Dissonant Images

At the Nativity Hut: A Mixed Crowd Gathers - Dec 2011

On Monday night my apartment was rocked by fireworks.

If you've been following news feeds coming from Malaysia over the past couple weeks you'll have noticed an increase in national anxiety levels - or, at the very least, at least an increase in reporting about national anxiety levels.

There's been the Peaceful Assembly Bill that would clamp down on protests and other public gatherings; the ongoing 'trial' of opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim; unresolved tensions around the use of the word Allah, fears of 'Christianization' and the JAIS raid on Damansara Utama Methodist Church; reports of difficulties churches face organizing Christmas Caroling excursions; and, on Wednesday, a report in the New York Times that reads 'For Malaysian Christians An Anxious Holiday Season.'

Each of these issues, in its own right, is potent. Put together, they are (potentially) highly combustible. And yet these were not the fireworks that I heard . . .

No. What I heard in my living room and saw out my kitchen window were really for real fireworks. The kind that are launched from the ground and explode in the sky to the collective sound of "Ooooooh!" and "Aaaaaah!"

The city of Kota Kinabalu was having a celebration.

At the bottom of the hill from Sabah Theological Seminary, not even a ten minute walk from where I live, the square beside city hall has been turned into Christmas Central. To one side is a tent and a stage where local churches and celebrities can perform Christmas Songs that are more often sacred than secular. To the other, several blocks of Gaya Street (the main shopping street) have been closed to traffic and turned into a holiday bazaar for congregations, youth groups, and non-profits to raise funds by selling holiday treats, gifts, and games while more groups of carolers perform songs (and dances!) at major intersections.

In the middle of it all, cloaked by occasional blasts of faux-snow, stands  a high-tech light up Christmas tree. In front of that the 'Nativity Hut' is the center of attention with its life sized Holy Family mannequins and concrete camels. On either side of the hut the story of the Nativity is posted on large placards, one in English and the other in Malay. The crowd that filters past nightly, snapping photos and playing in the snow, is made up of the mixture of races, religions, ethnicities, and creeds that makes this country so fascinatingly complex.

The living image before my eyes and the one painted by words on newsprint stand in stark contrast to one another.

Certainly part of the disconnect lies in the differences between the Western and Eastern  halves of the country. Where the lines of  religion and ethnicity form distinct barriers in one, they are most definitely more blurred in the other. In many ways, Malaysia feels like two very different nations - a distinction made all the more clear by the Gaya Street Christmas Celebration.

The dissonant visions of Christmas also highlight what Chimamanda Adichie has described as "the danger of a single story."

As the newspaper articles highlight, the dominant story being told of Malaysia internally and externally is one of increasing division and tension. The narrative is one of simple, binary relationships (Ruling Party vs. the Opposition, Muslim vs. Christian, East vs. West, etc) that are easy to digest, that reinforce biases, and that set people apart.

Reality is much more complex.

While it doesn't change the macro-issues and challenges facing the country as a whole, the witness of the Gaya Street Christmas Celebration offers a counter-narrative and paints a picture of the world not only 'as-it-could-be' but also 'as-it-is'  - a place in which men and women of all backgrounds and faiths freely mix and openly share in each others festivities.

True to form, the appearance of the Christ Child in Kota Kinabalu (a plastic mannequin though He may be) inspires a story of light, of unity, and of hope in the midst of the darkness.  It is a story that barely makes the headlines these days but is one, I pray, that can make a world of difference.