Food and faith

Barefoot and hungry, they submitted just before me in the Prayer Space of Park51 Community Centre in the shadow of Ground Zero. It was just before iftar (breaking fast) on the eve of Eid al-Fitr 2011, the joyous three-day celebration that marks the end of the month-long fasting season of Ramadan.

This colourful gathering reflected both the diversity and the uniqueness of New York's Muslim community - a broad swath from the Balkans, Southeast Asia, the Middle East and Africa. A handful of fair-faced converts were also lined up on the wide green stripes of the grey carpet. A few minutes earlier they had warmly greeted me, Alsalam Alaikum - peace be with you.

The journey to Park51 began in Bangkok 10 years earlier. A call from my husband led me running to the TV to watch in horror as those winged demons of death toppled the twin towers.

Bangkokians of all stripes were stunned. "The things we feel most deeply are the most universal," a friend observed. That truth was expressed in messages of shared loss, gently and genuinely, with a sense of Thai gren jai or consideration. Locals from the Haroon Mosque community, near the Oriental Hotel, as well as Muslims from the diplomatic core, attended the memorial service I organised at Holy Redeemer Church.

Muslims are the largest religious minority in Thailand; their numerous mosques attest to the extraordinary religious tolerance of the Buddhist nation. Tonsoon Mosque in Bangkok dates from the Ayutthaya period.

That sense of being tightly linked on a great chain of universal caring was almost immediately compromised by the battle cries of the War on Terrorism. Muslims, lumped together like clothes at a jumble sale, were its easy victims.

Upon my eventual return home to Geneva, I delved into Islam. I taught a university course on Islamic Art, took international students to the Mosque Petit-Saconnex and led study trips to Istanbul. We explored the luminous crescent of Islamic civilisation, discovering Persian polymath, Ibn Sina (Avicenna), Sufism, the architecture of Sinan the Great, the vernal Islamic paradise displayed in exquisite mosaics at the Great Mosque of Damascus, on qiblas, tiled fountains and prayer rugs.

Weaving the Muslim-American identity into the multicultural fabric of the US is the warp and woof of Park51 Community Centre. My American-Swiss identity was wedded to that of the Palestinians following a three-month sojourn in Jerusalem and the Occupied Territories last year.

Earlier this summer, a needs assessment for an NGO I had launched in defence of Arab Muslim and Christian vulnerable cultural heritage led me from Jerusalem to New York. My Manhattan sublet is a stone's throw from the 96th Street Mosque, which lends a lively Middle Eastern accent to the neighbourhood.

By contrast to this traditional community, Park51 maps out a new future for Islam in New York and hopefully for the rest of the country. The mission is threefold: to give back to the city and to reinvigorate lower Manhattan while developing a 21st century perspective on Muslims in America.

This vision also has an important Asian dimension. NHK sent a team to film the Eid al-Fitr event for a Japanese audience. For many, the treatment of Muslim non citizens after the 2001 terror attacks brought back memories of the internment of Japanese-Americans after Pearl Harbour.

Now, a decade after 9/11, Imam Shamsi Ali, Indonesian born spiritual leader of the Park51 community, is forward looking. "America can be the best example of an interfaith approach that creates cooperation between peoples of faith, all of whom are very welcome here," he states.

This invitation was given sensory appeal by the aromas of a Middle-Eastern meal that was offered after prayer. When plates were emptied, a young Jewish rabbinic student spoke of the long history of interfaith dialogue and communal work in the city. "But 9/11 really added urgency," he said. "It made it clear that the central message Americans needed to hear from religious leaders was: 'We are a country of tolerance and we value pluralism.'"

Croatian born Samir Selmanovic, founder of Faith House in Manhattan, grew up celebrating the Muslim holidays of his father and the Christian festivities of his mother. "All great spiritual teachers used food to communicate so many important things," he said. "Hospitality is so important because it creates this space where we are one. Religions should talk less and cook more."

Ten years after the devastation of 9/11, Muslims of New York live out that message though their inclusive hospitality at Park51. Hunger knows no religious difference. On the evening I was there, donation boxes in the basement invited the well-fed to contribute to St Francis Xavier soup kitchen in the area.

There is a lot of grounded hope here in New York, at Park51 and throughout the city as we collectively gather to commemorate, to give honour and to forge new bonds.

"You can either isolate yourself or learn to live your faith in an interconnected world as it is now, not as it used to be. These are the growing pains of every religion today. Muslims are hosts in America, not guests anymore," Samir observes.

My own deeply personal and yet communal voyage during the past 10 years, which started in Bangkok, has profoundly changed me. That is largely thanks to the Muslim gift of hospitality that begins with "Welcome!" As the old Arab proverb enjoins, "The guest is a guest of God."

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Maryvelma O'Neil is the author of "Bangkok: A Cultural and Literary History".
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