Morning Prayer reflection Jan. 21, 2011
Jennifer Miller, PhD
Christ College Lecturer in Humanities
My junior year in college, I spent a year studying abroad in Tübingen, Germany. As someone who had
lived with my parents or under the thumb of the university my entire life, the experience was a bit
daunting. Not only was I away from all my friends, family, and my fiancé, but I had to do all sorts of
things that I had never done before—get a visa, sign a rental agreement, purchase health insurance,
open a bank account, and have a phone line hooked up—and all in German!
Added to these challenges was my living situation. I was living in a Wohngemeinschaft—that is, a shared
apartment—with 5 other students, most of them exchange students. Vegard was from Norway,
Francesco was from Italy, Thomas was from Germany, Nahed was from Palestine, and Heather was
American. It was a veritable United Nations—complete with the tensions caused by cultural differences,
language barriers, and conflicting policies.
I felt the need to say something about my faith to my roommates, but I didn’t think that I knew them
well enough to bring up the subject directly. And to be perfectly honest, I was nervous sharing my faith
in general, particularly with Nahed, whom I found very intimidating. Not only was he significantly older
than I was, but he also scowled a lot and our shared language was German, rather than English as it was
with the rest of my roommates. I chose an easy way out—I started reading my Bible in the common
area, hoping that one of them would notice. And one of them did. Of course it was Nahed, who was
Muslim, who came in one Saturday morning and asked what I was reading. When I told him that I was
reading the Bible, his reaction surprised me. Instead of reacting negatively, as I had expected, he smiled
and told me what a good thing it was that I was doing. I got the distinct impression that he respected
me because of my actions, and, even, that he was proud of me.
It’s interesting—as someone who went to a Lutheran elementary school, attended college here at
Valparaiso University, and now has returned as part of the Lilly Postdoctoral Program—I have had plenty
of conversations with friends, teachers, and colleagues about my faith and what it means to me. But
few of them have stayed with me quite like this one has—and I think that it’s because this conversation
took place in German. While the task of communicating in another language was certainly a challenge,
it also forced me to think about what exactly I was saying. Rather than just having a casual conversation
with a friend, I was engaged in a translation project that required me to pay close attention to my
language and how my words would be heard by Nahed.
And by putting myself in Nahed’s shoes, in thinking of this experience from Nahed’s point of view, I
recognized that I saw his actions as a model for how I want to interact with people who don’t share my
faith. Instead of seeing my faith as something that set me apart from him, Nahed recognized it as
common ground. Instead of being Christian versus Muslim, we were both people of faith, striving to live
in a way that served something greater than ourselves. And in spite of the difficult political and cultural
circumstances of his residence in Germany, not the least of which was the September 11th attacks that
took place shortly after our conversation, Nahed always treated me as an individual, rather than
assuming I would fit a stereotype or act in an expected way—something that I was initially unable to do
for him. With these actions, Nahed provided me with a new lens through which to view Christ’s
command to “love one another” that pushes past easy images of love and friendship, and instead,
challenges me rewrite my own prejudices.