Today was a pretty exciting day! One event, however, I feel the urge to share tonight.
I got to pray Isha (evening prayer) in the Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem tonight. a regular prayer really, with barely 200 people - mainly people who live in the Old City of Jerusalem, and who think of the Aqsa as their neighbourhood mosque.
Anyways. So immediately after prayer, a young man, late twenties I would say, and suffering from Down syndrome, stood up. He faced the sitting men, and began speaking.
He gave a short, a barely three-minute sermon.
Here's the thing though: it was absolutely, and I mean absolutely, unintelligible. We could not understand a single word. (While I normally have no difficulty conversing with my cousin who's in the same medical condition.)
And as the man launched in his sermon, with all the body language associated - the intonations, occasionally enumerating something on his fingers, and saying what I guess was "Praise the Prophet" (Sallou 3alal Nabi) and pausing afterwards to hear the crowd respond, everyone in the room, and I mean everyone, listened.
What was an amused look on people's faces rapidly became serious, as people feigned interest, and attempted to join the man's enthusiasm, after having given up on understanding his words.
I watched 200 people, 200 perfect stangers, respectfully listen to a man's voice, not to his words. They listened because they knew that what he was saying was important. Important enough for him to tell it to us. And we knew that, even if we did not understand, we owed him respect and attentiveness. We accepted him, joyfully, as our teacher.
As he ended his sermon, people responded with what they would normally say to any preacher: "May God preserve you", "May God increase your knowledge", "May you always share your words with us". Some shook his hand. One older man kissed it.
The young man took the praise, saluted briefly, and regained his seat.
I failed to fight a tear.
I got to pray Isha (evening prayer) in the Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem tonight. a regular prayer really, with barely 200 people - mainly people who live in the Old City of Jerusalem, and who think of the Aqsa as their neighbourhood mosque.
Anyways. So immediately after prayer, a young man, late twenties I would say, and suffering from Down syndrome, stood up. He faced the sitting men, and began speaking.
He gave a short, a barely three-minute sermon.
Here's the thing though: it was absolutely, and I mean absolutely, unintelligible. We could not understand a single word. (While I normally have no difficulty conversing with my cousin who's in the same medical condition.)
And as the man launched in his sermon, with all the body language associated - the intonations, occasionally enumerating something on his fingers, and saying what I guess was "Praise the Prophet" (Sallou 3alal Nabi) and pausing afterwards to hear the crowd respond, everyone in the room, and I mean everyone, listened.
What was an amused look on people's faces rapidly became serious, as people feigned interest, and attempted to join the man's enthusiasm, after having given up on understanding his words.
I watched 200 people, 200 perfect stangers, respectfully listen to a man's voice, not to his words. They listened because they knew that what he was saying was important. Important enough for him to tell it to us. And we knew that, even if we did not understand, we owed him respect and attentiveness. We accepted him, joyfully, as our teacher.
As he ended his sermon, people responded with what they would normally say to any preacher: "May God preserve you", "May God increase your knowledge", "May you always share your words with us". Some shook his hand. One older man kissed it.
The young man took the praise, saluted briefly, and regained his seat.
I failed to fight a tear.
2 comments:
beautiful post
RP
wow
that's the beauty of islam
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