Al-Salam Mosque is a chill, bare room that begs to go unnoticed. Street light dimly filters through the thick layers of blue paint and grime that coat all four windows. Sound echoes off the barren walls, and the ceiling leaks so badly that buckets must be placed strategically when it rains. The only furniture is a single high-backed wooden chair, a place of honor for such spiritual leaders as Sheik Omar Abdel-Rahman. For most of its eight years, the cavernous mosque on the third floor of a white brick building along Jersey City's Kennedy Boulevard has attracted scant interest. "We are...
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