by Abu Anthony
Introduction
Did I confess to being a spy?
The other day I made a remarkable discovery. The first essay I ever sent Muslims, which follows this introduction, contains a curious sentence early on, which could be read in different ways. Was it an admission that I was a spy?
My grandfather used to say: we can perceive what we can first conceive of. We all tend to see what we are looking for.
I wrote this essay before I had met a particular individual who would be instrumental in the founding of CAIR-Colorado, and who later would assert that I had admitted to being an informant before I converted to Islam. But it is certainly possible that I or someone else shared this with her at some point.
The ambiguity of the particular sentence, which will pop out at you, may be indicative of how I might have subtly joked about the matter in the months I collaborated with this person and others in the initial effort to launch the Colorado chapter.
And this possibly being the Night of Power, when I reflect on Qur’an 44:4, I realize I profit nothing to worry about this rumor anymore. Here is 44:4:
In that (night) is made distinct every affair of wisdom.
And here is a footnote to the ayat by Abdullah Yusuf Ali:
“Such an occasion is one on which divine Wisdom places before us, through Revelation, the solution to spiritual problems of the highest import to mankind.”
In accounts of near-death experiences, it is often reported that at one point God reveals ultimate truth and how everything works out for the good; God’s own mind becomes transparent, as it were. But part of returning to this world is the erasing of any memory of what precisely was revealed. The returnee can only report that for a moment out of time, she or he was granted knowledge of everything.
Knowing that the solutions to what sure seem to be genuine predicaments in this world will be clear in the end, and conflict and strife will melt away as we all return to God, still leaves a lot for we fallibles to navigate and adapt to as best we can. We may know, abstractly, that our self-centered existence and perspective is the greatest illusion of all. But transcending it, surrendering to God’s will, is something we must strive for but will never quite achieve every day. Many days we will fall woefully short, Muslims and non-Muslims alike.
Which reminds me of one of my favorite convert stories. This one is very, very short. It comes from my honorary uncle, Saied.
There was an American convert who one day said: “I am sure glad I converted before I met all the Muslims I have.”
If it takes a little humility for a Muslim to tell that brief story, humility might be the beginning of wisdom, an essential step in transcending the self and surrendering to God’s will. But I am not really claiming to be humble; there is no convincing anyone of that. I like the story, but it is not my absolute favorite. In a previous post, now deleted, I told my favorite convert story. It goes something like this:
There was an inmate in a prison who soon came to impress the warden as being a troublemaker, because he would champion any and every inmate’s conflict with Management. One day he learned that there was a complication for some Muslim inmates praying where they always had, and it was enough of a problem that these brothers were upset. He recalled that growing up he and his friends were joyous whenever they could not attend church. But these guys were actually despondent.
So our champion of every cause under the prison tower went to talk to the warden.
The warden listened to his complaint with partially disguised impatience. Then he said:
“Why is this your concern? Are you a Muslim?”
A
long,
pregnant
pause
followed.
“Yes!”
I, too, found my initial interaction with Muslims, the subject of the essay below, to be most inspiring. And I have had abundant occasions with fellow Muslims since which confirm that I made the right choice for myself. This dispute with CAIR-National notwithstanding.
Note: I wrote what follows during Ramadan, 2016. In passing I predicted more lone wolf attacks in the West by individuals claiming to champion Islam, as a result of America’s wars in Muslim countries. There have been plenty of lone wolf attacks since, but far fewer by wayward Muslims than I expected.
A few weeks before 9/11, I attended a presentation on Islam at my son’s high school, by the mother of two students. I was glad I did; Islam seemed to be such a positive force in her life, in contrast to the dour image a westerner can have of it from never being curious enough to investigate.
Not long after 9/11 I called this person, who was happy to come speak in my little town in the mountains. The gathering was well-attended, and she talked mostly about Islam’s emphasis on peace, and surrendering one’s will to God’s. If one word could describe her, it would be grateful.
In those days I read a number of books on Islam and bought an edition of the Qur’an with an extensive commentary. My son had just started homeschooling, and to keep things simple I assigned him readings on Islam, including The Complete Idiot’s Guide to the Crusades. After a few weeks he was ready to move on to something else while I was not, and that is how he began a phase of educating himself.
That was fifteen years ago, and in the intervening years Islam has had to share my attention with other intellectual subjects. But I have maintained a very positive impression of Islam, while regretting what seems to be a prevalent attitude among even my favorite secularists that we don’t have a lot to learn from a religion that seems more bound to the past than some others. Many well-meaning people believe Islam oppresses woman and emphasizes a fear of God. A very dear Christian friend wonders if Islam is capable of a “reformation”.
To these friends I say, take a leap of faith. Spend some time getting familiar with Islam as it was a reformation and as it inspires Muslims today. In a time and land of multiple wanna be gods, Muhammad insisted there is only one God, and by implication there is one humanity. To truly fear God is to fear nothing else, nothing humans can contrive. Putting no stock in original sin, Islam maintains instead that people are by nature forgetful and need constant reminding of the straight path.
Secularism may presume it has the momentum and history is on its side, but just wait and see. British rabbi Jonathan Sacks observes that the twenty-first century “has left us with a maximum of choice and a minimum of meaning.” Most people need meaning, and they will find it. Many will find it in Islam.
For someone with such a positive view of Islam, it was unusual that I had not bothered to meet many Muslims. That changed the other evening, when I walked into a Muslim event to discover that I was probably one of a handful of non-Muslims in a sea of happy, energized people, after a very long day without touching food or water. For this was in the middle of Ramadan.
I was standing in the lobby, surrounded by folks greeting one another, perfectly comfortable with this guy who could pass for a Trump and was probably the only one carrying a spiral notebook. They can’t be worried about me, I thought, because a spy would not bring a spiral notebook. The first person I established eye contact with was Rashad, and from that moment on, I was at ease.
Rashad is from Pakistan and is a neuroscientist, so I told him I was impressed at how so many Muslims were accomplished at science and apparently had no conflict between science and faith in God. He expanded on that in some interesting ways, which will wait for another day.
Inside the ballroom I immediately recognized the M.C. as someone I had been intending to meet. No wonder she proposed a post-Ramadan meeting. The first speaker recited a passage about Ramadan from the Qur’an. It was the first time I had heard a recitation in person. I have some recitations on CD, which years ago I discovered can mellow out two rambunctious dogs faster than you can say Khalid Mansour is your uncle. Is this conceivably the word of God? I don’t know, but it sure had an effect on creatures we assume are not even capable of asking the question.
The second speaker addressed the rise of Islamophobia in the United States, which many Muslims believe recently exceeded the level after 9/11. This is likely attributable to a combination of the Syrian refugee crisis, the Paris and San Bernardino terror attacks, and certain statements by one presidential aspirant who has demonstrated what fame you can achieve by scrupulously under-thinking everything you say.
Only a month earlier, a local mosque received a threat which impressed me as pretty explicit. The risk of being Muslim in this country is steadily rising. Aggravating that, I see more lone wolf attacks by very troubled Muslims coming, due primarily to our fifteen years of war in the land of Islam, and an impression that the U.S. regards Muslim blood as cheap. But it ain’t true, as the afore-mentioned presidential aspirant has said, that “Islam hates us”.
In time I made my way to Rashad’s table of medical students, as a few seats there were vacant. What welcoming faces, I thought. Are they just being gracious? Are they excited that it is nearly time to eat and drink? Are they amused by this guy who is clearly not a Muslim and is carrying a spiral notebook? They were students at CU Denver, and seemed impressed that I had set a record for the most years to get a Master’s degree there. I explained that I had taken three or four years to write my thesis/project, during which time the department assumed I had dropped out. Mountain Time is a real thing.
For the remainder of the program, one speaker after another exuded gratitude to God and trust in His guidance and the hereafter, and the joy of Ramadan and assisting those in need, as this was a fundraiser for Islamic Relief USA.
The word “hereafter” conjures up Judgment Day, which over the last 15 years of pondering Islam was the biggest sticking point for me. I was relieved when some author wrote of it as a “device” for making people feel accountable for their actions and even their thoughts. Maybe it isn’t actually real, and neither is Hell, I thought with relief. But whether Judgment Day and Hell are really real is less and less an issue. Let it remain a mystery, not a game-changer. The upshot is that life is momentous, and our actions and thoughts really count. We are all children of the same God. That’s the game-changer. That’s the Big Idea.
When it came time for the evening prayer, the hall emptied, and Rashad said if I wanted to go observe he would forego praying himself and we could observe it together and he would explain it to me. On our way to the prayer room, I asked Rashad if a story I had read about Muhammad negotiating with God the number of daily prayers was generally accepted among Muslims. As I recalled the story, this happened the night Muhammad ascended to Heaven and met God, Jesus, Moses and other prophets. When Muhammad told Moses that God wanted people to pray some preposterous number of times each day, Moses, who had learned a thing or two about human nature, told Muhammad there was no way people would pray that much, and he told Muhammad to go back to God and negotiate something more plausible. This went on for a while, with Muhammad going back and forth between God and Moses, until Muhammad finally talked God down to five prayers a day. Moses said five was still too much, but Muhammad said he was done negotiating with God.
Rashad told me I essentially had it right.
As we stood outside the prayer room, a man greeted us and asked if we were going in. “Thank you, I’m not a Muslim”, I said. He smiled, took my hand and said, “Follow me”. I barely remembered to remove my shoes.
Inside we meandered around, careful not to walk in front of anyone praying. We found a spot and he said, “You can pray or not, whatever you like.” I thought, do I want to be the only one not praying? And so, I did something I had no idea I was going to do. I made only one obvious mistake, which I attribute to being left-handed: I crossed my arms incorrectly. But Khalid immediately reached over and set things right. I prayed to God as best I could feeling a bit awkward, and I prayed that my knee would hold. When my knee goes out anymore, it means a week of work missed.
Following the prayer, Khalid introduced me to a dozen people or more, all of whom seemed impressed that I had come all the way to Denver from a little town in the mountains because I wanted to meet Muslims. Not one asked me if I was considering becoming a Muslim. They seemed glad that I was curious enough to come. One asked me if I had any children, and I said I had a son named Anthony. He said I could be Abu Anthony, father of Anthony.
Back at our table, I noticed that since breaking his fast, Rashad had been only sipping at water. After sixteen hours without water, you would expect these people to be guzzling it. For my part, I did not ask for the pitcher of coffee on the other side of the table; that was my sacrifice for the evening. Those who know me would be impressed.
Back out in the lobby afterward, I was immediately greeted by several men as Abu Anthony. I made use of my notebook and asked a few for their contact information. One was from Jordan, another from Palestine. One held back a bit, seeming to study me. When it was just the two of us left, he asked if I had any religious affiliation. I told him I am an unaffiliated monotheist. That was one line I had rehearsed earlier, for surely everyone would want to know what I was. (Wasn’t Abraham an unaffiliated monotheist?) This man nodded in acceptance, and then told me that God knows which path is best for me, and this will be revealed if I pay attention.
Driving home, the word that best described how I felt was, yes, gratitude. Talk of expectations being exceeded! America is two percent Muslim, and for those of us who hardly know any Muslims, it is time we get curious. It’s not enough to abstractly champion their rights; we might have some vital things to learn from them. America has helped to fan the flames of extremism, and things may get worse before they get better. We non-Muslims need to be proactive and not just leave it to Muslims to assimilate with “us”.
Reform CAIR 