A Time to Introspect
Inside the gurdwara, for some, the attack prompted a re-examination of their faith and their role within the Sikh community.
His hands folded calmly in his lap, Manminder Sethi is at home in the gurdwara he visits twice a day. A bright orange turban rests on his head, a steel band on his right wrist. The band is one of five articles of faith that serve as reminders of the principles of Sikhism. Sethi is at once confident and relatable as he sits without a hint of a slouch in a collapsible chair in the now-silent room where worshipers ate together just hours before.
“I think all this happened for us to introspect,” he says. “This is what I think. So there’s a great opportunity for us to first peek into ourselves. Are we following the gurus’ teachings? Then only I have a right to tell you what I am. If I myself I don’t know, what I am going to tell you?”
Later he would explain that “temple” does not encompass the meaning of “gurdwara,” which he translates into English to mean “guru’s place.” And “guru” refers to the Sikh divine message, which was embodied by just 10 humans and immortalized in the Sikh scripture, the Guru Granth Sahib. Anyone is welcome in the guru’s place.
Today new faces are more common. Hardeep Ahuja, his wife and 5-year-old daughter now switch between the Brookfield and Oak Creek gurdwaras on Sundays—the result of a moment of introspection.
Photo by: Aimee Katz
“I usually was coming every four months or five months up until the shooting,” Ahuja says. “And then that really woke me up. Prior to this, I always felt that religions were bad. I always felt that religions separated people, you know? And I would just look at the world and the news and just feel like so many of our fights were because of God and religion, and I just didn’t want a piece of it.”
Then one Sunday morning, his phone rang four or five times within an hour. “Urgent.” “Call me right away,” the text messages read that morning. Something was wrong.
“I just felt lost, and I didn’t know what to do, to be honest. I just knew that we should go [to the gurdwara],” he says, one arm around little Jasleen, who bounces happily on her dad’s lap.
But the roads were blocked off, forcing the family home instead. They called relatives and Ahuja’s father, a common face at the gurdwara. The advice Ahuja received surprised him: Pray for the shooter. The faith teaches there is God in everyone.
These kinds of conversations, seeing his community on the news, led to a life-changing moment. He points to a more patient relationship with his co-workers and a change in how he raises Jasleen.
Kids and other people “don’t do what you tell them, they do what they see. So I realized if I want [my daughter] to be good, I have to be good. If I want her to eat right, I have to eat right. If I want her to volunteer, I have to volunteer. It’s made me talk less and do more,” he says.
Now Jasleen practices seva—service—by sweeping the floors with him on Thursdays, and they switch between the gurdwaras in Brookfield or Oak Creek on Sundays. His wife volunteers now, too, at the gurdwara in Brookfield, closer to their home.
