A Muslim Call to Jewish Prayer

I’m only half-asleep as I hear the muezzin’s call to prayer resounding from a loudspeaker in the half-light just before dawn: “Allaaaaaaaahu akhbar!” Lying in bed, still jet-lagged the day after my arrival in Saudi Arabia, I know I can’t sleep anymore, so I get out of bed to recite my own morning prayers.

In the semi-darkness of the bedroom, I put on my Irish tweed cap because I don’t have any kippah—it might have aroused suspicion at customs. Neither do I have any tallit or tefillin to put on, because the customs inspector would have seized them. So, I skip the familiar blessings for tallit and tefillin and begin instead with the rofei kol basar blessing for the body and the la’asok b’divrei Torah blessing for the gift of Torah. I have no prayerbook, another forbidden article in this kingdom, so I close my eyes and recite what I can from memory, murmuring quietly because in my paranoia I imagine someone might be listening.