Masjids and Musallahs in Ramadan

I have never lived the sunni/shiite difference before. I only heard of it, or watched it as an unbiased spectator. When I was in school, I would only absorb the tensions or fury, the hopeful mediations or the call for unity by my friends who vocally proclaim that they are sunni or shiite, or the ones that want non of it and who proclaim: “I am Muslim. Period”.

But in a country such as Lebanon, this scene escalates and the division feels too real. I read books, too, about this situation. Although books kindle the mind, experience engraves the memory. And memory carves the soul eternally.

It is one thing to imagine divisions and wars in Islam when in Canada or America or any other “neutral/secular” state, getting it from books or TV or the media. It’s another thing to sit on this stage, down in a war-zone like Lebanon and to animate it all in your mind while everything around you reinforces division and war, yes, between sunnis and shiites. It’s no game. It’s too real.

In every country where there is co-existence, there is war. Where there is a masjid next to a church and a synagogue, there is also war. The people of the masjid fight between themselves, the people of the church fight between themselves, the people of the synagogue too, not every Jewish community is like the other. Therefore, where there are angels there are also people who want war. Never be naive about this.

I am at this Masjid you see in the photo back in Anjar, an area near Baalbeck, about an hour drive from Beirut. Baalbeck is a renowned shiite neighborhood in Lebanon. What I notice, instantly, is the soldier rhetoric. This region highlights the warrior/martyr/soldier spirit of Islam by commemorating it everywhere with huge billboards of soldiers born in this area and who died in resistance fighting. The color black is prominent.

As you see in the photo, the masjids look different than most of the ones in Beirut such as the Muhammad Al Amin masjid where I pray taraweeh during Ramadan. What is highlighted in Baalbeck’s masjids is ornamentation and decoration such as Arabic calligraphy on the walls. Other than Qur’anic verses, these writings are about martyrs. Or, about Hassan and Husseyn who are the relatives of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh).

In Ramadan, the shiite neighborhood breaks its fast after the ‘sunni’ neighborhoods by around 15 minutes at Maghreb.

In Ramadan the world turns in different rhythms depending on where you are in the world. And what's around you. And you are the product of your environment ...

Counting Blessings in Ramadan

In a strange chain of events I was reminded of a photo and then I stopped. To reflect.

I have traveled to Hawaii, Honolulu and to Lebanon in a period no longer than a year apart. Of the many bounties I have been offered throughout this year, this photo reminds me of a particular one.

When I was standing at Hanauma beach in Honolulu not too far from Waikiki, I remember clearly thinking, or even expressing to my sister who was with me for this week-long conference escapade, “no fair, I want to be in that water! I was raised on an island, in sea and ocean so every ounce of life in me wants to be in that water, like diving back body and soul into my childhood sensations under the sun immersed in the deep blue. No fair (pout)”.

About a year later, I’m in Lebanon. Not only do I swim in women-only beaches and take my liberty in every shape and form, but the sea I’m in is not just any sea. It’s the Mediterranean sea. It’s the one I grew up in.

Can we ever count the blessings of the Most Beautiful Allah? …

Reflect. When did you wish for something and He gave it to you? It's there. Just make the connection, then praise Allah with me ....

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Ramadan Sweetness

Sahteyn! :-) in Lebanese, which loosely translates into "enjoy!" I took this picture when I went to the sweet store I go to, called "Rif'at Al-Hallab". In Ramadan, this store's line up is to the door, subhanAllah.

My favorite dessert there is called "knafeh bil gibneh". Translation? ummmm... many calories? :)

PS: I prayed at Masjid Al Amin today too (alhamdullilah) ... with my rhinestone Abayah. Come on, I did say that one of my intentions for ramadan is to find a good masjid, and stay there. Keepin' my word ;)

My next blog entry, inshAllah, will be a video post showing one of the refugee camps I'm looking into.

Sweet salams,
Q




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When Wealth and Spiritual Experience Mix

As intended, I went to Masjid Al Amin and let me tell you about it before I … zzzzzzz go to sleep ;)

Is it wrong, people, to pray in a five star masjid?

I’m in the cab entering downtown from the bridge. We can hear the Qur’an being read on the speakers from the center of downtown where the Masjid is. Imagine that.

I’m out of the cab. I walk towards the masjid to the ladies entrance. At the door, a guard greets you and tells you, “this way, ma’am”.

As we go inside, you see a row of abayahs (as mentioned earlier), good quality, mind you, and a pair of hijab to go with it. There are about 30 or 40 of those lined up along with a drawer full of regular prayer outfits (the white ones) just in case more is needed.

On your right hand side is dark brown oak shelf for shoes. On your left, same thing.

I put on a black abayah – I choose a cute one with beads and rhinestone on the sleeves (so fly), I leave my slippers on the fine brown oak shoe-shelf and I head towards the elevator. Next to the elevator are two bathrooms and a wudhu (ablution) room.

Once upstairs, I step out of the elevator and I’m ushered by a woman who has a tag to show that she’s employed or volunteers there. She tells us, “this way, sisters”. We walk, fine queens that we are, and we enter the praying room. I mean hall. I mean gala. I mean soccer field that pretends to be a praying space. You dig? It. Was. Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge.

If you look up, you see a chandelier that must have belonged to the Queen of England in prior days. Up ahead, at the very front of the praying space, is a flat screen TV, a gigantic one, to project the men’s praying area and the imam.

On your left hand side, over there, yes, is a floor-to-ceiling book shelf that has a gazillion Qur’ans, with their “book-stand”, you know, those wooden ones.

I stand, in my brand new rhinestone abayah, with my hand-picked Qur’an from the big brown book shelf, and I pray two ruk’as in respect for the masjid. I bow for sujood. What is that? That scent? Dalias? Gardenias? Flowers from the heavens? Whatever carpet deodorizer they used, it was so good I didn’t want to get up from sujood! Maybe crawl in a fetal position and take a nap. Better than the gym socks aroma elsewhere, you dig?

In this place, all I needed was a throne, a couple of diamond rings to go with my rhinestone abayah, a few good men to fan me with peacock feathers, and I’m rollin! :-) heheheh lol!!

No, seriously. Where were we? Oh, sujood. Yes, I’m done the two ruk’as. We now pray Isha. The reciter/imam, subhanAllah, has the most beautiful way of reading I’ve ever heard. So serene. So engaging. MashaAllah.

Now in my normal days, when in Canada, I like to pick up the Qur’an and read along with the reciter during taraweeh. It has many benefits, such as it keeps me focused, it improves my memory of the verses, and also, I improve my Arabic. After three ramadans, there was a notable improvement in my Arabic reading as well as comprehension of the classical Arabic language (fus-ha) that is used in the Qur’an.

I do the same at this masjid and the experience was glorious, especially since the reader/imam is so good at what he does.

At one time, after one taraweeh prayer was over, I decide to look behind me. I was standing in the second row. Notice that each row holds about 60 women. I didn’t think there was more than a row behind me. When I look back, the rows went as far as the exit door. In this soccer field praying room! There were hundreds of women in there. SubhanAllah. They must have all liked the abayahs (wink).

No, seriously, the imam prays 20 rak’as (prostrations) each night at the Taj Mahal. I mean masjid. He also prays salat al-witr, the closing prayer. People come and go depending on their own time convenience.

I’m done. I go to the elevator. I get to the bottom floor. I take off my abayah with the rhinestones. I hang it back up on the wall. I go to the brown oak shoe shelf. I take my slippers. I exit the door and the guard says, “assalamu alaikum sister, have a good night”.

I’m out into the real world. Sigh.

You bet I’m praying there again. And again. And again. Like?

In contrast to the masjid next to my house. It’s an ordinary masjid, no rhinestone abayahs, but see, the reader, astaghfirullah, he reads real quick. And he’s not reading the Qur’an from beginning to end so he can finish it at the end of Ramadan. He just picks random surahs, in no particular order. Like? I want to finish the Qur’an by the end of Ramadan. Just because it’s not a “five star” masjid, it doesn’t mean that it offers a more spiritual experience.

I think I can truthfully say that in this case, class/wealth/style/posh and spirituality do mix. And I’m witness to it. So is my rhinestone abayah :-)



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Food For Thought: Don't Fast on this one

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7th Day of Ramadan: I'll Pray Here

On Friday, inshAllah, I plan on going there, to the masjid in the picture, named Mohammad Al-Amin Masjid, the biggest in Beirut.

I've been to it before Ramadan. It's breath-taking. As I entered, there was a line of abayahs and scarves hung up in a row for women to wear in case they need one.








By the way, this masjid is smack next door to one of the largest churches in Beirut, like this:







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First Days in Ramadan

Spent the past days in Tripoli, a city outside of Beirut. I was out on the balcony when it happened. I’m used to hearing the azan in Tripoli, but the first night in Ramadan was like this:

First, the “qari’” or the reciter from the Masjid starts reading verses from the Qur’an out loud on a microphone with speakers directed towards the center of the city. So, from my balcony, I hear the verses from the Qur’an. Beautiful. But. Wait a minute.

I can’t hear him properly, it’s as if there’s interference.

“Aunty, how come it sounds fuzzy?”

“See, what you’re hearing is not one but THREE speakers from three different masjids. One is straight ahead of you, up north. One is on your right, and another is on your left but they’re all hidden behind buildings”.

“Are they reading the same verses?”

“No, that’s why it sounds like Qur’an but you can’t make out the words”.

... :-) when the reading was over, the Maghreb Azan was on and this time it came from one Masjid. I looked at the balconies from buildings nearby. I could see people breaking their fast. Together. We all broke our fast together. One city. All listening to the same azan. We’re not checking our watches to make sure it’s time. There’s no doubt like that because the azan is our ‘watch/clock’.

When I came back to Beirut I had my first taraweeh prayer. There’s a masjid near my house. It was an adventure going there for the first time in Lebanon, first time fasting here, and first time praying taraweeh not with family in Tripoli, the South/camps, or in Canada.

There is a hadith that says, and I’m paraphrasing, the first part of Ramadan is mercy, the second part is forgiveness, and the last part is salvation from hellfire. For the first part, I sure felt the mercy. Alhamdullilah. I’m going to taraweeh again tonight, inshAllah.




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