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Preaching and Practicing America
CNN reported Sunday after the WTC and Pentagon attacks that American Muslims
were having a National Open House Monday, September 17. I called the local mosque in the SE part of Albuquerque and they had
not heard about it. So much for CNN. I figured I might as well go down there on my own in a gesture of good faith from one
American to a group of Americans who were probably very nervous about their public standing right about then.
I
wrote a Letter to the Editor that day concerning the trend of violence against American Muslims in the wake of the terrorist
attacks and thought it would be a way to break the ice. I took the letter to the mosque on my lunch hour. I walked up to the
large carved door with the word Men above it and almost barged in, but then, thinking better of it, stopped and knocked. A
very tall man in a white turban with a scruffy black beard answered the door. I held out the letter and started talking unevenly
about how I knew there was a backlash against their community and that I just wanted to be an example of the majority of us
who don't equate religion or the way you look with terrorism, that this is America and we need to all be united now more than
ever. He bid me come in. The man I had called earlier that day, an older man with a thick, white beard, also greeted me. I
gave him the piece of paper and went into my spiel again. I felt kind of like a salesman, but I really believed in what I
was selling. The tall man who had greeted me at the door guided me to a chair against the back wall where I would observe
their 1:30 prayer.
There were, perhaps, ten men bowing down to Mecca as their cleric guided them through their
short service. Sitting there, I was surprised to feel a twinge of doubt in my resolve that this was the right thing to do.
Most of the men were traditional in clothing and appearance: loose fitting cotton pants, turbans and long, flowing beards.
To my surprise and despair, I thought, this does not look like any America I know.
The service ended and the men
greeted one another with handshakes and embraces. I stood as they acknowledged me and thanked them for the honor of witnessing
them pray. The tall one (I never got his name) asked if I would like to stay and have lunch with them. I bumblingly declined:
"I am gratified by your graciousness, but I have to go a long way back to work," I said pointing in some direction
that might have been opposite of where I had to go. He smiled and bowed his head. Then, an old man in traditional clothing
stepped up to me and took both my hands into his and looked me in the eyes and said, "Thank you." I returned his
grasp and nodded. As we stood there, hand in hand, I went into my spiel. I just want to show you we are all Americans. This
is a nation founded on freedom of religion and bound by the Constitution. He nodded and listened and squeezed my hands as
I falteringly tripped through my speech. When I was finished he smiled and asked me my name. "Steve," I told him,
and then I asked him his. It was a long name and all I sort of remember was his last name: Kareem or Kalim or something like
that. He said something about the Master of the Universe, but I didn't understand much else of what he said because his voice
was very, very soft and I am half-deaf. But the man had eyes much like his voice: very soft and very kind.
I drove
back to work believing I had done something worthwhile. These men were different than me, but still Americans, I told myself.
What else could I believe? I had felt doubt at the unfamiliar surroundings and appearance of the men. They wore turbans and
loose fitting clothes like the desert wanderers I was used to seeing on PBS. Why couldn't I get my gut to rise above it like
my brain? This country was built on freedom of religion, wasn't it? The Constitution is the rock that binds us all, isn't
it? Did I really believe what I had said to these men, who in appearance and demeanor seemed so different than myself? At
a stoplight I closed my eyes. I thought of what one of our Founding Fathers said, maybe Jefferson or Franklin, about America
being the greatest ongoing social experiment in the history of mankind. And for the first time I really knew what he meant.
In times of national crisis all of our integrity is put to the test and we must remember that all men are created
equal in the eyes of God. As far as I know, the US Constitution does not stipulate that you have to be a certain religion
or color or dress a certain way. All men are created equal, in the eyes of God. I, myself, am fallible and will have doubts,
and must lean on this rock of a document to see myself through these troubled times and conduct myself like a true American
who realizes that a man like Kareem and all those who I witnessed praying to God on that day are aboard this ship with me.
All men are created equal in the eyes of God. And I will repeat it like a mantra lest any doubts corrupt my mind and will
remember that Kareem's Master of the Universe is my master too.
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