They Are Us: Islam in America
Watching someone at prayer is a strange experience for someone who never prays themselves. It is an act both intimate and fundamentally disconnected from the other person. You cannot peer into their consciousness and feel what they do, but you can glimpse their conviction and their faith. It is, on occasion, humbling to see the strength some draw from theirs.
Last night I visited a mosque for the first time. My friend Doug and I, horrified with the hatred now infecting the US government, decided to reach out and see what we could do to help. It seemed the best place to begin, so after a couple of false starts we found one in our neighbourhood and headed on down.
Doug and I are a Shintoist and atheist respectively, and two of the whitest guys you’ll likely meet. In the current climate (especially given recent anti-Muslim hate crimes) you might reasonably expect a certain level of wariness at our unexpected presence. Instead we were greeted with broad smiles, handshakes, and unconditional warmth mixed with mild curiosity. Once we’d explained our reasons for coming, we were instantly given directions to a local charity helping refugees from Iraq, Syria, Yemen and other conflicts across the Middle East where we could volunteer. As we’d arrived just before evening prayers, we were invited to stay and watch.
After we sat down on two of the few chairs provided (usually for people who want to pray, but can’t kneel), the room started quietly filling with men of all ages and walks of life. It was an open, carpeted, spartan space with concrete walls, more reminiscent of a community centre than a church or synagogue. There was a simple stand for the Qur’an on the floor in front, just below knee height. People silently but affectionately greeted one another then knelt in line to await the start of prayer, their faces composed and attentive. A sense of calm pervaded the room. The Imam started singing.
There was no pomp, no circumstance, no sermon. Just a continuous song and a hundred or so people collectively expressing their devotion to God. Even to someone whose only faith is in humanity, it was rather beautiful.
After the group prayer ended, the congregation broke up for individual prayer and reflection. The Imam came over to us, sat down on a plastic crate he’d pulled up, and we started talking. A couple of the younger guys with whom we’d been chatting before prayers came and sat down too (turns out, one of them lives a couple of blocks over from me). We asked questions, they asked theirs, and we listened to one another.
What followed was one of the most interesting and illuminating discussions of religion I’ve ever had. Despite knowing a decent amount about Islam from my own study, school, Muslim friends, and having lived in the most heavily Muslim area of London for years, I had never really sat down and discussed it in anything other than an academic context. Having now done so, I feel I have a far better understanding of Islam as a faith rather than an organised religion, and why someone would follow its teachings.
What struck me is that no one in the room seemed anxious or panicked by the prelude to genocide we hear playing from the Oval Office. There was no fear in the air. The last two weeks, I and many other people I know who are also in the sights of this new American fascism have been in a state of palpable, utterly justified terror. We can see what’s coming and we are afraid, even as we remain resolute in our determination to fight.
I didn’t see that in the eyes of the people at prayer last night. I saw calm in the face of the storm. And it humbled me.
Marx’s quote about religion being the “opium of the people” is usually taken out of context. When people use it they generally do so to dismiss religion out of hand as a kind of addiction, something to confound its followers against reality and allow external control of individual thought. And it certainly can act that way.
Marx, however, was being far kinder than most believe. In his time, opium was both an addictive, socially-destructive drug and a primary painkiller and anaesthetic. It served the same functions of literally and figuratively numbing its users against the horrors of an often harsh world that morphine and heroin do today. To Marx, religion was also a salve for the oppressed.
The quiet, contemplative worship I witnessed last night reflected that truth. The Islamic faith is at heart no different from that practiced in any of a thousand small churches, synagogues, temples, or any other variation on a house of worship you want to name across this country. In it I saw the sense of community provided by the practice of religion, simply shared, which most Americans still enjoy. I saw the hospitality, grace, and kindness which deeply-held faith — however expressed — can both demand and evince. And I saw the calm and serenity in the face of looming horror that it can bestow.
I cannot share in it, but I would never begrudge anyone that comfort or the strength they draw from their faith. It would be an act of unconscionable violence to try.
That is what Islamophobia and the vile, unconstitutional orders coming down from this administration attempt to do. By targeting Muslims and playing on fear of the Other to advance their fundamentally un-American agenda, they are not only creating the conditions for genocide but also attempting to deny the reality of a faith held by millions of Americans. Trump, Bannon, and co. would have us believe that our neighbours and fellow citizens are a threat to this country and to our safety because of their religion. This could not be further from the truth.
Muslim-Americans are as much a part of this country as anyone else. The Imam we spoke with was originally from Afghanistan, but his beliefs and the way he practices his faith — with absolute insistence on respecting the rights and realities of others — demonstrate thoroughly American values. Donald Trump would see him deported for it.
These are our friends, our neighbours, our family, and our fellow citizens. Muslims are exactly as kind and good and as flawed as the rest of us, and their faith is not strange or alien to this country. They are not terrorists. They are not an invading force or another civilisation trying to conquer ours. They are us.
As we saw at airports all over the country last weekend, more Americans than not understand this basic truth. They will not leave any challenge to it unanswered.
