syria, which seemed unlikely, but then Umm Qays is a stone's throw away so it wasn't too far fetched.  At the second checkpoint, our Jordanian friend followed the same procedure, but this time one of the guards mentioned a village that one of our friends recognized.  From there, they went back and forth dropping names of mutual acquaintances.  That guard only glanced at our passports and then handed them back.

After that checkpoint, our driver cranked the car into second gear as we climbed a hill overlooking the Yarmouk River Valley sandwiched between the towering Golan Heights and the Jordanian east bank hills where a few families were there picnicking and watching the sunset.

Golan Heights from Jordan

Our Jordanian friend asked a gentleman who was laid out on a blanket on the hill's edge to point out some landmarks for us.  The man pointed north to the Golan Heights, which is currently under Israeli control, but that he considered to be part of Syria.

He pointed east and said that the olive-tree-dotted hills were part of Jordan and then pointed west and said that the fertile valley extending towards the Sea of Galilee/Lake Tiberias was Palestine.

He then pointed specifically to a certain area in the valley and said that his family had lived there before the war drove them out.

He said that he came to that hill often to gaze into Palestine and he hoped that one day he would be able to go back and live there once again.

The sun was setting quickly so our driver and friend told us to get back in the van.  We descended down the same hill and got back on the road.  We stopped at another military checkpoint.  We showed our IDs and were flagged through.  We stopped on the side of the road about 2-3K from the last checkpoint to see the Palestinian territory up close and the barbed and razor-wire fences on the other side of the river.

We were told that this was the demilitarized zone and that entire stretches on both sides of the river were lined with land mines.  One of our guides commented that it was like fillaha (agriculture/farming).  Along with the land mine cultivation, there were some fancy irrigation channels with all sorts of tunnels going in and out of hillside.

After getting a few pictures, we made our way back to Irbid.  It took me a while to process what I had seen.  For so long I had heard about the tensions in this region of the world, had read about the Six Day War, and had watched one Al-Jazeera documentary after another about the Israeli occupation while living in Morocco, but now I had met someone, a  Jordanian national of Palestinian descent, who was personally affected by the conflict.  I had seen first hand how decades of unresolved border disputes had led to a buffer of land mines to prevent further incursions from either party.  It was just hard to reconcile the land mines, military checkpoints, razor-wire fencing, every other young Israeli carrying assault rifles, and the animosity on both sides of the river with the messages of peace and compassion that I had read in the Bible, and I wondered whether, if ever, the message to love thy neighbor and to do unto others as you would like to have done unto thyself that is central to all Abrahamic faiths would ever be manifested in the very place where it was preached thousands of years ago.

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I think we are all guilty of dismissing every other beauty queen's wish for world peace.  It seems preposterous in the face of the calamities this world has witnessed and the conflict-ridden state of affairs.  I also dismiss it because it is hard to imagine what that world would look like.  Where and how do you begin?  How do you sustain it?

In a follow up to her Charter for Compassion, religious historian Karen Armstrong talks of reviving the Golden Rule.  She mentions in the TED talk below how doing so has the potential to turn us from an ego-centric mindset to a transcendent state, "an imaginative act of empathy, putting yourself in the place of another", which has the effect of making us value the life of another as much as we value our own life.  Towards the end, she paraphrases a theme in C.S. Lewis's book Four Loves in which the author differentiates between erotic love when one looks deeply into another's eyes and friendship when two people stand side by side gazing out towards a goal.  She says, "We don't have to fall in love with each other, but we can become friends....and when people of all different persuasions come together, working side by side, for a common goal, differences melt away.  And we learn amity.  And we learn to live together and to get to know one another."  It's a thoughtful response worthy of some serious consideration.  See the full TED Talk below:

Walk the Abraham Path and Then Couchsurf It!

Couchsurfing host in Jordan

A dear friend of mine sent me an interesting TED Talk, which focuses on the need to build upon William Ury´s idea of what he calls "The Third Side".  Mr. Ury said that in conflict there are always two sides and the third side is the one that we all share--our common humanity.  He speaks of how Abraham exemplified hospitality and the unity of us all and proposes that people retrace the steps of Abraham from cradle to grave to understand and to connect with the people of this region who to this day display the same hospitality that Abraham showed thousands of years ago.  Ury adds, "Abraham is not just a figure in a book for these people; he is a living figure."

Couchsurfing hosts in Israel

I agree with Mr. Ury and his belief that traveling, touring, and walking alongside others on the Abraham Path or any other corner of the world has the potential to reduce the fear and hostility between us.  As Mark Twain once said, "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness" and in the words of French novelist Marcel Proust, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."

Couchsurfers in Amman

I would take Mr. Ury's idea a bit further and urge people to invest a little time in getting to know the region and the people you plan to visit.  Just knowing how to say basic greetings in the local language, however choppy or mispronounced it may be, brings smiles to people's faces.  The locals will appreciate the effort and most likely reward you with an invitation for coffee, tea, or even a homemade meal.

Eating a bit of Maqlouba in Jordan

I've been fortunate to experience the amazing hospitality that Mr. Ury spoke of.  Throughout my travels, I couchsurfed with Jordanians, Bedouins, Israelis, Moroccans, Spaniards, Italians, Dominicans, and lots of fellow expatriate Americans.  Some gave me a place to stay and others took me to their favorite hangout spots.  Those that I stayed with gave me the best that they could offer and made me feel like family and others introduced me to their circle of friends.  Time after time, I was blown away by this gesture of kindness and goodwill offered to a complete stranger.

Late last year, I hosted a number of couchsurfers in Morocco.  I had a great time hosting people from around the globe with such different points of view and experiences.  I learned a great deal about myself from our exchanges and made great friends in the process.  Couchsurfing is a wonderful experiment that falls in line with Mr. Ury's idea of turning "hostility to hospitality" and "terrorism to tourism".

I hope that wherever I end up that I can continue to host more couchsurfers.  If you've never heard of couchsurfing, take a moment to check it out.  Host, couchsurf, or simply meet folks for a little drink.  I and other couchsurfers will be eternally grateful, and my hope is that you'll learn from me as much as I hope to learn from you.  Hope to see you in my next couchsurf search!

Good luck and bon voyage!  


FYI: Couchsurfing is not the only website linking travelers and locals.  It is perhaps the most popular with perhaps more profiles than others.  Recently, Couchsurfing changed from a non-profit to a "socially responsible" corporation.  I have no problems with the status change because being a non-profit does not make an organization more noble by any means, but as a corporation it is likely that soon they may begin selling member info to marketers similar to other social media platforms so careful what you post.  Here is a list of other travel sites I've been using in place of Couchsurfing:

www.bewelcome.org - similar to couchsurfing
www.tripping.com - combines couchsurfing with paid temporary stay accommodation options
www.airbnb.com - paid temporary accommodation options.  Great for group vacation rentals or temp house/flat exchange. 

In Matters of Faith: Minding My Own

In Morocco, faith and religious practice is intertwined with everyday life.  The call to prayer is loud and clear five times a day and especially noticeable at five in the morning.  Every action, it seems, is preceded or followed by what are commonly referred to as God phrases.  If a Moroccan happens to notice that you took a shower, got a haircut, got new clothes, got done exercising, or finished a meal, he or she instinctively blurts out a bssHa (To your health) to which one must respond with a llah y3tik sHa (May God give you health) .  If you are about to start cooking a meal, eating a meal, about to walk out the door, jump in a car, or go anywhere in particular uttering a bismillah (In the Name of God) is necessary to bless the start of the journey or activity.  If you're grateful about anything, you should throw in a hamdullah (thanks be to God).  When you're about to walk out the door or leaving your circle of friends, you could say bslama, which according to our Peace Corps Darija (Moroccan Arabic) textbook is your equivalent of a goodbye, but a lot of Moroccans combine that with a llah y3wnk or llah yfdk (God help you or God protect you).  Lastly, if one is to mention anything that is likely to happen in the near or distant future, one should expect to be interrupted with a customary inshallah (God willing).

I've gotten so accustomed to using these phrases that now I insert preemptive inshallahs before I start any future tense verb.  Some of my Moroccan friends think that I'm being really considerate of God's will by inserting inshallahs at the start, middle, and end of my future tense sentences, but truth is that I don't really like to be interrupted when I'm speaking :). Who does?

To a foreigner adding all these God phrases can seem quite burdensome and odd if unaccustomed to invoking God in their native language.  There are so many different phrases and using one out of place can get you some chuckles or stares and is a tell-tale sign that you haven't been in the country for very long.  For Moroccans, uttering them is second nature.  They add these phrases effortlessly into their conversation.  The more you use them, the more respectful or pious you come across.  The utterance of Allah (God) is intrinsically tied to their everyday sayings regardless if you're speaking in Darija, Tamazight, Tashelheit, or Tarifit.

During Ramadan, it seems as if people are a bit more devoted to the practice of their faith than is commonly seen throughout the year.  They attend the mosque with more frequency, read the Qur'an, and wear what some consider to be more reverent attire.  More men put on their skull-caps and dust off their ankle-length white tunics.  People turn even more nocturnal than usual as circadian rhythms and blood-sugar levels are thrown out of whack by the sunrise to sunset fast and the late night meals.  The other day as I walked around Rabat just before the break of fast, I was taken aback by how people sat in front of a hot, delicious serving of Morocco's famous harira, fat, juicy dates, sugary fried dough delicacies, and a glass of juice or milk without taking a bite or a sip at least until the imam called out the end of the fast.  It was remarkable to witness this degree of self-control.

Religious traditions also play a role in the family's finances.  For every new child that is born, the father must sacrifice a sheep during its naming ceremony.  For the grand feast of L3id Kbir/Al-Adha, the family takes out the savings to purchase one to two sheep depending on the size of the family.  Every sheep can cost anywhere from 1,000 to 1,500DH or $120 to $180.  This may not sound like a lot in dollar terms, but when the average salary for a day laborer is 50DH or $6.25 p/day; just imagine the effort families have to make to have the money for this must-do religious rite.  Not too long ago, one of my Moroccan friends told me that his wife was  expecting twins.  He was elated, but also somewhat concerned because within a few months he would have to purchase two sheep for the naming ceremony.  I asked him why couldn't just one sheep suffice, but the thought of that was something he'd rather not even contemplate.  He felt a sense of obligation.  

Another ritual that all Muslims should do, according to what is regarded as the five pillars of Islam, within their lifetime is the Hajj or pilgrimage to Mecca, which can run between 50-60,000DH per person for an all-inclusive travel package.  For many Moroccans especially here in the rural and semi-urban towns, having that much cash available is something of a pipe dream; however, that doesn't mean that they don't think about it.  If the economic circumstances would permit it, they would most certainly follow through with it without any hesitation.

Sometimes people's religious fervor can also be in-your-face, literally.  During our pre-service training, we were warned that many people would approach us to speak to us about Islam with the goal of converting us.  According to our cross-cultural facilitators during our PC training, he stated that the Qur'an speaks of a reward in paradise for those that bring someone into Islam.  Most people have been cordial when speaking about Islam while some, perhaps by nature are belligerent and judgmental, speak about their faith in a forceful and absolutist way.  Others are really sly and attempt to convert you by having you repeat the shahada, the declaration of faith, without explaining to you what you're about to say--I think most volunteers have probably unintentionally converted, but supposedly according to Muslim scholars, if one does not say the shahada knowing fully what one is saying and in earnest, then it doesn’t count. Most everyone asks if I fast and how many times I pray. When I tell them that in my old church we were not required to fast and that we did pray during church services and before meals, some have said that they like the prayer before meals idea, but found it odd that we were not asked to fast.


Any response about my former religious practices were met with comparisons. If I said that some Catholics fast for Lent for a week or up to a month, I was reminded about how much Muslims fasted. If I said that my family used to pray before meals, traveling, and before going to bed, I was reminded about how most Muslims pray five times a day. If I told them that I would go to church service twice per week, I was then told that most Muslims go to the mosque at least five times per day. Every answer was met with a response showing how much more devoted Muslims were in terms of all the things that they did.


What was absent from most of our conversations was the question of what I believed. In the U.S., there are so many denominations branching out from Christianity that often what one believes is central to one's religious or spiritual identity, but in Morocco, only a handful of people asked me what exactly did I believe. When I read Seyyed Hossein Nasr'sHeart of Islam, I began to understand the questions or the absence of some questions from my Moroccan friends and colleagues. He said that Muslims are not concerned with orthodoxy, but rather orthopraxy. It's not about what you believe, but what you do. Hence, what they say throughout the day, what they wear, the number of times they pray, the slaughtering of the sacrificial lamb, complying with Shari'a law, fasting, making the pilgrimage to Mecca, and zakat (almsgiving) are a daily demonstration of their devotion and submission to God.

Having worked with previous volunteers, my tutor knew that I would be confronted about my Christian faith.  He gave me some phrases that would help to diffuse the tension and would call to question the actions of the often self-righteous and presumptuous proselytizer.  Basically, he told me to do the following: first, one shouldn't be speaking about Islam with complete strangers so one can call out people for being impertinent; second, once the person has apologized and invited you and your friends over for lunch or tea, but should they persist, one should tell them that should one decide to become a Muslim, one need not only to hear about the faith, but also to see living examples of the faith where the principles (mabadi), values (qiyam), and manners/behaviors (axlaq) are in full display; thirdly, if that doesn't prompt the proselytizer to reflect on their own lives and conduct, one can appeal to them to respect (Htrm) one's faith or call them out for being judgmental, which according to the Qur'an should only be God’s prerogative. 

With religion being ever-present, it is hard not to think about one’s beliefs.  Seeking to understand where people around me were coming from, I read a number of books that gave me some insight into my neighbors’ faith and how that faith shaped their values.  I went through Karen Armstrong’s History of God, which chronicled the evolution of Abrahamic faiths.  Ms. Armstrong’s detailed account of the birth, expansion, inner struggles, outside influences, and future challenges of each of the three Abrahamic faiths helped me understand the context in which the divine scriptures were written and how over the centuries different people in different regions with different influences read or heard the scriptures, which helped them determine a course of action for their lives and the lives of others.  Several years before coming to Morocco and before I even applied to the Peace Corps, a dear mentor of mine recommended Ms. Armstrong’s Holy War: The Crusades and Their Impact on Today’s World, which documented the interaction between East and West and Christianity and Islam crusade by crusade.  These two books gave me a lot of great insight and also gave me more of an impetus to continue learning.  

I followed Armstrong's books with Nasr’s Heart of Islam.  This book was written shortly after 9/11 in the hopes of creating an interfaith dialogue and to counter the media’s negative portrayals of his faith.  It’s a contrast to Armstrong who as a religious historian attempts to remain objective in her narrative.  Nasr makes no excuses about what he believes and has little regard for the work of Enlightenment scholars who first attempted to describe his faith.  In fact, in his preface he goes on to say that the Age of Enlightenment was “an age of the darkening of the soul and eclipse of the intellect”.  Like Armstrong, he compares and contrasts various passages in the Torah, Bible, and Qur’an to show how the scriptures resemble one another.  He counters the media critics who allege that Islam is a violent religion or that it supposedly endorses violence by pointing to other verses in the Qur’an that speak of tolerance, forgiveness, and peace.

Later on, I came across a copy of Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s Infidel, a book that supposedly is banned in Morocco and in many other Islamic countries because of what some consider to be a poor depiction of Islam, but probably most importantly because she is a Muslim turned atheist.  Ali’s struggles in war-torn Somalia, her brief stint in Saudi Arabia, living as a refugee in Ethiopia, her courageous escape to Europe, and her spiritual transformations make for a riveting read.  Even if one objects to the characterizations about Islam, her life story is a remarkable journey.  I found it insightful to read about how different people with distinctive cultural and socioeconomic backgrounds from the various countries she lived in, within and outside of the Abode of Islam, interpreted the scriptures and then applied them to their daily lives.  Throughout most of the book I believe she is intending to demonstrate how someone's culture can frame the faith, but then towards the end, she seems to forget that point and resorts to making similar generalizations about the role of the faith in various aspects of Muslim society.  She picks and chooses verses to show that the Qur'an endorses oppression and calls out some Muslism for not being true Muslims because they don't adhere to a literal interpretation.  It's almost as if she turned into the very thing she despised.

The history and culture as Ali shows are key in the exercise of an individual, community, or a nation's faith, but I can't help but think about the socioeconomic factors at play that have put oppressive governments in power. Just recently, I read a blurb on a recent copy of The Economist magazine about the curse of oil.  According to the author, one of the reasons why the U.S. has made strides in gender equality is partly due to world events that prompted change.  World War I & II forced women to the workforce and in the process they gained skills and political clout in the dynamics of the family.  Also, in our market-driven economy, we are constantly seeking new and innovative ways to generate domestic demand; therefore, ignoring the needs, aspirations, and ideas of 50% of the population would be bad for business.  On the other hand, oil-rich countries, which also happen to make up a significant portion of the Islamic World, are export driven, mostly state-controlled, and have steady cashflows that makes it less of an imperative to diversify their economy.  Also, men in some of these countries earn enough to feed the family; thus, women, aside from consumption side of an economy, are nearly absent in other areas.

I think that logic rings somewhat true in Morocco.  Because they lack the oil deposits, they have a much more diversified economy where women play a much bigger role in government and business.  The dynamics in a family where the wife is an income contributor is remarkably different.  When our CBT group asked a cooperative about gender expectations relating to work within Islam, they reminded us that the Prophet's wife, Khadija, was the head of a large caravan trade business.  The women of the cooperative did not feel at odds with their faith for pursuing a profitable trade or career.  Like Ali showed the environment in which Islam is practiced will differ and in turn so will the laws, gender roles, and expectations.  Socioeconomic policy can certainly influence the societal structural.  I'm not saying that petrodollars are the sole cause for why for instance women in Saudi Arabia are not allowed to drive, but they can certainly prop a ruling class that may have a very rigid interpretation different from those of the women's coop I worked with and from that of other Muslim countries.

After reading the Heart of Islam and Infidel, I felt I needed to formulate my own opinion about the Qur’an so I started reading it.  As of November 5, I am only about a quarter of the way through it.  It’s a tough book to read with a lot of complicated passages that I believe are lost in translation.  Other passages are quite clear especially when speaking of the Five Pillars of Islam and I can see why many Moroccans feel comfortable telling me that I’m going to hell because I decided not to fast, but then again from what I have read, Surah 5 v. 47 of the Qur’an also states, “Let the People of the Gospel judge by that which Allah hath revealed therein.”  Mid-way through verse 48 it adds, “Had Allah willed he could have made you one community.  But that He may try you by that which He hath given you.  So vie one another in good works.  Unto Allah ye will all return, and He will then inform you of that wherein ye differ.”  The first sentence of Surah 2 v. 256 says, “There is no compulsion in religion.” These passages I’m sure could be interpreted in a number of ways and should be read with as much historical context and commentary.  For me, given my background, limited knowledge, and my limited capacity to understand religious scriptures, they mean that Allah has revealed Himself in different ways, He alone is the judge, and people should stop forcing others to do something in the name of religion. But don't take it from me.  Read it for yourself!

Be mindful that even after reading through several Surahs, these were the verses and passages that stood out to me.  Why did they stand out? Because these were the verses that my innately biased mind searched for.  Back in college, we had a name for this bias.  It was called selective attention.  We all practice it, but few acknowledge it.  My selective attention derives from growing up in an all-women household in Latin America under tough economic conditions in a conservative Christian environment.  I also moved around quite a bit, and every time we moved, I heard from a different pastor who quite often focused on different passages of the Bible or interpreted various verses in his own peculiar way.  Different people with different backgrounds read the Qur'an and other scriptures, and it speaks to them in different ways.  Others pick out various religious scriptures that give them meaning or justifies their behavior and sometimes overlook or place less emphasis on other passages that may run contradictory to their absolutist or legalistic ideology.  Some people are aware of their biases, but others are not.  In an ideal world, I would have any would-be interpreter of religious scriptures add a disclaimer, similar to the pharmaceutical commercials, about their cultural and socioeconomic background and even the natural environment he/she grew up in before he/she utters one word of interpretation or offers a selection of verses.  This would provide much-needed context to the individual's deliberate and unconscious biases when reading religious texts.        

Like I said, I’m only a quarter of the way through the Qur'an.  I’m still making up my mind about what has been said.  At the same time, I don’t think I will ever get to the point where I’ll have a clear understanding of anything written in any of the Divine Scriptures.  Armstrong tells stories of scholars of the Abrahamic faiths who gave up trying to make sense of the Scriptures and just began to recite and sing them believing that their meaning was beyond human comprehension.  I would agree with her. 

Unfortunately, many are not humble enough to accept that.  My prayer is that those who are aware of their inability to fully understand the Divine Scriptures will have the fortitude to stand up to those that claim to know it all or purport to carry out God’s will.  As for now, when it comes to matters of faith, I'll continue to mind my own.

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Here's a recent speech by Karen Armstrong on TED on her Charter for Compasssion: