The religion of cynicism

I learned something about myself today that I didn't like.

I'm cynical.

You might be thinking that's not a problem; that, cynicism not being a problem, is in fact the problem to me.

I am fortunate in my current position at work to have the opportunity to participate in a lecture series geared towards building leadership qualities in women. It's the first time I've been part of a major event like this, and today as the opening speaker was giving her remarks and speaking to the goals of the program, I did something that drives my fiancee absolutely nuts.

I rolled my eyes.

Not in a rude, obvious way, but in my own head as I listened to her speak. I allowed myself to go briefly in a spiral of "This is far-fetched, this is naive, this is idealistic, this is not how the world works," and that's when I caught myself.

Why was my knee-jerk reaction doubt? Not only doubt, but dismissal and mockery. She was barely 20 minutes into her speech and I was already plotting against her, building an arsenal to attack with.

I consciously stopped the negative train of thought and examined it. Why was I doing that? I signed up for this because it seemed interesting; not because it was going to conform to my current skill set but to build a new skill set. By dismissing it outright, I was going against my own goals and wasting my own time. After less than 20 minutes!

So after realizing that, I took a breath and committed myself to keep an open mind. If after completing the series I still thought they were full of crap, that's one thing. But I couldn't shut down this quickly. I like to think of myself as an open-minded person, so this lapse into close-minded cynical thinking so quickly and innately was a little disturbing.

In what I can only imagine was preordained, when I got home tonight, my fiancee was watching a lecture by Sheikh Hamza Yusuf (who, on a side note, I would hugely recommend for anyone looking for some interesting lectures on Islam; he is a former Greek Orthodox scholar who converted to Islam in the 1980s and is now considered one of most influential Muslim scholars living today) where he spoke of cynicism.

Particularly, he mentioned the promotion of cynicism in our current society by several mediums, but particularly by television shows like "Seinfeld." If you know me, you would know I loved "Seinfeld" as a kid and young teenager (when granted, I probably only got about 40% of the jokes made). And as much as I balk at people who chalk the mentality of my generation to the "media," this was more than a coincidence that on the same day I was fully realizing my own innate, instinctual cynicism the Sheikh would reference this particular program that was a staple in my pop culture consumption from a rather young age.

Because I am cynical (hopefully soon-to-be-recovering). Not just in this scenario, but the more I thought about it at different times in the day, and discussed it with my fiancee, I realized I had been doing the same thing at various times in my life about various things, unchecked.

Religion was one of them, at one time.

I grew up around mostly Christians of varying sects, with a few Jewish families mixed in there. More than a few of my very close friends were non-denominational, Evangelist Christians, who were very devout in their faith, and would often share their revelations with me.

Which I, rather jaded by the religious institution I was raised in, gave little thought to. I dismissed it.

Doubting Katie: already so unsure of the world...

I was young, I was misguided, and religion was very much an obligation I fulfilled until I didn't have to anymore. And what's more, the world around me did nothing but encourage my secularized thinking. Not just "Seinfeld," but the attitude that even church going people around me had about religion.

"Don't talk about it outside of church or outside of your home...otherwise people will think you're crazy."

That's a pretty crude way to put it, but that's the best way to describe the message being sent to me. There is a hesitancy in our society, throughout my life, to speak of religion or faith of any kind outside of a very specific setting, and if you did, you were "that religious kid" or "that Bible thumper" or a host of other diminishing colloquialisms. Like I said, I saw and continue to see this hesitancy even in church going people I know. Not so much Evangelist Christians, as a huge part of their calling is to "Spread the Good News," but amongst Protestants, Catholics, and other "mainstream" religions, it just wasn't talked about.

One of the most devout Catholics I know is my mother's older sister. Even she, a practicing, obedient Catholic, will speak in brevity about her faith, and only then under questioning. She is not hiding anything, and is by no means ashamed, but there is a definite hesitancy to go into depth.

You could argue, maybe it's the fear of offending someone. Even within religions, devotees disagree. But I have seen, it's more than that.

My father, by nature someone who doesn't care if he offends you, once he admits he was raised Catholic to you, will in the same breath make a joke about it, or downplay or undermine it in some way. Because he doesn't want you to make the mistake he's one of those "crazy" Catholics.

Now don't get me wrong. There is a time and a place where religion and faith should not be front and center. And I'm not advocating trying to convert people at work or speaking endlessly about it to people who are not similarly interested. What I am saying is there is a stigma attached to any discussion of religion beyond very simple, superficial terms.

"I believe in God." / "I'm a God-fearing (wo)man."

"I am a Christian."/ "I am a Jew."/ "I am a Muslim."

And that's about it. Anything beyond that and I've noticed people are quick to pigeonhole someone. Even sometimes without them saying anything further. There's a wall that immediately goes up. And if the person making the statement isn't hesitant about making it, more than often not, they will make a joke. Especially when asked by someone they know is not of their faith, or has no particular faith at all.

And that, to me, is because the prevailing faith in America today is cynicism. To believe in something, a religion, a way of life, a philosophy, requires you be vulnerable, open minded, submissive (to God, in the Abrahamic religions at least) and willing to change the status quo. Cynicism requires none of that. Cynicism requires a B+ humor and the security of knowing that nothing in your comfortable little cocoon is going to change because you won't be swayed by that mumbo jumbo.

Because the people who are religious who are shown to us on TV? Often times, it is not in a flattering light. It's a Christian making homophobic pronunciations. It's a West Bank Jew calling for the obliteration of Palestine. Or it's a member of ISIS calling for their perverted, unholy interpretation of "jihad."

It's rarely the average church going Christian, the Jewish family celebrating Purim, or a Muslim man delivering Qurbani meat to a family in need.

One of my favorite quotes of late is from a TED Talk by Lesley Hazleton. She states the following:

"We, the vast and so far too silent majority, have ceded the public arena to the extremist minority.
We've allowed Judaism to be claimed by violently Messianic West Bank settlers, Christianity by homophobic hypocrites and misogynistic bigots, and Islam by suicide bombers.
No matter whether they claim to be Jews, Christians, or Muslims, militant extremists are none of the above. They are a cult all their own, blood brothers seeped in other people's blood."

It is these portrayals of religion that have "legitimized" cynicism against religion that is so insidious, it has silenced the faithful, peaceful majority.

And today, I found that shamefully, I am a perpetrator of the same problem. My silence, my hesitancy, is complicity with this hijacking.

Because today, nearly 8 months after putting a hijab, when a woman in the seminar asked me during break about it, my breath caught in my throat a little bit.

Not because I'm ashamed. Not because I'm unsure. Because that's my natural inclination when someone asks me about my hijab (or Islam generally) that I'm going to be interrogated, or maybe even worse, silently stereotyped and dismissed. I fear that. Because though Islam is a huge part of my life, there's a stigma not just with this religion, but with all religions and I fear being written off.

So after explaining it was for a religious purpose and that I was Sunni Muslim, I made a joke.

And I caught myself and felt instantly foolish and that's when the shame came.

Because she wanted to have a dialogue, but because I didn't want to be labeled, I was limiting that dialogue and thus making it even easier to be labeled.

Isn't irony delicious?

It turns out her son had converted to Evangelism as a teenager and was now a preacher, and his devotion had made her more curious about religions generally (she was a lapsed Christian Scientist) and I was the first hijabi she had the opportunity to speak with.

At the end, once I extinguished my hesitancy and defense mechanism of humor, we had a great conversation and she gave me a fist bump at the end for being "brave."

I didn't feel brave. I never do. But the fact that doing something like wearing a hijab (or a Yamaka for my Jewish brothers, or a crucifix for my Catholic family) is considered "brave" just goes to show how secular and more than that, cynical America has become.

But let me tell you, since wearing the hijab and essentially putting my religion on display, the majority of people have surprised me for the better. There are still detractors, from the outright rude people who will shout "Terrorist" or send me anti-Islam articles to my e-mail to the scoffs when I say "I am Muslim" to the "Oh," followed by an awkward silence and change of subject. But for the most part my dear fellow cynics, people have surprised me for the better.

I just need to keep reminding myself of that, until my breath doesn't catch in my throat anymore. Islam is meant to empower me, not make me worried, anxious, and bracing for the next attack.

Furthermore, and even more tragically, if I avoid dialogue (when prompted) about Islam, I am not only allowing misconceptions to remain, but clearing the path for them to deepen.

So I promised myself that starting today, I am going to do everything I can to be a Muslim, not a cynic.

Sorry, Jerry, Kramer, George, and Elaine.