We don't hate Muslims

In calling attention to this Distinctly Welcoming: The Lost Art of Identification - incarnation by another name: I want to do two things, one is to commend Richard Sudworth's blog on Christian-Muslim relations. Noteworthy because it exemplifies an approach which is both Evangelical and eirenic.
The other thing is to highlight from that post this phrase in the light of an experience I had last night. First the quote:
"Your average Muslim would rather continue to follow their faith in a manner that fosters goodwill, neighbourliness and peace."

My experience, coming into Nottingham late from the knock on effects of high winds blowing cabling astray somewhere north of London, was to go to the end of the carriage towards the doors to be ready to alight when the train pulled into the station. On arriving at the corridor I was confronted by a young man (in his 20's?) who had been drinking strong cider for a while and was way more curious about me than I was comfortable with and was disinhibited enough to verbalise it. So in the course of a conversation when, uncharacteristically, I was trying to say as little as possible without being offensive (he seemed to be in the unpredictable phase of inebriatedness), we still managed to exchange some information including that I originally hailed from an area of the West Midlands that could indicate I might have been a Wolves supporter which prompted him (and I had realised his accent was west of Birmingham) to indicate he was a West Bromwich Albion fan and that he "hated Wolves" (imagine; I was starting to feel nervous!) and launched into a lively and fist waving rendition of a song about a Wolves player. After that he informed me, with some pride how he had been part of what must have been a mini riot involving a cohort of Albion supporters smashing up a part of a town (not sure which one) for which he had gained 4 restraining orders. I bit my tongue; not feeling it prudent to mention that he probably ought to have been made to pay for the damage or that his pride in this was something I assessed very differently; he seemed to think I'd find it impressive; in fact I found it depressing and oppressive.

Now, why am I mentioning this? Well, because the next thing I know he asked me whether I'd been in the army (perhaps I look the part) and went on to ask me "I hate Muslims, don't you". I said "No" in a tone of voice that tried to imply that there was no reason why I should (what a funny thing to ask) and started to wonder if I should mention loving ones neigbour, Christian regard for human welfare or something. While I was still running through possible follow-up remarks he tried to tell me that they would soon take over the country. I replied that I didn't think that was likely, that in the past people had said that about other minorities and it hadn't happened and that it wasn't going to happen this time either. By this time we had pulled up at the station and, mercifully, we got off and I was able to pull away by dint of being a naturally fast walker. Just before we got off, I recall thinking how I'd rather have most Muslims I knew as neighbours than someone who thought it was clever to make other people pay to clear up his mess and who thought that behaving unpredictably and occasionally belligerently while drunk in public was okay. "Your average Muslim would rather continue to follow their faith in a manner that fosters goodwill, neighbourliness and peace."
Which seems to be a darn sight better than your average BNP sympathiser.

I also found myself worried about how he and people like him seem to define themselves so readily in terms of what or who they hate. That's a terrible and tragic way to find an identity: it constrains you to enmity and to nurturing resentment and to searching for the unlovely to become focussed on grievance and put-downs. All of which tends to produce habits of thought and character which become more and more unlovely, unpleasant and uncompassionate. A far cry from thinking on whatever is true, noble, lovely, pure etc. I just pray that my straightforward "no" might somehow begin to challenge him ... a faint hope, I know, but who knows ....