Guest Writer: A Personal Reflection on the Middle East from One of My Closet Friends
[Editor’s Note: My friend and colleague Ashraf and I have known each other for 15 years. We are “unlikely allies” - the sub-title of a book we wrote together in 2016. By the world’s standards, Ashraf and I should not be friends at all. He is from a Muslim background in the Middle East, I am a Jew from New York City. And yet … here we are serving together as the core of The Isaac Ishmael Initiative. Below is his reflection on having lived in and grown to love Lebanon.]
by Ashraf Atieh
April 14th, 2007: Under some wild circumstances I faced in Jordan, I packed a small duffel bag and got into a taxi with the help of some friends. I was scared, worried, and saw everything as dark around me. I was advised to go to a place where I could find safety and refuge to clear my mind and see what God had planned for my future.
That place was Beirut, Lebanon, a city and country that quickly became my home. Over the next five years, I met friends who are like family to me to this day. I finished my theological studies and training at ABTS and became a part of its ministry. I joined a local warm church and, for the first time, became a member of a church.
Most of all, I met Emily, my wife and the love of my life. For the first three years of our relationship and marriage, Beirut and its people captured our hearts and minds. Our memories, trips, laughs, shared meals and friends’ gatherings are all across Lebanon. Lots of memories that we still cherish and keep in our hearts. I can’t count the number of times that I was introduced to people here in the US as Lebanese because I immigrated from Lebanon to the US. Or I had been mistaken by other Arabs for being Lebanese because of my Arabic accent. An innocent mistake that I always took pride in.
Over the last few years, I have felt saddened to see Lebanon suffer from an energy crisis, economic crisis, and a massive explosion in the port, all of which have left scars that will never fully heal.
Today, as I follow the news of what is happening in the entire Middle East, my heart cries for Beirut as I see the streets I walked, the cafes that I enjoyed, and the view that I loved the most all covered with clouds of smoke formed from charred bodies and the smell of death created by a mad killing machine.