A centre in the storm

Editorial

Imagine if an application to construct a synagogue in Lower Manhattan were met with hysterical reaction and became a lightning rod for anti-Jewish attitudes to the extent that the president and every major politician and religious figure in the country were forced to choose sides.

Or, to make the analogy just slightly more realistic, say the synagogue was proposed for Idaho. Imagine the horror in the Jewish community if erstwhile liberal, inclusive political and religious leaders, media figures and ordinary citizens suddenly spoke up to side with those who opposed construction of a Jewish place of worship – on private property, within the bounds of municipal guidelines – simply because it offended the sensibilities of some Idaho neighbors.

In some ways, this suggests the situation Muslim Americans are experiencing right now, as a proposed Islamic community centre two blocks from the site of the demolished World Trade Centre has taken centre stage in the American political dialogue. The proximity of the proposed centre – a prayer room is to be part of the grand proposal, but is not intended to be the main function of the facility – has been used as a bludgeon by some to suggest that an Islamic centre in that location would amount to a monument to terror.

Sensitivities to the memory of 9/11 and the physical reminders of that dark day deserve respect. For many Americans, 9/11 was the first time they had given much thought to Islam; the connection was indelibly made for some victims and witnesses between Islam and violence.

It has been noted, here and elsewhere, that the post-9/11 Muslim response to terror has far too often been not condemnation but defensive reassurance that terrorism does not reflect real Muslim values. Islam, we are reminded, is a religion of peace.

Well, what religion isn’t? And yet, what religion has not seen atrocities perpetrated in its name? If a little more energy were dedicated to the condemnation of violence in the name of Islam, far less energy would be needed to reassure us that violence does not define its authentic teachings.

The irony here is that the proponent of the centre appears to be the very model of a Muslim American. Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf has traveled the world, at the expense of the U.S. State Department, telling America’s story to the Muslim world. He is a leading figure in interfaith and cross-cultural dialogue and he has repeatedly condemned political and theological violence. He offered what was reported as a moving eulogy at a memorial service for the slain Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl (whose father is the author of the adjoining article in this issue, “Discomfort at the heart of it”). Rauf’s centre, according to reports, is to be modeled as a Muslim variation of the 92nd Street Y, a focus of Jewish and broader cultural pursuits that welcomes all peoples.

While mosques in some parts of the world have been breeding grounds for terrorists, it seems from all available evidence that the imam behind this proposed Islamic centre is precisely the sort of religious leader that people who seek tolerance should be supporting. The fact that many Americans, including some in positions of significant power and influence, are unwilling to differentiate between peace-seeking Muslims and terrorists heralds a sad new epoch in Muslim-American dialogue.

The sacred American commitment to religious pluralism, imperfect though it may be, faces one of its most serious tests over this issue. If a Muslim community that appears to be the model of civic values faces difficulty constructing a centre in what is that country’s most liberal, tolerant city, what is the state of religious freedom in America today? It seems that, according to a significant number of Americans, religious freedom is sacred – unless you are Muslim.

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