Interfaith Prayer Service and Vigil for Palestinians

I needed to go show my support, however futile my efforts might be. Knowing that I'd feel sympathy, pain, frustration, and sadness for the state of mankind - I was dreading it.

I got into my car and ended up at a building that most people (these days) would say a Muslim wouldn't enter - a church. The interfaith service included a Rabbi, a Reverend, and an Imam. The Imam was stuck in an airport due to security issues with his name, imagine that in a post 9-11 world. The hosting Christian congregation were sheepishly asking the Arabs they didn't know, "Excuse me, are you Muslim?" They were trying to find someone to speak in place of the Imam.

"Yes, I am," I answered, "why?"

"Could you help us out? The Imam won't be able to make it. He is stuck in an airport. They won't let him fly."

I smiled sheepishly. "Isn't there anyone else? An elder?"

"We will keep asking around," he said. "But would you consider saying a few words?"

"If there aren't any other options, sure" I said.

I was nervous. Not because of speaking in public, I'd been doing that since I was in secondary school, but because my accent in Arabic, especially Qur'anic Arabic, is not perfect. I know this may seem silly, but I guess I am just a little bit shy about reciting what Muslims believe to be the actual words of God and not doing it correctly.

Another Muslim sister came to me, she was Palestinian. She was an older woman, probably in her mid to late 50's. She was short, stout, and had a kind round face - made all the more noticeable given that she wore a hijab (head scarf) and glasses. She smiled at me and said, "I'll find a verse to recite if you handle the message portion." She had an accent in English. It seems we had similar concerns.

"Is there no one else?" I asked again. "I don't feel that I am qualified to address these folks, especially given that the other speakers are a Rabbi and a Reverend."

"Do your best," she said, "that is all Allah (Arabic for God) asks of us and that is all any person can ask of you."

I felt slighly ashamed of my reluctance. "You're right sister. I will do my best."

On the program, I jotted a few notes and was thanking God that I used to compete in extemporaneous speech.

The service began, I'd say there were about 150 people in attendance. Jews, Christians, Muslims .... Arabs, Jews, Whites, Blacks, Latinos, and Asians ... all sitting there as human beings for a common cause - to end the occupation of Palestine and the specifically the suffering in Gaza.

Time seemed to fly by and then it was our turn. The sister took the mic first, reciting this Qur'anic verse (49:13):

(translated here)

O mankind! We created you from a single pair - Of a male and a female and made you into nations and tribes, that ye may know each other not that ye may despise each other. Verily the most honored of you in the sight of God is he who is the most righteous of you. And God has full knowledge and is well acquainted with all things.

"It is a beautiful verse and most relevant to our gathering today," I started my message with. I would be lying if I said I could remember, verbatim, my speech. After all, none of it was planned. What I do remember, is that I spoke about focusing on our likenesses versus our differences.

"We are all children of Adam and we are all descendants of Abraham and we're all following an Abrahamic faith. We all believe in the prophets and books of Dawood (David) and Musa (Moses) and we're all tailoring our prayers in order to be respectful and mindful of the other's in this room. We can only hope that other's outside of this church will learn from our example today. The lessons and morals that bind us, far out weigh the thoughts and practices that divide us and yet, we tend to explore our differences with a magnifying glass."

I spoke of Palestine, the American government, and having a strong voice and raising it to speak out against the human rights violations and the crimes that violate international laws and UN Security Council's laws. I spoke for freedom and the right to life, liberty, and property. I spoke from my heart and yet I tried to hold back the anger I felt - the frustration that made my voice shake as I was on the verge of tears.

I thanked those there for doing what they felt was right - for speaking their minds and hearts and for being tolerant. I thanked them for their voices and for their presence. I thanked them as my brothers and sisters in faith of the one God we all worshiped. I ended with "Assalamu Alaikum. Shalom Alahom. Peace be with you."

The Reverend spoke after me. Then we sang a hymn. Then we headed to the Israeli Embassy to protest. As I was walking out of the church, the Rabbi and Reverend stopped me to thank me for stepping up to speak. "I think you missed your calling," the Rabbi said. You were very informative and passionate but you managed to stay respectful and inclusive of the other's in the room ."

"Thank you, sir," I answered. I could feel the blush rise up to my cheeks. He smiled, "Shalom" he said. "Salaam," I answered.

One can only hope that today is just the beginning. That people will continue to try to focus on what is right and righteous in a manner that unites us as mankind versus divides us into nothing more than races and creeds and tribes.

One God. One voice. One kind. One world. We are all people of the book.

Peace be with you.