A Columban priest comes to see Pakistanis’ Islamic faith as a blessing.
By Fr. Thomas “Tanvir” O’Hanlon

Being a Catholic priest means nothing to 98 percent of the population in Pakistan. The call to prayer, the Muslim feasts and celebrations didn’t mean much to me when I first arrived here in 1982 because I was unfamiliar with living in an Islamic culture. I soon realized it would not be easy adjusting to life in Pakistan.

I soon learned that Islam was meaningful for the villagers I met—they were happy and content with their religion. Deep down I wished Islam was meaningless for them and that Christianity would take its place. Dialogue happens in the heart as well as among people. I studied Islam and asked myself, “Why was God allowing Islam to flourish?”

This was so different than in the Philippines, where I previously served. I went to the Philippines as part of a team, and we all felt at home with each other. Despite our cultural differences, we had a link that allowed us to move into the culture through religious activities. We were recognized as priests, and we had a role to play in society. My faith at the time was concrete, historical and relevant to the situation.

My conversion and answer to my question came one day during language school when I couldn’t stop asking myself, “Why allow this to worry you, why don’t you celebrate and accept it and be happy that Islam is giving people meaning and life? Make this the starting point rather than wishing otherwise.”

This insight was a big emotional leap for me as I began to accept Islam for what it is: giving meaning, life, hope, salvation and motivation to live and deal with the problems of life. It meant I could enjoy living and working with Muslims.

To me, this was the meaning of living in solidarity: joining Muslims in bettering their situation, community and life wherever it may be. My conversion developed through concrete experiences of meeting and seeing people acting kindly and generously. From my observations of people in their day-to-day living I accepted that God was present with them, and this was worth celebrating.

Fr. Thomas “Tanvir” O’Hanlon, pictured here with two Pakistani girls, says many Muslims in Pakistan admire Christians in their nation because of their honesty and respect for their good schools and care for the sick.

Because we believe in a God of history, we have a strong tradition of trying to better people’s lives. Our religion leads to action.

Muslims see this. They admire and believe that Christians are honest. They respect them for their good schools and the care they show for the sick. Christians are a small minority, but we are held in high regard for our dedication to our faith.

I have been to villages in Sheikhupura and Mariamabad where only a few Christian families live. I remember asking one village man, “Did you ever think of becoming a Muslim?”

He put up his hands and said, “Don’t say that! Don’t say that! I would be disloyal to my father.” Their loyalty has to be admired.

There are Christian families who continue to live with Muslims. They don’t have much knowledge of their faith or Jesus, but they are clear in their identity as Christians and not Muslims. They survive in this environment without much theological knowledge.

The Power Of Education
Being educated would give Christians confidence to move freely among people. Some who are educated do know about their faith. But others, such as the sanitary workers, the lowest section of society, do not. They are proud to be Christians, but their work hinders them in their interactions with Muslims. Christian parents who want to improve their family’s life must be interested in their children’s education. Because their work possibilities are very limited, the only way to survive is through obtaining an education.

Christians in Pakistan are known for their work as teachers and running good schools. Many Muslims want to attend Christian schools, especially if religious Sisters run them. Many fathers want their daughters to attend convent schools. We have male catechists who teach in villages. We would also like to have married women catechists, but this is not culturally acceptable.

But a religious Sister is different. She is accepted for what she is. This gives her more mobility, and she is free to visit homes, which other unmarried catechists cannot easily do.

As I journey with Christians and Muslims in Pakistan, I can appreciate better St. Paul’s words about Jesus:

“... who made himself nothing, assuming the form of a slave” (Philippians 2:7).

As a bridge builder, I must be—and am privileged to be—at home in both the Christian and Islamic worlds.