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that tree

that tree is older than me

when i entered this world

it was already here

as i journeyed through life

discovering Gita and Qur’an in my teens

it was here

waiting

and now here i am

privileged to gaze upon its beauty and majesty

for God has made this tree

and this poem was written by a fool like me

will it still be here

standing watch

as I exit this life

and begin a new journey

into realms of its Creator’s design

only One knows

and I simply say thank You

for this brief moment

when our paths have crossed

ya Muhyi

As anyone who actually knows me knows, I embrace the fact that I am an American, but am also very critical of the nation state called the United States of America.

One of my longest held criticisms has been the presence of military bases run by the USA throughout the world. I have spoken with my own father about this on many occasions. His father, my grandfather, served in the Navy during WWII on a battleship. I am proud of my grandfather’s service, but it has been over 85 years since that necessary but devastating struggle came to an end. We live in a different world.

Since high school, I have often wondered how Americans could pressure the USA to dismantle its bases. I have read books about it like the one whose picture comes at the end of this post. But now I realize that my thinking has been all wrong. It is the people in the countries with bases that need to dismantle them.

This has happened on multiple occasions.

The North Vietnamese defeated the USA, created the political structure of a contemporary unified Vietnam, and there have been no bases there since 1975.

In 1979, Iran had a revolution and made it impossible for the USA to maintain a military presence within its borders.

And now Afghanistan is free from bases controlled by the military of the USA.

The people of Vietnam, Iran, and Afghanistan have succeeded where the dissenting voices within the USA such as myself were completely ineffective.

The relative political/economic/cultural merits or dismerits of these countries is not the issue here. I am an American citizen, not a citizen of any of the aforementioned countries. In other countries, like South Korea, it seems like there is a great deal of public support for the American military presence. Each country should decide for themselves whether or not they want American soldiers on their soil. I have my hands full here, dealing with the myriad social, political, economic, and environmental responsibilities that come with being an American citizen.

I wish well for the people in all of those countries, and I hope to one day be able visit and learn a little about what it is actually like to live there. I would like to spend my money in all of those countries as a tourist, helping to support the local economy. I would like to atone for the ways in which I may have contributed to harming innocent civilians in all of those countries, through the tax dollars I am forced to pay every year. I would like to see the Other, face to face, as brothers and sisters in humanity. Because, let us to be clear, Americans would never allow Vietnamese, Iranians or Afghans to open a military base over here.

Until the time it is safe again to travel around the world regularly, I pray that God blesses the people of these countries, blesses the people of my country, and blesses the people of all the countries of Earth, amen.

all i have are words

words that rage against the darkness

spit my self onto the page

to remind me that i am still real

i’d rather get on a plane

and carve my presence into some other place

but i know i would just be running

from the angel

watching and waiting

behind the curtain

where my friends are

where my children’s grandparents are

if i could just hear you say salam

if i could just see your face again

if the Prophet Muhammad

blessings and peace upon him and his family

would just come and tell me everything will be okay

i wouldn’t take refuge in words

and i used to write songs

but songs don’t have the purity of the pain

the hopefulness of faith

the hopelessness of suffering

the hope for this

the love for this

the yearning for this

the breaking through to a world beyond death

where Imam Husayn stands

upon him peace

where there are no scars left on his neck

because I am not a Doubting Thomas

you are my bloodied Imam

the undying Abrahamic sacrifice

and so even though Muharram is gone

you remain in my heart

bridging the gap between

the silence of my dead friends

and my dead in-laws

and the promise of God

the promise that makes everything whole

the promise that makes life out of death

turns sadness into bliss

but doesn’t shy

from the blood

and emaciated bodies

racked by disease

and the injustice and cruelty

that goes on every day

that I don’t have the power to destroy

but I try to destroy it in my self

until I feel dead inside

because I would rather die

then let loose pain on the world

and yet 72 bodies pile up in Kunduz

fathers and brothers and lovers and kids

and there is nothing I can do

but send my Hail Muhammad

the Lord bless thee

and the fruit of Khadija’s womb

as protests into the unseen

believing but not yet knowing

with the eye’s certainty

how the Divine Algorithm works

that takes prayers from this earthly mess

and rewraps it

into gifts for the world between

California and Resurrection

but

i am still here

and i have the time to write

on this day

in this place

why

i don’t know

i always thought i would die young

i planned my journey as triage

but here i am

old and weak

a would be poet with the youthful heart of a wanna be warrior

in a world that keeps moving

while I hold the dead close

and type words on a screen

for al-Muḥyī al-Mumīt

because it is not my choice

when i live

or when i die

so let me make the most of this day

and the day after that

until my last day in this world

embracing death

Imam al-Naqī عليه السلام once went to visit one of his companions who had fallen sick. The fear of death had robbed him of all tranquillity and calm, so the Imam addressed him as follows:

“O servant of God, you fear death because you do not understand it correctly. Tell me, if your body were soiled with dirt so that you were pained and discomforted and afflicted with running sores, and you knew that washing in the bathhouse would rid you of all that filth and pain, would you not wish to avail yourself of the bath house to cleanse yourself of the dirt? Or would you be reluctant to do so and prefer to remain in your polluted state?”

The sick man replied:

“O descendant of the Messenger of God! I would definitely prefer to wash myself and become clean.”

To this the Imam responded:

“Know, then, that death is exactly like the bathhouse. It represents your last chance to rid yourself of your sins and to purify yourself of evil. If death embraces you now, there can be no doubt that you will be freed of all sorrow and pain and attain everlasting happiness and joy.”

Hearing these words of the Imam, the sick man changed completely and a remarkable tranquillity appeared on his face. Then in dignified fashion, he surrendered himself to death, in the shroud he had drawn around himself, full of hope in God’s mercy. He closed his eyes which had now seen the truth and hastened to his eternal abode.

[related by Sayyid Mujtaba Musavi Lari in the book “Resurrection, Judgement and the Hereafter”]

بسم الله الرحمان الرحيم

اللهم صل على محمد و آل محمد

Part 1: All-Seeing

When you look out at the world, know that what you see is also seen by the All-Seeing. Anything you have ever seen, or any human being has seen in the history of planet Earth, is also seen by the All-Seeing. In reality, you and I can only see because the All-Seeing has given us access to a tiny drop from the shoreless ocean of the All-Seeing. The All-Seeing sees each subatomic particle, and so the CERN particle accelerator is simply the All-Seeing providing glimpses to particle physicists of what is already seen by the All-Seeing. The oldest and most distant galaxies are seen by the All-Seeing, and so the Hubble Space Telescope is simply the All-Seeing providing snippets to astrophysicists of what is already seen by the All-Seeing. Every single moment in every single place of this universe observed by you and I is already seen by the All-Seeing, so the All-Seeing is continuously sharing some of this experience with us. There are realms beyond our imagination that are also being seen, and one day some of that will be shared with us as well, just as “Allah brought you out of the wombs of your mothers while you knew nothing, and gave you hearing, sight, and intellect so perhaps you would be thankful.” (16.78, Khattab trans.) But you and I will never be able to see like the All-Seeing. Forever and ever, only the All-Seeing will know what it is like to be All-Seeing. We are simply capable of growing in our perception of what we see, as well as our recollection of what we have seen, by the generosity of the All-Seeing.

لا إله إلا الله

Part 2: All-Knowing

When you read these words, there is no sound that is audible to an outsider. Rather, you “hear” them inside you, in the realm of thought. A neuroscientist can see the neurons firing inside your head using brain imaging technology, but thought itself is not observable. Only you know it. But the All-Knowing also knows it. At this moment, the All-Knowing knows the thoughts of all 7,900,000,000 or so human beings on the planet simultaneously. The All-Knowing also knows all thoughts we have ever had or ever will have, including every thought of every human being who has passed before us. The All-Knowing knew the equation for Newton’s Law of Gravitation while Sir Isaac Newton was still in his mother’s arms. The All-Knowing knew everything about Homo Neanderthalensis before Charles Darwin was even born. Nothing has happened, is happening, or will happen that the All-Knowing does not already know. “The keys of the Unseen are in His possession. No one knows them but Him. He knows everything in the land and sea. No leaf falls without His knowing it…” (6.59, Bewley trans.) The All-Knowing knew that I was going to write this, and that you were going to read it, and whether or not you would like it, comment on it, or share it. The All-Knowing knows all of our greatest hopes and most terrible fears. So while we continuously grow in knowledge and experience as we age, we are simply uncovering a tiny bit of an endless expanse of knowledge that is only fully grasped by the All-Knowing. An eternity of learning and experience will never make us All-Knowing, for there is only one All-Knowing.

لا إله إلا الله

Part 3: All-Powerful

When we look at our bodies, we know that we did not bring them into being. I can see my hands type on the keyboard, I can look at my eyes in the mirror’s reflection, and I can know with absolute certainty that who I am was not my choice. We do not get to choose if we were born with male or female sex chromosomes. We did not get to choose who are parents are. We did not get to choose which country we were born in, and where we first went to school. The very foundation of our embodied being is an airtight proof of our origins in powerlessness. But the All-Powerful does get to choose. The All-Powerful chose our bodies, and where to place them in history. I could have been a Tamil woman born in the 18th century, but instead I am an American male born in the 20th century. And there is nothing I can do to change that fact. We obsess about our choices once we become independent, but those choices will come to an end when the All-Powerful brings about our end. “He it is Who gives life and causes to die. And when He decreed an affair, He only says to it: Be! Then, it is!” (40.68, Bakhtiar trans.) There is nothing we can do to stop the inevitable end. So we were born without power and will die without power, and have a brief taste of power in-between for a few decades. It is only because the All-Powerful shares an infinitesimally small manifestation of power with us that we have this experience. But once we do, we want it to remain and increase. But the only one who can grant us our hope is the All-Powerful. Just as we have gone from powerlessness to a taste of power, and will be returned to powerlessness, we can once again return to a state where our tiny powers bring us ever changing and increasingly beautiful possibilities, due to the generosity of the All-Powerful. We will never be all powerful, nor ever be able to fathom what it is like to be All-Powerful, but we are all children of the All-Powerful in whose power we live and die and are raised again.

لا إله إلا الله

Part 4: Life Itself

If you are reading this, you are alive. You are surrounded on all sides by life. You live and breath and move through life. This is only possible because Life Itself shares life with us. The whole universe is alive, constantly moving, changing, becoming. Once we were not here, but now we are. And because of that first move from nothingness to life, we know with certainty that it is possible a second time. “How can you disbelieve in God when you were dead [lifeless] and He gave you life? He will let you die once more, then bring you back to life again, whereupon you will be returned to Him.” (2.28, Wahiduddin Khan trans.) Life is not fragile – because it comes from Life Itself, it is rooted in eternity. It may take different forms in different realms, but only Life Itself can take it away. We are part of that process. Every single one of us was chosen to exist by Life Itself, each unlike anything else that ever was or will be. Every thing we have ever loved or desired or admired is part of life too. The seemingly infinite variety of forms of life can never be counted, because Life Itself is an endlessly overflowing source that always was and always will be.

لا إله إلا الله

Part 5: No beginning, no end

When we think of our lives, we think of our birth, which has already happened. We might think of our death, which has yet to come. Similarly, when we think of the planet Earth, we might try to conceptualize its beginnings in space 4 billion years ago, or its destruction in the future. We might ponder the universe itself, and the Big Bang 14 billion years ago, and its future collapse. But we cannot truly think of that which has no beginning and no end. Beyond the confines of time and space is the foundation of reality which is not limited by time and space. There is no “where” because it created all wheres. There is no “when” because it created all whens. It always was, always is, and always will be. Nothing that is within time and space can be without that which creates and sustains it from outside time and space. In all moments, in all realms, it is there. There is nothing similar to it, and nothing like it, and yet it is All-Seeing, All-Knowing, All-Powerful, and Life Itself.

لا إله إلا الله

for my friend

there is nothing i can say here

that you don’t already know

i was always honest with you

up until the last

even when it meant being harsh

because that is what it means

to be a friend for the sake of Allah

not a friend just to have fun with

although we had plenty of that

not a friend just to worship with

although we did plenty of that

but a friend to push each other

to be better

to rectify wrongs

and live up to ideals

until the inevitable end

but a friend cannot choose for another

the path they will walk

all they can do

is share what they think is best

and leave the rest up to Allah

because you are you

and i am me

so now that you are gone

just know what you will take your place

in my list of those in the barzakh

to be prayed for on thursday nights

and other special times

because our friendship isn’t over

and i hope you receive the gifts i send you

by the mercy of our Lord

and they make you laugh

just as we did so often

back here on Earth

faqīr al-fuqarāʾ

Dear God

i guess You created me in a time where writing on a computer would be the way that I speak to You so often

it would be so much more romantic if i had a quill and inkwell, sitting by candlelight, as i wrote my munājāt in beautiful calligraphy

would You like me more if i sat cross legged on the floor as i do this?

would it be more authentic?

or is it okay that i am sitting on the couch?

i have to believe that You are more interested in the substance than the form

all i have to give You is my faqr

that raw, sheer need for You

that aching desperation that only You know

and i am nothing

i hate being responsible for myself

i hate having to be the one who has to decide

i just want You to lay it out for me

“write your dissertation about this topic!”

ok, if You say so

“follow this historical intellectual tradition!”

sure, good to know that is the one You prefer

“raise your children this way!”

allright, let’s do it

but instead it is me, with my books, and my blog posts, and my searching out critical discourse

listening to other fuqarāʾ like me

hoping for an insight

seeking the way

but how can i actually complain to You

how can i not feel like You have answered my prayers

that seems like the height of ingratitude

but am i never not in desperate need of You

no

there will never come a time

no matter how learned my mind becomes

no matter how pious my body can be

no matter how sincere my heart is

where i am still not a beggar after Your Mercy

You are my mother

no

You are so much my refuge

that i seek refuge in You for the wellbeing of my own mother

the one who nursed me

the one who has shown me love my whole life

only You i beseech to give her eternal happiness

and only You can grant it

there is no god but You, transcendent You are, surely i am from the oppressors

there is no where to turn, except You are there

and so i turn once again

seeking everything i have always sought

willing to change for You

over and over again

i know i can change for You

i have left that which i have loved

i have left those whom i have loved

i have come to Your doorstep because

how can i do otherwise

the one who has caught a glimpse of You

tasted one drop of the nectar of Your ḥamd

reached the mental point of ḥayra

and understood a bit of You as al-Ghanī al-Mughnī

how can there be any going back

but there is one thing i do ask of You

i ask what your Prophet reportedly asked

do not leave me to myself

for i know i am not the authority

You are

and i cannot find my way

if You do not guide me to You

yā Ḥayyu yā Qayyūm

bi raḥmatika astaghīth

wa min ʿadhābika astajīr

aṣliḥnī shaʾnī kullah

wa lā takilnī ilā nafsī wa lā ilā aḥadin min khalqika

tarfata ʿayn

One of the unique aspects of the place where I am commemorating Muharram is that it is surrounded by other houses of worship.

Right behind us is a Protestant Church for Taiwanese-Americans.

A few doors down is a Protestant Church for Korean-Americans.

Across the street is a Vaiṣṇava Hindu temple rooted in the Puṣti-marg school of Vallabhācārya, serving an Indian-American community.

Next to that is a large multi-ethnic Evangelical megachurch.

A little farther down the street is another Hindu temple for Indian-Americans, this one focused on a more Advaitic approach connected to Śaivism.

I am not sure how aware of each other these communities are, but I appreciate that they all exist in a shared space in San Jose. Given that I moved to California to reflect on the reality of human diversity, it is all the more poignant. It helps me connect my academic work of studying the Hindu tradition with my lived reality as a Muslim seeking to practice his faith to the fullest extent possible.

Our center is multi-ethnic too. Arabs, South Asians, Iranians, and a smattering of other folks such as myself, gather each night to express our love for the Prophet Muhammad and his family, may blessings and peace be upon them. We use English, Arabic, Urdu and Farsi to convey our thoughts and feelings. It is a beautiful experience of unity in diversity.

But at a deeper level, the reality is that every prayer that is made by everyone in all these houses of worship is heard by the same All-Hearing (al-Samīʿ) All-Seeing (al-Baṣīr) Lord. What our Lord chooses to do with all of our prayers is up to the Lord who created all of us.

If the people from these other communities would ever like me to come share with them my faith perspective, I would be more than happy to do so.

But even if we never meet, I would like them all to know that I wish them good in this world and good in the next, and pray that they are all covered in the mercy of the Most Merciful Lord.

برحمتك يا أرحم الراحمين

Into Muharram

The genocide of Native Americans.

The enslavement of Africans.

The dropping of atomic bombs on Japan.

The genocide of the Rohingya.

The Holocaust.

The reigns of Saddam Hussein/Idi Amin/Joseph Stalin/etc.

The Settler-Colonialism of Zionism.

The destruction of the Amazon rainforest.

The plastic that fills the oceans.

The decimation of biodiversity.

The unreported rapes.

The unconvicted murders.

The unaccounted for detentions and unknown torture.

These are some of the things that I carry with me into Muharram,

ya Husayn.

On March 8, 1782, a group of Pennsylvania militiamen slaughtered some 90 unarmed Native Americans at the Moravian mission settlement of Gnadenhutten, Ohio. Although the militiamen claimed they were seeking revenge for Indian raids on their frontier settlements, the Indians they murdered had played no role in any attack.

As we all know, although we might not realize it, Islam is a religion of bodies and words. As we read in the Ziyara Jami’ah Kabira:

وَأَجْسَادُكُمْ فِي ٱلْأَجْسَادِ

Your bodies are amongst other bodies

So our biological selves, the fundamental basis by which we appear as creatures upon this Earth, is something we share with the Prophets and Imams, upon them peace. There is nothing overtly mystical about this, but the Qur’an calls out attention to the fact that the biological processes by which we become who we all are today, and by which our children will become the adults of tomorrow, is itself miraculous. As is states in Surah al-Nahl, verse 78:

وَاللَّهُ أَخْرَجَكُم مِّن بُطُونِ أُمَّهَاتِكُمْ لَا تَعْلَمُونَ شَيْئًا وَجَعَلَ لَكُمُ السَّمْعَ وَالْأَبْصَارَ وَالْأَفْئِدَةَ لَعَلَّكُمْ تَشْكُرُون

As Ali Quli Qarai has interpreted this verse in the English language:

Allah has brought you forth from the bellies of your mothers while you did not know anything. He made for you hearing, eyesight, and hearts so that you may give thanks

And the fact that our religion is a religion of words is brought home by the fact that I am speaking and quoting everything right now, so that we are not simply a collection of bodies in a physical space, but our filling this moment with meaning through words. So much so that all I have to do is say, “wa huwa ma’kum aynama kuntum,” and perhaps some of us have a moment where the created nature of all of this becomes apparent, and we remember (or perhaps see a little bit more clearly) the shining presence of Being (al-Wujud) by which all of us – and all of this – is. But for those who do not know Arabic, I have to translated those words and say that it means, “Allah is with you wherever you are,” for that meaning (the ma’na) to reach all selves in this room.

So this teaching tradition is nothing more than bodies (real, actual people) inheriting the words (in this case, Qur’an) that have come from before, and giving them meaning that is articulated within a particular cultural reality. And that meaning is not confined to simply what we say, but what we do with our bodies. ‘Allamah Tabataba’i (Allah have mercy on him), in a a number of different works, brilliantly articulated how every human being has a deen (what we often translate as religion). He pointed out the etymologically deen is related to dayn, which means a debt in Arabic. And so each of us has been given a body by a volition (a will) other than our own, and our deen is how we use it. We cannot but use it, and so we strive to understand the meaning of human existence so that we might use it in the best way.

So what does all of this have to do with the challenges that those young Muslims in college, or the workforce, or graduate school – those who are newly married, have small kids, or who are still single – face?

I would argue…everything.

Why?

Because in the 21st century the challenge of faith for us (maybe not for other, but for us) is not the maintenance of past cultural forms – whether they be articulated in Urdu, Farsi, Arabic – but rather the articulation of a universal truth that is also adaptable to different cultural forms.

Let me ask you a simple question.

Is Imam Mahdi just for us, or for the entirety of humanity, the animals, the trees, and the fish in the ocean?

Of course the answer is clear.

But many of our youth are not taught Islam that way.

They think Islam is their particular cultural heritage that they have to hold onto in the face of different articulations of the universal. For example, they may be watching the Olympics in Tokyo right now, and they get excited if they see an athlete in hijab. Why? Because they naturally, and understandably, want to see themselves represented in the global conversation. But what about all the other athletes? Are they not also human beings created by Allah who are looking for justice on Earth? Are they not all going to die one day and witness the process by which Allah, glorified and exalted, takes stock of how all human beings have lived their lives on Earth?

To limit Islam to the representation of Muslims in public spaces is a major error. It is a subtle acquiescence to the idea that Islam is simply a pre-modern religion that has to find its place in the modern world. It is submission to the idea that multiculturalism means that Islam is no different than Chinese culture or Sikhism, and so you get to wear your hijab at the Olympics, and he gets to wear his turban and she gets to wave her flag of the Chinese Communist Party.

Because when we teach kids Islam, we use words that imply it is for everyone. “The Messenger of Allah to humanity” is one particular phrase that I have heard many times before. So it that is true, then kids want to know: why should all peoples of the world stop eating pork? What is the point of that law? I have Chinese and White and Brazilian friends who eat pork chops, but they are good people that are contributing to humanity and the well-being of the Earth. So what do I do with that?

I am not giving the pork example because that is what a lot of young adults are struggling with, but because it helps to illustrate a point. If ‘Allamah Tabataba’i’s thesis about our bodies is true – that we know instinctually that we didn’t make them, and so we are in debt to whomever or whatever did make them – then we are stating that everyone is on the same playing field. Human beings have a particular existential reality that they face – this is a secular truth as well as a religious truth – and so let’s leave aside all distinctions between human beings as a starting point. We were created by a power other than our own, are given some power for a short period of time, and then it all goes away. So what do we do with it?

If this is the case, then why pork? Why does a universal truth include a seemingly random food prohibition? Well, as we all know, answering questions like this involve being willing to speculate, but also the humility to say that Allah knows best (wa Allahu a’lam). But as a student of history, I marvel at the way, for example, Spanish culture developed a public aspect to pork consumption such that if you travel to Spain today, you will literally see pigs legs hanging from windows inside shops off the street, and find porks in so many dishes. This is clearly leftover from the Reconquista, the Catholic reconquering of the Iberian peninsular from the Muslims, when they were trying to root out secret Muslims in newly reconquered territories. And so at least at the world historical scale, we can see that pork consumption is actually a discreet data point that indicates the spread of Islam as well as the strength of Islam in varying times and places. It may be that the prohibition of pork is not actually about you or me or anyone of us, but rather the collective Ummah as a whole. It may be that it serves as a clear dividing line in sociological terms between Muslims and others. This is made all the more poignant that, in my experience, eating pork is the very last thing to go when someone is on their way out of Islam. It is very common to find young Muslims who do not pray all 5 obligatory prayers every day, but would never intentionally miss a day of fasting in the month of Ramadan. But for those young Muslims who have given up on fasting, the prohibition on pork almost always remains. It is that one last piece of taqwa that they have left – that willingness to do what Allah has commanded and avoid what Allah has prohibited. And so whether or not that is meaningful in the next life is only for Allah to decide, but here on Earth it becomes meaningful in our collective communal expression of Islam. Put another way, Islam has been the most powerful force in human history for preventing the cultivation and consumption of pigs.

It is not very hard to make an environmental point about this. But that takes a mentality that sees Islam as capable of contributing to the well-being of all of humanity and all of the Earth. If Islam is simply my heritage – “well, I don’t eat pork and my parents don’t eat pork and my grandparents didn’t eat pork, so I don’t want my kids to eat pork” – then one isn’t even going to make the connection.

And so our articulations of Islam, at the individual and communal level, have to be oriented towards the universality of Islam for the younger generation to not feel like their greatest hope is simply representation. I don’t want it to be misunderstood that I somehow think greater representation is bad – not at all. Rather, what I am saying that is that Islam is different. Islam is not being Punjabi, or female, or a white American male like myself. Islam is not being an immigrant or an indigenous person. Islam is the help and the guidance and the mercy provided by the Creator of this Earth and this universe to help everyone, including Muslims!

This is one of the great and powerful insights of our Shi’i tradition. That we recognize that from very early on, Muslims failed to live Islam, and so failed to provide humanity with the beauty that it deserves. We are all constantly called to push ourselves to not fall into the same traps of Shaytan that our Muslim ancestors, whether Sunni or Shi’i or something else, fell into. We are constantly striving and hoping to do things right, while also having the humility to know that, just as people in the past failed and acuiesced and compromised, we too might run into the same deviations. But our Imams are always there for us. Our Prophets are always there for us. And Allah is always there for us, as we strive towards the future.

We may find it deeply meaningful to recount the tragedies of the Ahl al-Bayt, upon them peace, but we are a future-oriented people. We look back on the caliphate, and can speak plainly about its positives and negatives, and point out clearly that it only ever effected approximately 25% of the habitable land on Earth. So what about the other 75%? The Islamic history of North and South America has yet to be really be written! We are people of the future, because our Imam is the Imam of North and South America, as well as the whole world!

But again, we have to embrace that mentality ourselves if we are to pass that onto our children.

In my experience, very few Muslims immigrated to the USA thinking that they were going to bring the universal truth to all the bechara and bechari white folks like me. (For those of you who don’t know any Urdu – bechara and becahari is like saying, “oh that poor poor person” in English, someone to be pitied). But that is a truth we must embrace. I can directly trace my conversion to Islam to the work of Indian immigrants to Chicago who decided they needed to make some books for their kids in hopes they would retain Islam. They probably didn’t imagine they would have an impact on an investment bank CEOs son who went to an Ivy League university. But they did.

There was an early white convert to Islam in America who stated that he was not so arrogant to think that he had figured out a truth that no one else could, but nor did he think so lowly of himself to think that others wouldn’t follow in his footsteps. I reiterate that statement. I would not be here today if I did not think, that of all the different ways of looking at the meaning human existence, that Islam is not the clearest and most comprehensive. Truth is everywhere. Justice is to be found in all times and places in varying degrees. But Islam is the call for humanity to embrace the totality of truth and to embody the perfection of justice to the extent we are capable, leaving the outcome of all things up to the One who created us and everything else.

So our words must be translations of truth and justice, and our bodies must act out truth and justice, for our Islam to be what it is supposed to be. Easily the most beloved American figure to Muslims is Malcolm X. This love transcends the Sunni and Shi’i divide, and he is often quoted by both communities. By far my favorite Malcolm quote is, “I’m for truth, no matter who tells it. I’m for justice, no matter who it is for or against. I’m a human being first and foremost, and as such I’m for whoever and whatever benefits humanity as a whole.” That is a great definition of Islam, as far as I am concerned, and people love Malcolm X (also known al-Hajj Malik al-Shabazz) because they see that this quote is consistent with how he lived his life.

So we too have to struggle for that. There are many narrations of the Imams, upon them peace, that state that the true Shi’i is the person whose life and actions demonstrate the beauty of the teachings of Islam. In one hadith of Imam al-Baqir, upon him peace, he states that we should be like:

رُهْـبَانٌ بِاللَّيْلِ أَسَدٌ بِالنَّهَارِ

Monks during the night, and lions during the day.

These words alone, for example, are indicative of one of the beautiful qualities of our faith, which is that it brings together both the worldly and otherworldly virtues. For example, pretty much everyone I know, with the exception of a few far-left activist types, uses Amazon.com. It is a remarkable service that I first used to order books in college, and now spans the globe. It is hard to not admire Jeff Bezos for building it. One might even call him “a lion of business.” But as far as we know, he has no otherworldly virtues. He has firmly planted his feet in the dunya, and his whole spaceship stunt is further evidence of the nature of his deen. But then we take some pious Muslim scholar who is renowned for their worship and detachment from worldly matters, and we are in awe of their otherworldly virtues, even though we would never trust them to run a complex worldly project like a global online retail service. But Islam has called us to aspire to excellence in both.

One of the ways that I have noticed young people go astray is because they lose this balance. This is especially true in regards to the politics of representation. Sometimes their personal deen – the way they live their lives – skews towards worldly accomplishment, and they think that if they can become a tenured professor at a prestigious university, or a partner at a respected law firm, or have a popular television show, then they have been the proverbial lions during the day that their faith calls them to be. But can they give up a millions of dollars from a major television network if they feel their artisitic vision is going to be comrpomised, the way the Muslim comedian Dave Chappelle walked away from Comedy Central? Are they enough of monks at night they they will not fall into open sin when a little piece of the dunya is dangled before their eyes?

Less common, but still problematic, are those who skew towards “being religious” at the expense of worldly accomplishment. They have talents and potentials that are undeveloped and misused because they think that as long as they are praying at the beginning of the time and making their regular adhkar, they are doing what a Muslim is supposed to do. But this world is big and complex and competitive, and it requires Muslims to be audacious, to live in a way that actually demonstrates their faith. I am reminded of the guidance provided by Sayyid Sistani to the fighters in Iraq in their battle against ISIS. Again, as a student of history, I felt this was the greatest treatise on the ethics of modern war I had ever read, regardless of whether I was Muslim or not. If Islam cannot confront our realities, then it will be overwhelmed by them, and will remain only as a refuge of the socially powerless.

As we hear in a hadith of Imam al-Rida, upon him peace,

لو عرف الناس محاسن كلامنا لاتبعونا

If people knew the beauty of our words, then they would follow us…

This is a conditional sentence. People need to know the beauty of the words of the Ahl al-Bayt, upon them peace. This involves translation work as well as the more formal process of teaching the tradition. But as we know, it is not just the words of the Ahl al-Bayt that is beautiful, it is also their embodiment, their lives, their actions. Yes, they were bodies in the world just like other bodies, but, in the words of the ziyara again:

وَفِعْلُكُمُ ٱلْخَيْرُ

وَعَادَتُكُمُ ٱلإِحْسَانُ

Your actions were the embodiment of good and your habits were excellence personified.

And so to must we strive to be.

We cannot wait for others to inspire the younger generations. We must try. We must try to be reflections of the beauty of Islam.

Young people ARE inspired by Muslims often, but often simply based on the politics of representation. So they get excited when they see Riz Ahmed in Star Wars, or watch We Are Lady Parts, a new NBC-Universal show about Muslim girls in London. They post on social media about the Brooklyn Nets basketball player who recently converted to Islam, and discuss and debate the relative merits of a Muslim being the campaign manager of Bernie Sanders’ last presidential campaign.

But – and let me be a little controversial here – none of that is particularly inspiring to non-Muslims. Yes, there may be times when one of those things plays a role in someone’s journey to Islam – for example, I recently had a conversation with a young man who wanted to know more about Islam because he had watched both seasons of the show on Hulu about the Muslim comedian Ramy Yousef. But let me be blunt – no one is going to become Muslim BECAUSE of that show. They are going to become Muslim because watching everyone prostrate in unison before the Ka’ba is a beautiful symbol of human diversity under the shade of Divine Unity. They are going to become Muslim because your family is ethical and charitable and generous, and you welcome them into your home and answer their questions. They are going to become Muslim because they read a beautifully published version of the biography of the Prophet Muhammad, blessings and peace upon him and his family. They are going to become Muslim because their innate quest for truth and justice aligns with what they have experienced of Islam. They will HEAR the beauty of the words of the leaders of our faith, at the forefront of which is the Qur’an itself, and they will follow.

One scholar once said that many of the fiqh questions these days are actually questions of kalam (Islamic theology). By this he meant that fiqh only makes sense when you have already bought in, wholeheartedly, to the idea of God (tawhid), Prophets (nubuwwah), and a life after death (akhira). If one has doubts about those things, it is not particularly relevant where you hold your hands during qiyam in the salat, or whether you wipe your feet or wash them during wudu. So our faith has to be rooted in theological universals. This is what I was saying earlier about how a young Muslim might look at the Tokyo Olympics. If Islam for them is nothing about outward symbolism, all they are going to see is the few women wearing hijab. But if Islam for them is an expression of the collective destiny of humanity, then they will see that everyone there is a reflection of the Creator (al-Khaliq al-Bari’ al-Musawwir). They will see that the Olympics represents human aspiration for one global community living in peace, which is precisely what Imam Mahdi is destined to bring about. And they will be reminded that the strength of the strong, the quickness of the quick, and the endurance of the enduring is nothing but a Divine gift that will be taken away in old age and death.

Our age is one of marveling at human excellence and ingenuity, and so we will not survive this age spiritually without remembering that everything that is human is built on the Divine. The great heresy of our age – the one that Muslims young and old, and in the East and the West all suffer from – is the age of:

أَن رَّآهُ اسْتَغْنَى

“they think themselves as self-sufficient” as Surah al-‘Alaq states.

From the very beginning of the revelation of the Qur’an, the idea that human beings were self-sufficient was put under attack. The Qur’an engaged in a constant polemic with its audience to get them to admit that everything they were was not an accident, but rather the outcome of a process whereby God wanted to place a being on Earth with greater potential than any other. This belief that human beings are islands unto themselves, alone in a meaningless creation meant to create meaning through their human imagination, was there in the 7th century. For the jahili Arabs, there was temporary comfort in wine and song and poetry, just as there has been for the nihilistic aesthetes of Euro-American colonial modernity for hundreds of years. But death is still there to be reckoned with:

كُلُّ نَفْسٍ ذَائِقَةُ الْمَوْتِ ثُمَّ إِلَيْنَا تُرْجَعُون

Every soul shall taste death. Then you shall be brought back to Us

I had met numerous young and attractive and intelligent and driven Muslims who have explained to me that the moment they really became serious about their faith was when someone close to them died, and all of a sudden they didn’t feel so invincible. It is only when we fully embrace the reality that we are going to die that Islam makes sense, so there are aspects to the journey that we cannot control. You can raise a Muslim to understand intellectually that God is real, and you can explain to them rationally how the Reward and Punishment are part and parcel of how the creation works and thus part of the next life as well, but until they have seen it with their own eyes, it just doesn’t sink in as deeply. These are the moments none of us can control, but which are part and parcel of how Allah directs our lives. As it states in Surah al-‘Ankabut, verse 2:

أَحَسِبَ النَّاسُ أَن يُتْرَكُوا أَن يَقُولُوا آمَنَّا وَهُمْ لَا يُفْتَنُون

Do the people suppose that they will be let off because they say, ‘We have faith,’ and they will not be tested

You can’t say, “I am a Muslim” and not be tested. Maybe that test won’t be like the Rohingya, who have faced a genocide at the hands of the military forces of Myanmar and yet held onto their faith. Maybe that test will be when one of our friends unexpectedly dies, and we have to really ask ourselves if we believe they are alive in the barzakh, because if they are, then every Thursday night it would be good for us to recite some Qur’an for them and give some sadaqa on their behalf, and not watch Netflix. Maybe that test will be a new set of opportunities and possibilities that are exciting and exhilarating, but they involve a series of significant compromises in our faith and practice? Maybe the test will be purely in our heads, and we will lives of ease and comfort, but struggle to see Islam as universal and Allah as real without taking the necessary time to strive to understand it with our best effort.

It is well established, through Qur’an and hadith, that Allah tests some people with prosperity and others with tribulation. In general, the tests we face are the tests of prosperity and ease. When I have spoken with young Muslims who are struggling with their faith, there is one clear theme that runs through it all – the desire to be free. The desire to be able to taste anything, touch anything, go anywhere, and be with anyone. Little do they know how much more they have tasted, touch, done and seen than the vast majority of human beings who have ever walked this Earth. They were not born in a village somewhere 800 years ago, destined to farm the same land their parents and grandparents farmed, never even knowing, let alone seeing, what was on the other side of the Earth. Rather, they live in Chicago, or New York, or San Jose, or Houston, and they have pleasures and delights and possibilities that most in history have never ever dreamed of. So when they read the Qur’anic verses about couches and gardens, they are unmoved. Why would I want a couch in Heaven when I already have big wrap around couch with a sectional in my parents living room, with a 50 inch flat screen on the wall streaming thousands of options?! Instead, when you ask them about Heaven, it is about travel and relationships and experiences that they feel they are being denied here on Earth.

And often the basis of that denial is somehow wrapped up in how they were taught to be Muslim. Don’t do this. Don’t do that. What would the community say if they knew. And so on and so forth.

And so they feel trapped. Trapped between an Islam of denial and a global world of possibility. But what if we reverse these ideas, and talk about Islam as the pathway to endless possibilities – not only a complete and fulfilling life here on Earth, but also never-ending expansion and journeys after we die – and the Earth as a place of denial. Denial of our hopes. Denial of our ideals. Denial of the full expression and potential of our humanity.

For we do not believe we are born to die, and end our story here on Earth. Our journey continues in the stars, and we do not need to spend billions on rocketships to get there. The same One who created the Andromeda galaxy created me, and that One can show me everything I have ever dreamed of, and far more that I could never even imagine, even if I lived for a thousand years.

This resolves the great heresy of self-sufficiency. This way of looking at Islam means that the 21st century is to embraced fully. There is no need to hide. There is no need to be afraid. We are the followers of the followers of the Imam destined to unite the globe, and all of us collectively are servants of the Creator of this planet and every other planet. That is what our faith is teaching us – that even though we are not the majority of humanity, and our beliefs are not reflected in the economic, political and cultural trends dominating the world right now – that we are in submission to the processes of history that will bring about the ultimate victory of Islam.

This is the truly audacious aspect of believing in Islam – to acknowledge your smallness on the Earth, but to truly believe, like Abraham (upon him peace) before us, that our individual journey to God has meaning even if everyone around us thinks it is ridiculous. Because that is what we often forget about the Qur’anic stories – that most of the people thought the Prophets and their followers were ridiculous and preposterous! The Qur’an itself anticipates this common psychological challenge to belief.

But being in community helps us to reaffirm our beliefs – wa tawasau bil-haqqi wa tawasau bis-sabr – when other people think we are ridiculous.

And so this is why we must think of Islam, for ourselves and in the way we convey it to not just young Muslims but all others, as a universal truth. As containing the fundamental answer to the mystery of human existence on Earth, and what our lives are meant to be lived for.

Do we think that the martyrs of Karbala lost something that day? Did they lose the opportunity to travel, to hold political office, to create art, to fly to space, to fall in love, to build a company, or any other human endeavor that people have striven for in history? Or did they gain everything because they sacrificed their lives for God, as embodiments of Surah al-Ahzab, verse 23:

مِّنَ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ رِجَالٌ صَدَقُوا مَا عَاهَدُوا اللَّهَ عَلَيْهِ فَمِنْهُم مَّن قَضَىٰ نَحْبَهُ وَمِنْهُم مَّن يَنتَظِرُ وَمَا بَدَّلُوا تَبْدِيلً

Among the faithful are men who fulfill what they have pledged to Allah. Of them are some who have fulfilled their pledge, and of them are some who still wait, and they have not changed in the least

So we are all those still waiting, hoping that we can draw inspiration from the martyrs of Karbala to face our own challenges. To know that whoever finds Allah has lost nothing, whereas those who have lost Allah have lost everything. To know that death is not to be feared, but rather the thousands of ways that the living forget. And to know that we are citizens of the entire Earth, because we serve the Malik al-Mulk (the Possessor of Sovereignty) who is sovereign over all nations.

اللهم صل على محمد و آل محمد و عجل فرجهم

This was originally a speech given at Baitul Ilm on July 24th, 2021. It has been slightly modified.

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