Love Overflowing

Much has been said and written about the connection between language and culture, and while this connection is something I was loosely aware of on a cognitive level, it wasn’t until I moved to the Middle East that I began to understand it more experientially.

Arabic and English are very different languages, from sentence structure to the way words are formed and even to the direction of reading and writing. In many ways, the two could not be more different. As I’ve mentioned in another post, these differences shape (or are shaped by, depending on your argument) the very way that people think. But they also are related to the way people express their thoughts. For example, as I pointed out in yet another post, the English language and English-speaking cultures tend to be very direct, while the Arabic language and the cultures that utilize it tend to be more circular in communication. But there is another major difference between these languages/cultures: one related to the expression of emotion.

Since living in the Middle East, I’ve learned that Americans are often thought of as “soft” (as we would say in English), i.e., that we have a low tolerance for suffering and hardship and that we tend to complain about minor things. (When you compare the average life experiences of an American to those of someone from the Middle East, you begin to understand why this opinion is formed.) In other words, Americans are thought to be much more emotive than Arabs, even melodramatic, when it comes to dealing with inconvenience, suffering, or pain.

But there is another way in which Americans are much less emotive than Arabs, and that is in expressing affection—and I’m not just talking about romantic affection. I’m talking about every level of affection that can be felt by a human being. By way of example, though, here’s a humorous take on what this looks like when it comes to romantic affection:

To an English speaker, the number of words, breadth of descriptive vocabulary, and intensity of the all-caps in this example convey an over-the-top expression of affection. But to an Arabic speaker, the verbosity, descriptiveness, and intensity are all perfectly normal—normal even to the point that such expression is only mildly modified when the affection is something less than romantic, e.g., between friends.

Not long ago, my husband and I were in a men’s clothing store in our city and were being helped by the owner. Shortly after we arrived, another customer came in who obviously knew him. I wish I had had the presence of mind to record or at least write down the conversation between the two men because they went back and forth multiple times exchanging expressions of greeting before ever getting to the point of why the customer came in the store in the first place. The length alone of that introductory exchange, while completely normal in Arab cultures, is still disorienting to my American, English-speaking self, but what made the exchange, and others like it, even more disorienting were the actual words and expressions used. It’s not just a “Hi, how are you?” “Oh, hi, I’m well, how are you?” repeated over and over. It’s more like:

Man 1: “Hello, My Dear! Welcome!” [Those familiar with Arabic even a little will recognize that “my Dear” is “Habibi.”]

Man 2: “Hello, My Age! What’s new?”

Man 1: “My Eyes, praise God, all is good, My Dear. All is well?”

Man 2: “My Dear.”

Man 1: “My Heart, welcome.”

Man 2: “My Precious One. How is the family?”

Man 1: “Well, well, My Life, thank God.”

Etc.

This effusive mode of expression is not just limited to greetings, however. The Arabic equivalent of “Happy Birthday” literally translates to “Every year and you are healthy,” which is a way of wishing prolonged good health upon someone. Instead of “Congratulations,” which translates “Mabrook,” it is more common to say “Alf mabrook,” i.e., “a thousand congratulations,” (or even “alf alf alf mabrook”). When you post a picture of your meal on social media, comments are less likely to be about how delicious the food looks (which is typical for American responses) and instead are more likely to be of the “bon Appetit” variety but that literally translate to, “Health and total wellness” or “Two health.” And when that Arab equivalent of “enjoy the food” is said to you, the appropriate response literally translates to “On your heart,” which is a way of heaping the blessing back on the one offering it. And of course, it is not uncommon for each of these to be followed—or surrounded—by one or more of the “my life, my heart, my eyes, my precious one,” type of phrases.

As an American, I am not used to this overflowing expressiveness, and my manner of communication reflects that. But as much as I am unaccustomed to offering such effusive expressions, I am even more unused to receiving them. I find myself completely at a loss as to how to respond to words that to my ears seem to convey a depth of feeling only reserved for those most romantically in love with each other. A simple, “Thanks” or “You too,” never seems sufficient in the face of such outpouring, and yet I never quite know what to say, so I usually end up resorting to a smile and nod and feeling the weight of my inadequacy to reciprocate such apparent depth of emotion.

Of course, in some ways, these expressions are merely part of the culture and have just become what people say without really thinking about it. But even still, the fact that these deep and flowery phrases are part of normal communication reflects an emotiveness inherent in Arabic-speaking cultures that English-speaking cultures lack.

To be honest, at times, this cultural difference can be incredibly frustrating. It can leave me feeling awkward or like a terrible person for not feeling rushing swells of emotion at every turn. It makes me think I come across as rude or insensitive or shallow for not being easily able to roll expressions of adoration off my tongue. But in another sense, I’ve come to see that this cultural difference, like so many others, is yet another opportunity to learn more about God.

Numerous times, the Bible speaks of God delighting in those who follow Him. And in one of the most beautiful verses, we read:

“The Lord your God is in your midst,

    a mighty one who will save;

he will rejoice over you with gladness;

    he will quiet you by his love;

he will exult over you with loud singing” (Zephaniah 3:17, ESV).

 

It wasn’t until I moved to the Middle East that I began to get a glimpse of what it really must be like for God to delight in us, to rejoice over us, to exult over us. His love is not just an “I love you” kind of love. It’s a “My adoration for you cannot be quantified nor expressed merely by the written word. The death of a thousand suns can’t match the energy of My love for you. I didn’t just face death, I met and defeated death to prove my commitment to you, o beloved one, my precious child” kind of love.

 

The Creator of the Universe, the All-Powerful God, is an emotive God who is overflowing with love (not to mention being Love itself) and who expresses that love by rejoicing over us with gladness and exulting over us with loud singing. He is effusive in His expression of affection toward us. And that’s something that I think our Arab brothers and sisters in Christ can understand on a deeper level than we Americans can.

 

As I continue to adjust to communicating in a different cultural dynamic, I pray that God uses my exposure to this more emotive manner of expression to enlarge my capacity for grasping and receiving His overflowing love for me. And for my American family of faith, I pray that you likewise “may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:18-19, ESV).

PC: Mais Salfiti. Used with permission.