Visiting a Mosque

Along with three other members of Living Interfaith, I had the privilege of attending the Friday sermon at a local mosque.  It was enlightening, and spiritually beautiful.  

One aspect of it was that so much of the experience felt familiar.  One of the sermon themes concerned the importance of being spiritually integrated – that the person we show the world be the same person we see in the mirror.  It’s a theme I’ve explored more than once.  An interesting question was posed: if you were to meet yourself, would you like the person you’d met?  Would you trust the person you met?  Good questions.  Important questions.

And it struck me.  When we go someplace new, if we are looking to see similarities, generally we see them.  And when we are looking for differences, that’s what we see.  Not an earth-shattering discovery, but interesting.  What can be a challenge is seeking out both, the similar and the different, and, what’s crucial, feeling threatened by neither. 

One clear difference was how women are expected to dress.  One of our group (two men, two women), had a small problem.  While she came looking very well dressed for a non-Muslim, she had forgotten to wear long sleeves (the arms need to be covered, as well as the head).  I quickly loaned her an (almost) matching shirt  to wear under her blouse.  All was fine and we were off.  J

The mosque is in Shoreline.  It is a beautiful, truly beautiful, and spiritually welcoming place to gather.  But there was a moment of concern when we arrived.  Only a couple of cars!  Wrong day?  No.  Wrong time?  No.  Wanting to be good guests we had arrived fifteen minutes early for the 12:30 prayers and sermon.  And there clearly only a few people there! 

Imam Polovina came out to welcome us.  He is a warm and gracious and deeply spiritual man.  He guided us inside.  We all removed our shoes.  The women went upstairs, the men entered at the ground floor. 

Then it was time for me to feel really at home.  Just like Living Interfaith, very few members came early.  But at 12:30 people started pouring in.  And they kept entering during opening prayers. 

The method of praying is different from ours, but it’s purpose is the same – to get outside of ourselves, to acknowledge things greater than ourselves, and to reconnect with the sacred.  And I also couldn’t help but notice (just as I do in churches, synagogues, temples) that some entered deeply into their prayers, and some seemed simply to be going through the motions.  That, for me, is always one of the great dangers of all repeated rituals: that if practiced without intention, they can become rote.

I was moved when, at the very end, everyone stood shoulder to shoulder.  At Living Interfaith, at the close of our service we form a “circle” and hold hands.  But standing truly shoulder to shoulder is also quite powerful.  I want to try it some Sunday.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The chanting in Arabic was stirringly, stunningly beautiful.  Centering.  Though I could not understand a word, it did not feel at all “foreign.”  Then there were more prayers.  And then, Imam Polovina gave his sermon … twice!  The first time it was in Bosnian.  The second time in English.  And he does that every Friday!

This, of course, quickly speaks to a common misunderstanding about Islam.  Not all Muslims are Middle Eastern.  Indeed, most of the Muslim world is not.  People may want to web-search Bosnia, to realize how the recent war (1992-1995) savagely impacted the Muslims who lived there.  This mosque in Shoreline is a Bosnian mosque – not that all the members are Bosnian, but the roots are in Bosnia.  The Imam is from Bosnia.

I found out more about Imam Polovina on Sunday, when I returned with others from our church to witness Sunday prayers and then had the chance afterwards to chat both with the Imam and his very gracious wife. 

This is a blog, not a book.  I cannot possibly convey the joy and spiritual fullness of the experience.  Unprompted, several people came over to us, both before the service and afterwards, with a smile and a warm greeting of welcome. 

Ok, I’ll admit it.  I’m not hugely comfortable with the separation of men and women when it comes to prayer.  But I know that such a separation was an integral part of Judaism as well until very recently.  And it remains an integral part of how many Jews still practice their religion.  Out of respect for those Jews and for Muslims who practice a similar separation, I remind myself that they might well be equally uncomfortable if they came to a Living Interfaith service, where men and women sit side by side. And it occurs to me that sometimes becoming comfortable with being a little uncomfortable can be a very good thing!

I believe our great calling is to acknowledge and respect our differences, while at the same time not letting them divide us.

If you have never attended worship at a mosque, I strongly recommend it.  There is much that you will find familiar.  There is much that you will find different.  But at its core, we are all striving to embrace our common humanity.  And we cannot do that behind walls.