The previous entries have been from Julia, but I decided to try my hand at recording reflections from our trip:
From Istanbul: Day #5
I miss the quiet.  This is not surprising if you know me, but what's interesting is that when we first moved to Northfield, MN from Rochester, NY I found the quiet rather unsettling.  I was used to the constant noises of a big city and falling asleep without them seemed almost creepy.  What was going on outside my window?  I couldn't tell.
Now, 16 years later, I have adjusted and am fully attached to the relative quiet of my small town. Life in Istanbul (or Athens for that matter) is very different.  Life is especially different in Istanbul because not only is there the constant rumbling of city noises, we are awakened every morning around 5 am by the call to prayer from the local mosque.  This is a particular kind of sound, the kind that says, "Pay attention. Something important is happening."  The hum of motors, the honking taxis, the hollering salesmen, all of these are the everyday noises of cities that I have become accustomed to at one time or another in my life.  Hearing the chant of a call to prayer broadcasted via loudspeaker from a minaret stands out. I notice it every time I hear it. Perhaps I will eventually learn to tune it out, the way people who live next to a railroad learn to tune out the sound of a passing train. For now, it still catches my attention several times a day.
What does it say about a society that broadcasts the reminder to pray 5 times a day?  It's an interesting question for me to ponder. As a person who values prayer as a spiritual discipline, I can appreciate the challenge of stopping daily at regular, predictable times to say a prayer and be mindful of the presence of God wherever I happen to be. At it's best, this sound could be a helpful reminder to make room in one's life for regular prayer, a prompt to be mindful. Right now, at day #11 in Turkey, it's still working that way for me.  When I hear it, I think about all the people who are taking a prayer break.  I often whisper one myself. Does it stay that way for people who hear it everyday, week after week, month after month, year after year?  Or does it go the way of railroad noise and taxis honking? Is it a comforting noise? An annoying one? Or is it something that people just stop hearing altogether?
We visited a mosque several days ago and the main challenge in entering was to make sure that all the women in the group were covered up appropriately.  Head, hair, shoulders, arms to the elbows, and legs all had to be covered by scarves, skirts or pants. We obliged.  Inside we could see the separate screened-off areas where women could go to pray.  Apparently being covered is not enough. Physical separation from men within the worship space is also required to maintain proper spiritual behavior.  From my perspective, this not only gives men a distorted sense of their power, but also their weakness.  It gives women a distorted view of their power, and hence, their weakness.  If a man sat next to a woman, would he be able to pray?
As an American Christian, I want to be culturally and religiously sensitive to the beliefs and practices of Muslims I encounter here. I consider myself to be a respectful person, one who listens and considers others fairly. But if I am truly honest, when I observe Muslim culture in action, it's a lot harder than I thought to limit my judgmental attitudes and suspicions. It's not just me. The clashes between Christians and Muslims have been going on for a long time. The work of getting along and trusting each other is as important now as it ever has been. Traveling to Turkey I have a much better understanding of the complexity of those challenges. I hope I can continue to hear the call to prayer as long as we are in this place, and perhaps something of it will stick with me when I leave.