Hope in the Month of Rajab

All praise is due to God alone. We have just entered the month of Rajab, one of the four sacred months in the hijri calendar. Just as God established sanctuaries on the earth, like Makkah and Madinah, so too did He establish the months of Muharram, Rajab, Dhul Qadah, and Dhul Hijjah as sanctuaries within time. These months are times when the blessings placed within our worship becomes amplified and when wrong actions are especially discouraged.

Rajab also marks the beginning of the season leading up to our month of fasting, Ramadan. At the beginning of Rajab, the Messenger of God ﷺ would pray, "O Allah, bless us in Rajab and Sha'ban, and deliver us into Ramadan." He also said that "Rajab is the month of Allah, Sha'ban is my month, and Ramadan is the month of my community." Ask anyone who has been Muslim for a few years or more and they will likely tell you that Ramadan has a way of sneaking up on us. It is easy to neglect preparing for our fast, either through worship or making intentions, until the final nights of Sha'ban. Yet the Prophet ﷺ signals to us that now is the time to begin preparing our hearts.

One of the best ways we can spend the month of Allah is by making deliberate efforts to draw nearer to Him through tawbah, turning back to Him, and istighfar, seeking His forgiveness. In other words, Rajab is an excellent opportunity for repentance. Yes, I know this hardly sounds like fun. When we hear words like this, our minds tend to jump to taking rigorous moral inventories, feelings of shame, and the painful process of rectifying ourselves. But before you click away to read something that sounds more upbeat, like Faith and Happiness, consider this: tawbah and istighfar are profound acts of hope. To perform them, you have to truly believe that God not only is capable of forgiving you, but also that He wants to do so. You have to realize that your perspective on your mistakes and shortcomings is not God's perspective. For you, they cause regret and anxiety; for God, they are easy to wipe away without any reckoning. Repenting from a place a hope requires only that we believe what God has to say about it: "Whoever comes to Me walking, I will come to them running. Whoever meets Me with enough sins to fill the earth, not associating any partners with Me, I will meet them with as much forgiveness.”

So I would like to challenge anyone reading this to do something, and to do it with a heart full of hope in God's mercy. Begin by reflecting on that one sin that you've never been able to leave. The one that you believe defines you. The one that you abandoned giving up long ago. The one that, frankly, you can't imagine your life without. We all have something like this, whether it is something we do to harm ourselves or to harm others. On some level, we have all become comfortable with lowering our standards for ourselves. But this is the opposite of hope--it is despair. So next ask yourself: which one do you choose? Hope or despair? Have the courage to choose hope! Turn to God and seek His forgiveness with the certainty that He will forgive you and turn you away from from your sin.

Next, let's address the nagging voice in the back of your mind right now. The one that's probably reminding you that you've been here before, that you're all too familiar with this cycle. That's your nafs, the lower self. You just put it under a lot of stress because you resolved to give up something that it finds deeply satisfying. But here's the secret about the lower self: it is not all of you, even though it pretends to be. You have a higher self. This is where your repentance and your hope in God's mercy come from. Knowing this is the first step to not becoming overwhelmed when its nagging voice crops up. You are bigger than your desire to sin. We can take practical steps to act from this higher place, and return to God's mercy instead of returning to our sins.

First, don't entertain the voice of your nafs. How often do we hear it and immediately accept it as our own true voice? Instead, talk back to it. Say, "I am going to make it to the end of Ramadan without obeying you. And it is going to feel *good* to do it." This will give you a concrete goal to work towards. It will reaffirm your intention. It also names the very real joy that comes from having your hope validated. Just as importantly, it breaks you out of the habit of avoiding or even cowering before your nafs. Invite it in, have a good look at it, then send it on its way.

Second, whenever your lower self does start to overwhelm you, name something that you're grateful for. Your nafs has a way of tricking you into believing that you won't be happy unless you obey it immediately. But you already have much to be grateful for. Gratitude diffuses these tense moments by reminding us again that we are bigger than our desires and by pointing us directly toward other sources of happiness in our lives.

Third, reward your nafs with something it desires that is permissible. Do so whenever you whenever you require a break from trying to tame it. Ultimately, our lower self is not our enemy. It is a part of us. There is no beating it--we can only integrate into a life of worship.

Finally, remember that this process will end (God willing, in success). You're embarking on a marathon that will have a finish line, Eid al-Fitr, the celebration after Ramadan. Hope is the key to this journey. Set out with the certainty that God's mercy and forgiveness is greater than your shortcomings, and you will see the proof in your own life.

O Allah, bless us in Rajab and Sha'ban, and deliver us into Ramadan!

Obeying Your Heart This Holiday Season

All praise and gratitude belong to God alone. We have just completed our seventh Newcomers Retreat here at Taleef's Chicago campus. Newcomers is our yearly gathering for those who have recently embraced Islam. It's chance to learn the basics of our religion and build relationships with others on this journey to know God and His Messenger ﷺ. For me, it's become an opportunity to see Islam again with a "beginner's mind" by looking at it through the eyes of our attendees. It snaps me out of all the ways the religion becomes yet another routine of my day-to-day existence by returning me the world of endless questions and infinite possibilities I experienced when I first embraced it. So, for any attendees from any previous years who are reading this, thank you. May God continue to increase you in your knowledge and sincerity. Ameen.

A very common theme of our attendees' questions was the struggle to implement the guidance our religion provides without giving up our own innate sense of justice and mercy. Yes, we came to Islam looking for guidance. Yes, we acknowledge that we don't have all the answers. But where does that leave our own moral compass, our own sense of right and wrong? These questions become particularly poignant when it comes to our families.

One sister informed us during a Q&A session that someone had told her it's impermissible to pray for our deceased non-Muslim family members. She wanted to be obedient to God's commands but this one left her incredibly distraught and anxious--not only about her ability to pray for her family, but also about the implications for her faith in a merciful God. One of our scholars in attendance had to explain that this is a misperception based upon God's command to the early Muslims not to pray for particular Meccans, like Abu Jahl and Abu Lahab, who had died in a state of disbelief while oppressing, torturing, and killing members of the early Muslim community. It is not a general rule applied to all non-Muslims, and, in fact, assuming that God's mercy encompasses our non-Muslim family is part of having a good opinion of Him. The relief on this sister's face as she received this explanation was palpable. Yet it still bothered me that she still felt she had to be given permission to be merciful with her family.

I pulled the sister aside after the Q&A and asked her how that explanation made her feel. "Great! It was such a relief. I knew something felt off but I was afraid my desire to pray for them was coming from a place of selfishness." So I asked, "When else have you ever considered it selfish to do good for your family?" She didn't have to answer. We both knew the answer was "never." But this half-educated idea that she couldn't pray for her own family, which was likely offered to her in a casual, offhanded manner, became a magnet attached to her moral compass. It cast doubt on her entire notion of right and wrong. What I told her next is what I really want to say to everyone reading this: "Don't doubt your own desires for goodness and mercy. These feelings aren't random; God put them in your heart. They're genuine forms of guidance."

Many of us will face similar questions and struggles as we venture home to visit our families this holiday season. Should I visit my family for Christmas? Can I be present as they're blessing the food in the name of Jesus? What if I have children and I'm afraid being present will confuse them? These questions are important and finding appropriate answers to them is indeed our duty as Muslims. But let's take appropriate mercy on ourselves first by acknowledging that the anxiety we often feel around these questions is itself a sign that our hearts are in the right place. We want to obey God. Therefore we are beginning with excellent intentions. Secondly, let's consider that maintaining family ties and being absolutely gentle and merciful with our parents is a command that God repeats frequently throughout the Quran. We know best what it means to be merciful with our families. We know which actions and words will break their hearts. We must be confident in our abilities to be truly Prophetic.

This should empower us to obey our hearts this holiday season. And this is why I won't provide any specific advice on how to deal with these issues. Your own sense of how to navigate family relations while remaining obedient to God is perfectly valid. Instead, I'd simply like to provide the encouragement that some will need to accomplish this. The very language that God's revelation provides around right and wrong validates our intuitions. God instructs us frequently to "command what is right and forbid what is wrong." The Arabic for "what is right" is معروف (ma’ruf), literally "what is well-known." Likewise, "what is wrong," منكر (munkar), literally means what is not known or well-recognized. The language God uses here validates something that is very important for us to remember. This is our fitrah, or our created disposition that naturally inclines toward what is good and recoils from evil. Our intuitions of right and wrong are valid because they come from knowledge that God placed within us that is good and pleasing to Him. Everyone has a fitrah; therefore "what is good" is "well-known" to everyone at some level. This is why the Messenger of God ﷺ tells us, "I have been sent to perfect good character." He did not say "to teach good character" because we already know what is good. Islam almost always heals and revitalizes; it very rarely makes amputations or transplants.

A Companion of the Prophet named Sufyan bin Abdullah, may God be pleased with him, once came to the Messenger of God ﷺ and said, “O Messenger of God, teach me something about Islam so that I will not need to ask of anyone after you.” The Messenger of God ﷺ said, “Say, ‘I have faith in God,’ and then be upright.” The Prophet ﷺ did not tell Sufyan how to be upright. He simply commanded him to be upright, with full faith that Sufyan knew what this meant and how to do it. Being upright, to speak literally, requires us to stand on our own two feet, to strike a balance, and to hold our heads high. No one else can do it for us. God created us "in the most excellent of forms" both outwardly and inwardly. Let's thank Him by using these gifts this holiday season.

Prophetic Manners and Refinement

Last year I came across a recipe for Louisiana-style gumbo that sounded absolutely delicious. I'm not much of a cook, but the author of this recipe wrote about gumbo with a passion and depth of knowledge that was inspiring. "If I can just follow his recipe, I'll make something that's at least pretty good," I thought. The key to great gumbo is the roux, a mixture of flour and fat (butter in my case) that provides the rich, dark base of the dish. But it's easy to burn roux and end up with something resembling wet ashes instead of the thick, chocolatey paste you need. I learned this the hard way by burning my roux twice. Both times I followed the recipe--stir on low heat for an hour--and both times I came up short. I read and reread my recipe a dozen times. I checked other recipes to see if mine was missing something. But I had the right instructions. The problem, I eventually realized, was myself. I wasn't treating my roux properly. It needs constant attention and care. So on my third attempt I turned the heat as low as possible, stirred constantly, and watched as it bubbled and turned from a floury white to a deep brown. Finally, I ended up with something that looked and smelled beautiful. And it led to some pretty delicious gumbo.

Many of us live our lives in the same way that I tried to make my gumbo: we follow the instructions and expect results. We do everything right on paper. But still we fall short, especially in our relationships, because of our own haste or roughness. It's easy to gather the right ingredients and follow the rules. We can visit our parents, pray on time, or cook a meal for our family. However, it's much more difficult to truly give something of ourselves as we do these things. Can we bring joy to our parents when we visit? Are we present with God as we pray? Do our families feel nourished and loved when we feed them? Going this extra mile requires presence, care, and genuine generosity. These things are the essence of Prophetic adab, or manners and refinement.

Adab is a word we often translate as "manners" or "etiquette." However, it's much more than yet another set of instructions for us to follow in life. Yes, we have specific etiquettes around greeting others, drinking water, or giving charity. Yet these are simply expressions of presence, care, and generosity with which our beloved Prophet ﷺ lived. True Prophetic adab is what spills out of our hearts spontaneously into our relationships, worship, and mundane tasks, when we act from a place of gratitude to God. It is for this reason that I like to translate adab as "refinement" because it transforms the quality of our knowledge and actions into something that is truly beneficial. The same ingredients and recipe can produce a dish that is burned or a dish that is subtle and delicious. It all depends on the skill and care of the chef.

Prophetic adab is not something you see emphasized in many classes on Islam. We tend to focus on knowledge--especially for newcomers to the religion. I must admit that even my recent article, The Path of Knowledge, made no mention of adab. Yet if we want to learn what this religion is really about, adab has to come first. Knowledge must produce action, but action proceeds from the heart.

There's a beautiful story that illustrates this point. When Imam Malik, founder of the Maliki school of law, first began his studies as a young boy, his mother sent him to the great scholar, Shaykh Rabi'ah. When he returned from his first day of lessons, she asked him what he had learned. He replied, "knowledge and adab." She said, "Go back. You haven't learned anything." After his second day, she asked him the same question. He replied, "knowledge and adab." Again she said, "Go back. You haven't learned anything." On the third day, she asked him again and he replied "Adab and knowledge." Finally she praised him saying, "Now you've begun to learn something. Take from Shaykh Rabi'ah's adab before you take from his knowledge." This was a tradition that Imam Malik continued throughout his life. His own student, Ibn Wahb, said "What I learned from the manners of Malik was better than his knowledge."

Knowledge without adab is like owning a nice tool set without the skills to use it. We must prioritize adab because it instructs us in how to use our knowledge correctly and, ultimately, to benefit from it. Most of us have experienced knowledge without adab many times in our prayers. We have all the correct ingredients: we pray on time, with renewed wudu, and with all the correct postures. However, we rush through it or we're distracted. We treat Allah like an acquaintance with whom we have half-hearted conversations rather than the Lord of the Worlds. But what happens on those occasions when our hearts are actually present? The call to prayer actually calls us to remember God; our wudu humbles us because we are washing away our sins; and the bowing a prostrating in the prayer actually makes us submissive to our Lord. In other words, our adab with God unlocks the benefit in our knowledge of how to pray. This is true in all that we do. Keep good adab with your parents and your obedience to them will unlock the wisdom they have to offer. Have good adab with the food you cook and you will unlock its delicious taste.

Learning Prophetic adab, as Imam Malik did, starts at home. It was his mother who first taught him to study the refined character of Shaykh Rabi'ah. There's an important lesson in this. Most of us will never experience a greater love and generosity than what we receive from our families. They are our first teachers of Prophetic adab, whether they are Muslims or not. For the Messenger of God ﷺ shows us the best of humanity; but human goodness is not limited to him. Then, when we are blessed with a good teacher of the religion, our own Shaykh Rabi'ah, we must do more than take notes on their lessons. Notice how they treat their students and the Book of Allah; how they mention the Prophet ﷺ, themselves, and others. If you are sitting with a good teacher, you will find a refined wisdom in all these things. The more we are attentive in our deeds, and the more generosity we display, the more, God willing, we can see that these teachers are everywhere. Even a pot of gumbo can teach you this refinement when you are truly present with it.

Islam and the Salvation of Others

Our noble predecessor, Salman al-Farisi, may God be well pleased with him, has a story that has always moved me. Salman was a quintessential seeker of God whose sincerity delivered him to many of the great saints of his age and, finally, to the feet of the Prophet ﷺ. He was born to a prominent Zoroastrian family in Persia but became fascinated by the Christians of his hometown at an early age. When he inquired with them about the best place to learn their religion, they directed him toward Syria. He departed without a second thought. Salman then spent the next few decades of his life studying under great Christian saints across Syria, Iraq, and Palestine. Each time one of his teachers passed, Salman would ask where to find another. However, his final teacher in Palestine told him that he knew of no others in the world following the religion of Jesus, peace be upon him, but that he should inquire with the merchants coming out of Arabia if a prophet had arisen in their land. If so, "this is the one who is foretold by Jesus, peace be upon him. Among his signs, you will see the seal of prophethood between his shoulders, he accepts and eats from a gift, and he does not eat from charity.” When Salman finally received the news of Muhammad ﷺ, he sold himself into slavery in exchange for passage to Madinah.

Once Salman found the Messenger of God ﷺ and embraced Islam, he told him about his beloved Christian teachers that ultimately led him to Islam: “They used to fast, pray, and believe in you, and they testified that you would be sent as a prophet.” However, when Salman finished praising them, the Prophet simply responded, "The did not die upon Islam." When Salman heard this, he said, “The whole earth darkened around me.” It disturbed him immensely to consider that their state in the afterlife might be in question. It was then that God revealed the verse, "Indeed, the believers, Jews, Christians, and Sabians—whoever truly believes in Allah and the Last Day and does good will have their reward with their Lord. And there will be no fear for them, nor will they grieve." [2:62] The Prophet summoned Salman to inform him of the good news from God and added: “Whoever dies upon the religion of Jesus and in submission before he hears of me is in goodly state. But whoever hears of me today and does not believe in me has perished.”

Like many of us, Salman's path to Islam first passed through another religious tradition. He knew and loved teachers who were not Muslim but who were nonetheless integral to directing his journey. The moment he embraced Islam was a result of their influence rather than a detour from it. So it is no surprise that he would have the same question as many of us who embrace the religion today: what is the ultimate fate of those non-Muslims whom we love? Does accepting Islam entail accepting that they are destined for damnation? We come to this religion because we recognize the beauty of the Quran or the simple truth of its message. But must of us cannot imagine accepting ill for our loved ones, even if they do not embrace Islam themselves.

Fortunately, the answers to these questions validate our recognition of Islam as a truly divine revelation while retaining the mercy that we expect from God. Indeed, the words that the Prophet ﷺ spoke to Salman after the revelation of the verse mentioned above point us directly to the nuance we need to understand. The coming of the Messenger of God marked a new form of revelation that was intended for all of humanity rather than individual nations. It established forms of worship that provide an exclusive path toward God by abrogating previous divinely-established practices. God refers to this reality when he says in chapter three, verse eighty-five, "Whoever seeks a way other than Islam, it will never be accepted from them, and in the Hereafter they will be among the losers." However, as the Prophet mentions, seeking a way other than Islam is conditional not upon the moment in time of his first revelation, but upon "hear[ing] of me." Those who have not heard of him remain "in a goodly state."

We might ask ourselves who, in 2021, has not heard of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. Yet this too has its conditions. It is not enough that people simply become acquainted with his name but that they truly understand who he is. Imam al-Ghazali, one of the foremost scholars of our religion from the tenth century speaks in detail on three categories of non-Muslim people from his day:

"In fact, I would say that, Allah willing, most of the Byzantine Christians and the Turks of this age will be included in Allah’s mercy. I’m referring here to those who live in the farthest regions of Byzantium and Anatolia who have not come into contact with the message. These people are of three groups: [i] A party who have never so much as heard the name ‘Muhammad’ ﷺ. They are excused. [ii] A party who knew his name, character and miracles he wrought; who lived in lands adjacent to the lands of Islam and thus came into contact with Muslims. These are blaspheming unbelievers. [iii] A third party who fall between the two. These people knew the name ‘Muhammad’ ﷺ, but nothing of his character or his qualities. Instead, all they heard since childhood is that a liar and imposter called ‘Muhammad’ claimed to be a prophet.... This party, in my opinion, is like the first party. For even though they’ve heard his name, they heard the opposite of what his true qualities were. And this does not provide enough incentive for them to investigate [his true status]."

If we were to take stock of our own day, we might conclude that category three, "those who know the name Muhammad but nothing of his character," is the only one remaining. News media and the internet has largely solved for the first category; and you would be hard-pressed to point out any "lands of Islam" that could actually serve as a guidance for non-Muslims on their borders. Yet category three has only grown in numbers (also thanks to news media and the internet). We might therefore invert our original question: who, in 2021, has actually heard of the Prophet Muhammad? Our non-Muslim grandmothers, friends, and former pastors very likely are not the types of "disbelievers" whom God condemns throughout the Quran--those who "rejected them [God's signs], although they inwardly recognized them, through injustice and arrogance." [27:14]

It is for this reason that we are actually forbidden, as Muslims, to assign particular individuals to salvation or damnation (including ourselves). God informs us only of the categories or groups of people who are to be saved or condemned--not of individual people. God alone is the knower and turner of hearts. This is why I say that our loved ones "very likely" fall into this third category of those who will be subject to His mercy. For, while we cannot claim to know with certainty, we are nonetheless called to have a good opinion of our fellow humans. And we are certainly called to have a good opinion of God, whose mercy goes beyond anything we have experienced. Salman, may God be pleased with him, did not relinquish his good opinion of his teachers, and God responded with a mercy that eased his heart.

And God knows best.

When Faith Challenges Us

When I first embraced Islam, I did so out of a genuine desire to grow closer to God through a life of prayer. It was my journey that I took, in many respects, to free myself of the baggage of organized religion. Shortly before giving my testimony of faith, I remember reading Shaykh Abdal Hakim Murad's contention, "All Islam offers is God," and feeling something deeply penetrate my heart. This was exactly what I was after. My first year as a Muslim, despite being filled with a lot of outward turmoil, was pervaded by a sense of peace and gratitude at having found a path to the Divine.

I also remember when this honeymoon phase came to an abrupt end. I had the distinct feeling of the wind leaving my sails when I first learned the shariah rulings around the mahram, or non-marriageable male, who is to act as a woman's guardian in some social settings. Women can't travel alone? They need a man's permission to get married? God demands this of us? So much of my life as I had known it would have been impossible with these rules in place. For instance, my mother sometimes used to drive five hours alone to visit me at college. Was this wrong? Was there more to Islam that I wouldn't be able to live up to? In a single moment, it began to feel as if my newfound religion would become the cause of God's displeasure with me rather than a means of drawing nearer to Him.

This type of 'gut punch' is something that I've seen many seekers and new Muslims experience. We embrace Islam to start walking towards God, but eventually trip on a teaching that contradicts the very way in which we're used to living. Very often, these issues arise around controversial subjects like homosexuality and slavery, though they can feel just as poignant around mundane topics like inheritance. Faith can challenge us--and because it is faith challenging us, we often struggle with it in silence rather than openly seeking answers. Yet this is a normal process of spiritual growth. Indeed, it is something on which some of the closest Companions of the Prophet ﷺ offer guidance.

The advice of Aisha, may God be pleased with her, the wife of the Prophet, is to prioritize drawing nearer to God while being patient with ourselves as we adopt particular teachings of Islam into our lives. She once said that "If the first verse to be revealed was ‘do not drink wine,’ the people would have said, ‘we will never stop drinking wine.’ And if the first verse to be revealed was ‘do not commit adultery,’ they would have said, ‘we will never stop committing adultery.'" Rather, she tells us, "the first verses to be revealed were from the shorter chapters at the end of the Quran. In them is mentioned Paradise and Hellfire, until people were firmly established upon Islam." It is an understandable mistake to come across a teaching or ruling and interpret it as an immediate demand for conformity. However, God Himself introduced Islam to the early community of Muslims simply by calling them to Himself. The shorter chapters that our mother Aisha mentions, known as the Meccan chapters, were revealed over a thirteen year period. The early Muslims had thirteen years to attach their hearts to God before He revealed most of the legal rulings! We need not wait this long to see the wisdom here: our attachment to God must form the foundation of any willingness to follow His commands. A servant who serves out of love and devotion will in fact do so with greater care than one who does so blindly. Encountering difficult teachings therefore need not disturb us; rather it is an opportunity to seek greater understanding and guidance out of that sincere devotion that we already possess.

One of the greatest tools that I have found for seeking greater understanding--personally and for many of the people I have worked with over the years--is a willingness to question our assumptions. When faith challenges us, it is often confronting not so much a deeply held belief or value that we have, but an assumption that we simply have never interrogated. This was the case with the difficulty I encountered over the mahram rulings. Nearly two years after first learning of these rulings, I gained a new perspective on their intent while I was reading a book on the Mongol Empire. One of the Mongols' proudest achievements was the unheard-of level security they provided within their domain. They boasted that "a virgin carrying a sack of gold could ride unharmed from one border of the... empire to the other." If this was a way of bragging, what had been normal prior to their empire? It hit me that perhaps Islam was not restricting the freedom of women, or subjugating them to men, but attempting to deal with a difficult reality: namely, that women historically have been vulnerable to the whims of strange men in a way that other men have not. Perhaps my initial assumption about this ruling came from living in yet another rare period of security. Mercifully, I later learned that this is indeed the wisdom behind the ruling and, moreover, that the *shariah* is flexible enough to permit women traveling alone in secure and stable environments. What had first appeared to me as unnecessary or even oppressive transformed into yet another of God's mercies.

Finally, we must remember that our testimony of faith is the boundary of this religion. Our declaration that God is One, and that Muhammad ﷺ is His messenger, is what makes us Muslims--not our agreement and perfect comfort with every last teaching of the religion. When faith challenges us, we get to struggle, and even disagree, as Muslims. Firmly establishing Islam in our lives, as our mother Aisha tells us, is a process of drawing near to God. The details of the religion will become easy with this foundation in place, God willing.

The Path of Knowledge

Islam is a path of seeking knowledge. Every Muslim ought to be a student—not only in their early years but throughout their entire life. When we first embrace Islam, or recommit to it, many of us experience the feeling of standing before a vast ocean of knowledge that we must learn and assimilate into our lives. This can feel invigorating or, in some cases, intimidating. So it is important to know that we stand on these shores with all of our brothers and sisters in faith. The Messenger of God ﷺ tells us, “Seeking knowledge is obligatory on every Muslim.” Living a life of worship and spiritual growth requires learning that we implement into our daily practices. Knowledge is the lifeblood of this process. The path of seeking knowledge therefore is exactly where we are supposed to be, whether we are just beginning or continuing a journey of many years.

In my previous article, “Identity and Community,” I mentioned the narration of the Prophet, “People are like mines of gold and silver. The best of you before Islam are the best of you in Islam.” Here, I want to offer the rest of this narration: “The best of you before Islam are the best of you in Islam if you attain understanding of the religion.” Attaining knowledge distinguishes us within the religion because it allows us to take that gold and silver within ourselves and polish it until it shines. Yet many of us are left wondering where to begin. Should we start memorizing Quran, or perhaps learn Arabic first so that we understand it? Is it better to study law or hadith? What if we are attracted by the spiritual sciences and wish to start a daily litany or seek out a shaykh? Fortunately, the religion offers an order of priorities for those of us just starting out.

Our first priority as Muslims are those things for which we will be individually responsible when we stand before God in judgement. These points of belief and actions are known collectively as the individual obligations (fard al-ayn). These form the foundation of our religion and they are distinct from communal obligations (fard al-kifayah) and recommended supererogatory acts (nawafil). We often think of the individual obligations as the ‘basics’ of our religion because they comprise things like belief in God, daily prayers, and fasting in Ramadan. Yet, in God’s eyes, these are the greatest things we can accomplish. Allah tells us directly that “My servant draws not near to Me with anything more loved by Me than the religious duties I have enjoined upon him, and My servant continues to draw near to Me with supererogatory works so that I shall love him.” God has put the greatest blessings in the foundational knowledge of our religion so that each of us may draw near to Him. It is therefore incumbent upon us to learn the individual obligations well. 

Our first task is to fully develop our iman, or belief. The Messenger of God defined iman as belief in “God, His angels, His books, His messengers, and the Last Day, and to believe in divine decree, both the good and the evil thereof.” It is our testimony of faith that brings us into the religion; belief in the other creations of God mentioned here help us to fully develop and realize our iman. Belief in angels opens our eyes to the reality of the unseen, for example, whereas belief in the Last Day and the divine decree teach us that our lives, and creation itself, proceed according to God’s wisdom and ultimately return to Him. Like much else in Islam, each of these articles of belief are oceans unto themselves. We should expect our knowledge of each of them to deepen over the course of our lives. However, it is sufficient for us to simply be aware of their existence while remaining open to opportunities to learn more.

Our next duty is to learn the acts of worship, commonly referred to as the Five Pillars of Islam. These are the actions we take to save our belief from being a purely intellectual affair. Worship activates belief, just as belief directs our worship. The Messenger of God teaches us that the acts of worship are “to testify that there is nothing worthy of worship except God and that Muhammad is the messenger of God, to perform the prayers, to pay the purifying alms, to fast in Ramadan, and to make the pilgrimage to the Sacred House if you are able to do so.” These actions fill our lives with worship by giving us daily, yearly, and once in a lifetime devotions to perform. It takes knowledge to begin practicing them. Surprisingly for many of us, it also takes knowledge to keep going. Remaining consistent in your prayers, fasting, and giving away your hard earned money will lead you to a knowledge of yourself—your strengths, weaknesses, points of pain and pleasure—that is difficult to gain without consistent worship. Knowing yourself is also a form of worship, as the Messenger of God tells us that “The one who knows their self best, knows their Lord best.”

From here, the individual obligations placed upon us begin to change from person to person. We are called to understand the guidance Allah provides us for any major endeavor in our life. For example, if we intend to get married, it becomes necessary to understand the rulings on marriage. If we are entrepreneurs, there are rulings we must know on buying and selling in the marketplace, deploying capital, and borrowing money. Many Western Muslims are particularly well-versed on the rulings around the halal slaughter of animals since we cannot take for granted that our meat will be permissible to eat. One of the blessings in learning these types of individual obligations is that we get to experience God’s wisdom as it relates to things we already understand extremely well. This can deepen our appreciation of our worldly affairs and, indeed, turn them into acts of worship.

Beyond this, the path is wide and open. We may choose to learn about anything Islam has to offer—and we should. The things that speak to us most will contain the most blessing for us, God willing, because we will always seek to learn more about them over the course of our lives. This can take us from being a seeker of knowledge to being a truly learned person, or alim. The Messenger of God said, “Verily, the angels lower their wings for the seeker of knowledge. The inhabitants of the heavens and earth, even the fish in the depths of the water, seek forgiveness for the alim.”

If you would like to begin learning the individual obligations of the religion, we cover them every week in our Being Muslim class. We would love to see you there!

What Is the Qur’an?

اقرأ بسم ربك الذي خلق

Recite! In the name of your Lord who created all

The Quran is the recitation of Allah’s speech that was revealed over the course of twenty-three years to the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. The word quran, or “recitation,” comes from the same Arabic root as the first word of God’s revelation to the Prophet: iqra, “Recite!” Elsewhere throughout the revelation, Allah refers to the Quran as a kitab, or “book”; a furqan, or “criterion”; a huda, or “guidance”; and a dhikr, or “reminder.”  The Quran therefore plays many roles in the life of a Muslim. But it is experienced most pristinely as an aural recitation that calls believers to a life of remembrance of God and adherence to His guidance and laws.

One of the greatest challenges for newcomers to Islam in familiarizing ourselves with the Quran is that it defies many of our expectations of scripture. Unlike the Bible, it has relatively little narrative and it does not proceed in chronological order. The great Scottish historian, Thomas Carlyle, despite speaking highly of our Prophet ﷺ, described the Quran as the most “toilsome reading as I ever undertook. A wearisome confused jumble…. Nothing but a sense of duty could carry any European through the Koran.” Indeed, the Quran challenges its readers and listeners. It exposes us, with all of our human limitations, to the limitless speech of God. In it, God speaks directly to us, calling us to belief in Him, pointing to His signs throughout creation, and describing aspects of the unseen beyond our direct observation. Moreover, the Quran is often conversational, asking us questions meant to draw us into states of deep reflection—“So which of the favors of your Lord will you deny?” It is unique among God’s revelations to humanity. So how should we approach it?

Fortunately for the readers of this blog, sincere intention is what carries one through the Quran, allowing us to swim in its oceans rather than sink in its depths. God describes the Quran at the beginning of its second chapter, Suratul Baqarah, saying “that is the book in which there is no doubt, a guidance to those with God consciousness.” Simply put, those who approach the Quran seeking God will find Him. God’s speech reflects back to us the contents of our own heart. By the same token, God informs us that those who approach it with impure or self-serving intentions will not find guidance in it: “as for the disbelievers, they argue, ‘What does Allah mean by such a parable?’ Through this test, He leaves many to stray, and guides many. And He leaves none to stray except the rebellious.” This is one of the meanings of the Quran’s title, al-furqan, the criterion. It distinguishes its readers and listeners into separate camps based on the intentions they bring to it.

Unfortunately, the difficulty many sincere people encounter is questioning their own sincerity! So let’s look at an example of God’s response to genuine struggle with His revelation. Some of the Prophet’s Companions once came to him complaining that the Quran had so few stories in it, i.e. not enough easily digestible content. Allah responded to them directly with the verse from Suratul Waqiah, “I swear by the positions of the stars, and this is a vast oath if you but knew, that this is a generous Quran.” Anyone who has been blessed to witness the night sky in an area with no light pollution knows that it is a marvelous experience. But it is also overwhelming! The stars first appear as a random scattering of lights with no apparent order. Yet anyone intimately familiar with the night sky can use the position of the stars to navigate the ocean (or the desert) with amazing precision. To the trained eye, the night sky is neither random nor confusing; it is a generous guide. The Quran is like this. With careful study, deep patterns emerge that unlock its secrets and guide us directly to our Lord.* God’s response to the companions was a hint at this connection, and an encouragement to persist in studying His revelation. We experience humility when confronted with our limitation. But with humility, the gates of understanding begin to open.

One incredibly practical piece of advice that I would like to offer to newcomers to the Quran is to start with its final chapters and work backwards. This too allows us to experience the Quran in roughly the same way as the Companions, may God be pleased with them. Every chapter in the Quran is categorized by the place of its revelation, Makkah or Madinah. Most of the final chapters are in fact from the earlier, Makkan, revelations, which spanned the initial thirteen years of Islam. These chapters introduce us to the revelations with which God attached the hearts of the early Muslims to Himself and His Messenger. They describe God Himself, His signs throughout creation, as well as the unseen and the life to come. In short, they expose us to the Quran as that overwhelming vision of the night sky. Bring nothing but your desire for God and the beauty of these chapters will captivate you until your eyes adjust and the deep patterns in His revelation emerge.

*I am deeply grateful to Sh. Hamza Yusuf for this insight into Suratul Waqiah.

What Is Salah?

The Messenger of God ﷺ described the salah, our five daily prayers, as the delight of his eyes and the most beloved thing to him in this world. When the time for prayer came in, he would instruct his Companion, Bilal, to “comfort us” with the call to prayer. Likewise, the salah was the last thing he emphasized to his Companions on his deathbed. Salah is our primary act of worship as Muslims. It draws us into a state of remembrance of God, purifies our souls, and it will testify on our behalf when we finally stand before our Lord in judgement. Developing a healthy practice around the prayer is therefore the first step we take toward living as Muslims, and it is the path we walk towards God over the course of our lives.

This article is intended to be an introduction to the salah rather than a how-to guide. We highly recommend that you learn the prayer directly from another Muslim. This is not only the quickest way to learn, but also conveys much of the etiquette and spirit of the prayer that is difficult to relate through online guides. What we can do here, however, is provide some insight into the meaning of the prayer and, God willing, point you towards its beauty so that you are ready to fully embrace it as you begin learning. 

Intentions and Preparations

God judges all of our actions by their intentions. We understand that, in fact, the road to heaven is paved with good intentions! Forming appropriate intentions for our salah will shape how we benefit from it and how God receives it. Understanding the meaning of the Arabic can help us with this. Some Arabic grammarians connect salah to salawayn, the name of the two tendons that run along our spine when we bend over. These are the tendons that contract when we bow or prostrate in prayer, when we pick up our children, or anytime we bend over to pick up something off the ground. What we are doing when we use these tendons is lowering ourselves to receive something that is dear to us like the embrace of a child, money lying on the ground, or God’s blessings. Bowing and prostrating during the prayer is the outward manifestation of the inward state we cultivate when we pray: humble submission to God seeking His care. Holding this intention in our hearts will transform the outward movements of the salah into a genuine opportunity to draw nearer to God multiple times per day. 

The most important physical preparation for the salah is wudu, or the ablutions we make by washing our face and limbs before prayer. Wudu is more accurately translated as “illumination.” The the Messenger of God ﷺ teaches us that he will recognize his followers on the Day of Judgement because our faces and limbs will shine from our wudu. Like the salah itself, wudu is an outward act of worship with an inward reality that we can actualize through the intention to purify our bodies and souls. The Messenger of God ﷺ tells us, “When the servant of God washes their face (in course of ablution), every sin he contemplated with his eyes, will be washed away from his face along with water; when he washes his hands, every sin he wrought will be effaced from his hands with the water; and when he washes his feet, every sin towards which his feet have walked will be washed away with the water with the result that he comes out pure from all sins.” Wudu is an invitation to humility through remembering our sins and the great mercy God extends to us through the ability to literally wash them away.

Timings

Allah tells us in the Qur’an that “The Prayer has been enjoined upon the believers at set times.” Indeed, the one thing that many people know about Muslims is that we pray five times per day. This provides one of the most beautiful reorientations in the daily life of a new Muslim. Our days are usually punctuated by mundane affairs like commuting, meetings, and lunch breaks. Beginning a regular prayer schedule allows us to divide up our days instead with regular, direct interactions with God. And whereas our worldly life is scheduled on the clock, our prayer is scheduled according to the position of the sun in the sky.

Many Muslims today determine the time for prayer with an app on their smartphones or a schedule printed from a website. Apps are an especially convenient way of reminding ourselves to pray. However, knowing the times of the prayer according to the position of the sun puts us directly in touch with one of God’s greatest signs and can inspire a sense of awe for God that will benefit us in our prayers. When God sent the Angel Gabriel to teach the Prophet ﷺ the times of the prayer, Gabriel came on two separate days, beginning the prayer at slightly different times each day. We therefore understand Fajr, the pre-dawn prayer, to fall between the time that the sun’s rays first break the horizon to the time that the land begins to glow; Dhuhr, the noon prayer, can begin shortly after the sun’s zenith or after shadows become as long as the things casting them; Asr, the afternoon prayer, can begin at this time as well or once shadows become twice as long as the things casting them; Maghrib, the sunset prayer, always begins once the sun sets; and Isha, the evening prayer, can be prayed from the end of twilight to the end of the first third of the night.

As days become longer or shorter depending on the season and our location, the times for prayer shift also. For example, there is a very short window for Asr in the winter when the sun’s path across the sky is very low. If we are praying five times a day, this naturally means our schedule is shifting around the times for prayer. This takes some getting used to, but it teaches us submission in its true sense because we are moving with the rhythms God placed in His creation rather than the demands of our worldly life. 

The Fatihah

The heart of the salah is the Fatihah, the opening chapter of the Qur’an. We say this in Arabic during each cycle of prayer. It is akin to the Lord’s Prayer for Christians or the Shema for Jews in that it is a prayer that captures the essence of what it means for us to worship God. In it, God describes Himself to us and teaches us how to call upon Him in any situation. The Messenger of God ﷺ described the Fatihah as “the mother of the Qur’an” because it distills our scripture’s knowledge of God, and humanity’s relationship to Him, down into seven simple verses. You can learn more about it in our article, Who Is Allah?

Dua

The Prophet ﷺ also teaches us that dua, or calling upon God for our needs and desires, is “the essence of worship.” Ultimately, calling upon God to ask Him of our needs and to praise Him for our blessings is the ultimate point of worship. The Salah gives us a script, including the fatihah, that we use to supplicate God. But there is room within the salah for our own free form prayer as well. Prostration, when we place our foreheads upon the ground, is an especially good moment for this as this is the time when the Prophet ﷺ informs us that we are closest to our Lord.

Consistency

A final key to salah is consistency. We ought to start small with what we can do on a regular basis and then grow from there. The Prophet ﷺ tells us that “The most beloved of deeds to Allah is that which is done persistently, even if it is little.” Adopting this religion is a marathon not a sprint. Aiming for consistency allows you to escape two traps that are, unfortunately, very common for newcomers to Islam. We tend either to be very zealous and then burn out after a period of time, or we feel so overwhelmed with everything there is to learn that we hesitate to start. Know your limits but push them a little each day. God gave the salah to the Prophet and his Companions after ten years of revelation. This first decade of Islam gave the early believers the opportunity to attach their hearts to God and His Messenger before they became responsible for fulfilling the demands of the law. So too with us today, our outward worship ought to rise from a sincere state of loving devotion to God. With God’s help, the day will come that the salah feels like an old friend who’s always been a part of your life.

Identity and Community

The day that I first gained a strong sense of my own identity as a Muslim still stands out as one of the most profound days of my life, second only to the day of my shahada. I was sitting in my apartment in Damascus, Syria, reading Michael Muhammad Knight's Blue Eyed Devil, a memoir of his travels around the U.S. looking for "Islamic America." I had been engrossed in the book from the very beginning, but I remember the rest of the world fading into the background when he mentioned Sapelo Island, Georgia. Mike was visiting the grave of Bilali Muhammad, an African Muslim enslaved on Sapelo in the nineteenth century, to pay his respects and recite the fatiha over him and his family. Reading this completely changed my reality. I'm from St. Simons Island, just south of Sapelo. I visited Sapelo most summers as a child. I had family friends who lived there (who I later learned are descendants of Bilali Muhammad). Yet I had learned none of this history as a child. It struck me that I had traveled across the world to live in a "Muslim country" when, all along, Islam had been right there in my back yard.

This sense of having an identity that felt authentically Muslim and comfortably familiar intensified when I finally returned home. I was blessed to meet Imam Maajid Ali at Masjid Jihad in Savannah, Georgia, who was kind enough to spend a few hours with me after Jumuah prayers one Friday. I discovered a grandfatherly black southern man, like others I had known growing up, who loved Allah and His Messenger and recited the Quran with a slight twang. We talked about my story, Bilali Muhammad, and I told him what a relief it was to meet someone like him. I'll never forget one of the gems he dropped on me that day: "We believe Allah is closer to us than our jugular vein but many of us think His religion has to be strange and foreign. It's not! It was never supposed to be!"

These words were healing for me. My conversion had led to a light form of "cultural apostasy" that many new Muslims experience. Our openness to Islam can very easily creep into a willingness to embrace new social norms or cultural practices that seem "Islamic" even if they feel uncomfortable and inauthentic. For me, this was as mild as moving to the Middle East because I believed that was where I could authentic Islam. But I have met many other converts along the way who threw out their wardrobes for thobes or, far more drastically, just gave up on interacting with the opposite gender because they believed their own social etiquette was deficient.

Quite the opposite, our religion affirms the basic goodness that all humans know. The Messenger of God ﷺ tells us, "People are like mines of gold and silver. The best of you before Islam are the best of you in Islam." Whatever our backgrounds may be, they are fundamentally good and worth preserving once we enter the religion. Of course, we come to Islam looking for guidance and differing degrees of reformation. But this is simply a process of identifying the gold within ourselves and separating it from our rough characteristics that have kept it hidden. This gold--what we already know to be good, truthful, and wholesome--must form the basis of our identities as Muslims for our religion to become authentically our own.

Islam’s affirmation of our humanity goes beyond the individual level. The Creator also tells us, “O humanity, we have created you male and female and made you into nations and tribes that you may know one another. The noblest of you in the sight of God are the most pious, and God is All-Knowing and Aware.” (49:13) Our ethnic and national backgrounds are part of God’s creation. Preserving them must be one of our imperatives once we enter the religion. This is nothing short of gratitude to God and it is the surest way of relating to our fellow Muslims and navigating our communities. Difference gives us something to share with one another. It invites conversation, brotherly and sisterly intimacy, as well as the chance to reflect on our own customs. Mercifully, and quite contrary to today’s world, it is not the basis for hierarchy between peoples. As new Muslims, we are free to learn about and adapt the cultural and ethnic difference we find in our communities without feeling the need to disavow our own backgrounds. We may add thobes to our wardrobe without discarding our other clothes; we can refine our etiquette with the opposite gender instead of avoiding them altogether. When we have a strong sense of self, our life in community with other Muslims can become a joyful process of discovery.

The Prophet ﷺ used to pray: “O Allah, make us love Medina as much as we love Makkah.” The Medinans gave the Messenger of God a home after he had been driven out of Makkah and they embraced as a Prophet and a leader. Yet the honor he received there did not diminish his love of his homeland. Rather, his love simply expanded. In the end, God gave him both Makkah and Medina. This a Prophetic example we can follow as we make a new home for ourselves in this religion and in the community of Muslims.

We ask God to expand our hearts, and God alone gives success.

Who Is the Prophet ﷺ?

وما أرسلناك إلا رحمة للعالمين

And We have not sent you but as a mercy for all the worlds

Where do we begin to understand a person whom God Himself describes as one sent to all of creation? Muhammad ibn Abdullah ﷺ is the last of God’s messengers sent to humanity, a Prophet foretold in previous scriptures and eagerly anticipated in the seventh century Near East. During his own life, before his mission as God’s Messenger, he was orphaned at an early age; he became known as al-Ameen, the trustworthy one, as an adult; he worked as a merchant who took caravans to Syria; he married a prominent woman of his tribe, our mother Khadijah; and he often retreated to the seclusion of the mountain overlooking Makkah. However, the details of the Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ biography and his place in prophetic history really only become interesting to us after we understand our direct relationship to him: he is the greatest mercy God placed in our lives.

In the previous article, Who Is Allah?, we discussed mercy as the primary feature of Allah’s interaction with humanity. He grants mercies that extend to everyone like existence after non-existence and the ability to live lives that are pleasing to Him. For most of us, this includes mercies like functioning bodies, intelligence, and hearts that allow us to survive, thrive, and recognize the signs of God in this world. This is the kind of mercy we experience through Allah’s name al-Rahman, The Ever-Merciful. Likewise we all experience mercies that are unique to our lives like good health, families, close friends, or financial security. These are favors Allah bestows upon us in His capacity as al-Raheem, The Especially Merciful. Together, these two names of Allah are mentioned every time we pray, read the Qur’an, or embark upon any worldly affair as a testament to the overwhelming role God’s mercy plays in our lives.

Allah describes the Prophet ﷺ in the verse above as “a mercy for all the worlds.” This means that the Messenger of God does so much more than simply informing us of God’s mercy and showing us the path to attaining it through his sunnah, or example. These are indeed important roles, but roles that are indicated by his roles as nabi (prophet) and rasul (messenger). The Messenger of God himself ﷺ is a mercy. To understand this we must look at other roles he plays in our lives and in the greater scheme of creation.

One of the Prophet’s ﷺ titles is “the best of creation,” khayrul khalq. He is the most refined in character, the most beloved of Allah, and, according to some narrations, the reason for Allah’s creation of the heavens and the earth, and everything in between them. In a hadith related by Umar, may God be pleased with him, the Prophet ﷺ reported: 

“When Adam sinned he said, ‘O Allah! I ask for Your forgiveness for the sake of Muhammad.’” Allah asked him, ‘How do you know Muhammad (pbuh) when I have not yet created him?’ He (Adam) said, ‘O Allah! After you created me and breathed into me of your soul I raised my head and saw 'There is no god but Allah and Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah' written on the Throne. I then came to know that You would not put anyone's name next to Yours except the name of the one who is dearest to You from among creation.’ Allah said, ‘O Adam! You have spoken the truth. Indeed, he is the dearest to me from among all creation. Supplicate to me through his sake for indeed I have forgiven you. If it were not for Muhammad, I would not have created you.’”

We learn from this hadith that Adam, upon him be peace, receives Allah’s mercy on two counts for the sake of Muhammad ﷺ. First, it was for Muhammad’s sake that he were created. Second, he receives Allah’s forgiveness by asking for it for Muhammad’s sake. It is therefore for Muhammad’s sake that we experience the mercy of Allah as al-Rahman and al-Raheem, The Ever-Merciful and The Especially Merciful. It is for his sake that we have been given existence after non-existence and for his sake that we are able to ask for the particular mercies we enjoy in this life and the next. The Prophet Muhammad, the best of creation ﷺ, therefore holds a special cosmic relationship to each and every one of us as Adam’s descendants.

Just as the Prophet’s mercy transcends this worldly life, so too does it extend beyond it into the next life. His role as The Intercessor, al-Shafi’, is one that we have not yet experienced but which will become extremely important for us when we stand in judgement before our Lord. The Prophet ﷺ relates that, on that day, “the people will surge with each other like waves” going from one Prophet to the next asking for their intercession for Allah’s forgiveness. Adam, Ibrahim, Musa, and Isa, upon them be peace, will all reply that they are not fit for that role--until finally the people come to Muhammad ﷺ. The Prophet tells us that Allah “will inspire me to praise Him with such praises as I do not know now. So I will praise Him with those praises and will fall down, prostrate before Him. Then it will be said, 'O Muhammad, raise your head and speak, for you will be listened to; and ask, for your will will be granted; and intercede, for your intercession will be accepted.'” And he will continue to intercede for us until even those of us with the most minuscule of faith will be delivered from Allah’s punishment on that day.

It is easy for us to become fixated on this worldly life and therefore to understand the role of the Prophet ﷺ in a worldly manner. However, we have benefited from the mercy of the Prophet before this life and we will continue, God willing, to benefit from it after we have passed from this world. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ is a mercy to all of the worlds, no matter which stage of existence we may find ourselves in. 

Of course, the reality of the Prophet’s mercy manifested in his conduct and actions during his worldly life as well. His example, or sunnah, provides a model of pious living for us to follow. At the very least, it provides us with an opportunity to marvel at his gentle character and loving mercy for the least of his companions and even his enemies. A couple of examples will suffice.

There was a young boy, Abu Umair, who lived in Madinah whose home the Prophet ﷺ used to visit regularly. Whenever the Prophet would see Abu Umair, he would ask about the little bird he kept as a pet. One day the Prophet arrived and Abu Umair was in tears and informed him that his bird had died. Later that day, some of his Companions saw him in the streets of Madinah playing with Abu Umair and asked what he was doing. He responded that Abu Umair’s bird had died and that he was playing with him until he cheered up. This was the character of the Messenger of God ﷺ!  He knew his Companions intimately, even the children, and attended to their well-being attentively.

The second example comes from the Battle of Uhud, an unsuccessful battle in which the Prophet ﷺ was seriously wounded on the face after becoming separated from his Companions. When they found him, they rushed toward him and found him wiping away the blood that was pouring from his head. One Companion asked him what he was doing. The Prophet ﷺ responded: “If any of this blood falls on the ground, Divine Punishment would descend upon them [the Quraysh].” As they were losing the battle, some of the Companions implored him to allow the blood to flow and to pray against their enemies. However, the Prophet ﷺ responded, “I have not been sent to damn people. I have been sent as a caller and a mercy. Oh Allah, forgive my people for they know no better.” The Prophet’s mission was universal, to all of humanity, just as the mercy of his existence was universal. It did not fail even in the heat of battle--and it remains open for any and all to accept.

Throughout history, we have celebrated the Prophet’s life, mission, and the reality of his mercy by following a Divine command found in the thirty-third chapter of the Qur’an: “God and His angels send salutations upon the Prophet. O You who believe, send your salutations and peace upon him abundantly.” This practice, known as sending salawat upon the Prophet, is a way of expressing our indebted gratitude to him by asking Allah to bless him with greetings of peace. One of the great secrets of this practice is that it is the only action we can perform that Allah and His angels also perform. It is a monumental deed, and a means of receiving the same blessings we invoke upon our beloved Prophet ﷺ. It’s true reward is inculcating deeper love for him and a profound connection to the mercy that he brings to creation.

Dealing with Family

I remember a conversation I once had with my father after about eight years of being Muslim. It was around Christmas time and he was thanking me for joining the family at home “even though you don’t believe in Jesus.” I was floored. Eight years of helping him to understand what I believe and he was still under the impression that I didn’t believe in Jesus--especially during a holiday that celebrates his birth, a moment the Allah recounts in the Quran! I explained to him that Muslims do believe in Jesus, the immaculate conception, and the virgin birth, but that we understand him to be a prophet rather than the son of God. He seemed pleasantly surprised to learn about our common ground. But I was left with a feeling of failure. I thought I had done a pretty good job explaining what Islam teaches. How many more misconceptions could be lurking beneath the surface?

This conversation turned out to be a healthy reality check for me. I had been under the impression that my family and I had “made it” in understanding our religious differences. I genuinely thought I was past the point of explaining what I believe. This conversation with my father taught me that the quest for mutual understanding would be a lifelong process and that patience on my part would always be necessary. It has now been eight more years since that conversation and I’m still answering questions--and, thank God, my family is still asking them!

One of the beauties of this religion is that it calls us to a high standard when dealing with our families regardless of what they believe. We are to be excellent toward our parents, siblings, and extended family members even when they are less than excellent toward us. Indeed, part of the Prophet’s ﷺ advice to the people of Madinah when he first immigrated there was to “maintain ties of kinship.” Likewise, Allah says in the Quran: “Your Lord has commanded that you should worship none but Him, and that you be kind to your parents.” Amazingly, God places kindness to our parents next to tawheed, Divine unity, the fundamental truth of our religion. Our parents are signs of God’s creation of humanity: they brought us into the world just as He brought us into existence. Goodness and gratitude toward them is therefore a sign of our gratitude toward God.

Patience and honesty are key in this process because, as the old adage goes, people don’t remember what you say but how you make them feel. If I learned anything from that conversation with my father, it was that my answers to his questions over the years didn’t matter so much as showing him that I was leading a good life that was pleasing to him. To expand on the verse of the Quran above, Allah says, “Your Lord has commanded that you should worship none but Him, and that you be kind to your parents…. say no word that shows impatience with them, and do not be harsh with them, but speak to them respectfully and lower your wing in humility towards them in kindness and say, ‘Lord, have mercy on them, just as they cared for me when I was little.’” So much of what our parents, and our family in general, want to see from us after a life changing decision like this is that our relationships with them will remain intact. Your character will speak louder than any words you say to them. But this takes time and patience both with them and with yourself.

These are our ideals and it is important that we strive for them. Real life, of course, is always more complicated. Some of us come from families that are dysfunctional, abusive, or completely absent. It is important for new Muslims in these situations to understand that the ideals of our religion are not meant to invalidate our own lived experience or our intuition on the best way to deal with family members. We are indeed called to be merciful and kind with our family--but implementing mercy and kindness will look different for each of our situations. If maintaining a cordial distance, or firm boundaries gently enforced, is the greatest mercy you can have on some family members, then do that! If the best you can do is desire in your heart a merciful relationship, then do that too! God’s guidance exists to empower us and make the best of all situations.

I’ll end with another story about my father. One night, after a couple years of being Muslim, I came home late while visiting my parents. My father was up and approached me when I came through the door. He grabbed me by my shoulders and examined my face for a few seconds before saying, “You’re sober. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I saw you intoxicated. Maybe this new religion is doing you a lot of good.” Whether or not we have families that we can discuss our new religion with, they will certainly watch us to see how it changes us. With God’s permission, this is where the greatest openings will come from.

Who Is Allah?

“Allah” is the name God most often uses to describe Himself in the Qur’an. Likewise, it is the Arabic cognate of the Hebrew and Aramaic words Elohim and Alaha that all Biblical Prophets, including Jesus, upon him be peace, used to call upon Him. But who indeed are we calling upon with this name?

The best introduction to Allah comes from Allah Himself in the opening chapter of the Qur’an known as the Fatihah. This is a chapter that the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ called “the mother of the Qur’an” because it distills our scripture’s knowledge of God, and humanity’s relationship to Him, down into seven simple verses. Let’s look at the first four verses to see how they describe Allah:

1. In the Name of Allah, the Ever Merciful, the Especially Merciful

2. All praise is due to Allah, Lord of the worlds

3. The Ever Merciful, the Especially Merciful

4. Sovereign of the Day of Judgement
   

The first verse of this chapter is one that we find at the beginning of nearly every chapter in the Qur’an. In it, Allah identifies Himself by His two predominant attributes: al-Rahman, the Ever-Merciful and al-Raheem, the Especially Merciful. Mercy is emphasized twice here because it is the primary means through which God interacts with humanity. His greatest mercies to us are giving us existence after non-existence, and granting us bodies, minds, and souls that allow us to survive in this world. The mercy that comes from al-Rahman is the kind of mercy that is constant and unwavering because we could not exist without it. In addition, we receive from Allah as al-Raheem the kind of mercies that we often refer to as the blessings in our lives--companionship of friends and family, sustenance to provide for ourselves and others, or luxuries purely for our enjoyment. To draw an analogy to many of our childhoods, the first kind of mercy equates to the food, water, clothing and shelter our parents provided us while the second kind of mercy is analogous to an allowance, the kinds of clothing we like, and the occasional dessert.

In the second verse, Allah identifies Himself as “Lord of the worlds.” This implies all of the connotations of the word “Lord” that we understand in English. Allah is master of the heavens and the earth, and all that is in between them; He rules over them with a watchful eye; and He ultimately sits in judgement over every one of us. However, there is more to Rabb, the Arabic word for Lord. A rabb is also a nourisher, a sustainer, and a cherisher of those whom he rules. Rabb is closely related to tarbiya, raising children or even crops--an act that requires as much love and care as it does power and might. Allah’s name al-Rabb builds upon al-Rahman and al-Raheem: He rules the universe in accordance with His mercy.

This mercy is reiterated in verse three, a point that we will return to.

In verse four, Allah returns to another of His majestic attributes, Malik, meaning sovereign or king. Here He identifies Himself as the sovereign of the Day of Judgement, a day when all of humanity will stand before Him to account for their actions in this world. This verse brings Allah’s description of Himself in this chapter full circle: He is a merciful Lord who created all the worlds, who rules over them, and to whom we all ultimately return. This is the essential knowledge of God that humanity needs as well as the answer to the question, “Who Is Allah?” He is our Creator, our Sustainer, and our final destiny.

The Fatihah, like the Qur’an, is a bottomless ocean and there is no end to the wisdom we can derive from it. But let’s look at two more lessons from this chapter. The first is that while Allah is One God, unique and without partner, He has many names that we can use to call upon Him. The Fatihah introduced us to a few: al-Rahman, al-Raheem, al-Rabb, and al-Malik. Allah informs us of ninety-nine of His names throughout the Qur’an and instructs us to call upon Him by these names: "Say: Call upon Allah or call upon the Ever-Merciful. However you may call, to Him belong the Most Beautiful Names." (17:110)

The second lesson is in how we are to relate to these names. These four verses of the Fatihah alternate between mentioning names of beauty, al-Rahman and al-Raheem, and names of majesty, al-Rabb and al-Malik--keeping them in perfect balance. So too are we to balance our relationship to His beautiful and majestic attributes. Allah’s beautiful qualities, His mercy, love, and forgiveness inspire hope and unencumbered worship in us whereas His majestic qualities inspire fear and careful fulfillment of His commands and prohibitions. Excessive focus on either can lead us into carelessness or undue strictness in our religion. Allah reveals both His aspects in the Fatihah to introduce us to the balance we must strike in our worship and worldly conduct. Yet just as He first mentions His beautiful qualities, al-Rahman and al-Raheem, so too are we to remember that mercy is His primary mode of interaction with His creation. As the Messenger of God ﷺ informs us: “When Allah completed the creation, He wrote in His book with Him upon the Throne: Verily, My mercy prevails over My wrath.” 

And Allah knows best.

What Is Islam?

“Islam” is a word that most of us know but very few can define. Depending on where you look or who you ask, it can have many different connotations. But what is the real meaning of Islam, and what does it involve?

“Islam” is an Arabic word that means “submission” or “surrender”--in this case to God’s will for us as human beings. Since it comes from the same root word as “peace”, salam, it more specifically refers to the peace that one experiences from living in accordance with God’s will. 

There is a beautiful hadith, or narration of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, known as the Hadith of Jibril, that explains Islam in its fullness. It is long, and well worth reading, but I will paraphrase it here. One day, while the Prophet ﷺ was sitting with his Companions, the Angel Gabriel came to them in the guise of a man. He asked the Prophet ﷺ to explain islam, or the outward forms of worship, to him. The Prophet ﷺ replied, “Islām is to testify that there is nothing worthy of worship except God and that Muhammad is the messenger of God, to perform the prayers, to pay the purifying alms, to fast in Ramadan, and to make the pilgrimage to the Sacred House if you are able to do so.” Gabriel confirmed his response and then asked him to explain iman, or belief. The Prophet ﷺ replied, “It is to believe in God, His angels, His books, His messengers, and the Last Day, and to believe in divine decree, both the good and the evil thereof.” Gabriel confirmed this response as well and asked him to inform him of ihsan, or spiritual excellence. The Prophet replied that it is “to worship God as though you are seeing Him, for even if you cannot see Him, He indeed sees you.” Gabriel confirmed this final answer and later departed. Afterwards, the Prophet ﷺ turned to his companion, Umar, and informed him that that man was the Angel Gabriel “who came to you to teach you your religion.”

Together, islam, iman, and ihsan form the three dimensions of our religion. These are the paths we take toward full submission to God’s will. Islam, the acts of worship, guide us toward outward submission. They provide an outlet where we can channel our natural impulse to worship God, to show our gratitude for the blessings in our lives, and to draw nearer to Him in a consistent way. Iman, the points of belief, inform us of, and orient us toward, the great realities of the universe: the oneness of God, the existence of the unseen, the guidance God sends to humanity through revelation, and our ultimate destiny as humans. Ihsan does not add new content to the religion; it enhances the quality of or belief and our worship. Abstract belief in God or worship lacking full sincerity will only get us so far in our quest to draw nearer to our Lord. We are called, instead, to worship God as if we see Him--to imagine how sincere our devotion would be then and to work toward fulfilling that.

On a personal note, I grew up near the beach and I’ve always found surfing to be a perfect metaphor for Islam as it is laid out in this hadith. The best surfers are all Muslims in a sense because they submit themselves to the waves willingly and peacefully. To surf, you first must believe in the realities of the ocean--its waves, currents, and undertows. False perception of the ocean will lead to disaster; right perception of it will allow you to do things you otherwise cannot. Next, you must build upon this knowledge with skillful action. You may know that waves are real, but what do you do with them? Fight them or ride with them? How far out should you paddle to catch one? These are all questions about islam, about outward submission. Ihsan is where this metaphor really takes off. Every surfer surfs as if they see the wave. There can be no halfheartedness when the water rises beneath you and you must ride or be pummeled. So you can watch surfers and learn something real about spirituality: they concentrate all their knowledge of the ocean and skill navigating it into moments of beautiful harmony with an enveloping reality. The best will move with the waves perfectly and even describe their experiences as states of flow where the boundary between themselves and their environment fades. Yet such sublime states are built upon simple foundations, the most important of which is willing surrender to the great truths of the ocean.

What is Islam? You will hear many Muslims say that it is more than a religion--that it is a way of life, that it is all encompassing of our everyday existence. Islam is satisfying in this sense because it offers something to our minds, our bodies, and our souls--and what it offers is always available to us. When Muslims are at their best, Islam is like the experience of surfing, where belief, action, true sincerity meld into perfect moments of devotion to our Creator. 

Eid Mubarak!

Eid Mubarak! 

We pray all your fasting and worship during Ramadan is accepted and that your Eid celebrations are joyful and blessed. This Eid, as we all gather together in the homes of friends and family, we're excited to launch the Welcome Home Initiative at Taleef.

"Taleef began in a living room." I heard this statement for years volunteering and, later, working at this organization. We'd remind each other of this whenever the work became overwhelming or we lost the plot while serving the community. Taleef is supposed to feel like home. It's a place where friends and family gather, learn, and serve together. What always kept me coming back to Taleef was knowing that this saying wasn't sentimental. It had a profound intention behind it. When people feel welcome, their hearts open up; if their hearts are open, they're ready to receive the blessings that come from gathering to mention Allah's name. Making Taleef into a second home for the community makes "taleef" happen: our hearts become reconciled to Allah and to each other. 

The Welcome Home Initiative is our effort to get back to these roots. Over the coming weeks and months, we will be reopening an organization that prioritizes sincere connection between our community members and authentic learning in intimate spaces. This blog will be an important part of that effort. Taleef expanded its reach during 2020 to national and international audiences. We want to maintain these ties going forward by providing consistent content for seekers, newcomers to Islam, and returning Muslims. Eventually, we hope *Welcome Home* will form a solid basis of content that will become a resource for anyone hoping to learn more about Allah and His Messenger. Finally, the blog will be part of our effort to provide greater transparency at Taleef, a place where we post updates on updates on our community life and reports on the internal workings of the organization.

As a first step toward this goal, we are excited to announce that we are welcoming home three former staff members as full time directors. 

Stara Rahmani has served the community for over 10 years. Her journey began in 2009 as the Administrative Assistant to Taleef in the Bay Area. As the organization grew she transitioned into being a liaison between the core team and the Founding Director as the Chief of Staff/ Executive Assistant until 2019. Though she took a break, Ta’leef never left her heart. Her passion for love and service led her back HOME. She will now be joining the team as the Director of Operations, where she will manage all operational functions between Taleef’s campuses in Chicago and Fremont.

Mike Swies has served the needs of the convert community in Chicago since 2007 by organizing convert-centered social gatherings and educational programs. He began his work with Ta’leef Collective in 2009 in the role of Convert Care Coordinator where he mentored those new to Islam, assisted people in embracing Islam and provided pastoral care needs specific to the convert population. He is now stepping into the role of Director of Outreach & Community Engagement where he will work with our community to develop and oversee all programming and services Ta’leef offers to focus specifically on the populations Ta’leef aims to serve.

Dr. Will Caldwell has volunteered at Taleef's Convert Care program since 2013. In 2019 he became the Taleef Chicago's Convert Care Coordinator and finally transitioned into the role of Outreach Director in early 2021. Now he is assuming the role of Director of Education, where he will create curriculum and content across Taleef's various programs.