The Christening Host Kurien Joseph   © Copyright 2023 by Kurien Joseph

Photo of Meissen sea life chess set - $75,000.00.

The living room of Syed Khan’s house in Cheviot Hills in Los Angeles, tastefully decorated with paintings and objets d’art from around the world that he and his wife Noor had collected over the years, was packed with guests. Someone tinkled a wine glass, and everyone quietened in expectation, as Syed stood and smiled benevolently all round.

“Let me raise a toast,” he began, “to the tiny little baby, my school friend’s grandson, whose baptism yesterday in St. Monica Church we celebrate today. May he grow surrounded by joy and love always and may he bring happiness to his parents, to his grandparents and to all around him. And, oh yes, Christmas is just over a fortnight away, and New Year 2013 a week after that, so let’s consider this as our advance Christmas and New Year party too!”

Glasses clinked, and varieties of spirits went down the hatch. Amidst much laughter and chatter, the guests mingled. Some continued to stand in the living room, others moved back to the family room, or to Syed’s son Anwar’s room or to the swimming pool patio outside, all of which had generously been made available for the celebration.

The baby’s grandparents had come to Los Angeles from India to celebrate the birth of their first grandchild, born to their younger son and his wife. The popular young couple had a large circle of friends, which included Anwar; and their two-bedroom apartment, which temporarily housed the grandparents too, would just not accommodate all the guests they would like to call. Having seen the problem coming, Syed and Noor had offered their home for the christening party, and his friend and his wife had gratefully accepted on behalf of their son and daughter-in-law.

One of the guests, a stocky, middle-aged banker, approached Syed. Still sipping his Scotch, he spoke softly. “You know,” he began hesitantly, “As a Christian, I must say I’m really intrigued by your home being the venue for this event. You are a Muslim, and this is a Catholic christening.”

“Why not?” smiled Syed. “After all, I had a Jesuit education, right through high school. I might almost say I have Jesuit qualifications!”

“No, but seriously …” This guest wasn’t going to be brushed off so easily.

“As you know,” Syed began tentatively, “the faiths that are known today as Judaism, Christianity and Islam all start from the same Patriarch, in honor of whom these three are called the Abrahamic faiths. Islam calls all the three the ‘people of the Book’.” The guest nodded knowingly, although Syed could see at a glance that this was news to him. “Of course,” Syed clarified, “this was done for my friend from school in Bombay, with whom I’ve been fortunate to catch up after a gap of about 45 years. But I would have done the same for any friend – from any faith, not just the Abrahamic faiths.”

On purely social occasions, Syed avoided like the devil the subjects of religion and politics, and in an attempt to change the subject, he casually began moving off to the swimming pool area. But he could see he was too late; several guests, who had overheard the previous exchange, followed him outside. These included Christians, Muslims and Hindus, and even a Parsi couple visiting from India.

An American lawyer, with a reputation in her profession for “cutting through the crap”, weighed in. “Pardon my bluntness,” she started, “but I’m really curious to know how Islam can possibly justify all this terrorism we see around us.”

“There’s no justification for terrorism – in any religion,” Syed replied pleasantly. “I can also tell you with authority that that is not Islam.”

“Maybe dogmatically not” she demurred, “but in practice, you must agree …”

“Ah, practice.” Syed interrupted, without rancor. “Unlike many so-called practicing Muslims, I’ve studied my faith deeply. I love my faith. I draw inspiration from it. I have faith in my faith.” His warm smile widened. “Maybe we should discuss this another day. The other guests will find this boring.”

As if in direct contradiction, more guests began to approach this group. Suddenly Syed found himself not in a corner but in the center of a rapt audience. The baby’s grandparents and parents, who knew his views well, also gathered round.

“Well, it was the faithful Muslim who raised the toast just now, with the finest produce of Scotland!” Ali Hasan, Syed’s close friend, winked slyly as he nursed a Diet Coke.

“Oh absolutely,” Syed winked back. “This is my best Scotch, Ali. And remember, if you’d like to upgrade from your Coke, you’re always welcome.” The guests laughed as Ali raised his glass and remarked in a stage whisper to anyone who might care to listen, “Actually, what I’m drinking is a dark rum, disguised as Coke.”

“No, but seriously,” persisted Eli Reisen, his engineering colleague from the good old days, who had happened to meet Syed after three decades, “are you now a regular at the mosque? You weren’t earlier.”

“I’m still not,” said Syed without hesitation. “I was brought up in a genuinely devout Muslim family. My father really helped to form my faith, both through discourse and through his personal practice of Islamic teachings. He was extremely familiar with the Qur’an himself; and the Mullahs and Alims whom he met failed to come up to his high expectations. He didn't believe that they understood the Qur’an in any depth, and so, for him, there was no question of their teaching my siblings or me. As a result, I don't speak Arabic and I don’t know how to read the Qur’an in Arabic. But, thanks to my father’s encouragement, I’ve studied several authoritative interpretations, or, if you want to call them, translations, of the Qur’an.”

“In what language?” Ali observed, genuinely surprised.

“In English - in a language I understand. Shouldn’t one try to understand as much as possible what one professes to believe?”

“But surely, with your background,” chimed in a young UCLA student, “you can’t literally believe stories about the Creation and such.”

“Actually, the Qur’an,” began Syed, “explicitly states that some of what it contains are clear revelations, what it calls the substance of the Book, and others are allegorical. But – and I am quoting the passage now as far as I can remember – ‘those in whose hearts is doubt seek to explain - my emphasis - what is evidently allegorical. Yet none knows the explanation save Allah.’ So, let’s start with that fundamental premise.”

The baby’s grandfather chipped in. “Actually,” he pointed out, “that’s similar to what we were taught about the Bible - how the Catholic Church and mainline churches understand it. We learnt it’s not one book, it’s really a compilation or library of books. In that library, some of the books are close to historical or eyewitness accounts, some are books of songs and poems, others - to use Syed’s word - allegorical, still others proverbs ... The Church emphatically does not believe that everything in the Bible is historical or to be taken literally.”

“Exactly,” Syed resumed. “If I accept the Qur’an as the revealed words of Allah, then here is Allah Himself telling me to distinguish between the literal and the allegorical. Obviously, I cannot and must not read everything literally, but try and get to an understanding, however limited, to the essence of the faith.”

“So how do you know which is literal and which is allegorical?” questioned Eli.

“That’s what Allah gave us our brain for. Let me give you an example. The first relates to Sura XXI, I think. And I’m trying to quote again, ‘Do they not see that the heavens and the earth, and everything in between, were all together and we split them asunder and are expanding it with might?’ Now, if I read that intelligently, looking for the essence, there seems to be some foretaste of The Big Bang Theory. How would a person 1,400 years ago have had any concept of the Big Bang Theory?”

“Then what about the Creation story?” persisted the UCLA student.

“That is emphatically not meant to be literal,” came the response. “Look, to me it’s obvious. When you say that Allah created Adam, fine. But then Allah creates Eve from his rib. Here is a Creator, who merely says ‘Be’ and something is created. Why would this Creator need a rib – or any material at all - to create Eve? Obviously, you cannot take it literally. The allegory here could perhaps be that woman was created with man, to be infinitely close to him, an essential part of him, equal to him. They were to be companions to each other.”

Ali looked troubled. “Look, Syed, you know that I’m a very modern Muslim,” he began, “but aren’t you then questioning the basic truths that you say you believe in?”

“No, and don’t look so worried,” Syed patted him gently on the back. “I’m using the brain that Allah gave me – which was meant to be used, not to be kept in cold storage – to find out the real truths that are within whatever he has revealed. I’m also using science for the same purpose, knowing full well that science has its own purpose and its own limitations.”

“Why do you think,” asked the UCLA student, “that science has limitations?”

“Oh, that’s fairly obvious again,” responded Syed. “Does science comprehend pure art? Does science have the ability – or even the purpose – to create the art of Michelangelo or of Picasso? Or the music of a Mozart or a Tchaikovsky?”

His school friend chipped in. “Do you know,” he asked the guests, “that Syed was a great artist in school? In fact, I thought he was going to make a career of his art. I was actually quite astonished when I learnt he had gone over to science and engineering.”

The guests oohed and aahed. “No wonder,” observed the lawyer, “you have such an exquisite collection of paintings and handicrafts displayed in your home.”

“Thank you,” Syed said to her. “Since you mention it, I’d like to show you a particular piece, which is one of my personal favorites.” He moved into the house, quietly grateful for the diversion. The lady and two others followed him, while the others went to refill their glasses. It was the end of the “religious” discussion.

Kurien began as a professional architect in Mumbai, India, then eased into a career of 23 years – including four years in Australia - as a corporate manager. His next avatar, for 21 years, was of a corporate trainer and professor of Public Speaking, in New Delhi. Concurrently, for 17 years, he was the India representative of the University of St Andrews, Scotland, UK. From 1995 through 2015, he regularly wrote inspirational editorials and articles on business subjects. His narrative of business experience in Turkmenistan was excerpted in Prof. Roni S Lebauer’s Learn to Listen, Listen to Learn: Academic Listening and Note-Taking [2nd Edition]. For 10 years, he also edited the UN bimonthly Tech Monitor, published in New Delhi. However, he has never before written a full-length (90,000 words), and his manuscript is still seeking an agent.He migrated to the US in 2016 and now lives in Los Angeles with his wife, just over a mile away from each of their two sons and three precious grandchildren.