Mennonite
Central
Committee

Reflections of the Shellenbergers

in Iran 2001 to 2004

Evie and Wally Shellenberger, members of Paoli Mennonite Fellowship in Indiana, were sent by MCC to study at the Imam Khomeini Education and Research Institute in Qom, Iran, from 2001 to 2004. They were there during the September 11 terror attacks and as U.S. military began campaigns in Afghanistan and Iraq. During these three years, the pair wrote numerous reflections on their time there. Here are a few.

 

1. You will know them by their fruits
2. Keepers of one another's dignity
3. Ramadan reflections
4. Tribute to an Iranian friend
5. A little child shall lead them
6. A gift of love from the enemy

 

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You will know them by their fruits

Evie Shellenberger, May 2003

QOM, Iran — Fruits and the fruits of the Spirit have much importance in Christian thinking. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says: "A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit." (Matthew 7:18)

During the past two years we have studied Islam, the Persian language and the history and culture of Iran. We have listened to and pondered carefully the words of our teachers. We have observed intently the lifestyle and actions of our teachers, friends and neighbors. We have prayed daily for God's guidance in our own lives as we open our hearts to learning about another religious faith.

In doing so, we have been amazed at the fruits of the Spirit lived out by people here.

During summertime in Iran, especially in the evening or early morning when the weather is cooler, the parks are crowded with families sitting on blankets enjoying nature and food together. On one such morning we were enjoying a traditional Iranian breakfast of bread, dates, walnuts, cheese and tea when some ants found their way to our food. A 2-year-old boy who was eating with us began swatting at the ants. His father gently took his hand and recited to him a well-known Persian poem by the poet Sadi:

"Don't harm an ant carrying a piece of grain, because the ant has his own good life. Don't oppress the weak and powerless, for one day, like the ant, you will be the weaker one."

The father pointed to an ant hauling a morsel of bread, and we all marveled as we watched the ants intently at work. I marveled, too, at this respect for the lives of the small and weaker members of creation, taught here early in life. "The fruits of the Spirit are love, kindness, gentleness and self-control." (Galatians 5:22)

The weeks and months preceding the war with Iraq were tense times here, and the possibility of war was the subject of much discussion. Iran and Iraq were at war for nearly eight years, and many Iranian people consider Saddam Hussein an enemy. Many Iranian families continue to share stories of friends and relatives killed during their war with Iraq.

In spite of Iran's history with Iraq, we heard no statements of support for the U.S.-led war there. Having experienced the effects of war, many Iranians feel deep empathy for the Iraqi civilians. We shared stories, letters, petitions and actions of North Americans who were seeking peaceful means to solving the conflict with Iraq.

We told Iranian friends about people who were fasting on behalf of the Iraqi people: the 40-day fast of MCC worker Daryl Byler in Washington, D.C., and a weekly 12-hour fast started by Mennonite women in Canada. After learning about the women's fast, a Muslim professor from the University of Qom shared it with her students. Touched by the actions of Christians who were fasting for the welfare of Muslim brothers and sisters in Iraq, more than 25 students decided to join the weekly fast. Such actions brought to mind more words of the Persian poet, Sadi:

"Human beings are members one of another,
They are all created from one substance.
When one member experiences pain,
The other members cannot be at ease.
For if the pain of another does not cause you dis-ease
You are not worthy to be called a human being."

Such actions also brought to mind the gifts of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

 

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Keepers of one another's dignity

Evelyn Shellenberger, November 2003

There are some songs that seem to make a special impact on one's mind and heart. One of those songs for me is, "They'll know we are Christians by our love." I appreciate the words of the song and can strongly affirm the power of love as one follows Christ in daily life. As we sang that song at a conference, "The Church Meets the Muslim Community: An Anabaptist Consultation on Islam," in Harrisonburg, Va., we also affirmed that we will guard each one's dignity and save each one's pride. I remember feeling that as an awesome responsibility as we talked together, especially in the absence of Muslims.

We returned to Iran immediately following that conference and arrived during the holy month of Ramadan. It truly feels like a holy month here as people commit themselves to fasting, prayer, reading the Qur'an and giving to the poor. There is a strong sense of community as families gather together regularly to share the evening meal, known as "eftar," which breaks the day of fasting, We have been invited to many different homes during the past weeks and have enjoyed delicious Persian foods as we sit together with our Iranian friends around a "sofreh" (tablecloth) on the floor.

Even though we have been in Iran for two and a half years and know a bit of the Persian language, we are very aware of our ability to misunderstand things. When invited for eftar we usually repeat the day and time, just to be sure we got it right. We need not only be sure of the right day and time but also if the invitation includes the entire family or if it is just for men. That question wasn't asked the evening we shared a taxi with our neighbor friends and traveled to the home of our hosts, whom I had not met. We rang the doorbell and it took awhile for the host to answer. I immediately began to wonder if perhaps we had come the wrong day.

Soon the host welcomed us into the home and, as is typical, the women were ushered into one room and the men into another. As my friend, Heidi, and I entered the room where we were to eat, I knew that we were not expected guests — but the hostess quickly welcomed us and hurried to set up the sofreh for us on the floor. I said to Heidi, "Are we uninvited guests?" "Yes," she replied, "I think so, but I'll ask." Heidi apologized to our hostess who again warmly welcomed us and set before us a wonderful meal. Our hostess joined us on the floor and ate with us.

Following our meal together our hostess was very interested in why we had chosen to live in Iran and our purpose for being here. She was surprised that I was not Muslim and wanted to know about Mennonites. In response to her questions I sat quietly for a moment trying to think how I would share a response in Farsi. Heidi (an Iranian Muslim) immediately sat forward on her pillow and with passion spoke about Mennonites. She talked about our desire for peace and living simple lifestyles and shared the work of MCC in various countries around the world. She talked about the sincere Christian faith of her mother-in-law. I listened to her words spoken so kindly and powerfully about a faith different from her own, Islam.

I have since reflected on this incident. I have wondered if perhaps one important outcome of interfaith dialogue, Muslims and Christians journeying together, is that the "other" will indeed know us and make us known to others as we would like to be known. That is exactly what Heidi did for me. And it was a powerful moment for me. Would I, I wondered, make her faith be known in a way that she would want it to be known? Would I be able to speak passionately and kindly about the strengths of another's faith?

Perhaps as a result of sincere dialogue with each other, we will be able to depend on one another to speak truthfully about faith issues and to be keepers of one another's dignity and pride. This would mean not giving sensational or distorted messages about one another. Maybe it means giving no answer to questions about another's faith rather than answering blindly. Perhaps it means correcting lies and misunderstandings about the other.

We will be leaving Iran soon and will be saying goodbye to the people here whom we have come to love and respect. We feel that we carry with us a sacred trust to be keepers of the dignity of our Iranian brothers and sisters. May God grant us the grace to do so.

 

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Ramadan reflections

Wallace Shellenberger, October 2003

The time of Ramadan in Iran is a deeply spiritual time. Often classes at the institute are cut short and people come in late to work, allowing time to pray the night-time prayer. This is the time between midnight and 4 a.m., which is a particularly intimate opportunity to pray with God. The month of Sh`ban, the month before Ramadan, is an important time of preparation. An excerpt from a prayer of Imam Ali which is commonly prayed during Sha`ban is as follows:

My God! To You is due all praise,
Always and forever, eternally,
increasing, not diminishing,
As You like and please.
My God! If You hold me for my crimes,
I will hold on to You for Your forgiveness,
and if You hold me for my sins,
I will hold on to You for Your pardon.
If You cast me into the fire,
I will announce to its inmates that I love You.

The month of Ramadan has both a festive and holy quality. People join together to read through the Qur'an during this month. And most evenings people gather together to share a meal after having not eaten for more than 14 hours. The meal is a time of joy, reminding me of a Thanksgiving meal at home.

 

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Tribute to an Iranian friend

Evelyn Shellenberger, January 2003

QOM, Iran — Just five days ago we had sat together on the floor, drinking tea and discussing religion, politics and our day-to-day lives. Now the shocking news arrived; our friend and neighbor, Mr. Yazdani, had died suddenly of an apparent heart attack.

We walked to his home and joined grieving family members and friends. His elderly mother was seated on the floor crying out, "God, where are you?" His wife and six young children are left without a husband and father. We mourn the loss of his friendship.

During the following day I kept remembering experiences my husband and I had shared with Mr. Yazdani. I realized that he had taught us much about how Christians and Muslims can live peaceably together and share their faith with each other.

Don't let this turban scare you.
The first time we met Mr. Yazdani he came in his usual clerical clothing — a long black robe and a white turban wrapped neatly around his head. I felt a bit intimidated, which he must have sensed, for he quickly said with his usual sense of humor, "Don't let this robe and turban scare you. It is just our dress here, you know." How often we do allow clothing, skin color, nationality or position to determine who our friends will be? Such external things may keep us from initiating friendships.

Offer a hand of friendship.
Where we live in Iran, most men do not shake hands with women. Before coming to Iran I was instructed not to offer my hand, to shake hands only if a man first offers first. Mr. Yazdani was one of three men who have offered to me their hand. The first time he did so, tears came to my eyes to feel this warm sign of acceptance. Once I thanked him for this. He replied that one needs to think carefully about what is cultural and what is basic to one's faith, especially when relating to people of other cultures.

Disagreements need not interfere with continued friendship.
We disagreed with Mr. Yazdani at times, about such things as the necessity of war, women's roles and our understandings of who Jesus is. We spoke honestly about our beliefs and also listened carefully as the other spoke. These disagreements never kept Mr. Yazdani away. He regularly stopped by to talk and see how we were doing. Differences in belief and practice must be shared honestly, and listening to differing points of view is critical. Underneath lies a commitment to each other deeper than the differences we express.

A passion for one's faith is evident to the other.
Mr. Yazdani was passionate about his faith in God and would frequently, in the midst of a discussion, walk over to our bookshelf, pull off the Qur'an and read to us a certain verse. We never doubted the importance of his faith and his eagerness to know God's ways. Our faith expressions must arise from the passion of our love for God.

May God the compassionate continually show us how to live peaceably together and how to share the meaning of our faith with others.

 

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A little child shall lead them

Evelyn Shellenberger, August 2002

QOM, Iran — After a short visit home to Paoli, Indiana, my husband and I were about to return to Qom, where we've been living and studying through an MCC exchange program. As we said goodbye to friends, a young child handed me an envelope, saying, "Here is a letter I wrote for one of the children in Iran. Will you give it to someone there? I would like to be friends with someone in Iran."

Some days earlier, following a meeting where I spoke about our life and work in Iran, two teenagers went directly to Walmart and purchased small gifts that they gave to me, asking that I give them to teenagers in Iran as a sign of friendship. School photos with their names and addresses accompanied the gifts, which included notepads, colored pens and small basketballs.

At our home congregation, Paoli Mennonite Fellowship, a teenager handed me a note she had written during our presentation. A small sum of money was neatly wrapped inside. "I was touched by what you said about the people in Iran, and I want to help in some way," she said. "I am sure you can use this money to help the people there."

These young people's unsolicited responses, concern and attempts to befriend Iranians bring to mind images of the peaceable kingdom in Isaiah: the wolf and the lamb lying together, the leopard lying down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child leading them. I think also of a saying posted on a bulletin board at the Islamic seminary in Qom, where we study. It reads, "When the heart does not see, hearing through the ears is of no use."

Might peace and friendship between our nations be possible if we each had the heart of a child? May God give us seeing hearts, like those of children — hearts that see possibilities of peace and friendship growing out of small acts.

 

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A gift of love from the enemy

Evie Shellenberger, April 2003

This was a joint release with Mennonite Mission Network (MMN), which helped to support the Shellenbergers.

QOM, Iran — March 21 was New Year's Day in Iran, normally a time celebrated with many traditional festivals and customs. We tried to feel the happiness that accompanies the beginning of a new year, but a dark cloud seemed to hover overhead as we watched television reports of war in Iraq. We heard the bombs exploding and saw the wounded and dead soldiers lying on the desert and families fleeing their homes for a place of safety. The war had started indeed.

The beginning of the war was not a surprise to anyone here. Still, we had held onto that glimmer of hope that the many voices around the world calling for peace would somehow be heard by those who plan and initiate war.

In recent weeks I searched for a meaningful passage of scripture or a familiar song to guide me through this dark time. The gift of this song has carried me through difficult times in the past.

My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation.
I catch the sweet, though far off hymn that hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear that music ringing.
It finds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing?

No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that Rock I'm clinging.
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?

— Text by Robert Lowry, 1869

Last week my life was touched by love from an unexpected source — the enemy. I was reminded once again of the power of love and the possibilities of new creation.

It happened several days before the war began, a time when we all felt that war was imminent and just a matter of days away. A Muslim friend invited me to join her at a weekly "sisters meeting" where women gather together to study the Qur'an, the Muslim holy book. I gladly accepted, eager to fellowship with a group of women.

We arrived late, but as we entered the room about 20 women seated on the floor stood to welcome us. We joined the circle, where the leader was explaining some difficult Arabic phrases within the Qur'an Following the discussion she walked over and introduced herself as an Iraqi who is currently living in Iran.

"And where are you from?" she asked. I told her I am from the United States, and at that moment we were both very aware that we represented countries at war with each other — enemies.

After a brief period of silence, she told me that her mother, father and other family members are now living in Baghdad and her family has suffered much over the years there. Tears filled her eyes as she talked, and my heart cried as I felt her love and concern for her family. After listening to her story I tried express my sorrow. The only words I could find were, "I am so sorry for what my country is doing to the Iraqi people and to your family."

She reached for her purse, opened it and pulled out a torn piece of paper and a pen. She quietly wrote something, then took my hand and placed the paper within my hand, saying, "Here is my name and telephone number, my sister. Please feel free to call me any time, and we must pray for one another." Her kind words lifted the heavy burden I was feeling.

When I returned home I reflected on what had happened, and the words of Jesus came to me, "Love your enemies." I have thought of these words often during the past months and am striving to live them. But I had not pondered the idea of receiving love from an enemy. What a powerful gift to hold onto during these days of war. Certainly, love is Lord of heaven and earth. How can I keep from singing?

 

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