Rev. Monica McDowell - Healer, Mystic, Author
    • home
    • blog
    • about
    • events
    • healing
      • Soul Goal Packages
      • Energy Healing Mind/Body/Spirit
      • EFT Emotional Acupressure
      • Energy Reading
      • Intuitive Life Coaching
      • Spiritual Direction
    • books
      • The Oracle of Devor
      • The Girl with a Gift
      • The Wizard's Toy
      • Confessions of a Mystic Soccer Mom
      • You are Light
      • My Karma Ran Over My Dogma
    • connect
    • shopping cart
    • free stuff
      • free e-zine
      • free e-book
      • free mp3 meditation
    • monica recommends
    • GDPR and Privacy Policy

What happened when I went to a mosque

8/25/2010

0 Comments

 
Picture
At the time I visited a mosque, I was a curious college student majoring in cultural anthropology and cross-cultural communications. The study of world religions was a particular love, even obsession, of mine. During a class on said topic, I was required to take a personal field trip to a place of worship outside of my religion. I selected a mosque for my assignment, and since I had many international student friends from around the world, I asked a few of the Muslim Arabs I knew about visiting their mosque in the Northgate neighborhood of Seattle. One friend from UAE told me where I could purchase a head scarf (or hijab) —which I bought in basic black—and then he said he’d meet me on Friday evening right before services to introduce me into the mosque.

The next Friday, he did as promised and I was ushered up the stairs to the women and children’s section above and partitioned away from the main prayer room by glass. In the church I grew up in, such a room was called the “cry room.” It was provided for the parents of restless youngsters so the cries of their little ones would not disturb those in the sanctuary and yet the parents wouldn’t miss out on the main service as it was broadcast through the sound system into the cry room.

As soon as I emerged at the top of the stairs, I was greeted with warm welcomes, hugs, and cheek-to-cheek double kisses from many if not most of the women there. Few spoke English but their hospitality I remember vividly to this day, some twenty-five years later. They had absolutely no reservations inviting a white-skinned woman from another religion into their midst. None. I wonder how many churches would be so welcoming with the situation in reverse?

 As I observed the prayer service for the men through the glass, I noticed that only a couple of women in the “cry room” were following along with the prayers and prostrations. They seemed to be older women, perhaps beyond the years of mothering youngsters, who therefore had some time and freedom to devote to worship and spiritual practice. (On the other side of mothering young children myself, I know how hard it is to devote oneself to one’s spirituality, when diapers, feedings, tantrums, and general lack of sleep intrude.) Otherwise, the room full of Muslim women and children was joyous, with lots of quiet laughter, playtime, and community-making going on between the children and moms. 

At one point toward the end of the service, my black scarf, having not secured it very well, began to slip off the top of my head, revealing some of my hair. I kept pulling it all the way forward of my bangs, not wanting to offend them in their place of reverence. 

However, after several futile attempts at keeping it up, one of the older women decided to help out. She came over and rather than helping me pull it up or retie it, she simply pulled it down all the way and said, “There.” The rest of the women gasped and came forward, admiring my golden blonde hair, touching it, commenting on it—clearly not offended in the least.

Soon after this event I would spend a summer in the Middle East with Muslim Arabs. Again and again I was treated with ultimate respect and generous hospitality in every house I entered, even though I came from America.

If you have never been friends with a Muslim or an Arab or have never attended a mosque, I would encourage you to do so. Fear of the “other,” the “stranger”, the unknown is what fuels the fire of assigning blame to whole people groups and entire religions for the actions of a few extremists. 

Love thy neighbor as thyself. Muslims taught me what this looks like.
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    To subscribe to Monica's blog, just enter your email address below! Thanks for reading!

    Enter your email address:

    Delivered by FeedBurner

    If you would like to support my blog and writing, please use the Paypal Donate button above. Thank you for your support!

    Buy The Oracle of Devor as paperback or e-book above!
    Buy The Girl with a Gift as paperback or ebook above.
    Buy Confessions as paperback or e-book on Amazon above!
    Buy You are Light as paperback or e-book on Amazon above!
    Buy My Karma Ran as paperback or e-book on Amazon above!

    Author

    Monica is a healer, author, ordained minister and spiritual director. She lives in Seattle, the land of prehistoric-sized dandelions, with her family.

    Copyright © Monica McDowell 2007-2020. All rights reserved.

    Monica McDowell is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com.

    Archives

    April 2021
    January 2021
    September 2020
    July 2020
    March 2020
    January 2020
    September 2019
    June 2019
    March 2019
    December 2018
    October 2018
    August 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    September 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    July 2012
    June 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012
    January 2012
    November 2011
    October 2011
    September 2011
    July 2011
    June 2011
    May 2011
    April 2011
    March 2011
    February 2011
    January 2011
    December 2010
    November 2010
    September 2010
    August 2010
    June 2010
    April 2010

    Tweets by @monicamcdowell
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.