Today we mark Jesus' death on the cross. The redemption of the world groans in balance as we wait for Jesus' rising. And all I can think about is getting back to a novel.
A Thousand Splendid Suns, by Afghan-American Khaled Housseini, the famed and acclaimed author of The Kite Runner (now a movie).
I didn't mean to get so attached but now I can't put it down and paradoxically I can hardly bear to pick it up again. The stories of the women of Afghanistan are that tragic.
I'll save you the minutea of plot details; suffice to say the book follows two womens interwoven lives in Kabul from 1979 onward. The book is fiction, the politics are not. The Sovients in Afghanistan rise and fall, the mujihadeen factions kick them out, then promptly war with each other, then the Taliban comes, offering unity for the small price of libety. No singing, dancing, writing books or painting. Women are only permitted out of the house accompanied by a male relative, and are forbidden to wear jewelry, makeup or nail polish. Men must grow beards and pray five times daily. Non-compliance to various rules result in loss of finger, hand, foot or life.
Our protagonists in this story suffer not only from these rules but from husbands who treat them like property: yelling, insults, beatings and in once scene locking a woman and child in a dark bedroom for 2 days, no water. At one point, main character Laila comments how amazing it is that the human body and tolerate so much beating.
Now why do I go on about a work of fiction? Well, because while these characters are fictional, the treatment of women is real. The bombing of Kabul was real. The decapitations, stonings and hangings were real. People were capable of treating human bodies like so many disposable parts.
When two airplanes crashed into the twin towers in New York City on Sept. 11, 2001, I remember thinking about those pilots. I thought how fortunate was I to have been born in this country of priviledge. Had I been born in other circumstances, withstood other pressures and hardships, I might have done the same. Those who flew planes into towers were just like me: flesh and blood, sorrow and joy, pain and hope. This does not excuse their actions, it just serves to remind that we are all connected in human sin, one big broken family.
And that's why Jesus came, why I'm waiting for His end of the story like I'm waiting for the end of A Thousand Splendid Suns. While I don't know what will happen to Mariam and Laila, I know Christ's ending for this world. Salvation, resurrection, new life, new hope, even now, while we were still sinners.
Blessed Good Friday.
1 comment:
That is an excellent book, yet difficult and tragic. Good luck with getting to the end. If you haven't done so already you just might find that the ending of the story (or at least parts of it) rather fitting of the day you have chosen to share it.
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