When Samir Selmanovic's manuscript landed in my lap, I was mildly curious as to what this media-savvy, pop culture-literate, former pastor of a thriving evangelical Christian church in southern California might have to say. By the time I finished the prologue, in which a Wiccan woman offers prayer for a gathering of pastors (and asks to pray to God as Mother), I was hooked. Selmanovic's call for community among God's peoples--all of them--is compelling, lyrical at times, thoughtful. And funny.
Selmanovic demands that we look at the flaws and drawbacks of organized religion, and that we admit our failure to adhere to the core teachings we believe. The book explores finding God in the "other", but Selmanovic doesn't mean the cliché of finding God where we least expect to. He's talking about finding God--really God--where we have determined God isn't. Like in a support group for atheists. Like in a case of hemorrhoids so severe you can't get your head out of your ass. With warmth and wit, Selmanovic tells us all--Christians, Jews, Muslims and anyone else who feels God can be quantified, qualified, and packaged in one True Religion--to, well, to get our head out of our collective ass. To find unity in life, to celebrate the gift of life, to find the Kingdom of God at hand--right here.
Selmanovic keeps it lively with delightfully unfamiliar poetry from all sorts of nooks and crannies, Rumi to Bob Dylan. But the soul of this little God-book is its author's personal narrative, Selmanovic's stories from a rich and varied faith journey that begins in the former Yugoslavia, as the eldest son in a big, warm, loving, generous Muslim family where the rules are simple: "Enjoy life, and don't be a jerk."
At once poignant and funny, deeply spiritual and utterly human, personal and universal, the anecdotes and stories show unequivocally that God does indeed inhabit our world. Our whole world, not just the places we've designated.
This little book has a big heart. The stories, poetry, theology, and history exude a gentle, grace-filled, prodigal love, the kind of love I like to think God has for us, flavored with the writer's effusive personality and Croatian heritage.
If we listen, we can hear God breathing:
Another world
is not only possible, she's
on her way. Many of us won't
be here to greet her, but
on a quiet day,
if you listen carefully, you
can hear her breathing.
(Arundhati Roy, as quoted by Selmanovic)
