You’re Burning the Quran?

Tell me, this guy with the hairy mustache, was it really worth spending so much time talking about him? Everyone was buzzing about it: He was an old fuddy-duddy, he was a non-influential fundamentalist Christian, and he was going to burn a copy of the Quran. “No, he won’t do it. Yes. Maybe. No. Probably. Although…” And now look at me, even I am talking about this poor fool with a caterpillar on his lip worthy of a staff sergeant of the ’50s, more narrow-minded than a Stalin-era border guard. The media claims that it’s only the media’s fault that this nut job has been given any attention.

Badabing, badaboom; we can’t escape from the worst nonsensical gibberish anymore, all because it jumps in front of the camera. The media pays attention to blowhards, the blowhard draws attention to himself, and here I am, wading through the same muck, sloshing through the same idiotic refrains that (sadly, everyone knows) can often erupt into conflicts. And I even see, among the braggarts of the Western world, those who boast: “So? Let him burn it, we’re not afraid!”

Afraid or not, war or no, is that really the point?

First off, you must realize that I’ve read the Quran. It is a complex text that argues for the emancipation of women, the freeing of slaves and equality before God, all in the seventh century Arab world. I take great care not to focus on the well-known incensing and inflammatory verses, but I don’t want to disregard them, either. The Quran naturally has both comforting and violent passages, just like the Bible (including the New Testament), and when you think about it, just like most other fundamental and revolutionary writings.

Thus, you should not burn the book, my dear reverend, but instead snuff out this ugly spark in your mind and in mine, and from the consciousness of the entire world. This nasty little spark can strip a text, twist its words and vilify it to the point of enticing hatred. The religious “leaders,” with their mustaches, beards, miters, even ribbons, are usually taken for champions with a flaming sword. They make enough noise wailing about how they are victimized, with their outrageous cries and incendiary rhetoric, that they overshadow others who may dress as they do, but who instead set an example of wisdom in their lives and their religions.

Of course, we always prefer to gossip about a pyromaniac rather than a firefighter. But I will never forget the noble and dignified Miss Ben Aïssa in the mid-’90s. Her strength and wisdom alone calmed an entire neighborhood’s rage, revolting against the horrid treatment of her younger sister. I will never forget the stoic resolve and pacifism of Françoise Humbelt, who, while mourning her four children, turned her despair to hope, welcoming other parents who lost children with love and support.

No, reverend, I will not forget Mouloudji’s gypsy [from “Mon pot’ le gitan”] or Georges Brassens’ Auvergnat [from “Chanson pour l’Auvergnat”]. I will not forget that we should choose humanity’s greatness to carve in stone rather than hatred, rather than letting you swagger around like a solemn-acting, immature child! I will not forget friendship, which defies religious and cultural barriers.

I will not forget Emmanuel Fourchet and his friend Ahmed Benzizine. The former a foreman, the latter a workman, they worked together for 37 years, mostly on the restoration of historic monuments. One time, they worked on the Cathedral of St. Jean in Lyon. With the permission of the master builder, they concocted a pretty little picture for all the zealots of the world. Emmanuel sculpted, in plain view, a gargoyle in Ahmed’s likeness, and carved “God is great” into the stone in Arabic.

Now, reverend, I’m not sure if I would dare proclaim to all corners of the earth that God is great. In fact, I know that your god is tiny, manipulated, ridiculed and used as a pawn to crusade against the short-sighted god of the fundamentalists across the street, who are beginning to imitate you, and whom you resemble to a T.

I myself will not comment one way or the other on God’s greatness. A modest character of André Dhôtel’s stated: “If we live under Heaven, then towards Heaven we must justify ourselves.” We will all discover God’s greatness (or lack thereof) one day. But every time I see humans forming bonds of friendship, every time I see life and its possibilities valued above all else — above principles, even above religion — I say to you truly that that is where greatness lies!

Such a shame for you, my dear reverend!

This column is dedicated to all my friends on both sides, and especially to Marc Dugardin, who introduced me to Emmanuel and Ahmed.