We sat on cushions on the floor. In the middle of the room a feast was displayed on a mat. Though there were only ten of us in the room, there was enough food for forty people. Our group had been invited to the home of Ahmed (not his real name) to break the Ramadan fast. During this month-long season of spiritual seeking, Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset each day - and then break the fast each evening with a special meal. Ahmed welcomed us to his home to join him in breaking the fast.
During the meal, we shared our stories. We told Ahmed about our lives and our faith. He told us about his life and his faith. For me, it was one of those "I can't believe I'm here" kind of moments. At a certain point, I asked Ahmed a question.
During the meal, we shared our stories. We told Ahmed about our lives and our faith. He told us about his life and his faith. For me, it was one of those "I can't believe I'm here" kind of moments. At a certain point, I asked Ahmed a question.
"Ahmed, how many generations back
can you trace your ancestry?"
can you trace your ancestry?"
On my previous trips to Africa, I had met many people in many different settings who could recite their genealogy at length -and that has always fascinated me. I wondered if this young Ethiopian man would be able to do that.
For my part, I can tell you who my father was. And I can tell you the name of his father. I have a cousin who has done some extensive research about our family. If I pull out the file that she sent me, I would be able to tell you the name of my great-grandfather. If you gave me some more time, I might be able to go back one more generation from that (and maybe two if I really worked at it). But at that point, the trail grows cold pretty quickly.
I wondered how Ahmed would do. Hearing my question, he barely paused. He said, "My father is Ibrahim. His father was Ishmael. His father was Mahdi. His father was Omar."
And without even pausing to think hard, Ahmed continued for thirteen generations.
Before I could even tell him how impressed I was, he interrupted his monologue with these words: "I must apologize. I should be able to tell you twenty-five generations, but I confess that I have not thought of this for a long time. I am sorry that I am not able to do better."
Obviously, I thought that he had done fine! And I marveled at his sense of history, his understanding of where he fit in his family's story, his connection with his past.
And it's a fun story to tell today. But it's more than that. This is a fun story filled with potential lessons.
What does it all mean? That Ahmed has a better memory than I do? Surely, that's true. That people who live in oral cultures probably have a better grasp of history than I do? Yes, I suppose that's true too. That people tend to remember things that they have been taught since childhood? Assuredly, that's true. That I might be well served by developing a greater respect for my own personal roots? True again. That there is something important to be gained by understanding where exactly we fit in the story? Yes, I suspect that's true too.
I was humbled by Ahmed's recitation - and I was embarrassed that I couldn't do the same. And, honestly, I am not now driven to find the names of my ancestors all the way back to Adam. But I am driven to do this: to appreciate more fully the remarkable heritage that is mine, to thank God for my parents and for their parents and for their parents, and to realize that I am who I am (at least in part) because of who they were.
In Scripture, God is named as the God of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel. Those names are mentioned not merely because they are part of an ancient history; instead, those names are mentioned to allow us to find our place in the story. The mention of those names is an invitation. We are invited to find our place. We are reminded that we belong to that family line. The story is telling us that those people are our spiritual parents. And we would be wise, from time to time, to give them a passing glance.
The story didn't start with me. And the story didn't start with you. And we can be grateful to Ahmed for reminding us of that.
For my part, I can tell you who my father was. And I can tell you the name of his father. I have a cousin who has done some extensive research about our family. If I pull out the file that she sent me, I would be able to tell you the name of my great-grandfather. If you gave me some more time, I might be able to go back one more generation from that (and maybe two if I really worked at it). But at that point, the trail grows cold pretty quickly.
I wondered how Ahmed would do. Hearing my question, he barely paused. He said, "My father is Ibrahim. His father was Ishmael. His father was Mahdi. His father was Omar."
And without even pausing to think hard, Ahmed continued for thirteen generations.
Before I could even tell him how impressed I was, he interrupted his monologue with these words: "I must apologize. I should be able to tell you twenty-five generations, but I confess that I have not thought of this for a long time. I am sorry that I am not able to do better."
Obviously, I thought that he had done fine! And I marveled at his sense of history, his understanding of where he fit in his family's story, his connection with his past.
And it's a fun story to tell today. But it's more than that. This is a fun story filled with potential lessons.
What does it all mean? That Ahmed has a better memory than I do? Surely, that's true. That people who live in oral cultures probably have a better grasp of history than I do? Yes, I suppose that's true too. That people tend to remember things that they have been taught since childhood? Assuredly, that's true. That I might be well served by developing a greater respect for my own personal roots? True again. That there is something important to be gained by understanding where exactly we fit in the story? Yes, I suspect that's true too.
I was humbled by Ahmed's recitation - and I was embarrassed that I couldn't do the same. And, honestly, I am not now driven to find the names of my ancestors all the way back to Adam. But I am driven to do this: to appreciate more fully the remarkable heritage that is mine, to thank God for my parents and for their parents and for their parents, and to realize that I am who I am (at least in part) because of who they were.
In Scripture, God is named as the God of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel. Those names are mentioned not merely because they are part of an ancient history; instead, those names are mentioned to allow us to find our place in the story. The mention of those names is an invitation. We are invited to find our place. We are reminded that we belong to that family line. The story is telling us that those people are our spiritual parents. And we would be wise, from time to time, to give them a passing glance.
The story didn't start with me. And the story didn't start with you. And we can be grateful to Ahmed for reminding us of that.