Looking back on the experience, I’m more aware that, being human, everyone in the room was going to slip, and at times, do things that were selfish or mean, or otherwise not reflect well on our species.  Nevertheless, there was a feeling in the mosque that was very different from what’s more typical of large numbers of humans occupying the same space—say, in a traffic jam, or even a pedestrian crowd. 

Possibly it’s the shared physical activity of Muslim prayers that enables everyone to feel the trying.  Maybe when we’re better able to sense that, we’re more tolerant and forgiving of the various ways that people fall short of who they’d like to be.

Whatever the origins of the good feelings, I believe people left the service a lot better prepared to face their day, and to go about their business despite monstrous violence having been recently perpetrated on their community.  That’s probably what they had come in search of—whether not they’d been able to put their finger on it when they first came through the door. 

As for the imam, my estimation of him soared.  Clearly, there were more important qualifications for doing his job than a good singing voice.  The influence of age in the acquisition of wisdom was also overrated.

For my own part, I was grateful to have experienced a real-life example of Islam in action in a difficult situation, which stood in stark contrast to the images of jihadist extremists that have come to dominate our media, and consequently, our public imagination. 

Certainly, some people are doing horrendous things today in the name of Islam.  But to confuse these actions with the religion itself would make no more sense than to see the burning crosses of the Ku Klux Klan as embodiments of Christianity.