Early the next morning, New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani urged us in his press conference to continue living. So I got on the first train to Manhattan as I had originally planned. I didn’t know why I was going anymore, the original purpose now seemed so unimportant, but I knew very well why I wasn’t staying home. If I stayed, they won.
Once in the city I smelled the very particular smoke of Ground Zero as it wafted up Sixth Avenue. I will never, ever forget it. That’s when the rest of the loss truly hit me. I went to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to pray and weep with the faithful and frightened. I didn’t go near Ground Zero that day. I avoided anything south of the Village for fifteen years despite multiple trips into the city. I went back for the first time only just this year. We rode the elevator of the new Freedom Tower to the observation levels nearly a quarter of a mile above the city and looked out at the old view through new windows. It made me ask myself who am I today as compared to that young man so many years ago when another building had stood next to this spot. No elevator goes all the way to the Answer Department.
These traumatic events largely formed the basis for the contemporary American understandings of Islam and religious extremism we see today. It is often as twisted a view of Islam as that employed by the terrorists themselves. To garner support for war, faith is distorted to justify attack. Both the terrorists as well as many of our politicians do the exact same thing as one another, and for the exact same reasons. Each conceals an agenda having little to do with faith. But I did not have to sift through the world’s fearful portrayals in order to form my own relationship with Islam. My inherent curiosity about all faiths led me to be interested in what Muslims actually believe. What is their view on the Ultimate Reality? Alongside my lifelong exploration of Christianity I had explored Judaism, Paganism, Buddhism, and Hinduism. But now, in my late 40’s, I turn my heart toward Mecca to see what I might learn about God from there.
I made the choice to separate in my own mind the actions and ideologies expressed by violent extremists from the faith of Muhammad, peace be upon him. There are always those of every faith who use God as the unassailable argument to justify terrible deeds, yet the taking of life is not a religious act by any spiritual metric. History repeatedly shows us this. We should know better by now than to fall for it. In the face of temptation to engage hatred, we must turn our cheek toward love.
I already knew some of the basics of Islam. I knew Muhammad was regarded as its prophet, and that Muslims pause their work, sleep, or play five times a day for a ritual of prayer and supplication called the salat. They also physically orient themselves when they pray toward a cube shaped building called the Ka’ba located in a sacred mosque in the city of Mecca in Saudi Arabia. To convert to Islam, one pronounces an oath called the shahadah with intent, “I testify that there is no god but God and that Muhammad is a Messenger of God.” I knew these basics, yet, I wonder also about the rituals of the faith. How does the salat, as well as the other practices such as wudu (ritual washing), function as conduits to deeper conviction and spirituality?
I could imagine one might faithlessly go through the physical motions of the salat without a deeper connection, as is true for most faiths. Alternately, can one believe and not perform the rituals, as many Christians and Jews do? Are there lapsed Muslims? Islam is a fairly demanding religion, Judaism has 613 mitzvot, or commandments. How can one possibly fulfill it all? Perhaps God is visible in the struggle to discern which laws should be followed and why, making the impossibility of complete adherence a sign that adherence may not be the true goal. God compels us to sit with one another and discuss them.
I decided this year to commit to fasting, praying and studying the Quran in observance of the holy month of Ramadan, as a Christian. I may do it again some time. It was a very difficult but fulfilling contemplative experience; and one that a spiritual explorer such as myself could readily access. The ritual prayers and supplications of the salat are comforting and physically empowering. The regularity and procedures encourage cleanliness of body and heart, gratitude, mindfulness, and connection with God. The Arabic word salat is derived from a root meaning “connection,” and Muslims try not only to be connected to God, but also to live in a state of connectivity with their prophet. Muslims believe that Muhammad was the final and definitive prophet of God’s word which had been previously given in various ways to tens of thousands of prophets in the past—Adam, Noah, Abraham, and Jesus among them.
Allah means literally “the God” in Arabic. It is the unequivocal declaration of its monotheistic beliefs. Not a god but the God. The God of Abraham, God of the Jews, God of the Christians. In Islam Allah also has many other names such as al-Qarib, “the near one.” Yet, God is conceived of as separate from His creation, not a part of it. God is also al-Qahar, “the compeller,” compelling us to orient ourselves so as to arrive at gnosis. God’s mercy for creation is another core characteristic of God in Islam, and the divine names ar-Rahmān, “the all-merciful,” and ar-Rahīm, “the ever-merciful” are among the most repeated names of God in the Quran. But the Arabic words ar-Rahmān and ar-Rahīm have poor equivalents in other languages. For that reason all other language translations from the Arabic are considered commentary on the original. The meaning of the English word ‘mercy,’ for example, suggests that a punishment is being withheld which is otherwise deserved. While this may be an aspect of the Arabic words for mercy, the Arabic concept of mercy also includes, for instance, a mother’s particular enduring compassion for her child. This is in line with much of what Christian theology would also have us believe about God—so long as we also maintain a healthy fear of the alternatives.
I struggle both with the belief of God as separate from Its creation as I do of a God that is displaying love by withholding punishment. But by remaining humble to the existence of these concepts in the world, I stand a chance at listening more honestly to the deep, still voice within. Buddhism encourages us to maintain what is called the “beginner’s mind.” Experts have so many limitations. I would prefer to remain radically open.
Muslims believe Muhammad received the Quranic revelations from God through the intermediary of the angel Gabriel. I too believe that God speaks. Why shouldn’t I believe he spoke with an angelic entity? Many people have reported such things including those from my own faith. Am I qualified to conclude to whom Source has spoken or not? Hardly. Ultimately, only the wisdom of the message itself defines its own value and provenance. Hence, I use my own discernment to decide the value a message has for me. I use the God-given intellect we all possess, fitting the pieces together of various faiths to see where God speaks to me. Neither I nor any of us should speak for, or decide how God speaks to others.
When examining the theology of Islam, my beliefs differ as much from the Quran as they do from the Bible and the Tanakh. Each challenges me. Each also offers grace and opportunity to exhibit compassion toward one another. Each hints at a deeper life practice which promises an enhanced reality proportional to effort. Yet, I identify as a Christian for all intents and purposes, but why? I see equal wisdom from each of the three religions that have sprung from the lineage of Abraham as well as others. Why am I Christian? Is it because Islam and Judaism are harder? Maybe, but are they? Just try forgiving everyone who tailgates you and then let me know how easy the Christian life practice is. Is it simply because Christianity is my first spiritual language? I know that’s not entirely true, because I still thoughtfully chose it as an adult. But now that I’m here, what does that even mean? What I most want to know is: How does Christianity intersect with other religions as I study them? Where do these different/not-so-different traditions overlap?
The intersections themselves are in fact what most intrigues me. That’s where I feel the face of God is visible—in the multi-dimensional view of Wisdom as it is spoken through the mouths of many different prophets, Muhammad included. I cannot nor would not un-know Islam, not after it's made such an impact on me. I'm not sure, however, what that impact means when I am not moved to convert. What does it mean that I don't wish to become a Muslim, even though I believe much if not most of the proverbial checklist?
I see no reason to disbelieve that Muhammad was a prophet of God. The Quran is an enormous accomplishment regardless of its source. I personally have no difficulty believing that a divine being gave sacred information to a special person who was destined to share it with humanity to help save it from itself. Depending upon how one chooses to look at it, I see no reason to disbelieve that Muhammad was the final prophet to bring a revelatory scripture to humankind. (Now define ‘revelatory scripture.’ While you’re at it, define ‘final’ and ‘prophet,’ too.)
However, none of these aspects of faith strip away nor add additional value to the teachings on their own. Regardless of its reported source, if a message is sound and valuable, if it brings humanity closer together, it is sacred wisdom. Truth is what ultimately joins us together, lies are what ultimately tear us apart. When wisdom is misused, or twisted to authorize violence or subjugation, it is a likely corruption of the original. Despite the fact that the world appears as if it has been rent apart by religion, religion had nothing to do with it. Only men. None of them a prophet.
The Quran is understood by Muslims to be the final and encapsulating word of God. The Quran by its own account comes to clarify previous revelations, to tighten them, to provide a clearer transmission in a preserved language. Christianity doesn’t claim Jesus wrote or dictated his own teachings even though he was clearly well-read. It has been concluded, however, that much of the Gospels are translations of earlier documents now lost. The Hebrew Bible has a varied authorship mainly attributed to traditional historical figures not literally assumed to have actually written them. But, according to Islamic tradition, the Quran was dictated during Muhammad’s lifetime and by his own mouth. In addition to the Quran, Muhammad’s teachings, called hadith, are corroborated by chains of narration and are rigorously graded by early generations of Muslim scholars according to their reliability. None of this careful provenance automatically confers proof of a divine source, however—that is for the faithful to conclude for themselves—but in the instance of the Quran there are far fewer middlemen.
I am intrigued and fascinated by Islam partly because it deepens my relationship with the teachings and tales of Christianity and Judaism even more. Like the satisfying final installment of an epic trilogy, it has a validating, grounding, and reinforcing effect. The Quran is full of many of the same stories and cast of characters Christians and Jews well know. Reading the narratives of Jōb, and of Jesus and his mother, among others, told through a different tradition made them feel even more real. There are other comforts as well. Islam, like Judaism, both make me feel less out of place for not personally believing Jesus was God. Does that belief exclude me from Christianity? Some Christians would thinks so. But, also like Judaism and Islam, I do believe Jesus was a prophet, a mystic, and a healer. I do believe he existed. He was a changemaker who knew exactly what humanity must endure in order to survive the age. I believe he was someone with a direct connection to God. The recorded teachings indicate he was someone who was trying to get us to wake up and realize that we too are capable of such a connection.
There is more to be learned from the parallel exploration of the three sibling faiths of Abraham. Perhaps God is just waiting patiently for us to not only tolerate, but accept one another. Waiting for us to become curious about one another, and eventually to feel safe enough to reveal our hearts. At which point we might both teach as well as learn.
I am moved by Islam. And yet, I prefer to be an advocate rather than an adherent. I can focus on where these three sibling faiths—and others—theologically overlap. I have always believed that God shows Itself most clearly in the places where we all tend to agree. And in the process, where our faiths differ we are given a sacred opportunity for glimpses at the multifaceted view of God. But only if we are comfortable enough with our neighbor to share what we believe while remaining humble enough to hear clearly the beliefs of others. We must be hospitable so that our neighbor feels safe with us. Once we are comfortable enough to share, we learn there is added complexity and benefit to the message God has for us. We have each been given a sacred piece of a puzzle that only fits with deliberate and mindful collaboration.
It is the overlay of belief where the intentions of God might be most visible. Muhammad, like Jesus (peace be upon them both), were and are deserving of respect, emulation, and spiritual orientation. Muslims orient themselves toward the Ka’ba when praying, and they do it at the same times. There is a tenet in Christianity which says, "When two or more gather in my name, I am there." In Judaism a minyan, or quorum of ten or more, is required for public prayer. To me, these ideas are each about sacred orientation and relationship. They tell me God is trying to teach us that when we focus our collective energies as a group upon a particular idea at the same time, together, in and toward the same places, the sacred occurs. Jesus and Muhammad as well as the ancient Jewish teachings are all trying to get us to just be with one another and together focus on what truly matters. But they need to be seen in tandem to recognize it.
Through multiple prophets over the ages, God has taught us how to improve ourselves, relate with one another, and how to find the sacred amid even despair. I'm definitely a believer in that. But it likely won’t gain me entrance to Mecca as a non-Muslim. However, I shall nonetheless align my heart with the Ka’ba often and from time to time may even recite the opening chapter of the Quran, the Surat al-Fatiha, just to feel closer to God through the song of it.
My exploration of Islam shall continue. For in my view, God is an ongoing continuum of learning and exploration, never to be fixed in stone. An eternal story unfolding throughout the ages to an ever-increasingly sophisticated ear and heart of humanity. An ear and heart which hear the plural voice of God without conflict, without sorrow, without shame, proving that only Love exists and always has.
this is beautiful will. thank you for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lisa!
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