At the Mosque Last Night

It's been a long time since I walked into some place with police present just in case something happened. I was among the many who walked into the Islamic Community Center of Phoenix last night in support of the community that faced protestors on Friday night. The mosque was packed with Christians, Jews, Muslims, Sikhs, and people from a few other faiths. Surprising to me, a huge spectrum of Christians were present. One of the speakers for the evening is Nazarene; I admit they wouldn't have made my list of friends of Muslims. A few children were scattered among those sitting on the floor. I smiled when I saw the tall, African-American man sporting a cowboy hat, giant belt buckle, and handlebar mustache there. There were clerics in collars and stoles. There were people with dark skin and very light skin. It was one of the most diverse gatherings of people I've seen in quite some time.

The few chairs set out for those who couldn't easily sit on the floor filled quickly. (Mosques typically have only a few chairs, since Muslims pray with their bodies and their words.) Elderly men and women found seats on the floor, instead. I wasn't particularly comfortable. I know beyond a doubt they weren't. But they still sat there, stayed there, refusing to abandon their neighbors.

I don't know how many people showed up. They were expecting 600; it was more than that. Some said the number was near 1000. I don't know. There were piles of shoes outside the worship area and piles of flowers inside, brought as requested as a sign of peace. The parking lots were full, despite the fact that most people carpooled. I proved my Chevy Sonic can, indeed, fit four adults in it. The evening was holy, for no other reason than so many people inconvenienced themselves enough to show up and say, "You matter to us."

Most reports of the evening won't mention the man with a megaphone outside the gates. I'm glad they won't, but I will. He used his megaphone to tell us we would burn in hell, we would be converted, the flowers we carried may as well be flowers for our graves. He spoke of human rights violations, particularly women's rights, and how wrong we were to support Muslims who commit vile crimes against women. He went through the same list of warnings over and over.

And I know he's right. There are Muslims who hate women. There are Muslims who force conversion. There are Muslims who do all sorts of stomach-turning, deplorable things. The same is true for Christians. And Jews. And Sikhs. And white men. And Americans. And Europeans. And Africans. And people in wheelchairs. And left-handed doctors who live in houses on cul-de-sacs. And all sorts of other categories of people. There are truly despicable people in every category you can come up with. But most are not.

So yes, there are some Muslims who hate women, and force conversion, and would love me in a grave. There are some Muslims who join and lead militant groups. There are some Muslims who do just about everything.

On the floor of a mosque, seated among both friends and strangers, I am grateful so many people realize that some Muslims do not represent all Muslims. I am especially grateful for the Muslim neighbors whom I've learned to call friends.