The roads were dusty and monotonous, but not without charm. The wideness of the horizon and the extraordinary luminosity made this part of Turkey—near Ankara—a very interesting region to travel through. I recall the mosque I went to in a small village. There it stood, white against the pale blueness of the sky—its minaret pointing to heaven. I left my shoes outside. As I walked in I was struck by the calm, serene atmosphere. It was vast, but not grandiose. It was simple and felt comfortable. The Oriental rugs covering the floor added a touch of beauty. In the silence and peace of this edifice, you felt like communing with God.
The simplicity of the mosque contrasted very much with another house of worship I visited last year in Moscow. It was a beautiful Russian Orthodox basilica, with many colorful onion domes and brightly painted walls. Though it was fairly dark inside, it was not gloomy. Far from it. Many candles and small lamps illumined the place and made the ornate and colorful decorations stand out. Gold, deep red, and many vivid colors added to the warm atmosphere. But more striking still were the voices. Singing was an important part of the religious service, and the extraordinarily deep and melodious voices filled the air with warmth. Simplicity is not what struck me, but rather enthusiasm, conviction, and love. You couldn't help but think of the beauty of God's creation, and of the strength of His love.
The importance of denominational identification and religious labels fades when we see more of the one God.
