Identity

In Bethlehem there is a super modern, sophisticated restaurant on the top floor of a tall building. When I stepped out of the elevator onto the sixth floor, I walked into a ritzy looking lobby with a tall, black unoccupied front desk and a huge, intricately embellished rust-colored door. I pushed through the door into a beautiful dining area: I saw the sleek furniture illuminated by blue lighting. The black tables contrasted nicely with the classy-looking white upholstered chairs. As I looked around, I felt like I had escaped all of the hyper-conservatism and restraints of the culture. I was in Europe.

I began looking around at the other costumers and beyond them, at the ironic scenery out the windows. The atmosphere inside is ultra-western and seems inconsistent with the ancient architecture and crumbling buildings below. I felt like I was observing mayhem from the safety of a strange alternate reality. But, when I looked back again at the people in the restaurant, I realized that I had not really left anything. In fact, the diverse crowd of people was bursting with contradiction.

           

The customers were Muslim, Christian, secular, local, and foreign. With representations of each of these cultures crammed into a room together, the differences between each of them were undeniable. Here everyone has their religious affiliation on their ID card. Who they are, what they can do, who they marry is all determined by their family because their family determines their religious affiliation. So, as a matter of pride they take religious regulations and allowances extremely seriously. For example, many Christians here will drink alcohol (excessively) to prove that they are not Muslim. Muslim women cover their heads to prove they are not Christian. Actions and appearances are carefully executed to tell others who you are and who you are not. It is really fascinating.

            

So, as I sat there eating my Greek salad I watched the already distinct cultures morph into caricature-like representations of subcultures here. The Muslim couple that walked in together in an almost formal fashion--gliding across the room regally, no physical affection. They walked to a table with a nice view, sat down and proceeded to eat, smoke, chat and definitely not drink. I notice a couple walk in holding hands. How scandalous. Her head was uncovered. He was looking at her playfully. They sat down and stared lovingly into each other’s eyes as they held hands and engaged in playful conversation. It was such a contrast to the other couple, that I felt almost violated by their public affection.

           

Next, I scanned the room and noticed a large table with about 10 people—half men, half women. All of the men were sitting at one half of the table and the women at the other end. All of the women were wearing hijabs. Muslim women do not usually go out in public without a male member of their family. The next table over seated 4 uncovered women enjoying a night out. They each had a glass of wine and were brazenly talking and laughing with each other—unsupervised.

            

It seemed to me that everywhere I looked in this restaurant there were contrasts. It was almost comical. Many of the stereotypes that I heard—and was a little skeptical of—were manifesting themselves right in front of me. The restaurant was like a platform to declare one's identity to “the others.” Their appearance, food, and drink all painted an unmistakable picture of who they were.

            

It is really interesting how often we try to prove who we aren’t instead of living as we are. I see this at home too. I don’t want anyone to mistake me for a conservative so I am going to put bumper stickers on my car declaring my political views to all who see me. God-forbid people would mislabel me. We are so worried about telling people who we are not, what we don’t like, and why others are wrong that we forget who we actually are. Constructing an identity by judging and rejecting the identities of others leads to extremism. It’s like the Christians here drinking alcohol excessively to reject the identity of the Muslims. They miss the point. Instead of enjoying freedom responsibly and respectfully, they throw their freedom in the face of captives and rejoice that they aren’t the trapped. They obsess over the differences and miss out on the refreshing new friendships that diversity can facilitate.

           

Identity that is established by observing other human beings always disappoints. Instead of looking outside of ourselves and allowing God to cultivate love, respect, and patience, we become distracted by our own definition of who we are and obsess about who we aren't. We are so worried about explaining ourselves, defending ourselves, and promoting ourselves that we forget to actually become ourselves. We miss the opportunity to mature and grow into loving, selfless people.