It’s not every day you get invited to hang out at the local mosque. Not if you’re a Christian like me anyway. I wasn’t even sure there was a local mosque, and it turns out there are four or five within 15 minutes of my house. So when Dana and I heard about “Open Mosque Days,” we were all over it. I hadn’t been inside a mosque since high school, and the only thing I remember from that visit was a large room with a beautiful rug. (I was such a deep thinker at 17.) I can tell you already that our visit to the Islamic Center of Yorba Linda will prove to have a more meaningful, lasting impact.
As we arrived we were greeted enthusiastically, given a brief tour, and then joined a handful of others for a brief overview of the basic tenets of the faith, including the Five Pillars of Islam. As if on cue, soon we heard the call to prayer, which gave us the opportunity to witness one of those five pillars: Salat. We thought of Moses as we removed our shoes and were welcomed into the prayer hall. I was especially moved by the simple motions performed by each person prior to beginning their prayers as they signaled a casting off of worldly things and an opening up to God.
After prayers, our new friends sat patiently answering our questions about what they believe and why, and it shouldn’t surprise you that we saw more meaningful similarities than differences in our beliefs. Dana and I left the mosque with a variety of homemade treats, our own copy in of the Quran (in English), and an invitation to return to join in a typical Friday afternoon worship service. We were so touched by the warmth and kindness extended to us that, as we embraced our Muslim neighbors and said our goodbyes, we knew that we will certainly find opportunity to return.
Later that same day, we met Dana’s brother David and his wife Annette for dinner. The two of them are currently presiding over the California Arcadia Mission for our church, so it’s a treat for us when a window opens up in their crazy schedule and we can rendezvous for dinner somewhere. As we settled in to eat, David’s phone buzzed. It was, it turned out, an electronic call to prayer. At 4:55 pm every day, everyone in the Arcadia Mission (and, I presume, their families around the world) pause to pray together, wherever they may be. And so in that restaurant we bowed and gave thanks to God for food and family and life itself, praying also that their young missionaries might be protected and inspired in their work; that those they meet and teach might come to understand and believe the truths that they share; that God might watch over and uplift all who live within the area, especially guiding the pure in heart to the Gospel of Jesus Christ; and that the families of those missionaries might be sustained and comforted as well. Such a simple, powerful act of faith and unity. I felt a pang of regret that we had not done something similar with our son throughout the time he served as a missionary in Argentina and Paraguay.
In that public setting, our prayer may have lacked the ritual and ambient reverence of what we had experienced in the Islamic Center. But the chance to pause and commune with God was no less meaningful. I felt something especially powerful about the collective nature of such prayer. There was something about knowing that, at that very moment, others were making similar pleas to the Almighty, something that helped me feel a oneness with brothers and sisters around the world.
Muslims have a chance to feel that sense of extended community five times a day, at specific intervals dictated by the position of the sun in the sky. That suggests that at any given moment of any given day, thousands or even millions of Muslims are facing Mecca and worshiping God together. And it makes me wonder: How might our individual lives be different (and the world for that matter), if all of us—Christians, Muslims, Jews, God-fearing people of every race and religion—paused at a designated time each day to give thanks and praise to our Creator, to solicit together greater peace and harmony throughout our troubled world? What if every day at the same time we poured out our hearts as one on behalf of the poor and the afflicted and offered our mutual commitment to be a bit less selfish and a lot more kind, more generous with what we have and more humble about all that we lack? What if we united daily in collective supplication, appealing for less contention and more generosity of spirit while pledging our personal commitment to make these things possible in our own remote corner of this vast and varied world? Imagine how such a prayer of brother-and-sisterhood, offered in faith and hope, might begin to change the way we think and interact with one another. It would not be enough to make all of that actually happen, but it would be a start.
I think that’s an experiment worth trying. Perhaps we could even start tomorrow. Say maybe around 4:55 pm?