The past few nights have had the theme of Hussain, the theme of Ashura and Karbala for me, and perhaps to many other Moslems around the world.
For many years, Ashura meant wearing black and refraining from listening to dance music and going to our mosque, in Queens, New York. Going to Imam Ali mosque meant renewing visits, seeing old faces and reconnecting with Iranian brothers and sisters that we haven't seen for a while. It was a whole ritual: we first began with evening prayers, then a long lecture by the Sheikh present at our mosque. Next we read "Ziarat Ashura" a very long Shia dua or prayer together from our prayer books--it usually took about an hour to an hour and a half to read the whole thing--the next step was "Azadari" or mourning for the martyrdom of Hussain and his family. The Azadari usually consisted of traditional singing and beating of the chests with hands (called Sineh-Zani). It was all very beautiful and ritualistic. We were told from a very young age that crying for Hossein, shedding tears, and mourning for him would cleanse our souls from all sins and make us anew again. We were innocent enough--we believed it.
However, as the years went by and I went to college and graduate school and started to really reevaluate everything, I began to realize that that was just it--a ritual, a beautiful traditional ritual, but a ritual nonetheless. I didn't even know who Hossain truly was. I thought he was this really poor innocent guy who was killed in war. It was much much later that I really learned who Hossain was and what he meant. In fact, this particular Ashura, I have taken upon myself to really get to know Hossain and all that he was and all that he meant and all that he signifies. Luckily, this year, I had the pleasure of commemorating Hossain in different ways.
First, I read the "Kitab Maqtal Al-Hossein" which chronicles the story of Ashura. I also spoke about Ashura with one of my really good friends and family. In a way, I kept Hussain in my conversations, a ritual that I definitely want to keep alive every year, every Ashura. In addition, I was blessed to have been given the chance to gather with the Sufi community in Oakland, California. This is the very reason for my trip to the Bay Area this past week. It was as amazing as I imagined it would be. We talked about Imam Hossain and the story of Ashura. We repeated "Zikrs" or Remembrance of God's Name in chanting form. I also got together with my Iranian community in East Bay and was able to repeat those same rituals from my childhood in New York, but in a very small scale, minus the "Ziarat Ashura" prayer.
Indeed, Ashura was especially holy for me and for everyone else. Ever 33 years, Ashura falls on the exact day of the ultimate Jewish holiday, Yom Kippur. This year, in my lifetime, thankfully, these two great days aligned. I attended this "High Holidays" event again at the Makam Shekhina Dargah, a community of Kohenet Hebrew Priestesses and Ateshi Ashk Sufis. It was a truly multicultural event. I sat alongside Jewish brothers and sisters and we prayed and chanted hebrew prayers from the Torah and listened to different "Aliyahs". For the second half of the event, once again, our beautiful Sheikh talked more about Ashura and its significance. We then chanted "Zikrs", prayed the noon & afternoon "Salaat". To end this beautiful event, we, as a group, were guided through a healing meditation as we listened to the beautiful sound of Ney. We sang together, we prayed together, and we dreamed together.
For many years, Ashura meant wearing black and refraining from listening to dance music and going to our mosque, in Queens, New York. Going to Imam Ali mosque meant renewing visits, seeing old faces and reconnecting with Iranian brothers and sisters that we haven't seen for a while. It was a whole ritual: we first began with evening prayers, then a long lecture by the Sheikh present at our mosque. Next we read "Ziarat Ashura" a very long Shia dua or prayer together from our prayer books--it usually took about an hour to an hour and a half to read the whole thing--the next step was "Azadari" or mourning for the martyrdom of Hussain and his family. The Azadari usually consisted of traditional singing and beating of the chests with hands (called Sineh-Zani). It was all very beautiful and ritualistic. We were told from a very young age that crying for Hossein, shedding tears, and mourning for him would cleanse our souls from all sins and make us anew again. We were innocent enough--we believed it.
However, as the years went by and I went to college and graduate school and started to really reevaluate everything, I began to realize that that was just it--a ritual, a beautiful traditional ritual, but a ritual nonetheless. I didn't even know who Hossain truly was. I thought he was this really poor innocent guy who was killed in war. It was much much later that I really learned who Hossain was and what he meant. In fact, this particular Ashura, I have taken upon myself to really get to know Hossain and all that he was and all that he meant and all that he signifies. Luckily, this year, I had the pleasure of commemorating Hossain in different ways.
First, I read the "Kitab Maqtal Al-Hossein" which chronicles the story of Ashura. I also spoke about Ashura with one of my really good friends and family. In a way, I kept Hussain in my conversations, a ritual that I definitely want to keep alive every year, every Ashura. In addition, I was blessed to have been given the chance to gather with the Sufi community in Oakland, California. This is the very reason for my trip to the Bay Area this past week. It was as amazing as I imagined it would be. We talked about Imam Hossain and the story of Ashura. We repeated "Zikrs" or Remembrance of God's Name in chanting form. I also got together with my Iranian community in East Bay and was able to repeat those same rituals from my childhood in New York, but in a very small scale, minus the "Ziarat Ashura" prayer.
Indeed, Ashura was especially holy for me and for everyone else. Ever 33 years, Ashura falls on the exact day of the ultimate Jewish holiday, Yom Kippur. This year, in my lifetime, thankfully, these two great days aligned. I attended this "High Holidays" event again at the Makam Shekhina Dargah, a community of Kohenet Hebrew Priestesses and Ateshi Ashk Sufis. It was a truly multicultural event. I sat alongside Jewish brothers and sisters and we prayed and chanted hebrew prayers from the Torah and listened to different "Aliyahs". For the second half of the event, once again, our beautiful Sheikh talked more about Ashura and its significance. We then chanted "Zikrs", prayed the noon & afternoon "Salaat". To end this beautiful event, we, as a group, were guided through a healing meditation as we listened to the beautiful sound of Ney. We sang together, we prayed together, and we dreamed together.
No comments:
Post a Comment