The Hush...
As a Muslim, when I pray, it is usually at a quiet place for the sake of focus and solace. On Saturday, February 4th, I prayed in a place in Denver where I experienced the most powerful silence in my life.
It is hard to imagine the moment occurring on a blustery afternoon in the midst of nearly
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| Thousands, observing the prayer |
10,000 people gathered in protest and support – protest against the current administration and support for the local Muslim community. The event was (aptly named) “Support Our Muslim Neighbors”, held at the Civic Center Park, and organized by several local activists led by Queen Phoenix and Nadeen Ibrahim.
I was immediately impressed as I walked into the park, coming across about 7-8 thousand people but to be honest, my first impression, despite the many signs of support for Muslims and lambasting Trump’s ban, was that most were gathered moreso to protest Trump than to support Muslims. I wondered to myself as I wove through the crowd how many of these people knew what Islam was or if they actually knew a Muslim.
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| me, in the crowd... |
I listened intently to crowd chants and cheers as speakers including the Mayor took to the mic and was moved by the poems of Theo Wilson and Amal Kassir (both friends of mine); and then Nadeen addressed the crowd, noting that the afternoon prayer time had arrived and requesting that the crowd migrate as to allow the Muslims to gather together.
I made my way through the crowd, everyone giving way with polite comments and glances (I was wearing a bright yellow prayer cap, standing out for sure). After the call to prayer given onstage, we stood in lines and the imam (prayer leader) started us off, raising his hands to his ears and uttering “Allahu Akbar”.
And a hush immediately fell over the entire crowd – but I didn’t notice how quiet it was until we prostrated.
As my forehead touched the cool concrete of the atrium floor, it struck me full-on. There was not a sound. No talking, no murmurs – not even a baby crying. You could actually hear the click of cameras, the wind, and words of the imam as he lead us from posture to posture. Silence was never so loud as it was in those moments. For five to ten minutes, thousands of people proved their support, sympathy, and empathy – not with slogans, chants, cheering, or any words, but with a solemn outpouring of respect and appreciation that flooded over me as I thanked and honored God.
It has been a long time since I have ever felt more peace, honor, and acceptance. Of the many ways Colorado sees itself I think that it likens itself as “home”, to its natives, visitors and guests alike. In a long moment of silence, it has never said as much so loudly.
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