Reflection- Religion
One of the more fascinating parts of the Malaysian school system, as I’ve witness so far, has been the role religion plays in the lives of students who are attending public schools.
I’ve always been very strict about the separation of church and state. When I was in middle school, I stopped saying the Pledge of Allegiance in the morning because I was offended by the injection of religion with the “under God”, and that was back when I wore a crucifix and identified as a Catholic. Now, far removed from any kind of religious memorabilia and doctrine, my stance is understandably much more firm in that area. Adjusting to the religious aspects of daily school life has been, if not challenging, certainly something I have to work hard to navigate around.
It’s not even just the religious values the school itself is trying to instill. It’s the religious values of the culture itself. The first day I was at my host house, a friend of the family, who I had known all of five minutes asked, quite out of the blue (I thought), “So, are you a Christian?”
I definitely took a pause and thought about how I should answer. I’m in a Christian household, talking to a devout Catholic and we’ve learned at UPSI’s orientation classes that one of the first clauses of the Malaysian constitution is faith in God. Should I lie?
“Um . . . no. I’m not a Christian.” I may have been uncomfortable, but I was even more uncomfortable lying. In a way, I found it oddly refreshing that this stranger would just straight out ask me about my religion because that’s just not something that happens in the United States. And she didn’t stop there.
“What do you believe?” she asked me.
Well . . . I could tell you, I thought, but I don’t know you and I’m sure we don’t have all afternoon. “I’m not sure what I believe,” I said instead.
This did not deter her. “Do you believe in a creator?”
“No,” I said, figuring I’d just say it straight. “I do not believe a conscious force created the universe.” So there. And then I braced myself for the look I was sure was coming because, in my experience, in the United States, when you or someone you know tells someone with even an ounce of religion that they are an agnostic or an atheist, there’s almost always a look of reprehension or dissatisfaction or hesitation, as though if you don’t base your beliefs around a god, you must have no morals.
To my surprise, I didn’t get that look from the woman. She kind of looked at me curiously, as I must have been an anomaly to her, and she nodded her head. Granted, she stopped talking to me, but I didn’t feel too judged. And, at the same time, I realized that in bracing myself for her judgement, I was judging her by expecting it. Funny how that works.
Still, seeing the religion in school has thrown me for a bit of a loop. I’m mostly interested in how the focus on the Islamic faith, in particular, effects the students who are Hindus or Buddhists or Christians. I’ve now experienced two major school assemblies and in each assembly one of the prefects gets on stage and says an Islamic prayer in what I have to assume is Arabic because it’s definitely not Malay. And the majority of the students, who are Malay, cup their hands and bow their head for the duration of the prayer. But the other students, few though they may be, just stand there, bored, staring at the ground or maybe looking around in a daze because it’s early and, by that point, they’ve been standing at the assembly for more than thirty minutes.
I wonder how they feel about that prayer? How do they feel about the prayers in the afternoon? If classes stop so that the Malay students can go and pray, could that adversely effect the Indians or the Chinese students? It’s a public school and, as far as I’ve learned so far, these students don’t have the option to stay in Tamil or Chinese schools, so they’re there because they must be there, not because they chose to be there. And I suppose I couldn’t help but wonder during those assemblies (and during one of the classes I visited today where the Malay students all said a prayer when the class began while the one Indian student and the four Chinese students just stood there in silence) if the non-Malay students resented those prayer times and if the lack of acknowledgment of their own religions ever gave them any kind of inferiority complex about their religion or their specific cultures.
Obviously, those students are growing up in an Islamic country so it’s not like they aren’t used to being the minority and my perspective is definitely from the outside, not only from my basic lack of religious belief but also because I come from a school district where prayer was not at all allowed, but even in the short two weeks I’ve been here, I’ve gained a better understanding of what it’s like to be “the other”. I just can’t help but wonder if the non-Malay students see themselves in that way and, if so, how they feel about it.
____
On another note, I'm too lazy to post pictures. Why don't you visit this link to see them at your leisure: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2784777&id=2208641&l=3cbd827c5b
I’ve always been very strict about the separation of church and state. When I was in middle school, I stopped saying the Pledge of Allegiance in the morning because I was offended by the injection of religion with the “under God”, and that was back when I wore a crucifix and identified as a Catholic. Now, far removed from any kind of religious memorabilia and doctrine, my stance is understandably much more firm in that area. Adjusting to the religious aspects of daily school life has been, if not challenging, certainly something I have to work hard to navigate around.
It’s not even just the religious values the school itself is trying to instill. It’s the religious values of the culture itself. The first day I was at my host house, a friend of the family, who I had known all of five minutes asked, quite out of the blue (I thought), “So, are you a Christian?”
I definitely took a pause and thought about how I should answer. I’m in a Christian household, talking to a devout Catholic and we’ve learned at UPSI’s orientation classes that one of the first clauses of the Malaysian constitution is faith in God. Should I lie?
“Um . . . no. I’m not a Christian.” I may have been uncomfortable, but I was even more uncomfortable lying. In a way, I found it oddly refreshing that this stranger would just straight out ask me about my religion because that’s just not something that happens in the United States. And she didn’t stop there.
“What do you believe?” she asked me.
Well . . . I could tell you, I thought, but I don’t know you and I’m sure we don’t have all afternoon. “I’m not sure what I believe,” I said instead.
This did not deter her. “Do you believe in a creator?”
“No,” I said, figuring I’d just say it straight. “I do not believe a conscious force created the universe.” So there. And then I braced myself for the look I was sure was coming because, in my experience, in the United States, when you or someone you know tells someone with even an ounce of religion that they are an agnostic or an atheist, there’s almost always a look of reprehension or dissatisfaction or hesitation, as though if you don’t base your beliefs around a god, you must have no morals.
To my surprise, I didn’t get that look from the woman. She kind of looked at me curiously, as I must have been an anomaly to her, and she nodded her head. Granted, she stopped talking to me, but I didn’t feel too judged. And, at the same time, I realized that in bracing myself for her judgement, I was judging her by expecting it. Funny how that works.
Still, seeing the religion in school has thrown me for a bit of a loop. I’m mostly interested in how the focus on the Islamic faith, in particular, effects the students who are Hindus or Buddhists or Christians. I’ve now experienced two major school assemblies and in each assembly one of the prefects gets on stage and says an Islamic prayer in what I have to assume is Arabic because it’s definitely not Malay. And the majority of the students, who are Malay, cup their hands and bow their head for the duration of the prayer. But the other students, few though they may be, just stand there, bored, staring at the ground or maybe looking around in a daze because it’s early and, by that point, they’ve been standing at the assembly for more than thirty minutes.
I wonder how they feel about that prayer? How do they feel about the prayers in the afternoon? If classes stop so that the Malay students can go and pray, could that adversely effect the Indians or the Chinese students? It’s a public school and, as far as I’ve learned so far, these students don’t have the option to stay in Tamil or Chinese schools, so they’re there because they must be there, not because they chose to be there. And I suppose I couldn’t help but wonder during those assemblies (and during one of the classes I visited today where the Malay students all said a prayer when the class began while the one Indian student and the four Chinese students just stood there in silence) if the non-Malay students resented those prayer times and if the lack of acknowledgment of their own religions ever gave them any kind of inferiority complex about their religion or their specific cultures.
Obviously, those students are growing up in an Islamic country so it’s not like they aren’t used to being the minority and my perspective is definitely from the outside, not only from my basic lack of religious belief but also because I come from a school district where prayer was not at all allowed, but even in the short two weeks I’ve been here, I’ve gained a better understanding of what it’s like to be “the other”. I just can’t help but wonder if the non-Malay students see themselves in that way and, if so, how they feel about it.
____
On another note, I'm too lazy to post pictures. Why don't you visit this link to see them at your leisure: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2784777&id=2208641&l=3cbd827c5b