Editor’s note: Bill Boggess grew up in Columbus. An evangelical pastor, he and his wife live on the outskirts of Paris and have been in France since 1983.
When the two terrorist killings happened in France, we were all glued to our TVs. First was the attack Wednesday morning Jan. 7 at the Paris office of Charlie Hebdo, a satirical magazine where eight journalists, two policemen and two other people were shot and killed. The next morning a policewoman was killed by a second terrorist south of Paris. Friday the second terrorist took hostage a number of Jewish hostages in a kosher grocery store. Four hostages were killed before the police shot and killed the gunman. Later that afternoon the first two terrorists were found and shot.
Who were the killers? Did they work together? Were there many others? Would there be other attacks? Were these killings the first of a wave of attacks to come?
During the three days of the killings, there was lots of fear and uncertainty. From comments shouted while committing their violent acts, we knew the terrorists were radical Muslims.
Early on as the drama unfolded on the all-day newscasts, we learned their identity. All three were French citizens, born of immigrant parents from Algeria and Mali and educated in France. The ones that attacked Charlie Hebdo were two brothers from the northern suburb of Paris, about 30 miles from where we live.
The single terrorist lived much closer, only 13 miles east of us. He knew of one of the brothers from their time in prison together, where they began to become radicalized. At least one had gone to Yemen for terrorist training. It was confirmed they communicated before the attacks to coordinate them.
As we all watched television over the three days, everyone was uneasy, overwhelmed with a sense of anxiety. The more we learned about them, the more insecure we felt. We realized these were not foreigners attacking France; these were not immigrants. These were men born in France and educated in French schools. We learned where they lived, where they worked, what their background was, and it became a very personal affair. Many were afraid; they still are. The idea a terrorist might be living next to you is frightening.
Personal connections
It seemed like everyone had a connection to at least one of the killers or victims. The two brothers, after killing the staff of Charlie Hebdo magazine, were holed up in a print shop north of Paris, near where some very good friends of ours live. The killing of hostages in the kosher grocery store was just a couple of hundred yards away from where a friend in my church was working. He saw lots of commotion and was not allowed to leave his building.
Bobbie and I live southwest of Paris. Our town is typically French, but within a few hundred yards of our house is another town that is probably 75 percent Muslim. The market on Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays is filled with products and foods from the former French colonies in Africa: Algerian pastries, clothing, fabrics from Morocco, books and DVDs in Arabic, large bags of couscous, etc.
On Friday just after the terrorist killings and subsequent tracking down and killing of the terrorists, I received an e-mail from a friend saying that there would be a march in our town of Montigny-le-Bretonneux on Saturday morning to demonstrate outrage at the attacks and to show support for those killed.
As asked, I forwarded the e-mail to all my contacts. I told myself that I should go and demonstrate, but since I am a pastor, I had lots of work still to do before Sunday. I’ve only participated in one demonstration in France over the 31 years here. (I’ve had lots of opportunities; the French people love to march.) I’m not very political, and of course, I’m not a French citizen (although two of my sons are.)
Saturday morning I received another e-mail, this time from the mayor’s office announcing the march, where and when it would start and end. I decided to go, but just then I received another e-mail from a Christian woman I know. She said the since Charlie Hebdo was so blasphemous (and it is), no Christian should demonstrate in their behalf.
She gave me a couple of examples of their irreverent work that mocked God, the Trinity, Jesus as well as Mohammed. I thought for a while about this, and thought some more. After reflection, I came to the conclusion that the murders were too outrageous to ignore, no matter how blasphemous the editorial staff and cartoonists were. Besides, there were others taken hostage and killed who had nothing to do with the satirical journalists.
A heady day
So I headed out to the demonstration on foot. The cortege had just started. I was walking briskly toward the demonstrators who were walking toward me. The mayor saw me approaching the group and called to me. He asked me to come to the front and join with him, with the other town authorities, the imam and the Catholic priest.
We joined arms and marched to demonstrate solidarite with those killed by the terrorists. I carried a sign which read, “Je suis Charlie. Je suis Juif. Je suis la Republique.” “I am Charlie. I am Jewish. I am the Republic.” It was a heady day.
That Saturday and the Sunday that followed, millions of Frenchmen took to the streets to express their dedication to the values of their country: “Liberte, Égalite, Fraternite,” Liberty of the press and expression were especially affirmed as well as their rejection of racism and anti-Semitism.
On Monday, everyone went back to work and school, with one subject of conversation. Some of the Muslims in the country, especially the younger ones, felt like the terrorists were legitimately defending Mohammed their prophet. Many felt like the terrorists were heroes. For the next few weeks, school teachers led discussion to bring students’ opinions into line with those of the French Republic. Even though the tragic events happened almost two months ago, there is still a lot of tension in the air. There is fear, and there is the hate that follows.
It seems to me that there are a couple of ways to deal with the hate, the enmity, the racism, the desire to strike back at the whole religion, the pull toward an anti-Muslim attitude. The first method is to put into practice the words of Jesus who said to love your enemies. And the second method is to have a Muslim friend, and not just an acquaintance, a real friend.
Concerning love for your enemies, I am not saying that terrorists should be forgiven judicially. I am saying that I believe responding peacefully to the problems in the Muslim countries could be more productive than war.
Overwhelm with kindness
I have lived in France for 31 years. In 2003 I was on assignment in the USA right before and after the outbreak of the second Iraq war. This was the 8-year-long conflict over the supposed presence of weapons of mass destruction. The fighting by the coalition forces, which toppled Saddam Hussein eventually, destabilized the country and stirred up much Muslim opposition. At the time, every major American television network and most newspapers were in favor of going to the war with Iraq. I remember that I was only able to get an opposite point of view on the question by reading British or French newspapers online.
I remember reading an article then that suggested that, instead of waging war on Iraq, the United States should overwhelm Iraq with kindness. The author explained that the US would certainly spend X billions of dollars on arms, weapons, logistics, etc. and lose many lives. She did not believe that going to war would be helpful in wiping out Islamic terrorism and bringing peace and stability to the region. She felt war would be counter-productive; that bombs would explode and inflame a whole population in the Middle East.
Her opinion was that it would certainly be much more effective to spend the equivalent amount of money on hospitals, schools, training programs for teachers, doctors, health workers, etc.
This seemed reasonable to me. This seems to me to be in harmony with the peace and love model of Jesus. To a certain extent, this was the model for the Marshall Plan after World War II that transformed Germany and Japan from enemies into friends and strong allies.
Now I know that the American soldiers did much good in Iraq, accomplishing many humanitarian works, at great cost. But there was much killing too. I have a feeling the Iraqis and other Muslims remember the bombs dropped by the Americans far more than the sewage treatment plant that they set up. In retrospect, I think it is fair to say that a peaceful, grace-oriented approach would have been at least as effective as what we are seeing today: the whole Muslim world enflamed against the United States, the rise of violent jihadist groups such as ISIS, Boko Haram, etc.
A Muslim friend
The second method to deal with fear and hate of Muslims is to make a Muslim friend. In August 2013, I was coming home from running errands. Near the train station I stopped at a stoplight, looked out the window, and saw a woman pulling two large suitcases. Her young son was pulling another large suitcase, and her little daughter was pushing a pink baby carriage with a doll and other toys in it. I rolled down the window and asked if she would like some help. I wasn’t sure she would accept my help because I was a man in a car by himself, and she was a woman wearing a scarf to cover her hair.
She did accept my help and so I turned the car around, picked them all up, and carried them the 500 yards to the train station. In the few minutes I had with them in the car, I asked her where she was going. She said in poor French, “To the train station.” I persisted and asked her again, “Where are you going?” Again the same reply, “To the train station. They told me to go to the train station.”
By her response I knew she had nowhere to go. Being aware that the weather for the next few days was going to be stormy, I knew in my heart God would want Bobbie and me to help her. So I hurried home and explained the situation to Bobbie. Our discussion went something like this: Bill: “Honey, Jesus wants us to take a homeless family into our home for tonight and maybe for several days.” Bobbie: “Sure my sweet husband, that will be fine.”
OK, it wasn’t exactly like that, but after discussing the situation and the need, she and I agreed it was the right thing to do. So we drove back down to the train station, picked them up, and brought them to stay with us. They ended up staying with us for 10 days. While I was away at work all week, Bobbie and Hadiya worked on trying to find housing, started the legal process to get French immigration papers and began building a friendship.
Hadiya is from the Sahara desert, from the south of Morocco; she is Muslim; she is courageous; she is needy; and she is our friend. She fled Morocco to get away from an abusive husband, get better medical care for herself and to get a better life for her kids. She took innumerable buses on her 2,000-mile journey from the southern tip of Morocco, through Spain and France up to Paris
It’s been 18 months since that special day when Bobbie and Hadiya became unlikely friends. We’ve never really had a Muslim friend. And Hadiya had never even met a Christian. We enjoy having them over to the house for a meal. We have gone to the zoo, seen a movie, had a couple of picnics.
We have become sort of grandparents; recently we attended her son’s school play where he portrayed Pinocchio. They even enjoy coming to church with us. Last Sunday we had a church meal after the worship service. Bobbie made a birthday cake for her, and the whole church (all 30 of us) sang her Joyeux Anniversaire and Happy Birthday. She told Bobbie that no one has done that for her since she was a little girl.
A Christian at MSU
Transform an enemy into a friend; there’s only one way to do it, love. When I became a Christian at Mississippi State, at Campus Crusade retreats we used to sing “They will know we are Christians by our love.” It seems to me that now many outside the church would sing, “We will know they are Christians by their angry blogs!” Blogs full of fear, and full of the hate that follows fear. Angry blogs, ugly blogs, anti-democrat blogs, anti-immigrant blogs, anti-Obama blogs. My opinion is that they are hurtful blogs … on many levels.
I’d love to see us Americans take a different approach to life in the turbulent two thousand-teens. Let’s recycle the good slogan of the ’60s, “Make love, not war!” Let’s reinterpret it and apply it with true love and wisdom. If we do that, I believe the world would be a better place.
Email Bill Boggess at [email protected].
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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