Christmas is the critical time to reach out to lonely hearts, especially those close to home

http://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/opinion/joseph-wakim-christmas-the-critical-time-to-reach-out-to-lonely-hearts-especially-those-close-to-home/story-fni6unxq-1226789051420

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Christmas is the critical time to reach out to lonely hearts, especially those close to home
The Advertiser, 24 December 2013

The countdown to Christmas is a critical time to reach out to the lonely hearts, especially those close to home. Source: Supplied

As the twinkling gaze of children turns to the North Pole to fulfil their wishes, there is an icy gaze by those who feel poles apart from this love and warmth.
Indeed, the Christmas season can be the most polarising time of the year.

For those who lack this love, it is the time when being the ”have nots” is most in their face. The glow of the nativity scene is lost on them, as they feel that there is no room for them at any inn, not even their own. Sadly, many are tipped over the edge as the pain of loneliness or loss becomes too unbearable.

As families congregate around carols and trees, and the aerial view of society resembles many rotating wheels, those who have fallen off the wheels become the loneliest dots. They seek to be understood, not to understand; to be listened to, not to be lectured. And they may be closer to home than the homeless people.

One can be lonely without being alone. Ironically, the annual celebration of the birth of the messiah could also be the time of pondering the end of a life.

Suicidal Christmas may seem like an oxymoron, but for those involved in its prevention, it is a fatal combination.

It is a time when one can hear one’s own heartbeat pounding in one’s head, and the ears ringing like sirens, and one’s life flash past. The rest of the world seems so caught up in expressions of love that they are oblivious to these ticking time bombs.

And when it tragically happens, there is gnashing of teeth, and a slow motion rewind of all the clues that were missed. The blame game can create lifelong ripple effects and survivor guilt.
When I worked with “street kids”, I struggled to understand why they could still take their own lives regardless of how much unconditional love we showered upon them.

“Do you really want to die or do you want the pain to go away?”
That hole in the heart cannot be healed by outsiders; they had to love themselves. Receiving love from others was not the suicide bulwark.

At the funerals, loved ones struggle to find peace. They try to answer one question: Why?

The countdown to Christmas is a critical time to reach out to the lonely hearts, especially those close to home. As we accelerate towards our self-imposed deadlines, we may speed past some subtle cries for help.

A person who suddenly decides to visit relatives and thank them for nostalgic childhood memories may be applauded with, “he is finally learning to show respect for her elders – isn’t this wonderful?” But he was actually preparing his farewells.

A person who stops going out with friends at night and instead withdraws to his bedroom may be applauded with, “finally he has outgrown that dangerous stage and stopped wasting money with late nights – isn’t it wonderful that he now stays at home with his family?” But he was actually starting to close in on himself.

A person who starts to give away personal and favourite belongings to others may be applauded with, “he takes after his father – isn’t this wonderful that he has become so generous?” But he was actually parting from all worldly possessions.

A person who declares his unconditional love may be applauded with, “he will grow up to be a fine man who is not afraid to express emotions”. But he was actually saying goodbye.

This Christmas, we can give the gift of saving a life, by giving presence rather than presents. It is indeed the gift of giving, even in the simplest abode, that was celebrated in the first Christmas.

We can try to make lonely people feel loved, and hopefully that they deserve to be loved. It is at this polarising time that they may most need to believe in another miracle: that they are worthy of our time, and worthy of self-love.

Joseph Wakim is a former Multicultural Affairs Commissioner and author of Sorry, We Have No Space.

If you need help, visit Lifeline here or call 13 11 14 or visit beyond blue here or call 1300 22 4636.

Obligation to respect not share our faiths

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Obligation to respect, not share, our faiths
Date: December 28 2012

Each Christmas, my family receives more greetings and gifts from my Muslim friends than from fellow Christians. We treasure many handmade cards by Muslim children who do not celebrate Christmas. We cannot trivialise these efforts as tokenistic as they are annual and original. They are well-worded messages of peace in English and Arabic. I only wish we took the time to reciprocate this goodwill gesture at the two Islamic Eids each year.

Throughout my childhood, we would be visited by Lebanese Muslim friends laden with gifts. This did not mean they suddenly elevated the prophet Issa to Jesus the son of God. Their faith was not compromised. As I write this article, there is a knock on the door as Ahmad, my late father’s carer during his disabling Alzheimer’s, arrives looking like a bearded, smiling Santa bearing gifts. When asked, ”You do this but you are a Muslim?”, he replies, ”I do this because I am a Muslim”.

Twice this year, Australian Muslim leaders were swift to disown rather than explain behaviour that was both un-Islamic and un-Australian.

Before the unauthorised and short-lived Facebook fatwa on Christmas greetings, there was September protest that was notorious for its ”behead all those who insult the prophet” placard. On both occasions, leaders were swift to extinguish the flames, learning from past experiences that a flame can quickly morph into an international inferno through modern media.

The leaders need to be congratulated for their damage control and their voice of reason. The Facebook post was promptly removed and their Christmas greeting was written high in the sky – literally.

The Grand Mufti of Australia, Ibrahim Abu Mohammad, wisely provided perspective and disarmed the stone throwers with the comments that ”there is difference between showing respect for someone’s belief and sharing those beliefs” and that the ”foundations of Islam were peace, co-operation, respect and holding others in esteem”.

This contrasts with the temporary message that was posted on the Lebanese Muslim Association Facebook page, which was borrowed verbatim from an international website. The Fatwa section at Islamweb.net was asked if it was haraam, or sinful, for Muslims to celebrate or congratulate Christians during Christmas. Its response was: ”The disbelievers spare no efforts to draw the Muslims away from the straight path … celebrating such feasts is actually imitating disbelievers … whoever imitates a nation is one of them … a Muslim is neither allowed to celebrate the Christmas Day nor is he allowed to congratulate them.” It’s a view not shared by Australian Muslim leaders, a diversity that is not unusual in all religious teachings.

Islamweb is ”designed to enrich the viewer’s knowledge and appreciation of Islam … [among] Muslims and non-Muslims alike about the mission of Islam” by adopting ”balanced and moderate views, devoid of bias and extremism”. But this all needs to be put into perspective before being imported into the Australian context, highlighting the growing dangers of the instant, borderless, copy-paste, digital age.

Let any Australian religious order that has never innocently copy-pasted from a global site throw the first stone. Even from church pulpits, our priests have been critical of non-Christian practices, cautioning about staying on the straight path, avoiding the consumer culture of Christmas celebrations, and putting Christ back into Xmas, literally.

When I greet my Muslim friends for Eid al-Adha and Eid al-Fitr, it does not mean I share in the celebration or I am losing my religion. I am merely extending goodwill and am happy that they are happy.

This is not the first time Australian Muslims have copy-pasted concepts from abroad and inadvertently caused controversy for failing to consider the context of Australia. Only 18 months ago, the Islamic evangelical initiative MyPeace mounted billboards stating ”Islam: Got questions? Get answers”, followed by ”Jesus Prophet of Islam”, which provoked outrage and vandalism. The posters were adopted directly from the Chicago-based GainPeace, which was keen to demonstrate that ”Islam is not synonymous with terrorism”.

The public relations damage to the Muslim community is difficult to undo. Which is why all responsible leaders need to think twice before borrowing from overseas contexts. They may be copy-pasting a viral problem, not a safe solution.

Christmas Recipe for Human Culture

http://www.onlineopinion.com.au/view.asp?article=14493&page=0
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ON LINE opinion – Australia’s e-journal of social and political debate

Christmas recipe for human culture

Posted Thursday, 20 December 2012

As families prepare to congregate around the Christ child, the carols, the churches, the Christmas trees, and the Santa Claus, there is one other C word that cements them all together: culture.
Families activate traditional recipes to honour, celebrate and top up what has been handed down through generations. But there is one simple recipe that has always intrigued me when making Lebanese yoghurt: culture.

The same word used to describe the same vital process is no coincidence. This age old recipe for sustaining yoghurt culture is more than metaphorical in teaching us about preserving human culture.
The English word culture derives from the Latin word cultura which means to cultivate or till. In sociology, it means to transmit through language and ritual from one generation to the next. In science, it means to grow micro organisms such as bacteria in a nutrient medium under controlled supervised conditions. In yoghurt, the starter culture contains a variety of lactic acids producing thermophillic bacteria.

My grandparents’ generation handed down stories about Lebanese emigrants boarding ships a century ago carrying luggage with one hand and nursing a jar of yoghurt culture or rowbi with the other hand. They would seek favours from the shipping crew to refrigerate the jar so it could be preserved across the sea voyage.

The jar would be protected like a holy grail, containing the DNA of their ancestry, religiously handed down across generations. A century ago, the loss of that edible culture amounted to catastrophic severing of the ancestral culture because it was a living link to their unique family flavour. A child who had accidentally eaten the starter culture from the fridge was accused of culture-cide.

Like a chicken-egg quandary, debates abound about which came first – the culture or the yoghurt. What is not debated is that yoghurt cannot be made without some starter culture from a previous batch. Like human culture, yoghurt cannot be created from scratch – it needs a clone sample from a parent body.

Boiling the milk, whether full cream or skim, enables fermentation. Like human culture, it needs high heat to be borne out of passion and purity.

The boiled milk is then transferred to a heat proof bowl which will become its stable home environment for the duration of its batch life. The milk needs to cool to a tepid temperature. The traditional method for testing this is dipping your pinkie until you can count to ten comfortably – the only time that a human hand touches the mixture like a literal handing down anointment.

Human culture is best preserved if it is passed on in lukewarm moderation, not with hot-blooded cultural chauvinism, nor with cold-blooded cultural cringe, or cool indifference.

The refrigerated jar of culture is opened and the active living bacteria are ready to be embedded.
To prevent any culture shock, it is mixed with some of the tepid milk so it is more fluid and ready to permeate the new host body.

It is stirred in gently so that the DNA imbues its unique flavour, language and rituals.

It is essential that this new mixture can set as it only incubates in a still and warm setting. Like a newborn baby, the mixture must never be rocked or shaken. In some Christian traditions, the mixture is blessed with the sign of the cross before being covered, like tucking a baby to sleep, or preparing for a miracle as the milk transforms to yoghurt. It is covered with a woolen blanket, and kept in one stable location such as the kitchen bench. As it needs about 8 undisturbed hours to set, it is usually safest to leave it overnight so it ferments while we are sleeping.

If opened or moved during this incubation period, the mixture would neither ferment nor cement, but fragment. Like humans, if it lacks consistency as a child, the culture is harder to define.
In the morning, the blanket and lid are carefully removed. Two table spoons are removed from the heart of the yoghurt as the starter culture for the next batch so that the cycle can be repeated and regenerated perpetually. The yoghurt is then transferred to the fridge and ready for human cultural celebrations.

The yoghurt has culture, identity and a solid foundation. It can now transform from mono-cultural which is delicious, to multi-cultural where it can be enhanced with a fruit salad, olives, herbs, as a frozen dessert, as a savoury dip or mixed with a meaty main course.

The significance of yoghurt in Lebanese DNA extends beyond a staple dish in their cultural cuisine. It is the genesis of their country’s name. In many Semitic languages such as Assyrian and Hebrew, variations of the word Laban mean white, which was used to name the perennial snow capped mountain range in Lebanon, as stated over seventy times in the Old Testament. The same word Laban was adopted in Arabic to name yoghurt.

Hence we have come full circle, with some dreaming of a white Christmas, where the cultural celebration is not complete without Laban illuminating the banquet.

The culture not only sustains the generations. It preserves a civilisation.
________________________________________

A little extra Christmas care

http://www.abc.net.au/unleashed/3744040.html

A little extra Christmas care
Joseph Wakim and Judy Saba

As families congregate around carols and trees, and the aerial view of society resembles many rotating wheels, those who have fallen off the wheels become the loneliest dots.

Thankfully, there are many benevolent services for homeless people. I sang carols for a Christmas lunch for homeless people last year. It was heartening to see the aloneness broken and these dots inter-connect to form circles.

But one can be lonely without being alone. And this dark pain can be overshadowed by the fairy lights and tinsel. The annual celebration of the holy birth at the nativity could also be the time of pondering the end of a life.

Suicidal Christmas may seem like an oxymoron, but for those involved in its prevention, it is a fatal combination.

It is a time when one can hear one’s own heartbeat pounding in one’s head, and the ears ringing like sirens, and one’s life flash past, while the rest of the world seems so caught up in expressions of love that they are oblivious to these ticking time bombs.

And when it tragically happens, there is gnashing of teeth, and a slow motion rewind for all the clues that were missed before the blame game creates lifelong ripple effects.

When I worked as a street worker with runaway children, I convinced myself that so long as the children experienced unconditional love, at least from me, then they were immune from suicide. But I was wrong.

Feeling loved by others was like a hug – a temporary bandaid that was effective only while you were together. But the bleeding wound was the lack of self-love. That hole in the heart cannot be healed by outsiders.

At funerals, loved ones agonise to find peace by trying to answer one question – why?

The countdown to Christmas is a critical time to reach out to the lonely hearts, even in our own families and social networks. As we accelerate towards our self-imposed deadlines, we may speed past some subtle cries for help.

Subtle means that they are not moods posted on Facebook, or angry threats of suicide.

Depending on the culture and customs, we can all be prone to misinterpret and miss these alarm bells.

A person who suddenly decides to visit relatives and thank them for nostalgic childhood memories may be applauded with ‘he is finally learning to show respect for his elders – isn’t this wonderful?’. But he was actually preparing his farewells.

A person who stops going out with friends at night and instead withdraws to his bedroom may be applauded with ‘finally he has outgrown that dangerous stage and stopped wasting money with late nights – isn’t it wonderful that he now stays at home with his family?’. But he has actually started to close in on himself.

A person who starts to give away personal and favourite belongings to others may be applauded with ‘he takes after his father – isn’t this wonderful that he has become so generous?’ But he was actually parting from all worldly possessions.

A person who declares his unconditional love may be applauded with ‘he will grow up to be a fine man who is not afraid to express emotions’. But he was actually saying goodbye.

With Year 12 results announced, and anniversaries of many natural disasters last year, this is a time when self-love may be tested.

This Christmas, we can all give the gift of saving a life, by giving presence rather than presents. The Friends of Friends Mentor project in Sydney is one program that offers volunteers who regularly call and check on vulnerable youth with whom they are partnered. After years of success and suicide prevention, the beneficiaries have now become mentors. All the training in the world cannot surpass the power of just being a friend. No simplistic tick-box checklists apply. Just making the person believe that they are worthy of this time, and worthy of self-love.

If we join the dots and see what shape they form, we may see that some have trapped themselves into an inescapable circle where they are cutting out oxygen, light and hope. Through the power of presence, we can help.
Joseph Wakim is a freelance writer and former Multicultural Affairs Commissioner. Judy Saba is a cross-cultural psychologist.