I attended the Eid prayer in Hamburg this year (2009). Having previously decided to visit different mosques in the city, I decided to visit a new one for Eid. Hamburg has an interesting webpage that lists all the mosque in the city. With these addresses and Google maps, and of course the U-bahn, I was on my way.
Like many mosques in the city, this was also in the vicinity of the Main Railway Station. Located on the first floor, men and women walked up together to their respective rooms. The men's room filled up quickly. The women had disappeared (from my view at least), except an occasional reference from the preacher. The mosque had a powerful sound system that ensured the message flowed in one way.
A man (I learnt later that he was also the Imam) soon approached the mike, and reminded the congreation to read the takbir as loudly as possible. The Takbir in Medina, he reminded us, reverberated through the city in the time of the Prophet. The takbir consisted of a few lines praising God. They declared the greatness of God, and the praise due to him for one's accomplishments. It was recited at the end of the pilgrimage (hajj), symbolizing the completion of this most important ritual.
With this advice, people started reading the takbir, filling the mosque quickly with a beautiful chorus. It was not led by anyone, but it was hard not to be impressed with the way in which everyone, from baritone to soprano, melted into each other. It was not difficult to imagine the takbir rising from every mosque around the globe, and flowing into the chorus emerging from the pilgrims in Mecca. It reminded me of the Swedish film "As it is in Heaven" of the beauty of pure sound.
But this was unfortunately not to last. Within a few minutes, another person took the mike, and told the congregation that they should not recite together. They should recite individually as loud as possible, but not in unison! Adding a small tweak to the advice of the Imam was quiet disastrous.
For the next five minutes, there were about 400 men in that room trying to keep out of sync with each other! This was probably the most akward attempt at not doing the obvious and the beautiful.
Thankfully, someone with a presence of mind got hold of a mike and started reciting loudly. The congregation then followed him in the lead, and keeping in step. No-one objected, even though I thought that one of the brave young men sitting in the front of the moque would stop this nonsense. Perhaps it was because the third intervention did not come from the mike. The last man did not take the floor at the front of the mosque. Concealed from the view of most, he could lead the popular sentiment.
Sitting in the mosque, I felt reassured that, after some dispute of how to read the takbir, the popular will of the people had take over. In many other places, like most mosques where I grew up, the symphony of the people had been banished for good. There, the argument had been to read the takbir quietly. Actually, the instruction was to recite it audibly only for oneself. After successive admonitions, a hush and a muffled drone has overtaken these mosques, leaving only the voice of the preachers. And boy, do they preach!
In this Hamburg mosque, in contrast, the popular will had won. It had reasserted itself against the directions coming from the mike. And it had done so, not by quoting yet a third proof from the past, but by asserting its own tradition.
Thinking back now, I realized that there was a difference between the takbir led by no-one, and that led by someone. The first was a spontaneous wave, and the second was directed. It was a matter of time when the people's voices will be suppressed by the mike. More technology and more tradition will ensure this.
The sermon confirmed this. A fascinating reading of the story of the Prophet Ebrahim (Abraham) in Hamburg at the beginning of the 21st century, it will have to wait.
Now, I want to continue thinking about the power and management of sound.
