My decision to go to an Islamic Mosque on the same day as Egypt’s revolution left me with very little preparation time. I had planned to do more research on Islam so I’d know what to expect—again, I find that my preconceived ideas about Muslims and their faith have been formed from TV programs, movies, and what I’ve been taught in my Christian Sunday School class.
I felt vulnerable walking into this very different place of worship. Some of my friends would suggest that I was opening myself up to demonic attack by simply walking into a building that had been built to honor Allah. I’m more secure in my faith than that, and am not worried that the Holy Spirit will depart me just because I am daring to meet the Muslims in my neighborhood on their turf. I didn’t feel afraid, just out of my element.
There was a big sign on the front door reminding people to turn off their phones, which I was quick to do. There was no message about taking off your shoes, but seeing all of the footwear stacked in the shelves outside, I got down to my socks as well- glad that I’d worn a pair with no holes in them.
The man behind the desk told me that I was welcome. I told him this was my first visit and just wanted to observe. He assured me this was okay so I walked down the hall to where the men were gathering. The women were assembling in a room on the other side of the building.
I was 10 minutes early and many of the men were already in prayer. They would go from sitting cross-legged on the ground, to standing, down to their knees, and then press their foreheads to the carpet. It was a very clean room, but I couldn’t help but notice the smell of men’s bare and stocking feet; I was glad that I wasn’t prostrating myself to the floor with them. No doubt some of what I smelled were my own feet.
Some things are very different in a Mosque than in the typical Christian Churches that I’m used to—there were no visitor cards, no bulletin, no offering plates, and no worship team. Some things were very similar—the message was on giving.
I learned quite a bit about Zakat, the third pillar of Islam, which is about compulsory charity. A Muslim in good standing is required to give a portion (a literal percentage) of his excess to those who are in need. This is the Muslim’s religious answer to social justice in their communities. To be selfish, to be hypocritical, to not honor Allah for providing for them carries heavy penalties for a Muslim- including punishment and hellfire in the afterlife. To honor the Zakat is literally a means of purification in this world against being controlled by wealth.
I heard very similar messages about money in the Mosque as I have in the Church.
- “You can’t out-give Allah.”
- “To the measure you give, Allah will give back to you.”
- “Charity never decreases wealth”
- “You need to store your wealth in places where it can’t be destroyed and where thieves can’t steal it.”
Perhaps all religious institutions have ways of pressuring their followers into giving. The penalty for not doing so appears greater for a Muslim as the Zakat that he didn’t give away is literally tied around his neck during his punishment in the afterlife. At the same time, a Muslim doesn’t need to give his charity gift through the Mosque, but is allowed to freely give these finances to individuals, organizations, etc. Not only does the Mosque not try to control where and how Zakat is spent, they encourage the givers to keep their giving undercover. There is more blessing from Allah if your giving is in secret. If you let the community know how charitable you are, then that is the extent of your blessing.
As the sermon came to a close the men started organizing themselves into rows. I found myself at the edge of the room, right beside the door where it wasn’t so conspicuous that I wasn’t participating in their religious calisthenics. If the men stood, so did I, but when they went through their kneeling motions I simply sat back down. They were all praying and reciting things in Arabic that I didn’t understand. I was silently and fervently praying myself.
After attending one Muslim service I have lots of questions. I’m not doing this project as a comparative religion study, but it is a part of my journey to understand my neighbors. This comes with some introspection, investigation, visitation, and hopefully some follow up. As I hoped might happen the Imam introduced himself to me at the end of the meeting. We know each other by our first names now. We have each other’s phone numbers. This man is no longer a caricature in my mind, he is my neighbor.
I chose today to go to the Mosque on this day because of the fears of my friends in regards to the political revolution in Egypt. I sat and stood, in silence, waiting for this group to show their true, fundamentalist colors. Finally a man stood at the end of the program to give the weekly announcements. There were three:
- The men were encouraged to greet a new convert.
- One of the men was a new grandfather; he had brought doughnuts to celebrate for after the service.
- Smiling the announcer said, “I’m sure by now you’ve all heard of what happened in Egypt today. Let us now pray for a democratic government to be established in that country. And let us pray that it is all done in a peaceful manner.”
And to that I joyously responded with my own expression of faith, “Amen!”
