Muslim Headscarves: A Reformed Reflection

Houston has a large and growing Muslim population. My little suburban corner of the city is no exception. Recently I was shopping in my local grocery store and no less than five Muslim women walked past me wearing headscarves.

As we stood together studying the stunning variety of breakfast cereals I had to admit, I felt a little jealous. As a Reformed pastor and theologian I don’t get a uniform. No hat. No collar. Nothing.

I suppose the get-up does sort of scream “Calvinist.” 

Well, I suppose that is not entirely true. I’m a big Dutch male who wears lumberjack shirts, drinks craft beers, and sports a beard so…I suppose the get-up does sort of scream “Calvinist.” 

But other than that I don’t really publically display my faith in the unmistakable manner that my Muslim neighbors do. I suppose my faith comes out publically through my behavior. At least I would hope that my faith impacts the way that I vote, work, shop, interact with my neighbors, and treat the environment.

That said, I always have the freedom to become religiously anonymous whenever I choose. You may see me, but you don’t know me. I could be an atheist, a Buddhist, an agnostic, a Communist, or perhaps I could just be a crazed fan of the show “This Is Us.” You have absolutely no way of knowing my deepest convictions.

There is something about the presence of headscarves in my Houston grocery store that I really do appreciate.

That is not the case for my fellow shoppers. While they are covered, they are also on display.

Now, I disagree with my Muslim neighbors on a variety of theological, political, and cultural issues. As a Christian—for example—I don’t believe that God commands women to wear headscarves.

However, despite this disagreement, I have to say that there is something about the presence of headscarves in my Houston grocery store that I really do appreciate.

Allow me a moment to explain.

Our beliefs about the good life inevitably become public.

The Reformed theologian and political activist Abraham Kuyper argued that “every kind of faith has in itself an impulse to speak out.”  He insisted, that true faith—if it is real and meaningful at all—will be public. Human beings cannot keep their religious and ideological convictions to themselves.

Kuyper challenged modernity’s assumption that “religion,” properly understood, should be a set of private beliefs, values, and emotions that one politely keeps out of the public square. This is impossible, Kuyper argued. Humanity’s spiritual convictions, values, and desires for the world would always spill out into public life. Be it Islam or Christianity, Capitalism or Communism, Buddhism or Hedonism, our beliefs about the good life inevitably become public. The notion of “private religion” was, for Kuyper, an oxymoron.[1]

In the end, Kuyper took the publicness of faith seriously and he argued that a just and sustainable public square would have to do the same. A healthy public square would have to be a space that was religiously and ideologically diverse. It would have to be a space in which many faiths, ideologies, and worldviews could publically display and advocate for their convictions. Democracy demanded a diverse, colorful, and noisy public square.

Every day my Muslim neighbors are reminding their fellow citizens of three critical things.

Which brings me back to my fellow Muslim shoppers in the cereal aisle. Why am I thankful for them? Why am I grateful for headscarves? Well, because my Muslim neighbors have the honor of offering to the rest of us here in America a profound public service. Every day my Muslim neighbors are reminding their fellow citizens of three critical things:

First, they are reminding us not to be ashamed of our particular faiths and worldviews. They are encouraging us to wear them and speak them publically. They will not be silenced by the modern Western consensus, and neither should we.

Second, they are challenging all Americans (and Canadians, for that matter) to be citizens of integrity. To be whole and consistent people in both our private and public lives. We Christians, for example, should serve the same God on Monday that we do on Sunday. Likewise Buddhists, Socialists, Mormons, and Atheists should own their beliefs, live them, stand for them, and do their best to be consistent with them. Democracies are healthy when groups have honestly wrestled with their beliefs and sought to live them out consistently.

Third, our Muslim neighbors are reminding us that the public square should no longer be dominated by a single vague Western consensus of consumerism and individualism. Instead, the public square should be a place where diverse faiths, ideologies, and ways of life publicly display, dialogue, and contest their competing visions of the common good.

The public square should no longer be dominated by a single vague Western consensus of consumerism and individualism.

We are not all the same. We have real and deep differences and we should reckon with those differences. Our Muslim neighbors are reminding us that we cannot ignore this reality. The task before us is to take our differences seriously; only then can we explore how to honor, contest, and make space for them.

And so I stand there in the grocery store aisle, examining seventy varieties of cereal, and I feel compelled to stop for a moment and give thanks for the woman who just passed me by.

[1] Kuyper, Our Program, 31.

To read more of Dr. Kaemingk's reflections on this topic, check out his recent book, Christian Hospitality and Muslim Immigration in an Age of Fear. 

[Photo by Qasim Sadiq on Unsplash]