The 3rd of October is German Unity Day, a public holiday celebrating the reunification of East and West Germany.
But it is also Open Mosque Day, which I didn’t know.
I was actually invited to a Friday prayer (Muslim equivalant of a church service) some years ago. And I went.
After I had shut down my Amazon business, I was selling off my equipment.
A father and son came and bought my shelves.
“Why did you stop the Amazon business?” the father asked.
“Oh, various reasons, but God apparently wanted me to close it,” I replied.
What ensued was a conversation about faith.
The father had had cancer, and I offered him prayer.
Then he invited me to Friday prayer at the mosque.
“You come to my mosque and I’ll go to your church.”
I reluctantly agreed.
After consulting with a missionary friend, I decided to go through with it.
Lots of rituals.
Take off shoes at the entrance. Go to the washing area. Wash your hands and feet. Wash your face with the right hand. Rinse your mouth out.
I was sweating with nerves, so washing was not a bad idea.
He paid careful attention to me. I am left-handed, so he had to correct me once.
We went into the sanctuary and found a spot on the exquisite carpet.
Then it was a painful hour of me sitting on a floor with inflexible knees and hips.
How do these guy just kneel sitting on their heels for one hour? My knees were about to explode cartilage all over the million-dollar carpet.
The imam gave the sermon in Turkish and Arabic.
When the hour was up, my friend introduced me to a young imam (maybe 22). The imam invited my friend and me back into a dark hallway to the office. Inside the office were ornate chairs facing each other four and four. The wall was covered with surveillance monitors. Two other imams joined. My friend and I sat across from them.
It was a very weird moment.
I was expecting them to play the host and ask me questions. When they didn’t, I felt the Spirit kick in to act like the host and ask them questions. They were very young.
I introduced myself and explained why I was there. They told me about their faith and had a number of false assumptions about Christians, which I gently corrected.
Soon it was over and we said our farewells.
I wish I could say he came to church with me, but it never worked out.
Yet it was such an amazing adventure because I took a little risk in offering prayer.
Writing also takes risks.
I have been talking a lot about humor this week, which is very risky. Just ask any stand-up comedian. It can be as simple as making fun of your knees.
Here’s my ask: Tell me about a writer who makeys you laugh and why.
Blair
P.S. I do an exercise most mornings where I just kneel for about 30 seconds. It still feels like my knees are going to explode out in front of me like bursting a ketchup packet. But I think about my time in the mosque each time.