Mosque Has a U.S. Flavor : Religion: Members of the 10,000-family Islamic Center combine worship with efforts to fight misunderstanding of their faith.

Two days after the outbreak of the Gulf War, more than 1,000 worshipers gathered for weekly prayer, or juma, at the Islamic Center of Southern California, where immigrants, converts and native-born Muslims practice an innovative blend of Islam and American-style social activism.

The prayers were in Arabic, but the sermon, or khutba, was in English. It was devoted to the challenges that American Muslims face at a time when the United States is fighting a war against a predominantly Muslim enemy.

“We have four major responsibilities,” said the speaker, Dr. Maher Hathout, an Egyptian-born physician. “To our faith, to reveal the truth about it; toward our Muslim community, to guard it against stereotyping or abuse or bigotry; toward our country, America, by always trying to make it the peace-loving, fair America . . . ; toward the truth, the demand from the media to live up to what is expected in a democracy.”

Hathout had a practical announcement too: “We are calling on the President of the United States to state clearly that American Muslims should be protected from any threat or any stereotyping.”

A cable to that effect went to the White House this week, and Hathout said he expects it to be backed up by a surge of letter writing by Muslims. He urged Muslims to report any threats or harassment.

The message was typical of the Islamic Center, whose leaders are not shy about preaching social activism and the teachings of the Prophet Mohammed while claiming a piece of the American dream.

With a membership of about 10,000 families, the Islamic Center on South Vermont Avenue near 3rd Street is the largest mosque in Southern California and one of the largest in the country. It is also one of the most politically active, with recent campaigns that include an effort to improve the image of Muslims in school textbooks, support for State Sen. Art Torres (D-Los Angeles) in his bid for a seat on the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors, and the monitoring of media coverage of Middle East events.

So far, reporting of the Gulf War has been “very sterile” from a Muslim point of view, said Salam Al-Marayati, director of the Muslim Public Affairs Council. The council, a lobbying organization, was launched by the Islamic Center and is affiliated with several other mosques.

“We don’t see the effects of psychological terror incurred from round-the-clock bombing,” he said. “We don’t realize the repercussions this has on the people of Iraq who did not take part in the decision to invade Kuwait.”

Al-Marayati said the demand for Islamic Center representatives to give interviews, appear on television and address other organizations has tripled since the war started.

“There’s a common misconception that Saddam Hussein represents Islam, or that Muslims supported the invasion of Kuwait, which is also incorrect,” he said.

Indeed, Muslims are quick to point that no more than 20% of the faithful are Arabs--the majority of believers live in Asia.

Leaders of the center take pride in its international flavor, with members from as far away as Somalia and Sri Lanka and as near as only a few blocks away, where butcher shops and restaurants serving halal (ritually prepared) food have opened.

Speakers visit high schools and universities and rally like-minded Muslims in cities where mosques generally reflect the ethnic origins of their constituents, be they African-Americans or immigrants from Islamic countries.

The Islamic Center falls on the “progressive” side of the religious spectrum, said Prof. Yvonne Y. Haddad, an Islamic specialist at the University of Massachusetts.

“They’re sort of the equivalent of Reform Judaism . . . or if we’re putting it in Christian terms, they’d be Presbyterian rather than Pentecostal,” she said.

Part of the center’s appeal is its educational system, she said, “the way they teach Islam as a religion that is . . . in communication with other religions.” Also significant, Haddad said, is its “dynamic leadership, which is both Islamic and emphasizes the importance of being American.”

The center also publishes Minaret, a nationally circulated magazine that takes up questions such as the proper meaning of the Arabic word jihad.

“A translation of jihad as holy war is misleading and deceptive,” Fathi Osman, the mosque’s resident scholar, said in a recent issue. “It gives the impression that jihad aims to declare war against non-Muslims all over the world in order to impose Islam as . . . a faith or as a political system by force.”

Instead, he said, “Peace . . . is always spread by Muslims through their greetings in this world and the world to come.”

Representatives of the center joined with Christian and Jewish leaders to hold an interfaith service for peace three days before the war began, and they have scheduled another for a Santa Monica church later this month.

There is also a weekly television program that goes to viewers in nine U.S. cities and several foreign countries. It is seen by U.S. forces in the Persian Gulf over the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.

The program’s mission, with shows that include Koran readings and interviews with rabbis, imams and Christian clerics, is to explain the faith to believers and non-believers alike, said producer Nazir Khaja, an Indian-born physician.

At the mosque, which is a renovated insurance company storehouse, there are lectures for adults and Sunday school classes for children.

Teen-agers in a youth group discuss current events, go on ski trips and even fall in love, something that the rigid leaders of some Moslem countries would find shocking.

When he was young, said Burok Osgur, 17, a Glendale High School student, his Turkish immigrant parents had to drag him to Sunday school. But now, he said, “It’s my choice. I enjoy coming here,” especially since he recently became engaged to a young woman he met at the youth group.

At a recent juma, one male follower donned an apricot-colored silk robe and lemon yellow slippers, others wore sweaters or business suits, another slipped in at the last minute in the greasy blue shirt and pants of a Chevron service station attendant.

They took off their shoes and stored them in cupboards along the wall, kneeling to take their places on the beige-colored wall-to-wall carpet.

Behind them, in a separate room, more than 100 women sat on Persian rugs. Some wore everyday dresses set off by plain white headdresses, others flowing robes or the brightly colored leggings and long tops of the Indian subcontinent.

Despite the separation, women feel that they play an important part at the Islamic Center, said Nasreen Haroon, president of the Women’s Assn., which organizes dinners, picnics, marriage receptions and other social events.

Congregants come from four continents, she said, but in Los Angeles they learn to adapt.

“Some Arabs feel if a woman’s hair is not covered, she’s not a good woman, which is foreign to us,” said Haroon, who comes from Pakistan.

At a multiethnic mosque such as the Islamic Center, she said, “They realize that we people who don’t cover our hair are decent people. It seems minor but it stands for much more. It’s very open-minded, like a regular U.N.”