"Empathy can turn contempt into love."

I am guilty of having experienced the realities of the above quote by Mary Pipher, but also being a living example of its antithesis.

Before going to Europe, I had my particular, not-exactly-positive, notions about it. I viewed the entire continent as the pioneer of colonialism, exploitative capitalism, and war-inducing ethnocentrism. For the most part, these views were all shaped and further informed by my anthropology class last fall on the Major Debates in the Study of Africa.
Basically, I had absolutely no interest in getting to know such a privileged and--from my slightly spiteful point of view--destructive culture. If the world that I live in and know is already inherently shaped by western influences, then what's the point of getting to know the source? I guess you can compare it to the similarities between children and their parents--most kids are reflections of their upbringing, and strongly influenced by their parents' ideologies and lifestyles. I had learned so much about the history of European paternalism and its effects on the rest of the world that it became my frame of reference.

Then, all of a sudden, I was on a plane headed to the southernmost country of Western Europe, and continued to visit 3 of the top colonizing countries over the following months. It was the first time that I had done this type of traveling (other than within the US and Canada): going around developed countries and seeing historical, touristy sights have never really been typical of my past trips.
On the one hand, there was no denying the sheer impressiveness of Europe's power. One couldn't help but admire the Europeans' persistence in demonstrating their success. This was mainly evident through the beautiful architecture that you could find wherever you went and the neverending historical works of art which were clear examples of Europe's early rise to privilege and prosperity.

Being in the presence of all these things definitely helped me to understand the European historical context a lot better. But the type of understanding I developed did not exactly reverse my previous feelings of contempt. Rather, it reinforced it. All the works of art, particularly all the baroque religious art that is so popular in the numerous Catholic churches and cathedrals, just exacerbated my (slightly exaggerated) disgusted sentiments towards the European pretentiousness and self-righteousness.

In retrospect, I realize that my feelings may have been influenced by the fact that I know this type of Western culture is what is viewed by the world as the Christian-influenced society, and I just don't understand how that could have happened. How could the early Christian culture created by Jesus' teachings have changed so much to become one represented by naked chubby white baby angels, Virgin Mary mannequins dressed in elegant royal robes, and gold-covered altars?
The church clearly became a symbol of power rather than a community for the broken.

By contrast, I found so much spirituality in my multiple encounters with Islamic art, both in Europe and in the Muslim countries of Morocco and Turkey. This appreciation developed in part during the class I took this past semester in Islamic art and architecture, but it culminated my visit to the 16th century Beyazit Mosque in Istanbul.
Everything seemed so simple in comparison. Just beyond the entrance doorway in the middle of the courtyard, men gathered around fountains to wash their hands and feet in preparation for prayer. Before entering the mosque, we had to don hijabs. Within the mosque, there were men praying independently in complete silence, doing the rituals associated with the prayers. No one led them, there was no evident hierarchy, and it was a completely open space. It was a tranquil area which facilitated prayer. Calligraphy, geometry, and lights were the only decorations which did not distract the worshipper from his godly encounter. (*the whole gender divide issue is a whole other topic for another time)

The Islamic emphasis on individual intentionality and the will of the worshipper is manifested through these artistic aspects. Rather than it being an external, showy experience that was clearly a large part of the religious history of Christian-Catholic Europe, the ideal experience remained internal and, I think as a result, more personal than institutional. This is not to say that the Muslim society and faith does not have faults of its own. But it was just so interesting to witness how a different faith affected the development of a society.

In Morocco, the students that we met up with took us to a lounge where they were playing pool and watching the game between Real Madrid and Barca. People were smoking, but one thing which marked it apart from the typical billiards lounge was that no alcohol was served. So all these guys were hanging out together watching the TV and drinking juice. There was no drunken stupor, just genuine involvement with the match as it unfolded.
In Istanbul, we witnessed the key components of Turkish culture: backgammon, tea, and nargileh (hookah.) People were out on a Saturday night just hanging out and drinking tea, playing backgammon, and smoking hookah. Granted, there were also bars with alcohol, but it wasn't as though they were completely dominating the scene. People were just enjoying each other's company and there was an air of genuine excitement.

I am not saying that all Islamic societies are completely ideal in this way, but I was able to witness a little of the beneficial results a culture can receive from Islamic influences. The Pipher quote in the title of this entry pinpoints such an important reason to travel--how can you empathize with others if you don't witness and experience their worlds? Contrary to the violent and extreme image that is usually portrayed through our media, my encounter allowed me to actually understand better the realities of one type of Islamic society. And my previous apprehension turned into a deep appreciation and love for it.