Muslim Leader Forges Interfaith Accord
Popular Imam Boosts Islam in Md., Beyond

By Fredrick Kunkle
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, December 18, 2005; C06

He is a devout Muslim who speaks both Arabic and Hebrew. He quotes the Torah almost as well as the Koran and once protested the threatened removal of crucifixes at Georgetown University. He is a Palestinian by birth who believes in Israel's right to exist.

He wishes that the media paid more attention to his message that Islam, Christianity and Judaism share more similarities than differences, but he is not always good at returning their calls. He keeps a couple of bottles of cologne in his Toyota Camry because his 14-hour days keep him on the go and, well, you never know when you need a quick splash of Hugo Boss or Gucci.

Yahya Hendi is not your average imam.

At a time when his adopted country is engaged in a struggle with terrorism driven by Islamic extremists, Hendi, senior imam of the Islamic Society of Frederick County, preaches interfaith understanding and calls on fellow Muslims to rescue their religion from extremists.

That message has helped him open doors to senior government officials searching for ways to build better relationships in the Islamic world. The State Department calls on him to host visiting Islamic clergy, and news organizations dial him up for comment, usually after a terrorist attack.

Part of the attention comes with being the first full-time Muslim chaplain at GU, which also was the first such post in the United States. Hendi teaches theology there and also serves as a chaplain at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda. And he teaches an introduction to Islam class in Rockville for Johns Hopkins University's Evergreen Society for older adults.

As the senior imam of the Islamic Society, Hendi also has shaped the growing Islamic presence in the outer Maryland suburbs. After years of holding services in a doctor's waiting room, a hotel ballroom and wherever else there was space, his congregation recently opened the doors of its first permanent mosque. Hendi lives with his wife and four children in Frederick.

The Islamic Society's $2 million mosque -- along with its growing list of activities, including Arabic instruction and classes about the Koran -- opened in October. Set in a renovated farmhouse on Key Parkway, the mosque has prompted Muslims to relocate from Gaithersburg and as far away as Baltimore, said mosque members and assistant imam Reda Sallam.

Part of the draw, there and in classes, is Hendi.

"He has such a dynamic personality," said Mary Lou Fox, a Roman Catholic who is a student in his adult education class.

"I went up to the imam and said, 'I'm not getting the feeling Allah would love me. Do you believe Allah loves you?' And he said, 'Yes, Allah does love you,' " said Fox, 62, of Potomac, adding that Hendi then offered passages from the Koran to support his views.

"His ability to understand your religion when you ask questions and relate your questions to your religion and Islam is fantastic," Fox said.

'You Must Resist Evil With Good'

On a recent day, after removing their shoes and placing them in shelves marked for men and women, a growing crowd of people entered the Frederick County mosque, arranging themselves into three groups for Friday prayers.

At the front were men only, some immigrants from Egypt, Pakistan and the Israeli-occupied territories. Attired in business clothes or casual dress, they knelt and pressed their foreheads to the floor in silent prayer.

In the rear were their wives and daughters. All but one was wearing a headscarf known as a hijab , and the other wore a black veil that admitted only fleeting glimpses of her eyes.

And in the middle, incongruously, sat about twice as many men and women in three rows of folding chairs. An air of anticipation settled over the guests, all of whom-- except an atheist or two -- were Jews or Christians.

Some, even those who had visited mosques in Europe or the Middle East, had never attended an Islamic service in the United States.

At 1:30 p.m. on the dot, as a man intoned the Islamic call to prayer, into the mosque strode Hendi.

" Salaam aleikum ," Hendi said, his black robes fluttering. That morning, suicide bombers had struck two Shiite mosques in Iraq, killing nearly 100 people. Make no mistake, he told the congregation: Killing is counter to any Islamic teaching. He reminded the group that the three great Western religions share more similarities than differences. Above all, he said, Judaism, Islam and Christianity demand that their followers honor the lives of others.

"The Koran goes so far as to look after the dignity of a tree," Hendi said. "In other words, you must resist evil with good."

At the conclusion, he asked his congregation to mingle with his guests, urging Muslims to use the Hebrew greeting "shalom."

But it was too late. His elderly students were already flocking around him as if he were a celebrity. They clapped him on the back and praised his message of unity.

"He is a fantastic teacher!" gushed Irene Schulkin, 77, a real estate broker from Bethesda. "He travels with Karen Hughes! He says there should be peace between the Jews and the Muslims. We all thought it was the most interesting course Evergreen ever offered."

Actually, Hendi has not traveled with Hughes, the undersecretary of state for public diplomacy and public affairs who serves as President Bush's emissary to the Muslim world and beyond. But he has met with Hughes, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, Bush and other government officials to discuss creating interfaith dialogues with Muslim communities here and abroad. He also met with President Bill Clinton and members of Clinton's administration.

Now a U.S. citizen, Hendi came to the United States 17 years ago. He likes to tell people that his name is the Arabic version of John the Baptist's.

After most of his guests departed, Hendi shed his black robe, known as an abaya , for a rumpled charcoal suit. "Now I can go back to who I am," he said.

Asked where he comes from, Hendi, 39, replied, "I am from dust." He studied his listener's face, a smile playing on his own. "In the Bible it says we are all dust to dust."

But the story is only a little more complicated.

Politics and a Plea to End Extremism

A week after the interfaith gathering at his mosque, he was back behind the lectern for the Hopkins Evergreen Society.

One hand in his pocket, a bud microphone on his lapel, Hendi wanted to talk about Islamic ethics, but he kept getting sidetracked by politics. He found himself, again, explaining the term "jihad." Terrorists, he said, have hijacked the word, which can mean any spiritual struggle.

"I do believe that what I'm doing for you is a form of jihad, because jihad is about knowledge," he said. "For those who sit listening, it is also a jihad, because you're sitting here struggling to listen to me with my accent."

People chuckled at his wisecrack. But the tone changed when a student pressed him to explain why the Koran seems able to support extremist views.

"I feel you're whitewashing some things," said Paula Wiseman, 61, a Potomac resident whose parents survived the Holocaust.

Hendi said every religion has blood on its hands. Then he told a story from his own life.

One morning, when he was about 8, his father asked him to gather figs for the family's breakfast from their farm on the West Bank. Hendi set out, hastening to collect the fruit before it became too warm in the sun. But before he reached the grove, he ran into rolls of barbed wire.

"Go back," an Israeli soldier told him. "I need to get figs for my father," Hendi recalled tearfully begging the soldier. "And he said, 'If you don't go away, I'll shoot you,' or something around that idea. And so of course I had to leave."

The auditorium fell silent.

Later, Hendi expanded on those remarks: "I don't want my children to die. I don't want Jewish children to die. I don't think God is a real estate agent. If we are really the children of God, I don't think He would want us to fight over anything."

And then Hendi got into his Toyota and put a heavy foot down on the gas pedal, late for a luncheon at the State Department celebrating the 10-year anniversary of peacemaking efforts in the Balkans.

© 2005 The Washington Post Company