In Iran, A Shi'a Muslim Community Center Bears The Scars Of War
ZANJAN, Iran — Unlike Tehran, where the rhythm of daily life is visibly disrupted by the U.S.-Israeli war, the northwestern Iranian city of Zanjan continues, at first glance, to move at its usual pace. Nestled among rolling hills and orchards, its streets feel deceptively calm.
On the way to the Great Husseiniyeh, a community center used by Shia Muslims for religious gatherings, the taxi driver slows down about 165 feet (50 meters) before the site. The charred steel beams and the damaged dome are not yet visible from where he stops. He apologizes, saying he cannot bear to see the building where so many of his childhood and youth memories were formed, now burned and broken.
At 5 a.m. on March 31, the administrative and charitable complex of the Great Husseiniyeh of Zanjan was struck twice by the U.S. and Israel within minutes, the first since the war began in late February.
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The airstrikes completely destroyed the building and damaged surrounding homes and other parts of the Husseiniyeh complex. The attack left two people dead, both caretakers of the complex. Outside the complex, a photo of the two dead hangs on the wall. One of them, 30-year-old Ali Reza Sabhataloo, did not live to see his child, who was born on the day of his funeral.
Yet a closer look at the role of the Husseiniyeh within the social fabric of Zanjan, and more broadly among the Azeri-speaking community, reveals that it is far more than a religious structure. It is, in many ways, a social institution, a role that can be attributed to many religious spaces within Shia communities.
A site for history and ritual
Inside the Husseiniyeh, a stone manuscript reads that architectural elements and inscriptions in the complex date back approximately 200 years, according to Amin, a 21-year-old caretaker of the Husseiniyeh. Amin, who only wanted to be identified by his first name, served at the complex since childhood alongside his uncle. However, local residents, caretakers and trustees of the Husseiniyeh believe its origins extend closer to 400 years.
The Husseiniyeh complex consists of three main structures: Two prayer halls and one administrative building. While the prayer halls remain largely intact, the administrative building has been completely destroyed, with only twisted steel beams and scattered debris remaining.
Inside the older prayer halls, which sustained only minor damage such as shattered windows and broken door frames, traditional mourning artifacts used during Ashura ( a day of mourning for Shia Muslims to commemorate the martyrdom of the grandson of Prophet Muhammad) are displayed. Many of these items are over 150 years old and are carefully preserved in glass cases, according to Amin.
“These standards and symbols of Ashura remain in these cases throughout the year,” Amin said. “Only on Tasua and Ashura are they taken out, with great respect, for the mourning procession.”
A religious space and social institution
Although the administrative building did not carry the same historical or symbolic weight as the main halls, its importance lay in its function within the life of the city.
“All the social services of the Husseiniyeh were managed from here,” Mojtaba Shahami, the Husseiniyeh’s public relations officer, told Religion Unplugged, as he gestured towards the wreckage of the administrative building, where his own office was destroyed.
“This was where everything happened,” he added.
He described a large library that once stood inside the building. Part of it housed specialized religious texts and a number of rare manuscripts. Another section served as a public library, offering general and educational books to the residents of the city.
“The fire hasn’t fully gone out. What you smell is the books still burning,” he said, pointing toward a deep crater on the eastern side of the site, still emitting smoke seven days after the attack.
The building also housed the offices of the Husseiniyeh’s Qard al-Hasanah fund or Benevolent Loan, which is a non-profit, Islamic microfinance institution that provides interest-free loans to those in need and manages public donations to the institution.
Hossein, a local middle-aged man who came to observe the destruction, believes the targeting was deliberate.
“They want to cut the connection between people and the Husseiniyeh,” he told Religion Unplugged. “They want to disable its social role.”
Zahra Sadat, a young woman in her 20s who came to pray and see the damaged site, is visibly shaken.
“This Husseiniyeh is located in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city,” she told Religion Unplugged. “Many people, especially the most vulnerable, relied on its services.”
A middle-aged schoolteacher, who asked not to be identified by name, recalled spending much of her teenage years studying inside the Husseiniyeh because her home was too small.
“Even now,” she said, “whenever my students cannot afford medical treatment, I refer them to the Husseiniyeh’s clinic.”
That clinic, located adjacent to the administrative building, was also severely damaged.
Across the Shia world, religious institutions often serve significant social functions. Historically, they played a central role in community organization and public mobilization.
The Great Husseiniyeh of Zanjan stands as a particularly clear example. Beyond its religious significance, it is perceived as a form of community-based, non-governmental organization, sustained through public donations and charitable contributions.
Its historical role is also notable. From the Constitutional Revolution, which took place between 1905 and 1911 during the Qajar era and led to the establishment of a parliament in Iran, to the mobilization of volunteers during the 1980-1988 Iran-Iraq War, and more recently during the latest Israeli strikes on Iran, the Husseiniyeh has repeatedly functioned as a center for collective organization.
Observers noted that similar religious-social institutions in Lebanon and Gaza have previously been targeted in Israeli strikes, attacks that both targeted the physical structures and the social systems embedded within them.
Grief, anger and an unbroken presence
In the days following the attack, the area around the Husseiniyeh has remained crowded.
People continued to arrive, many from other parts of Zanjan and neighboring regions, drawn by their need to witness what happened. With black mourning flags and Iranian flags hanging over the damaged structures, the site has become a space of collective grief.
Farzaneh, a middle-aged housewife who lives nearby, said the blast shattered all the windows of her home. Houses closer to the Husseiniyeh, many of them old and built with basic materials, suffered severe damage and are now uninhabitable.
“Right after the rescue teams arrived, large numbers of people came here and began mourning,” the woman, who only wanted to be identified by her first name, told Religion Unplugged.
Another resident, who asked not to be named, said Husseiniyeh has not been empty for a single hour since the attack.
“People feel that the symbol of their city was targeted. This was an attack on our home. It’s as if every one of us was targeted,” the resident said.
Donations for reconstruction began almost immediately after the strike and that contributions came from Zanjan and other cities.
“We will rebuild it, after victory in this war, even better and more beautiful than before,” said Akram, a young mother in her 20s who came with her two sons.
“This is our home,” said the woman, who did not want to give her full name. “No one abandons their home when it is damaged.”
This article was published in collaboration with Egab.
Hanieh Qasemian works as a journalist and translator.