The woman in Al-Hussein

I'm not sure how to begin this entry but her face keeps coming into view. She was an old woman in the mosque of Hussein in the old city of Cairo, Egypt. A large gray headscarf covered her frail little body. She instructed people where to stand and indicated to me that my scarf was not covering my head completely. I made the necessary adjustments. Her life it seemed revolved completely around this landmark. I imagined that she had spent everyday here standing by the door and helping the tourists and locals to pray in an overpacked hall. It felt so simple and so beautiful. Having a life completely dedicated to God.


When I finished the evening prayers she turned around to me and again gave specific instructions. "Go say salaam to him," she said. She motioned towards the ornate doorway that opened into the gallery where Imam Hussein's body is entombed in iron and gold. Imam Hussein, Grandson to the prophet Mohammed (s), son of Fatimeh Al-Zahra (a) and a distant grandfather to myself, died defending Islam and his family against tyranny. The room was vaste and all around me I could hear whispered prayers. I saw Americans there and others praying too. I asked that I be united with those that have left this world but spent their living life serving God. I asked that my life and deeds and God's mercy would put me in his shade beside the great leaders of the past.

Imam Hussein was murdered because he would not pledge allegience to Yazid. He gave his life, literally, to defend his people. His life and death directly impact the way we live today.

I know that I don't need to have a life that consists entirely of sitting in a mosque and helping others to pray, or a life of war and struggle ending in martyrdom. But I do know that my life must have the same purpose and dedication.

Visiting the old Hussein mosque reminds me of this. Everything in life should remind me.