Small in number, local Moravian Church values modern beliefs

In the age of Christian megachurches, with the number of followers nearing tens of thousands, and with the continued growth of televised worship services that mobilize and expand ministries, a small congregation in Downey, Cali. is spreading Christ’s love in a different way: through personal relationships between members and pastor, community outreach, and fellowship.

On a Sunday evening, a handful of the Moravian Church members can be found gathered in a small, redecorated north chapel that feels more like a living room than a place of worship. This is the Back-Alley Gathering, an inter-generational worship experience quite unlike the usual Sunday service. This is where Rev. Christie Melby-Gibbons and her husband David, members of the Moravian church and guests gather and spend a couple of hours a week to contemplate and have a dialogue about life’s tough questions. In past meetings, the group has drawn prayers, listened to music as a contemplative piece, and viewed movies as activities.

The Back-Alley Gathering is one of the many ways the Moravian Church of Downey is opening its arms to the community, for all people of faiths and circumstance, fighting to stay relevant and active in sharing God’s love.

The beginnings of the church

The Moravian Church is the oldest Protestant denomination, established in 1457 in Moravia (now present-day Czech Republic), predating the Lutheran Church by more than 60 years. It grew from the revolt led by John Hus, a Czech priest, who disagreed with the Catholic Church’s practices. Driven underground in the 1600’s, a revival in the 1700’s in Germany by Count Nicholas Ludwig von Zinzendorf took the Moravian church to other countries as centers of outreach.

In 1735, the Moravians arrived in Pennsylvania. From there, settlements in the eastern United States followed. By the end of the nineteenth century, Moravians had established settlements in Canada as well.

The Moravian church came to California after WWII, where only a mission had been established in 1890 in the Morongo Indian Reservation. In 1954, the church was built in Downey.

Melby-Gibbons describes the Moravian Church as a “middle-ground” faith, one that emphasizes relationships and love over doctrines and creeds (the church only has one official published doctrine). The church accepts that various Christian denominations achieve relationship with God differently, which only enriches the understanding and celebration of God’s love.

The church is greatly liberal in its embrace of worship and people. The church welcomes women in all leadership roles in the ministry and welcomes the gay and lesbian community as members and trustees.

Phil Voigt, 69, president of the Board of Trustees, was just a young boy when the Moravian church was built in Downey in June 1954. His parents hailed from West Salem, Illinois and belonged in the only Moravian congregation in the small farming town.

“I helped put the nails in this place,” he said, “and my parents had a lot to do with building the church, too.”

It was a fairly large congregation then. Today, the Downey Moravian church has about 100 members, according to Voigt, although attendance to Sunday worship, excluding religious holidays, tends to be slim.

“The Moravian church as a whole has been growing very slowly mainly because Moravians will not build a church that already has a Methodist or a Presbyterian, or some other Protestant church,” he said.

This means that Moravian churches in the U.S. are hard to come by and some Moravians would have to travel far to attend worship.

Shirley Louis, 52, from Simi Valley, travels once a week, sometimes more frequently, to Downey for Sunday worship and other church events.

Born and raised in Nicaragua, Louis grew up going to a Moravian church, where congregations of 200 to 300 members are typical.

“In Nicaragua, church is very important. Kids had to go to Sunday school–it wasn’t a choice. And you went to church every Sunday,” she says.

When she came to California in 1984, she searched for a Moravian church nearby. “I was living in Inglewood at the time, so it was easier then to come to church,” Louis says. Now, it takes her an hour to get to church.

Despite the travel, she goes to worship every Sunday morning, usually with her daughter and mother. And they’re not alone. A few other members from the same village in Nicaragua all drive to attend worship.

No distance is too far to be with their church family.

“I know the names of the people at church. You don’t get that at a big church.”

Though the Moravian Church has been around since the 1400’s, there are only slightly over 700,000 Moravians worldwide. Only 10 percent of Moravians reside in the United States and Canada. Half of the church population resides South Africa, the Caribbean, and Tanzania.

But Melby-Gibbons is realistic with what could happen to the institutional Moravian Church in North America. She knows that active membership has greatly diminished over the years in many congregations.

“Moravian congregations are closing at a rapid rate. It seems that the Moravian Church as an institution—like the institutional church throughout North America and beyond—is dying,” she admitted.

The Moravian church does not proselytize, which means membership over the years has been slow to grow without a regular addition of newly converts.

But membership in Downey hasn’t always been this low. Back in the 1950’s, membership was strong. Over the years, the city population grew, but with it, less people were identifying themselves as Moravians, making it harder to meet the church’s financial needs for maintenance and to pay provincial dues. Today, the majority of the congregation is over the age of 60, with only 20 to 40 younger members.

Emily Korn, 33, is the church’s Youth Leader and admitted that younger people in general are leaving churches.

“Those in their teens, I think, are looking maybe for something more visual[ly] stimulating. So, a traditional, mainline, protestant worship service is not what they are looking for, even though I think we offer a true family of faith at our church,” she said. “I know the names of the people at church. You don’t get that at a big church.”

But along with the sense of a tight-knit community, lies some pitfalls.

“The detriment of small congregations is that sometimes they can become like a social club and become inwardly focused. Most of those congregations will close,” Melby-Gibbons said. “We need to be really careful that we are being relevant and not just forgetting about people outside of our walls.”

Melby-Gibbons shared a provincial leader’s theory on the future of the Moravian Church in North America: “There’s this theory that out of the 35 congregations in the western district, in 10 years, 5 of those congregations will close. And it will keep going in that pattern.”

But this doesn’t deter the church from reaching out.

Although funds are limited, the church manages to donate money and materials to help support several local organizations and programs like Rio Hondo Temporary Home, which provides transitional housing and support services for homeless families. They also have various ministries to collect and provide clothing for the homeless in Skidrow in downtown Los Angeles, and assisting a neighboring congregation in collecting food for a local food bank.

New leadership, new energy

In all of these outreach efforts, Melby-Gibbons is there to guide and encourage her congregation. Since her installment in the church in September 2009, she has introduced new ideas and has brought new energy.

In addition to all the existing outreach efforts, she has also proposed a GAPS Community (Gardener, Artist, Psalmist, and Shopkeeper), a Christ-ian community that would allow people to follow or emulate the life of Jesus Christ and would be housed in the parsonage.

The church also holds “Open Table” every Thursday night where anyone who wants to attend can come and break bread with the Melby-Gibbons and fellow congregants. Melby-Gibbons has also started planning a small program called Moravians Anonymous, a “crash-course” into who the Moravians are and what their theology is. Efforts like these and the Back-Alley Gathering are aimed to remove or at least ease some of the distaste or disillusionment of people for organized religion, and hopefully interest them enough to become members.

In all of the struggles of a small congregation, Melby-Gibbons is finding true joy in her loving congregation.

“You can’t go into ordained ministry without a love for people,” she said.

She added, “I see my task as a pastoral leader in the Moravian realm as: to help the institution die gracefully, but also to look for signs of resurrection.”

Although membership may ultimately thin out and the institutional Moravian Church may fold, Melby-Gibbons believes in the church’s motto: “In essentials, unity; in nonessentials, liberty; in all things, love.”

“I ask myself: What are those things about the church, which has been about people, which cannot die [and] glow as embers which promise to spark into new life? Those embers are the Moravians’ focus on: love in all things, relationship over doctrine, simplicity in life and theology, and an outward focus, like going out in mission and service to a world in need.”

What Does Fort Hood Mean for American Muslims?

By all accounts, on November 5, Army psychiatrist Maj. Nidal Malik Hasan shot and killed 12 soldiers and 1 civilian at the Fort Hood Army base where he was stationed.

While investigators and reporters try to piece together the events and what prompted them, one fundamental aspect of the rampage is not in doubt: the alleged attacker was Muslim.

Writing shortly after the incident, the perceptive young American Muslim writer Wajahat Ali understandably cautioned against leaping to conclusions: “A cousin of Hasan, interviewed by reporters, has suggested an alternative motivation, not necessarily influenced by religious conviction. ‘He was mortified by the idea of having to deploy,’ said Nader Hasan. ‘He had people telling him on a daily basis the horrors they saw over there [in Iraq and Afghanistan],’” he wrote.

But in the face of additional evidence that emerged today, it is not reasonable or logical to pretend that some great wall separated Hasan’s own sense of Muslim identity from his motive. Witnesses report that he shouted “God is Great!” ahead of his rampage; family indicated that he was deeply upset over discrimination he said was visited upon him for being Muslim; and he openly expressed his hostility to the occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan by describing it as a “war against Islam.”

Of course, we do not yet know precisely what combination of factors led to the attack, and with more than 20,000 Muslims actively serving in the U.S. military, it would be absurd to mistake one man’s warped and skewed understanding of Islam and graft it onto every other Muslim.

But the scale and nature of this incident raises a number of uncomfortable questions about what usually goes unseen and remains unsaid outside of military circles.

A psychiatrist, Hasan heard the stories of soldiers returning from combat: did these accounts of killing, abuse and other horrors fuel his anger at American policy as the date of his own deployment to Afghanistan neared? What kind of harassment was Hasan subjected to on base for his Muslim identity? How widespread is enmity toward Muslims and Islam among the very soldiers who Gen. McChrystal is sending to fight alongside Muslims against Islamist extremists?

There are also other, equally pressing questions that directly affect young Muslims, such as me, who call this country our own. People will invariably ask why and whether Muslims are in the military–or perhaps even in the country at all–and what sort of measures will be taken to “monitor” this minority.

The Council of American Islamic Relations released a statement condemning the attack, labeling it “heinous” and contrary to Muslim principles. An assault upon one’s own unarmed and unsuspecting comrades is unquestionably cowardly and immoral, but I suspect that no number of official statements will stave off questions of Muslim “loyalty” to the state or disrupt the almost magnetic attraction between conservatives and anti-Islamic rhetoric.

The greatest and most pressing questions of all, however, are whether incidents like this one mark a growing trend of radicalization, isolation, or anger among Muslims in the U.S.–and if so, why. A few years ago, it was commonplace to observe that Islamist terrorists were foreign-trained and foreign-born, but the Fort Hood attack was at least the fourth this year involving American-raised or American-born Muslims.

The status and station of American Muslims — who by and large have enjoyed prosperity and contribute to the country as doctors, scientists, and translators–is a living rejoinder to fantastic rhetoric about a clash of civilizations or religions. But it is not a relationship that can be taken for granted or neglected by either side.

–

This article originally appeared on WireTap.

Levesque-Alam writes about America and Islam at his website, Crossing the Crescent, and for WireTap, where he is also the immigration blogger.

Celebrating the Word - The Story of Friendship Baptist Church

“To be a preacher is to be a storyteller, scholar, analyst, entertainer, political theorist, and, most ineffably, the anointed of God.”
Upon This Rock: The Miracles of a Black Church

On Sunday mornings, when Bishop James D. Carrington stands before his congregation at Friendship Baptist Church, he sees the old women in scarlet gabardine and boys in faded jeans, heads bowed in prayer. He hears the soaring gospel riffs from the choir reverberate throughout the cavernous sanctuary. He feels the collective breath of the faithful as they punctuate his booming oratories with “Amen!” and “Preach it now!”

And he wonders, as he has for some 2300 Sundays past, how many people will be inspired to receive the Word.

Carrington, 76, has been the pastor of Friendship Baptist Church since its founding in 1964. He has grown the church from 22 members, worshiping in a small house in Fullerton, Calif., to its present location on ten acres in the affluent community of Yorba Linda. Today, his congregation numbers more than 4,000, making Friendship Baptist Church the largest African American church in Orange County.

A graduate of Reed College in Los Angeles, Carrington rose to the challenge handed his class by Dr. Granville W. Reed, president of the college.

“He used to tell us that, if we were called to pastor, we needed to get out of Los Angeles and go to the suburbs because blacks were moving to various communities and not staying in L.A.,” Carrington says. “So when it came up, I ended up in that slot and I’m thankful to God that He put that seed in my mind and my heart to do it because we were the first black church in north Orange County.”

Black churches have a long and colorful history in this country that dates back to the Revolutionary War and the religious revivalism period, when black slaves were converted to Christianity by circuit-riders and revivalist tents.

Samuel Freedman wrote in Upon This Rock: The Miracles of a Black Church, “With their minds, the slaves grabbed at the concept that anyone could be ‘born again,’ implying as it did an equality of all humans before God; with their hearts and voices and limbs, they celebrated that transformation in ancient ways.”

That celebration continues today in black churches across America. They bellow. They boogie. They whoop and wail their way to a frenzied crescendo, while ushers promptly dispense paper fans to relieve the heat-stroked.

“Why do I shout? WHY DO I SHOUT?” Bishop Carrington asked his congregation on a recent Sunday. “Because I am not ashamed to show the Lord I love Him!”

But this exuberant celebration of the word is only part of the story. Although Friendship’s worship style is similar to the urban black churches of which Freedman writes, their love-thy-neighbor tolerance and openness to diversity are more harmonious with the philosophies of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. than the fiery black liberation rhetoric of Reverends Jeremiah Wright or Johnny Youngblood.

Anger doesn’t play well in Yorba Linda, ‘Land of Gracious Living.’

History

“But this prideful self-sufficiency, this rigor and resolve, were to outsiders the most invisible aspect of what was called during slavery ‘the invisible institution.’”
Upon This Rock – The Miracles of a Black Church

In 1964, when Carrington was called to start his church, Fullerton had one of the largest black populations in Orange County. Whites were moving out of the area and college-educated blacks, lured by jobs in aerospace and other industries, began moving in. And that was good for his church, or so Carrington thought.

“I’m the only black pastor here. I’m in the right place.”

It didn’t happen that way, though - the blacks that came to Orange County began to settle in Santa Ana rather than Fullerton. But Carrington didn’t mind what color you were as long as you came.

“When we were a baby church, I didn’t have to make any special appeals, he said. “If you like singing and you like my style of preaching, come on over and get in the family, cuz one day if you are born again, we are gonna be all together regardless of what color we are. We don’t have to deal with the color, let’s deal with the soul.”

The membership grew and the church began a series of moves until 1972, when they were able to buy property at 706 Lemon Street in Fullerton. Three years later they received an $18,000 grant from the Stamps Foundation, which enabled them to erect a building on the property. This was to be their home for the next eleven years.

Meanwhile, the country was mired deep in the throes of the civil rights movement, forcing black pastors to take on political roles. Carrington remembers April 4, 1968 like it was yesterday.

“I got a call from a minister working for Cal State University in Fullerton. He said ‘Dr. Langsdorf is having a memorial service for Dr. King. Can you come be with us and read a scripture?’”

When Carrington reached the campus, he saw the president of the black student union running toward him.

“He told me, ’Pastor Langsdorf don’t want you to just read a scripture. He wants you to speak to the people!’”

That was one of the biggest challenges of his life, Carrington says, because he had to come up with a message to preach to “all those college-degreed people and professors.” But God gave him the text and he spoke to the whole group.

The assassination of Dr. King was a turning point in Carrington’s life, plunging him into a role as a community activist. He helped establish the first human relations race commission in Orange County and assisted Fullerton in establishing fair housing laws, enabling black students at CSUF to rent apartments that had previously been denied them.

“I was the only black pastor about and so I was called upon by a lot of organizations to talk about what needed to be done about race relations,” he remembers. “As a result I made a lot of good friends.”

Friendship Baptist Church continued to grow and, by 1986 their membership had swelled to 800, resulting in services being held outdoors in the summer months.

That year, the church purchased ten acres of land in pastoral Yorba Linda and began laying the cornerstone for its new home. A lot of people didn’t think the church would make it in that area – there were only two black families in Yorba Linda when they bought the property, Carrington says. But that never bothered him.

“Shortly after we moved we had a lot of people coming from LA and different places, and they would drive right by the church, cuz when they looked at the building they thought it was a white church. We used to get a good laugh about that!” he recalls with a chuckle.

Church as Anchor of the Community

“They are family and more than family, the people of Saint Paul. The blows that would rupture bonds of blood or friendship can somehow be absorbed by a community of faith.”
Upon This Rock: The Miracles of a Black Church

By the time Friendship Baptist Church moved to Yorba Linda in 1987, its congregation had spread out, with many people commuting from surrounding counties. Thus, a new problem arose: How can the church maintain a sense of community when its members are scattered over a five-county area?

Carrington believes the answer lies in the church’s ministries and classes it offers their members.

“Overall, we have a ministry that meets people’s needs and as a result, the church has been growing and growing.”

Indeed, there is something for everybody at Friendship Baptist Church. A recent church bulletin listed 52 classes, workshops and meetings in a single week – everything from bible studies to recovery meetings to gospel aerobics.

Reverend Aubrey Craig teaches New Members 101, a monthly class held in the Carrington Building, a three level brick structure that houses classrooms, meeting rooms and administrative offices.

A soft-spoken man with an easy-going and engaging personality, Craig describes the church as a place of escape and a place of hope.

“It’s like therapy – it relieves your tensions and problems. It makes you want to be somebody.” he says. “We all had a common struggle. This (church) is like a campground where people can come together for one purpose: To embrace one another.”

Joyce Jardell of Yorba Linda is one of the newest members of Friendship Baptist Church, having just completed the New Members class.

“I have been coming here for a while and I felt the pull of friendship,” Jardell said. “I knew I could get my spiritual needs met here and that’s why I came. People accept you here.”

Her friend, Carolyn Richardson, agrees.

“I feel so welcome. Everybody here seems so friendly that I felt like it was home. It’s a place of caring and giving.” she said.

On the same evening, just down the hall, the Celebrate Recovery meeting is getting underway. Led by Reverend Patrick Harris, the meeting is a bible-based, 12 step recovery meeting designed, not only for people with alcohol and drug problems, but “any issue that’s weighing you down.” Harris says.

Tonight, thirteen people (three of them white), with issues ranging from gambling to co-dependency, attend. The meeting begins with scripture, followed by a round of songs led by Harris’ assistant, Duane.

“Don’t give up! ‘Fess up and be accountable! Let it go!” Harris counsels the group throughout the session. “Your worth increases when you give yourself away. So get outside of yourself and help others.”

The second hour the men and women adjourn to separate rooms for topic discussions.

Harris has been in charge of Celebrate Recovery for two years. The program started with a bang four years ago but has dwindled over the years, he says. They are trying some new things to bring people in, like having guest speakers and advertising more in the church. One option they are considering is having members give personal testimonies in front of the church, as a way to get people to relate.

“Nobody really wants to come out of denial,” Harris says.

He was once asked why the ministry is necessary if nobody comes.

“We have the ministry” he replied, “so that when God moves them and they want to do something about (their problem) we’ll be there.”

Youth - The Vision of Tomorrow

“All these efforts sought to create an extended family, to build the village that would raise the child.”
Upon This Rock: Miracles of a Black Church

Ministries are an integral part of the black church and Friendship Baptist Church boasts 23, including men’s and women’s ministries, health care, music, drama and youth and young adult ministries.

Reverend Kenneth Curry is the Minister of Children, Youth and Young Adults, giving him the administrative and spiritual responsibility of youth from birth through 35. With his lanky, athletic build and fun-loving nature, kids are naturally drawn to him.

Curry grew up in Compton, where he and his two brothers faced typical urban issues of busing and gangs. They stayed focused, he says, because of their involvement in church and sports. His upbringing showed him the importance of providing youth with good role models and mentors.

“Youth make direct connections to adults and these connections can make a difference,” he says.

March is Youth Month at the church, and Curry is a ubiquitous presence on campus: Organizing the youth picnic, coordinating youth day, meeting with parent volunteers and popping in and out of various choir and drama rehearsals.

In three hours, he will have 75 or 80 people at the church to help prepare for the youth retreat. Parental involvement is crucial, he says.

“I can’t be everything.”

Part of Curry’s youth program involves working with high school students to prepare them for college. As they transition out of college, he helps get them established in their career and then, in building their family.

“Which starts the cycle here at Friendship all over again,” Curry says.

Friendship Baptist is a church in transition, he says, caught between the older generation on the way out and the new generation coming up.

Curry says it will be interesting to see what the church looks like in the future.

“We’re getting different nationalities now – Hispanic, white, some Asian-American. We don’t know what that means for the future but I believe the essence of us will stay African American.”

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said that eleven a.m. on Sunday is the most segregated hour and Reverend Curry believes that is true.

“My issue is not so much the segregation but the preference in worship styles,” Curry says. “When we preach, there is an exuberance, there is a celebration in our worship. It speaks to our heritage. African Americans tend to be open toward other races but it’s important for us to retain our flair and flavor.”

Meanwhile, the church is expanding again – plans are underway to build a $2.7 million youth center that will house a gymnasium, a stage and a wing of classrooms. Long term plans include a playground, a new worship center, preschool classrooms and a mortuary.

And what are Bishop Carrington’s plans for the future?

To tell the truth and stand on the Word of God, he says.

“I’ve done that for forty-something years and I think I’ve made something come out right. I’m hoping that one of these days the Lord will say ‘you’ve done all you can do. I want you to go play

–
Credit:
Story: Jennifer Karmarkar
Photo & Audio Slideshow: Wayne Huang

Muslim Americans Profiled as Surveillance Crosses Sacred Line

The news of Ahmadullah Sais Niazi’s arrest began with a raid on his Tustin, Calif. home on Feb. 20. Papers called the resident an associate of Al Qaeda. They even gave his address out.

The story came with fantastic headlines. ABC news proclaimed, “The Feds Pop Alleged Al Qaeda Associate.” Neighbors were pictured in the LA Times staring at the house as if it was haunted by the ghosts of 9-11.

It turned out, Afghanistan-born Niazi, 34, simply didn’t report on his immigration papers that his sister was married to Amin al-Haq, an alleged security coordinator for Osama Bin Laden.

But the FBI relied substantially on an informant to paint Niazi as more than just a liar on legal paperwork. The informant, 46-year-old Craig Monteilh, had penetrated Orange County mosques for over a year before being cut loose in 2007.

Niazi is charged with perjury, naturalization fraud, misuse of a passport obtained by fraud and making a false statement to a federal agency, according to the LA Times.

Today, as civil rights groups line up against the FBI, these issues represent what may become the first glimpses at the deep fault lines of distrust between the Muslim-American community and the government agency. A distrust that must be soothed if we as Americans can truly live as a cohesive and safe society.

This is most likely leading up to courtroom quakes that may redefine freedom of speech within religious communities and immigrant communities. They may decide if Muslim-Americans can be partners in fighting terror or only suspects.

According to the Council of American Islamic Relations, Niazi is being punished for not becoming an informant himself. In 2007, Niazi reported Monteilh to authorities because he spoke of violent acts against the government. They met at the Islamic Center of Irvine. The ICI retained a restraining order against Monteilh with the help of Niazi, CAIR said.

Also, after Niazi reported Monteilh in 2007, an FBI agent threatened Niazi that if he did not become an informant himself, they would make his life a “living hell,” according to CAIR.

Essentially, we are at the moment of finding out how “American” a Muslim-American really is.

Are Muslims going to be arrested for wiring money overseas to relatives in need? Are Muslims going to be arrested if their sisters marry someone 15,000 miles away whom the government deems too close to terror?

The raid in Niazi’s home did not turn up anything linking him to extremism. His potential guilt is less important than the FBI’s surveillance strategies.

Perhaps the Jewish Journal’s God Blog sums up the concerns:

“The question is whether law enforcement should be allowed to invade sacred space in the name of public safety. And if so, are my prayer requests going to make it into a report somewhere?”

–

Credit:Credit: Abrahim Appel, 30, a freelance journalist residing in Fullerton, California. He recently acquired his B.A in Afro-Ethnic and American Indian Studies from Cal State Fullerton. He works as a live-in caregiver and is researching masters and PhD programs in Arab-Diaspora Studies or International Relations with an emphasis on ethnic relations while considering a career with the Peace Corps.

Anamika Recovery Center Offers Hope to Community

(This story originally appeared on India West)

The last thing Subodh Karmarkar remembers was feeling like he was falling off the edge of the earth. He woke up two days later in a hospital bed with an IV needle buried in his arm and his parents’ worried faces hovering above. His first thought was to bolt from the room.

“It was fight or flight and I was gonna flee,” he recalls.

Karmarkar yanked the IV from his arm and a streak of crimson shot across the stark white room. A nurse appeared out of nowhere and cuffed his wrists to the bed. Karmarkar struggled to break free but quickly drifted out of consciousness.

It was another two days before he became coherent. A grim-faced doctor stood at the edge of his hospital bed holding a medical chart.

“Mr. Karmarkar, if you take one more drink of alcohol, you will die.” He turned and left the room.

The following day, the doctor returned.

“Mr. Karmarkar, if you take one more drink of alcohol, you will die,” he repeated. “At least have the decency to get your affairs in order so your family can bury you in peace.”

At that moment, reality hit him full force. The fight was over - alcohol had won. The next day, Karmarkar entered a local treatment center and began his journey of recovery.

That was six years ago. Today, a sober Karmarkar has embarked on a new journey - one he hopes will help other families overcome the devastation of alcohol and chemical dependency. He has opened Anamika Recovery Center, a state-licensed and certified, six-bed residential treatment center in Orange County, California.

With more than 200 licensed alcohol and drug treatment facilities, Orange County is known as the “Addiction Treatment Capital of the World.” What makes Anamika Recovery Center different is that it is uniquely designed to serve the Indian American community.

Sitting behind a mahogany desk at the treatment center, Karmarkar, 44, does not fit the profile of an alcoholic. His eyes are clear and his face glows with health, a stark contradiction to the man so close to death six years ago. He wears a starched, pinstriped shirt and a ruby power tie, making him better suited to Wall Street than Skid Row.

Originally from Baroda, India, Karmarkar immigrated to America 35 years ago. He recently earned his MBA, a degree he started after graduating from Arizona State University in 1987. It was one of many pursuits abandoned when alcohol took over his life.

“Alcoholism is a non-discriminating disease,” Karmarkar says. “It is not just the bewada on the street corner talking to himself. It impacts people from all walks of life, regardless of religious preference, caste, level of education, amount of wealth or profession.”

Before he launched his treatment center, Karmarkar stumbled upon a startling statistic: The Indian Ministry of Social Justice reports that up to 26% of India’s alcohol and drug users may be classified as dependent. He was surprised to discover there were no treatment facilities in the United States that catered to the Indian community. As he worked with other Indians in a 12-step program, he realized his traditional Hindu background positioned him to help this segment of society.

According to Karmarkar, there are some unique cultural components that are barriers to Indians seeking treatment for alcoholism - namely denial, co-dependency and shame. Most Indians are vegetarians, a dietary option not usually available at traditional western treatment centers. Occasionally, there are language difficulties. Anamika Recovery Center’s program is designed to overcome these barriers, he says.

“There are misconceptions in the Indian community that beer and wine are basically water,” Karmarkar states. “They think as long as the person is not consuming hard liquor there is not a problem.”

He says Bollywood glorifies drinking by portraying the glamour and excitement instead of the devastation that occurs with long-term abuse.

Another misconception, according to Karmarkar, is that financial success negates the seriousness of alcohol abuse. People ask him, ‘How can I have a problem when I own a beautiful house, have three cars in the driveway and my kids attend Stanford?’ Karmarkar says the questions the person should ask when they look in the mirror are: ‘Do I like the person looking back at me? Am I happy with what I am seeing in the mirror?’

“It is an interesting phenomenon that when cancer is discovered, common sense tells us to seek treatment,” Karmarkar continues. “When it comes to alcoholism, the typical reaction (in the Indian American community) is to sweep it under the rug and do whatever it takes to hide it from the social circle.”

One woman, who asked not to be identified, understands the pain of living with an alcoholic. Her husband’s problem surfaced when he began to drink too much at parties and passed out. His condition worsened and the woman avoided social situations out of shame. In Indian culture, the wife is responsible to keep the household running smoothly, adding to the burden alcoholism puts on the family, said Karmarkar.

“The Indian community is male-dominated. Everything the man has done or not done in life, it is because of the woman,” the Indian American woman said. “If they only have girls, the wife is to blame. If they drink too much, the wife is to blame.”

As her husband’s drinking spiraled out of control, their family life became a nightmare. She tried to hide his condition, lying to friends, family and his business associates. Their teenaged son suffered because her time was consumed trying to help her husband. She attended Al-Anon meetings. She attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. She sought relief at the Hindu temple. Nothing worked – until she met Karmarkar.

Karmarkar persuaded her husband to enter treatment and has worked with him on relapse-prevention ever since. Her husband has now been sober for two years and is trying to re-build the trust he broke within his family.

Unfortunately, says Karmarkar, stories with happy endings like this are few and far between.

“I have buried people in this community who refused to get help,” he states bluntly. “I have seen this disease take lives and destroy families of attorneys, architects, businessmen, doctors, farmers and college students. Alcoholism kills slowly and, in its late stages, it is a very ugly death.”

According to Karmarkar, excessive drinking results in one of three endings: incarceration, institutionalization or death.

“Rehabilitation is a much better alternative in the event of a DUI and, most definitely is a better alternative to death or the brain turning into a ‘wet noodle’, he says.

The American Medical Association has recognized alcoholism as a disease since 1956. Some 52 years later, the Indian American community has not yet accepted that fact, according to Dr. Stuart Finkelstein, a Cerritos, California-based addiction specialist and Anamika’s Medical Director. Since becoming certified in 1983, he has not taken a single Indian through recovery. He says there is so much social taboo in the community, that it is difficult to engage them in treatment.

“The interventions are not supported by the family. They are embarrassed,” says Finkelstein. “So the alcoholic keeps drinking. And it is often a fatal disease.”

Finkelstein believes the Indian American community must be educated on the concept of addiction as a disease before there will be progress. “They need to understand that it’s not a matter of will power,” he says. “People are wired differently. Alcoholics and addicts are genetically different.”

Meanwhile, at the treatment center, Karmarkar finishes an exercise the counselors will use in group therapy the next day. He explains that days start early at Anamika - breakfast begins at six in the cozy, sun-splashed dining room. A typical menu features poha (an Indian breakfast staple), yogurt, and freshly-squeezed juice from oranges grown on the property. Meals are vegetarian unless the client requests otherwise. After breakfast, clients attend daily 12-step meetings, educational sessions and counseling.

“Our counselors are familiar with the unique cultural components that are barriers to accepting alcoholism as a disease,” Karmarkar says. “Just about everybody on our staff is a recovering alcoholic, so we totally understand this disease.”

Karmarkar has trained his staff to respect client confidentiality on all levels. ‘Anamika’ is actually a Sanskrit word meaning ‘anonymous’. The split-level residence in Anaheim Hills is set on more than an acre of heavily wooded property, giving Anamika the feel of a secluded retreat. A tangle of pink-blossomed bushes shields the house from passersby.

Anamika provides 30, 60 or 90-day inpatient treatment. Clients receive lifelong aftercare to prevent relapse. Counseling is offered in English, Hindi, Marathi, Punjabi and Gujarati. Yoga and meditation are integral parts of the curriculum, which stresses holistic healing of mind, body and spirit.

Karmarkar hopes that community outreach programs will raise awareness in the Indian American community that alcoholism is a treatable disease. He implores family members not to treat the alcoholic in their life as if they were a leper or a bad person.

“They are sick and need help. Alcohol has robbed them of their ability to reason so they need the non-drinkers to point them in the right direction,” he says.

Karmarkar’s personal journey is one that he would not wish upon his worst enemy. But it was necessary in order to do the work he does today.

“I went through hell and came out on the other side,” he says. “Now I have the compassion to help others do the same.”

Obama Engaging (and Embracing?) the Muslim World

Building a Movement

Since Dec. 27, 2008, unrelenting violence has been unleashed in the Gaza Strip. Death tolls keep climbing with no end in plain sight.

Regardless of creed, race, age or beliefs, people are protesting, raising funds and educating others to show solidarity with Gazans and those suffering around the world.

Minority Dreams found powerful examples of activists making a difference in styles that suit them best.

Mark Gonzales: Human Writes Project

Renowned educator, poet and passionate advocate of human rights, Mark Gonzales, 33, had humble beginnings in 1996. It was a simple idea that took place in a friend’s garage – read personal poems, freestyle and invite friends and family to listen.

“I started writing to address and express all the pain, confusion and frustration I had growing up and [wanted to] make sense of the chaos,” he said.

The people came in numbers and the once small spoken word sessions grew.

“It really spoke to the need of people to have a community that spoke to their reality, beauty and pain,” said the Alaskan-born Mexican American.

He founded the Human Writes Project in 1999, an ideology that uses culture as a vehicle to push for social change and justice.

“It’s a philosophy under which educators, artists and organizers gather and create arts or performances [for] a new community and new identity based on real and shared experiences,” Gonzales said.

Through this belief, Gonzales helped organize many educational events including “Get Down for Life and Lyrics: Get Down for Gaza.” Held on Jan. 10 at Juanita’s in Highland Park, the fundraiser helped bring in between $1,700 to $2,000, which was donated to Islamic Relief, one of the only two charities allowed to work in Gaza.

“It was successful because it created community,” he said. “It wasn’t just about Palestine, it was about indigenous land and the global struggle for indigenous land. It was about women’s and children’s rights. [Also] the right of a people and the right to live.”

While he believes protests and demonstrations are important, Gaza needs direct support in the form of medicine, financial donations and basic necessities like blankets, he said. The idea behind the fundraiser encouraged small donations from working people of $5 or $10. The crowd, which reached over 300 that night, often gave more.

His inspiration in life comes from a deep love for people, Gonzales said.

“I’ve looked at what I’ve gone through in my life and the experiences I’ve had and remember pain and frustration when things and acts have occurred,” he said. “If I’ve felt that much pain, how would I feel if I was bombed, [too]?”

View a video of Mark Gonzales from ‘Get Down for Gaza’

Marcy Winograd – LA Jews for Peace

An ace in multitasking, this progressive democrat has juggled teaching in a Los Angeles school, protesting in the city’s streets, running for Congress and co-founding an anti-war, Jewish-American group – but she’s not done yet.

Raised in a strongly zionist community, Marcy Winograd believes history cannot be that simplified. “We know the narrative of Israel as a refuge is a powerful narrative,” she said. “But there is another and that is, this homeland [also] belongs to someone else.”

Although members of LA Jews for Peace are divided on zionism, they are dedicated to diplomacy in the Middle East, an end in Israeli occupation in Palestine and an end in American military aid.

“We call on all Jews of conscious to stand with the Palestinians [and] to stand with those who are victimized and say, not in our name,” Winograd said.

She co-founded the group after losing in a heated battle for Congress against fellow democrat, Rep. Jane Harman in 2006. Made up of a handful of core members in their 40s and 50s, Winograd hopes the group will also attract a younger generation.

“I think young [Americans] have been very active in the anti-war movement,” she said. “This issue may be intimidating in its seeming complexity but our hope is in the youth because they will look at it from fresh eyes.”

It helped organize a mock funeral and demonstration in L.A. on Jan. 11 for the children killed in Gaza and candlelight vigils.

Besides the visual affect, the events’ purpose was “to pose a different face of the Jewish community in L.A.,” she said. “We’re reaching a tipping point and as horrible as this hour is, it provides an opportunity to learn.”

Mahmud Ahmad – Al Awda: The Palestine Right to Return Coalition

He’s an advocate of social justice who, amid the realities of the Palestinian – Israeli conflict, believes in a peaceful future in the Middle East.

Mahmud Ahmad of Al Awda – the Palestine Right to Return Coalition believes that people of the world will not stay quiet forever and that in historical terms, the conflict will soon end.

On Jan. 10, Al-Awda co-sponsored the National Day of Emergency Mass Action – Mass Regional Protest in Los Angeles along with the ANSWER Coalition.

Thousands of activists rallied near the Federal Building in Westwood that day in response to Israel’s incursion into the Gaza Strip.

“[The protests are] showing solidarity with our sisters and brothers in Palestine,” he said. “We stand firmly against injustice wherever it happens. [Also we're] mobilizing people [and] building a greater movement. There are new people getting involved.”

He hopes their events will get accurate media coverage including pointing out Israel’s faults.

“When it comes down to covering local protests, they [the media] present the Palestinian version but everything is edited and it’s in line with what they want to put forward anyway [then] countered with Israeli’s point of view,” he said.

“My [problem] with that is that if it were any other state or country committing that kind of atrocious activity, it wouldn’t be presented as a point of view. The Israeli government should be charged with war crimes. Gaza is in genocidal proportions.”

In addition, he hopes that President-elect Obama will speak out clearly against the attacks on the Gaza Strip.

Al-Awda, a democratic, non-partisan grassroots organization, is dedicated to public awareness of the legal and human rights of Palestinian refugees to return to their homeland, gain restitution for their property, gain freedom and equality.

Ahmad is also the co-founder of the Free Palestine Alliance and the National Council of Arab Americans and a member of the ANSWER Coalition.

View a slideshow from the L.A. protest, ‘Let Gaza Live’ by Mike Chickey.

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Thanks for your help! Minority Dreams gives special thanks to supporters and those who helped with research, photos or contacts including photographer Iman Al-dabbagh.

Credit: Urmi Rahman

*The individuals and the organizations profiled here vary in their views and are in no way related to one another. To learn more about each group, please view their individual websites. - MD Staff

CORRECTION: This article published Jan. 17 incorrectly reported that the LA Jews for Peace sponsored the Jan. 14. chain-protest. The event was sponsored by the International Jewish Anti-Zionist Network - Minority Dreams regrets this mistake. (1/23)

A Veil is Worth a Thousand Words

Three young women with different backgrounds find solace in one way of life

It was an endearing act when her mother laid out her school clothes on the bed. One that Maheen Siddiqi will try to continue if she too has daughters. But her plans for the future include a personal touch – matching headscarves.

The hijab, as it is called in Arabic, is the veil many Muslim women wear to cover their hair in public as a sign of modesty. For young hijabis – those who wear the hijab – the significance lies in having a choice.

“I would want them to wear it (…) [but] I would never force them,” Siddiqi said of having daughters in the future. “If it’s not their decision, they won’t respect it.”

The 23-year-old law student at Western State in Fullerton wasn’t always so close to her faith.

Like many Muslim Americans, she grew up questioning Islam. The cultural influences including arranged marriages and curfews on girls turned her away.

But reading the Quran in English made for a huge transition in her previous agnostic beliefs. Chapters on women helped her understand the significance of modesty, women’s roles and behavior.

At age 19, she decided to test drive the idea of observing the hijab at the mall.

“I thought people would be staring at me a lot but nobody was,” Siddiqi said. “I felt kind of protected.”

She realized people gave her a level of respect they hadn’t before so she stuck with the hijab since.

But simply wrapping a scarf around the head is the easy part, said Samia Ghaffar, a 23-year-old medical student at the University of California, Irvine. The difficulty lies in following and representing Islam diligently through behavior.

“Religion is not just what you wear, it’s devotion, how you act and treat others,” Siddiqi agreed.

Ghaffar is the only hijabi among her peers and doctors at the UCI Medical Center but she takes it in stride. The lingering stares no longer bother her since she has been sporting the hijab for 10 years already.

Rebellion

For Ghaffar, the thought of rebelling occurs all the time and friendly peer pressure never seems to end.

Guys in her class have made bets about who could convince her to reveal some hair. While she is amused by their curiosity, she never gives in.

There is also the yearly formal and a number of friend’s weddings.

“I never had a chance to do my hair and get dressed up so I want to know how that feels,” she said. “But I don’t [do these things] because there are guidelines [I] follow.”

She strongly believes that all Muslim women should wear the hijab and it is not something she could simply take off. To her, that would be hypocritical and it’s not a matter of convenience.

“For anyone who has any strong faith or belief, you just have to be strong and stick to it,” Ghaffar said. “Yeah, I could get dressed up and go clubbing but it goes against what I believe in. [The hijab] does change your life.”

Experience

Hijabis endure varying affects of negativity, which have increased since September 11, 2001, said Fatima Rangoonwala, a graduate student in psychology at Cal State Fullerton. It can range from rude remarks, jokes, stares to being deliberately ignored.

“People that react [negatively] do so based on stereotypes or the media portrayal of Muslims. It’s due to ignorance of the true teachings of Islam,” the 20-year-old said. “I wish that I could explain to them my beliefs and practices.”

To gain understanding, she encourages non-Muslims to ask questions.

“Through learning more about each other, we can all become more understanding and accepting,” she said. “This is crucial if we want to work toward a diverse and harmonious America in which everyone feels safe to practice their religion.”

For Siddiqi, the good experiences have out weighed the bad.

“I’ve learned because of where I live, it doesn’t make a difference,” Siddiqi said. “It doesn’t matter what you wear, people treat you [a certain way] based on your personality, not your clothes.”

She does however, worry about a jury or courtroom’s perception of her based on her appearance.

“I [am] ready to deal with it,” said Siddiqi, whose father objected the hijab because of her career. “There is always the first person who paves the way. There had to be the first African American lawyer.”

For Ghaffar, a similar situation holds true in the medical field.

“A Muslim woman wears the hijab because she chose to,” said Ghaffar, who hates when people assume she’s not smart enough to be a med-student because she covers her hair. “Especially now, no one can force you.”

The idea is to comprehend why it is worn.

“The key is to do it with understanding,” Rangoonwala said. “Islam encourages the individual to understand why [we] practice certain things.”

Misunderstood

While the decision to wear the hijab was personally made by all three women, the early days were still tough.

“The first day you go out with it is probably the hardest,” said Rangoonwala, who recalled being nervous in the sixth grade. “Not only are you a loud symbol of your faith, people see you as a Muslim. I wear my religion on my sleeve, literally.”

She had to explain her reasoning for the hijab to friends and teachers while dealing with negative reactions from strangers.

To dress more conservatively, she started wearing the abaya – an overcoat worn above regular clothes also called the burka – at age 16.

Dressed more modest than her peers, Rangoonwala believes she is empowered through her appearance.

“Wearing the hijab liberates me from [social pressures of idealized beauty],” she said. “I don’t have to conform to those standards and I have no desires to. I’m able to keep my beauty for the people I choose to show it to.”

Being more moderately religious, Ghaffar is okay with others wearing the abaya but has never entertained the idea for herself.

“I would feel way too singled out,” she said. “I’m self-conscious [and] I don’t know if I believe the abaya is required or necessary.”

Her lighthearted personality also plays a role in her beliefs.

“I like shopping too much and I like getting dressed up,” she said laughing.

She realizes that a lot of people assume hijabis think they are more religious, spiritual or just better individuals. The hijab however, is not a differentiating factor in being a better person.

Many factors, from observing the pillars of Islam to personality, determine a Muslim woman’s character. Also, there are lots of religious women who choose not to wear the hijab.

Planning for the Future

The idea of children may still be novel but all three women have considered their options as future hijabi mothers.

“I plan on raising my children with an Islamic mind set,” Rangoonwala said. “[Also] encouraging [them] to dress in a modest way – both boys and girls.”

But she still wants her children to get secular education to allow for healthy interaction with the rest of society and to become productive citizens.

Ghaffar went to Muslim school with her sister at a young age and wants her children to do the same. Once they are old enough, she wants the girls to make the decision on their own.

While her mother does not wear the hijab, Ghaffar and her older sister do. Siddiqi’s mother also wears the hijab and abaya. None of the women wear a niqaab – the face veil.

“It’s a constant struggle,” Rangoonwala said. “But as you strive to be this way, you begin to feel a sense of peace with the practices.”

The origins of the hijab differ according to varying philosophies but modern Muslim women have found ways to incorporate it into their daily lives.

“As a Muslim, you submit to the will of god,” she said. “It’s a way of life. That doesn’t mean you can’t be a regular individual in society. You have a sense of purpose that guides your actions and interactions.”

Credit: Urmi Rahman
Photo: Dreamstime