While following the news reports of the protests in Egypt, I’ve been struck by two things: how many of the protesters are young and how much they have dashed the stereotypes of the West by providing evidence of Muslim-Christian solidarity in their struggle.
It seems that out of the muck and mire of poverty and violence in the region (both state-supported violence and religious-extremist-supported violence) a common humanity has been able to emerge. That this humanity is strong enough to rise above religious divisions without abandoning religious faith is a piece of astonishing good news.
Those of us who are attuned to the centrality of worship, the gravity of ritual, and the power of religious symbol, may grasp this point better perhaps than our secular counterparts and friends.
For me, a witness to common humanity emerged after the horrifying suicide attack on a Coptic church in Alexandria on New Year’s eve which left 21 worshippers dead and 70 wounded.
President Mubarak decried the assault. But what impressed me more was the act of thousands of ordinary Muslims who voluntarily gathered for the Christmas liturgy in Coptic Churches on January 6 in order to serve as human shields.
The early days of the protests in Tahrir Square in Cairo also gave evidence of a spirit of solidarity between Muslim and Christian Egyptians—a solidarity greater than anything we had been led to expect from the usual run of reporting on the Middle East. The Catholic News Agency reports on it here.
A photoblogger posted this picture of Christians protecting Muslims at prayer in Tahrir Square, at MSNBC. “We all stood by each other” she wrote.
The Reuters news service posted a story yesterday that bore witness to the same phenomenon. The photo said more than words.
Christian liturgy has not been absent, nor even distant from these events. The Tablet reports that “Thousands of Egyptian Muslims protesting against the Government of Hosni Mubarak yesterday joined a Mass. ‘In the name of Jesus and Muhammad we unify our ranks. We will keep protesting until the fall of the tyranny,’ Fr Ihab al-Kharat said in his sermon.”
I have been reflecting on the opening of Gaudium et Spes, where it says “The joy and hope, the grief and anguish of the men of our time, especially of those who are poor or afflicted in any way, are the joy and the hope, the grief and anguish of the followers of Christ as well. Nothing that is genuinely human fails to find an echo in their hearts.” (GS 1). This is the voice of faith, and it speaks to us today as incisively as when it was first written.
Let’s be clear. There is nothing “necessary” or “inevitable” about human solidarity under circumstances of civil unrest in this world. Times of turmoil offer unparalleled opportunities to seek advantage for one’s own kind, to indulge hatred, and to settle old scores. People are capable of attacking one another like wolves.
The fact that something different is happening should cause us to sit up, take notice, praise God, and pray hard. May it continue.

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