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I’m an accidental Muslim party crasher. Three years ago, I studied abroad in Amman, Jordan during Ramadan, a month when Muslims around the world fast every day from morning until night. As a Christian, I had never experienced Ramadan first hand. I realized that if I were going to understand the culture, I would need to fast alongside the Muslim community. My Jordanian friends expressed great excitement and joy about my decision. One, in particular, even invited me to break fast with his family.
On the day of the iftar meal, I arrived at his house and was enthusiastically ushered inside. For twenty minutes, I filled my stomach and enjoyed a deep sense of community, but after some time began to wonder why my friend was not there. I gave him a call.
House - No - Address - Stranger - House
“Where are you?” I asked. To which he responded, “Where are you?” “I’m at your house,” I said. “No you’re not. We’re all here and you’re not.” I quickly looked up and realized I must have had the wrong address. I was at a complete stranger’s house. And somehow, it didn’t matter. The fact that I was at their door was enough for this generous family to invite me in. This story is a wonderful example of the radical hospitality that exists in Muslim communities. It is a hospitality that is, unfortunately, not experienced or understood by many American Christians because we either haven’t had the opportunity to meet a Muslim or have lived in fear of something that we don’t understand. For example, only 36% of white Evangelicals say that most Muslims living in the United States are committed to the well-being of America. That’s a pretty...
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