Free Ashes of the Red Heifer by Shannon Baker Page A

that eventually the world will accept the Oneness of God without coercion. But we can’t be passive and let the violent and fanatical Jews take what Allah has given us to defend.”
    “You’re talking about the Dome? What does bombing a kibbutz and killing Avrel get you as far as the Dome is concerned?”
    He clenched his teeth a moment then said softly. “The Silim didn’t bomb the kibbutz.”
    “Right.”
    A crackle of a loudspeaker wafted over the people in the plaza and a man began to talk in excited Arabic.
    Hassan resumed in his reasonable voice. “Jerusalem was captured by Muslims without bloodshed in 639 A.D. Can you imagine how long ago that was? Except for the Crusades, Jerusalem was always ours, until 1917, when Britain took over. Jerusalem has been occupied since then.”
    Annie fought with her temper. “Let me get this straight: Muslims think Mohammed tagged this place for them. The Christians think Jesus gave them dibs. And the Jews are convinced God wants them to do a scrape-off of the Dome and build on the lot.”
    Hassan didn’t look pleased with her flip retort. “I’ve seen your face when you speak about the ranch where you grew up. You know the land is alive. Place is more real than time. I think you know that.”
    Annie gritted her teeth against the pain of loss. She closed her eyes and saw the grass-covered hills of the Nebraska ranch. The big bluestem, switchgrass, and wild wheat rippling gold, red and brown in the sparkling fall sunlight. Soft honking from a V of southbound geese floated through the air. The sun warmed her face, even as the brisk breeze riffled her hair, freeing strands from her braid. Home.
    The voice over the loudspeaker had the crowd sending up periodic cheers.
    Hassan continued. “You know my family was originally from Jerusalem. We lived here for hundreds of years. But we were driven out by the Jews. And what’s more, they destroyed the graves of our ancestors. We immigrated to Syria, and in the 1960’s, my parents moved to Detroit.”
    “Yeah? Well my family immigrated, too. My great-great grandfather made it from England to Ohio, his son went to Iowa, then to Nebraska, where the land has passed from generation to generation.”
    Hassan smiled sadly. “Yes, but your family moved toward opportunity. My family ran from persecution.”
    A group of ten rowdy young men filled the pathway in front of their bench. The men jostled and spoke in rapid, loud voices. The whole area filled with people.
    “I understand how your family felt they belonged here, but it has nothing to do with God giving it to Islam,” she said. “Jerusalem is a city like any other city, just with more effective marketing so everyone believes it’s filled with God’s special favor.”
    Hassan looked sad. “It is sacred. Why are you hiding the holiness of this place from yourself?”
    Annie scowled at a man eying her from the other side of the loud group of young men. “I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t have the imagination the rest of you seem to.”
    “You can’t deny God forever. I see you flinch and turn away. He will demand you turn to him.”
    “As long as I turn as a Muslim, right?”
    He sounded slightly impatient. “I’m not here to convert you.”
    “No, you’re here to ‘protect’ me. To keep me from continuing my research. You’re a hero, Hassan. Thanks.”
    She realized English was coming from the loudspeaker. She tried to focus to understand what the voice said. “Only when this nation launches a jihad against the Zionist thieves and hate-filled settlers, will we fulfill our obligation to Allah. Allah shall take revenge on behalf of his prophet against colonist settlers who are sons of monkeys and pigs.”
    Annie lifted her eyebrows to Hassan. “Nice guy.”
    Hassan looked embarrassed. “I can’t control what they say. But you must believe me when I tell you that I’d never hurt anyone. Not unless they threaten something or someone I love.”
    She gave him a