Masha'Allah

“Masha’Allah”, one kind lady said after I told her that I had the most blessed and rewarding experience visiting this amazing group of women. Within ten days of my life, I had just lived a year, I felt. Ten days with praying, fasting, socializing, researching, questioning, listening…more praying. All of this I shared with some 30 women, none of whom knew me prior to this save the one, dear soul that was kind enough to extend an invitation to me to share in one of the most important parts of her life.

I made no hesitation in accepting her invitation to attend Iftar for a night during Ramadan at the local Masjid. Iftar is when Muslim people break their fast at the end of the day. Ramadan lasts for an entire month and Iftar is a nightly event with several members of the congregation taking turns to serve dinner to everyone. It is considered an honor slated for reward to serve a person who has been fasting. This is why, for the last four days of Ramadan, I fasted. I felt perhaps that beyond anything else I could do to show my gratefulness at these women’s welcoming embraces and “As-Salam Alaikum’s”, fasting before receiving their generous servings of exotic foods was worth the most to them.

I was in Shreveport, Louisiana, but in that mosque I was in another world. The women were as varied as their multi-colored hijabs. Many were transplants from other countries having landed here because of the large medical community and career opportunities. Egypt, Pakistan, Iran, Syria, Jordan, Palestine, India, Somalia, Nigeria… these countries, and more, were represented. Some of these women were born American but were raised in strong Islamic communities being the first generation after their parents immigrated to the United States. A few were Americans who converted to Islam. Languages I didn’t know reverberated around the room and all the beautiful skin colors were set off by the reams of cloth layered over these ladies. This was an anthropologist’s, ethnologist’s and theologist’s heaven all in one tiny room. I fancy myself a hobbyist of all these disciplines, so in a sense, it was my heaven.

I’ve always been a person to explore other cultures, other people, and now, apparently, other religions. The path that led me to this Masjid probably started in the mid-90s when I lived in Burkina Faso, West Africa, and worked as a science teacher for the Peace Corps. Burkina is ½ Muslim, ½ Christian, in general, with practicing animists on both sides out of cultural tradition. I didn’t explore much about Islam at the time, and had regretted that since the society as a whole was very accepting of everyone’s religious choice. All religious holidays were observed, or at least respected, by the other. In fact, I came to find out within this last year when I visited a mosque in my Georgia hometown, that Islam teaches tolerance of all religions. This has never been something I’ve seen commonly expressed in the media, or anywhere else for that matter, in these past years of Islamaphobia.

In this tiny mosque I visited, arms were open wide to me from the first day. It helped, perhaps, that I was the friend of one of the most dynamic and well-loved female members, but coming in on her coattails was God’s plan from the day I met her, I’m sure. How else could I explain my being there other than this was something God wanted me to experience? Questions that I’d had for years were answered in a matter of days as one after another, a woman would come up to me with her own curious questions as to my intentions for coming to the mosque. In general I let them know that it was a serendipitous series of events that made me curious about Islam and now them as individuals within the community. Because once I learned faces and names and personal life situations – well, a whole new set of questions opened up in my mind. Suddenly, it wasn’t as much about me learning about Islam as it was about me learning who these Muslim women were and how they remained so spiritual, faithful, and kind in a society that, I was sure, had to be difficult in which to live. How, I wondered, could they have this peace and happiness here, in the deep-small-city-south where, surely, the least amount of folks tried to understand their lives and belief system?

I had not been in a situation like this probably since Africa – where I was simultaneously incredibly comfortable and incredibly uncomfortable all at the same time. I prayed next to these women, copying their movements while standing, bowing, and prostrating. Certainly, I had no idea what they were praying since the Imam was speaking in Arabic. It wasn’t until later in the week that I realized that part of the prayer time was a recitation of a Sura, or chapter, of the Quran. Ramadan celebrates the revelation of the Quran to Muhammad, and so going through each chapter is an important journey during this month. I printed out “How to Pray” from an Islamic website after a few days so I’d have a guide to what may be going on with each movement during prayer. Even though this was probably the most common curiosity about me to the Muslim women, as it was the question asked of me most often or at least commented on - “I heard you have been praying next to us!” was a common incredulous exclamation – I found praying with them to be the most comforting thing for me in a place where I normally didn’t belong. I was raised Catholic, so standing, kneeling, sitting – all with a purpose of completing some prayer to God – was a familiar pattern to my brain even if I hadn’t done it in many years. I simply free spoke to God during all of this time, asking for guidance, sending up gracious thoughts, or just trying to feel the energy of faith surrounding me (something else I had to explain when asked if I spoke Arabic and what, exactly, was I praying when I stood next to you?).

For some, especially the older women, it was only after I started fasting that more doors opened to sharing friendship and curious questioning. Without knowing it, I had made a step in the right direction to helping myself be a better person and this was something that could be recognized and appreciated. It was not as much of a struggle as I thought it would be, though I had to stop my usual fitness routine which was more of a sacrifice to me than food during the day. Not imbibing fluids was also probably the hardest, given the 105 degree temperatures in Louisiana during this time. Certainly, this can make a person hardier if they are able to fast the whole month through. Fasting really gives you a perspective on your life and how you go about living it, actually. We are ruled by what we consume and having that erased from your day offers a certain sense of freedom and, after a few days, a true cleansing of your body. A greater test, which I was not able to do, is to not consume large amounts of food once the fast is broken. Certainly, this is encouraged, but it’s a difficult thing to do when faced with delicious cuisine from various chefs, and, in this case, a certain Pakistani caterer with fabulous dishes.

One fasts in Ramadan for the very same reasons that one makes sacrifices during Lent. It teaches you how to make sacrifices for the sake of God, to help you practice refraining and to gain patience. It’s special time taken out of your normal schedule to reconnect with yourself and renew your relationship with God. One member suggested I fast. Again, I felt that it was a respectful thing to do since I was joining these women each night for prayer. It turned out to be one more rich experience planned for me by God which led me to have a deeper understanding of what was happening around me and have a little more insight into the women around me.

There were so many compassionate conversations I had throughout the week, especially towards the end. It’s a sad time when Ramadan ends, since the large gathering of community doesn’t happen very often and everyone goes back to their normal lives. Emotions are heightened, then, during the last few days and prayer seems intense, as well as questions of concern to the visiting-non-Muslim-chic. “Sooo, are you converting to Islam, then?” This was a tough question to answer, but I did not want to deceive anyone as I think joining a new religion takes research, time, contemplation, and much more strength than I think I have – “I don’t know that I can ever be a part of any religion, but the feeling of faith in God, the friendship and welcoming I received here, as well as the offers of support and help, have impressed me in the most profound way. I cannot even explain this feeling of fullness that I have from being with all of these women every night for this past week. It’s truly a blessing and I’ve thanked God for it every day since my very first visit.”

It may not be the answer several devout people wanted to hear, given their absolute certainty that every person is born Muslim and just has not been shown the right path, but it was my only answer since I have no other at this time. I have asked God why I was lead to the Masjid at this particular time in my life, when there had been other times and other people I could have learned from…the answer was quick and simple, really. It is only now, after my renewed faith in God little by little over the past year that I would have truly been able to share and understand this devotion and love for God with these women. Anytime before this, I would have just been a part of a Nat Geo video, being enamored with the cultures and languages as has always been the case for me. These impressed me, too, of course, I love all of the unique cultural traditions, clothing, and food. But to really connect on the level of just being human, now was the time in my life that God saw fit to bless me with this experience. Being introduced to this dynamic group of women with which I could share the belief and trust that God is the sole proprietor of our lives, and a merciful one at that…well, such synchronous events seem to be part of a greater message that I have, as yet, not arrived at. I’m listening though, quite intently.