Fundamentalism

In the Seattle Times today, the president of Seattle University, Rev. Stephen Sundborg, writes in an editorial about the cultures of religious groups and how the trappings get mistaken for its substance and meaning. He equates religious fundamentalism with a rudimentary, embryonic state. Fundamentalism, he says, is "getting stuck halfway down the well" of a given religion's deepest beliefs and highest aspirations. It substitutes rules for faith, religious superiority for truth and blind adherence to dogma for mystery (my words).

Throughout the years of my childhood, our family were members of a conservative, fundamentalist Christian sect. The fellowship of individual congregations we belonged to liked to tell itself (and anyone who would listen) we were the only ones in the world who were not a denomination, hence the true church. However, the group was not above splintering over doctrinal issues into ever more factions, many of which then refused to recognize or fellowship with each other.

To the people we knew, even Baptists and Pentecostals were much too worldly to be considered "in the fold." We avoided baseball and other professional sports because of the beer and swearing; people who went to movies or bought televisions were often "dis-fellowshipped." The list of frowned-upon behaviors seemed endless: gambling, worldly music (think John Denver and Joan Baez), many board games, card games, pierced ears, non-religious art, men's hair reaching past the ears, alcohol (some people forbade cough syrup), makeup, jewelry (some groups even frowned on engagement rings and wrist watches), smoking, swimming with people of the opposite gender (outside of families).

Just when we got used to the rules, they changed. "Long hair is a woman's glory," we were exhorted for years. Then, "worldly" girls began wearing their hair long in the 60s. So the wife of the minister of the congregation we belonged to bullied, browbeat and intimidated all the families with daughters past the age of puberty, forcing them to cut their hair short as a way to set the girls apart from the world.

Among our tightly knit congregations, there were always a few people like her, who self-righteously took it upon themselves to enforce the church's moral and social codes. Most often they were men. Yet they had no idea of the existence of their soul mates, half a world away, surpassing even their wildest dreams of co-opting, coercing and suppressing their fellow human beings.

Religious police, or Mutawwa'în, are omnipresent in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Members of the Committee for the Propagation of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice, they controlled much of our lives when my husband, sons and I lived in Riyadh in the 90s.

Also known as mutawwaeen, they enforce Saudi religious, moral and social codes of conduct, both customs and laws. These include modesty and dress codes, but don't stop there. Mutawwaeen also make sure businesses close for prayer times, arrest unmarried, non-related men and women caught socializing, prevent participation in decadent western customs such as celebrating Valentine's Day, make sure women keep out of men-only restaurant sections and don't drive, and confiscate illegal drugs, alcohol products and other banned items, such as cookbooks with un-Islamic recipes calling for pork or wine. During the month of Ramadan, mutawwaeen also enforce daylight fasting, making sure no one is smoking in public and no one older than a child is seen drinking a sip of water or even chewing gum from dawn until dusk.

In the holy city of Mecca on March 11, 2002, a school for girls caught fire. Reportedly, Mutawwa'în blocked the attempted rescue of the girls, who were not wearing their hijab, or modesty coverings. In Saudi Arabia, this means the ubiquitous black robe abaya with the khimār, or headscarf, and often the face veil, or niqab. According to Saudi custom, it is unacceptable for a male and female who are not closely related (and who are past early childhood) to be in close physical proximity, unless the woman is covered by the protective modesty of the hijab.

Apparently, fourteen girls died and dozens were injured in the school that day, because their would-be rescuers were men and not close relatives of those they wished to help. If only the girls had had the time and foresight to protect their modesty before they tried to escape.

People still ask about Saudi and how difficult it was to live there. Many of the restrictions seemed excessive, even draconian. However, in many ways, I never suffered the culture shock people had warned would be severe. Everything was so familiar: complying with enforced modesty and other restrictions, self-censoring, learning to play by the rules while finding ways of keeping my thoughts and spirit free. The lessons of my childhood served me well.