Muslims, Catholics Share Ancient Dessert
Wearing black altar robes and sneakers, the boys and girls of Our Lady of Lourdes chanted "Allahu Akbar."
At the low-income, immigrant Catholic parish that thieves robbed and vandalized four times last year, that can't pay its $10,000 in heating bills – the motto goes: "Here, miracles happen every day!"
Last Sunday was a slow day for miracles, but the Rev. Donal Sella used the morning's service to teach his young congregants a lesson in multiculturalism and appreciating life's simple sweetness. At the 11 a.m. English-language mass, the pews were packed with the children of hard-working parents from Latin and Central America, who already know a thing or two about blending cultures."How many of you think God is great?" Sella asked them. "In Arabic, we say Allahu Akbar: God is great. Now, when our friends come, you can greet them. We are all children of the same God, making us brothers and sisters."
The friends were Muslims from around the area, and they had prepared 500 cups of an ancient Turkish dessert called Noah's Pudding, in honor of the Islamic holiday Ashura.
For several years now, the Interfaith Dialog Center (IDC), a northern New Jersey-based Turkish-Muslim cultural group, has sponsored pudding-sharing events. The goal: increasing understanding between Muslims, Jews and Christians.
Ashura is celebrated across the Muslim world on the 10th day of the first month of the Islamic calendar, which fell this year on Jan. 19. The holiday marks several major events in Islamic scripture. Originally derived from the Jewish Day of Atonement, it is a day when Muslims fast in honor of special offerings God made to his prophets. It also marks the day that Noah's ark touched land after the great flood. Having survived the 40-day deluge, Noah and his family had nothing to eat, but scraped together a meal from foods left over on the ark: wheat, beans and dried fruit.
In Turkey, Muslim families prepare large pots of the dessert, made from those ingredients and called Noah's Pudding, or ashura. The tradition of doling out cups to friends and neighbors celebrates unity under one creator, and God's mercy.
Berna and Ozgur Dogru, who live in Lyndhurst, were part of six Turkish-Muslim families that prepared the hundreds of servings for the Catholic parish. Two days earlier, Berna had begun boiling chickpeas, wheat and white beans, the base ingredients.
The congregation greeted the couple with exclamations of "Allahu Akbar," after which Ozgur Dogru approached the pulpit, quietly explaining the meaning of the holiday, and how Noah's ark landed.
"I think the same story is in your religion," he said.
Sella's sermon touched on appreciating God's generosity, however humble one's lot. "In poverty, our lives are simplified and we can see what is truly worth having," he said. And then, with the three Muslim visitors by his side, Sella ended with a prayer, saying, "Like Noah's Pudding, may we mix together until we find sweetness in each other."
The children raced from the sanctuary to the nearby cafeteria, where the usual after-mass snack is homemade empanadas and soda. This time, stacked on a table sat hundreds of plastic containers of fruit-laden pudding. Many congregants had never tasted it before.
Sella approached the Turkish couple, suggesting they try the church's empanadas, which he noted "were not made with pork."
Smiling, Ozgur Dogru said, "These are reasons we like it." He and his wife volunteer at interfaith events, he said, because, "we just want to get to know people."
At the table, three young girls sampled the pudding, and one diplomatically offered her review: "It's like a healthy pudding with rice and cinnamon."
Isabel Marte of Butler voiced appreciation for the gesture of culture sharing and said the dessert reminded her of habichula con dulce, a sweet Dominican dessert drink she prepares during Lent from sweet beans, coconut and evaporated milk.
Jose Santos, a seminarian training to become a priest, said the pudding reminded him of his previous vocation. For 14 years, beginning with his arrival from Ecuador, he pumped gas at a station in Maywood managed by Turkish-Muslims who, over the years, became close friends. He respected the way, each day, they would place mats on the ground to pray. Working with them, he learned Muslim traditions and sampled many helpings of Noah's Pudding.
"They didn't care if I was Catholic," Santos said between spoonfuls. "I accepted them as my brothers."
Samantha Gonzalez, 8, was no fan of the pudding, but she still packed a plastic bag with containers to bring home to her sister, her sister's boyfriend and their baby. She wasn't sure she could explain the pudding's significance to her family. But she had some help. From a bag, she pulled out colored brochures published by IDC that explained the story.
Reach Sachi Fujimori at 973-569-7154 or This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
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