Jumah in Yellowknife

Alhamdullilah!

Over fourteen centuries ago, God's final revelation to mankind was completed, and what were once the backward tribes of a backwater peninsula emerged suddenly united, carrying their message as far as they could with a combination of intelligence and zeal, wisdom and bravery.

The empires they built grew powerful, then corrupt, and then waned, but the message itself was never lost, so that in 2009 in Yellowknife, Northwest Territory, Canada, the call to prayer could be heard.

I have never believed strongly in proselytizing. As the Prophet (as) himself said, "The best da'wa is your character." If Islam really was "all that" then people would see it. If it really was so transformative, then those whose eyes were open would eventually come to admire the Muslims they knew, and know that there was a reason for their admirability. And at that point, whether or not they chose to follow the rituals prescribed specifically at the time of the Revelation to Muhammad (as) was immaterial - God had given the Message to many peoples, and so it was inevitable that belief would have more than one valid manifestation. Many Muslims I know would recoil at the idea, but it is the only logical conclusion that I can draw from my reading of the Qur'an itself.

Nevertheless, there was something special about joining the Muslim community of Yellowknife, a place so distant culturaly and geographically from Mecca and Medina, for Jumah.

The Islamic Centre of Yellowknife

The awesomeness of that fact was also the substance of the khutbah, delivered by a Sudanese man who was for some reason travelling through, and known for some reason to be a reputable Khateeb. I might have recognized him were I more connected in ISNA circles.

And, much to my sad delight, there was no craziness in his khutbah of the sort I had winced through during my days with the UOMSA ("The theory of plate tectonics is kufr! Tsunamis are a means of punishment!") nor the bland platititudes that I had come to expect from certain speakers in London, but an intelligent yet straightforward reminder to us of how far we had come, and how wonderful the journey had been.

I didn't leave feeling inspired, but for the time I was in that small hall that had been converted to a mosque, I forgot that I was in Yellowknife, because I really could have been absolutely anywhere. The specifics might change a little, but Jumah is the same all over the planet.

There was food afterwards - the largely Somali community in Yellowknife wanted to put on a good show for their guest, but I had to rush to the hospital. As I turned to go, I noticed that the hall had suddenly become crowded. Jumah in Yellowknife also had the usual gang of latecomers.

Leaving the building, I saw that it had suddenly become surrounded by taxicabs, as if this were their dispatch station. Also much like the other Friday prayers that I had attended.

Polarcabs

Today a Somali man came into the emerg with a 1-week history of flu-like symptoms and chest pain. The flu had resolved, but the chest pain was getting worse. While examining him I asked, "were you at the Masjid yesterday?" His face brightened "Yes! I knew I had seen you somewhere!" "How was the food? I couldn't stay for it because I had to come here." "Food was good," he affirmed. "What do you do for a living?" Ostensibly, this is a medically relevant question, but in his case I asked just to see if he was a cab driver or not. I'm a huge racist sometimes.

Anybody who comes in with chest pain in Yellowknife gets at least 160mg of ASA, oxygen, and a cardiac workup (this is also the case in most other places), but nothing else in his history suggested there was sinister cause of this. His physical was also totally unremarkable, and the tests showed nothing either. He went home with some mild analgesia.

We've seen a lot of people with funny chest pain following an ILI; some people think the swine flu is to blame.

As to the cause of his chest pain, God only knows.