When the Violin Can Forgive the Past

by Terry Rogers

“I don’t want to see war ever again,” said the middle-aged Iranian man in the wheelchair. We met him in a convalescent home in Tehran, where he lived with 25 men, disabled in a war that ended 19 years ago, the Iran/Iraq war (l980-l988).

During my recent trip to Iran, sponsored by the Fellowship of Reconciliation, our delegation was told that this war had been the longest conventional war of the 20th century, yet it had barely registered in my awareness at the time. The Iranian government (which had arranged and approved the schedule of all our meetings) clearly wanted us to understand the suffering from this conflict, in which at least a million Iranians had died.

The convalescent home was clean, spacious, full of air and light. We met with a number of patients, bringing them roses, chocolates, and notes and pictures given by American children for Iranians we might meet. Many of these patients expressed their affection for American people (though not our government). “Thank you for following the way of peace, after Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed,” one man said to us. “I don’t want to see war ever again ”was a particularly poignant phrase, since many in both our countries feared the US would soon be launching air strikes on Iran.

Our time in Iran changed many of our own preconceptions. Not only the disabled soldiers, but many Iranians we met on the streets and in other public places were delighted to hear we were visitors from America. We were met with such hospitality and warmth that the idea of pervasive Iranian hostility toward Americans just couldn’t be maintained.

We visited the tomb of Hafiz, a 14th century Persian Sufi poet. His work expresses both divine and human love, radiant with forgiveness and generosity.

Even after all this time
the sun never says to the earth
you owe me.
Look what happens to a love
like that
it lights the whole sky.
-Hafiz

Hafiz is buried in a marble tomb within a large landscaped garden. It’s a place of pilgrimage for many. Several of our group sat on some steps in the garden and read Hafiz’s poems aloud among ourselves. For hundreds of years his poetry has been so quoted and loved that it has become part of the ordinary speech of Iranians.

Our last full day was spent in Qom, a town devoted primarily to seminaries where Shia clergy, both men and women, engage in what is normally a 20 year course of theological study. We met with teachers from an institute for theological study devoted to interfaith understanding. They surprised us with examples of their commitment to inter-religious dialogue: many of their students share an on-line curriculum with students from Eastern Mennonite university in the U.S.; they’ve participated in two conferences recently with Benedictines in England; they took part in an interfaith dialogue in Innsbruck; they study not only the other Abrahamic religions (Judaism and Christianity) but also Eastern religions such as Hinduism and Buddhism. “Interfaith conversations have a deep root in Islam, ”they told us. “Often it’s the spirituality more than the theology that is a better ground for conversation.”

When asked what we can do about the dangerous standoff between our two countries, one of the clerics said, “We can pray for one another. When Christians and Muslims fast and pray together, it’s very powerful. We know God is going to help whoever is trying to do what is right.”

Earlier in the trip we drove by the former American embassy, where embassy staff were held hostage for 444 days by Islamic militants in l979-l980. There’s still anti-American graffiti on the wall around the compound. Our guide made two comments:

“When Madeline Albright was U.S. Secretary of State, she made an important speech indicating an apology for the CIA-backed coup in Iran in l953, which overthrew the popular prime minister Mossadeq. He had threatened the West by nationalizing the Iranian oil industry.”

“Some of those militants who captured the U.S. embassy in l979 have met with some of the former hostages and apologized to them.”

When the violin
can forgive the past
it starts singing.

Terry Rogers is a community health nurse in New York City and belongs to the Third Order of the Society of St. Francis. She has been a member of EPF for many years.

(Poems by Hafiz translated by Daniel Ladinsky in The Gift: Poems by Hafiz)

This article was also printed in the Catholic Worker, June-July 2007.