When I first arrived here, ten years ago, I stopped into a beauty supply store to get some hair gel. The woman behind the counter took one look at my dark curly hair and said, "Oh, you have that ethnic hair," and she led me to the afro-care products. In Dover, New Hampshire, "ethnic" is something you find in the spice isle of the grocery store, not walking down the street. If I am "ethnic," it is no surprise that the darker skinned Muslim community has a hard time fitting in.
Immediately after 9/11/01, our temple president felt it was our duty as a minority religious community that has had to respond to bigotry and hate towards us, to reach out to the local Muslim community in an effort to show we were not afraid of them and, more importantly, to show that we would support them against acts of discrimination and violence. He invited the local mosque to join us for dinner in our sukkah (wooden booth used for holiday of Sukkot). They appreciated the offer but chose to lay low. Later, we were able to convince some members of the Muslim community to attend Friday night services and our peace vigils. One Iranian man, a member of the local peace movement and a fourteen-year resident of the seacoast, comes to Shabbat (Sabbath) services regularly. Another man comes to our Family Shabbat Service with his wife and kids. They are Palestinians.
At first, our community was a little nervous about their presence at services. With the worry that terrorists hide in the most obvious places, one woman was found looking in the ark and under pews for a bomb after one of these men left the sanctuary abruptly when he didn't see the friend with whom he usually sits. The next week, I introduced him to the congregation, and them to him, and he now feels comfortable coming on his own.
After two years of cultivating a local relationship, our national government began to investigate some of our neighbors. One such couple, American citizens with Iraqi heritage, found themselves under surveillance. The husband is the leader of our local mosque. While their personal lives were being disrupted, the mosque was also asked to move. They began meeting in a rented space at the university.
When I was informed of their personal and community predicament, I invited the men of the mosque to meet at our temple, since they pray at 1 p.m. on Fridays and we don't use the building until the evening. After I made the invitation, I went to our board for their approval. To my joy, they voted unanimously to make this offer without any conversation. It was the fastest vote we ever had.
To this date, they have not needed our space, and we continue to be in contact offering support and reminding them that we are here for them. Several members of our congregation have offered to escort them when they go for hearings, and one of our member families is getting close with theirs.
Whatever evil lurks in the world, I am proud to be part of a congregation that lives what it preaches. That remembers to not do to its neighbors what it would not want done to itself. That stands up for its beliefs and for all humanity. That can recognize its fears and is able to act in the face of those fears, and that represents good to counter the evil. This is just one more step in our outreach efforts to strengthen the Jewish life and practice of our community, and our bonds with the larger community around us.
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