Papers

“I want you to knock that smile right off her face! You make sure she spends all of next week in a hospital bed.” Imagine this phrase coming in as marital advice from a confidant. That person would be a scoundrel worthy, himself, of punishment. Now, imagine the same phrase coming from the late Muhammad Ali to his daughter right before the next round of a boxing match. He would be lauded for good parenting.

“Peace in Islam.” We have grown largely desensitized to the absurdity of this phrase and the problems it poses through its widespread use and receptivity on the tongues. Peace is the absence of disturbance or war, it is quietness and tranquility, it is a state of equilibrium. Whenever and wherever this is achieved, we have peace. Neither religion nor secularism can qualify it. No one would dare say that we have a Jewish peace or an atheist peace. Equally unthinkable is the phrase Peace in Christianity or Peace in Hinduism. Perhaps the reason we don’t think twice about the phrase when qualified by Islam is our subconscious acceptance of the contrary, which is that Islam is a religion of violence that produces violent men, then glorifies them for their violence. So we come to a subject like this either wishing to vindicate such a bias or seeking enlightenment on the question: Does Islam breed violence and raise violent men? Is Islam, itself, the very corruption of corrupted souls? Is Islam to blame for the atrocities carried out in its name? Yet these questions are just as wayward as the notions of “Islamic peace” or “Islamic violence.”

That said, human beings are, by nature, judgmental beings. We do so in our relationships, and within ten seconds of any conversation, we judge the other person in terms of intelligence or personality or disposition. We judge the character of nations, cultures, political systems and the parties that operate therein, and we judge the merit and character of the world’s religious traditions. The question is when it comes to religion, on what basis should we determine our judgments? In judging any given religion, one may admit as evidence its source texts or the actions of its adherents, or consider how one might affect the other and in what contexts and how.

For example, one may deem Christianity a religion of violence based on the declaration of Jesus in Matthew 10:34-36: “Do not think that I came to bring peace on the earth; I did not come to bring peace, but a sword!” or as a religion of peace based on his declaration in Matthew 5:9: “Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.” Likewise, one may judge Christianity by all the lynching carried out by that cross-bearing, Christian brotherhood known as the Ku Klux Klan, or the safe havens provided to many of our youth, including me, by YMCAs and YWCAs all across the country. Both were informed by some understanding of Christianity.

In 1529, Pope Clement VI gave these instructions to Charles V in his papal bull intra arcana: “We trust that, as long as you are on earth, you will compel and with all zeal cause the barbarian nations (of the New World) to come to the knowledge of God, the maker and founder of all things, not only by edicts and admonitions, but also by force and arms, if needful, in order that their souls may partake of the heavenly kingdom.” By such a pronouncement, one could argue that Catholicism is a religion of violence and coercion, and that Pope Clement wasn’t so clement after all! Eight years later, however, Pope Paul III forbade in his sublimus dei the enslavement of the indigenous peoples of the Americas. Catholicism at that time could have been characterized as egalitarian. But what about the Church’s prior endorsement? Can we rightly say that Catholicism was a racist religion until 1537. This, to say nothing of the unspeakable atrocities of the Catholic Church—all done in the name of Christ—against Jews, Muslims, and even Protestant Christians during the Inquisition or, more recently, with pedophilia based on the actions of less than 4% of Catholic priests (according to a study conducted by bishopaccountability.org). Or, alternatively, is Catholicism a religion of philanthropy in light of the works of Mother Theresa, or of love as manifested in Pope Francis’ “…embrace felt ‘round the world” of a man severely afflicted with neurofibromatosis. All of the aforementioned were actions of Catholics who took their faith very seriously.

One may deem Judaism a religion of violence based on the declaration, “Their infants will be dashed to pieces before their eyes; their houses will be plundered, and their wives ravished,” or “So that you may bathe your feet in blood, so that the tongues of your dogs may have their share of the enemy”; or as a religion of supernal peace and sublime spiritual ecstasy based on a superficial study of any of the works of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, my favorite author in the English language who enjoys a shelf all to himself in my library. Likewise, one may equate Judaism with violence based on the brutal murder of Rachel Corrie, an American who gave her life trying to prevent the bulldozing of a Palestinian home only to fall prey to the bulldozer, herself, or the countless acts of violence meted out to the Palestinians in Hebron at the hands of Jewish “settlers” and the racist treatment of Sudanese migrants in the streets of Tel Aviv, for example, or as a religion of peace and social justice based on the marching of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. All of these examples were informed by some understanding of Judaism.

There are those who would argue that Islam, likewise, is a religion of violence based on certain verses in the Qur’an or the acts of violence perpetrated in its name all over the world, while Muslims, by and large, know their tradition to value peace and justice and to abhor and condemn indiscriminate killing, as do all religious traditions.

The obvious mistake here lies in the attempt to define religion by the ever changing and diverse character of its adherents as opposed to judging those adherents by the defining precepts of their religion. The former, notwithstanding its convenience and lucrativeness in the modern age, does a gross injustice to the scriptures, doctrines, and scholarly consensus or orthodoxy of the faith tradition, while the latter either honors or shames those adherents who conform to or defy the faith they proclaim.

So when endeavoring to interpret the world and world events, we must first create those frameworks which we could consistently refer back to when we are confronted with those things that do not immediately make sense to us, that may immediately give us pause or confuse us. These frameworks that we form as we go through life become valuable tools for us to remain grounded and centered in our own selves regardless of what the world throws our way. These frameworks are not static or fixed, they grow with me as I grow. Part of this lifelong project of being a human being is to continuously revisit those frameworks through which I see the world and interpret events. And ask myself is this working? What do I need to add or change to my way of seeing things in order to better make sense of these new incidents? And so the way that I see the world yesterday does not have to be the same way I see things today, and the way I see things today does not necessitate that I must always see them the same way in the future. But this is a fluid process that goes hand in hand with the development of my own self and my own sense of who I am.

So instead of trying to make meaning of these events for you, which, let alone being impossible, I don’t think is really that valuable to you because what value to you is my making meaning for you? The value lies in our own efforts to make sense of these events that defy our senses. So what I’d rather do is speak a little about my own personal process of meaning making. This process is influenced by a number of different factors. I live in America. That has a powerful impact on how I interpret events. I am Muslim. That also has a powerful impact on my interpretation. Whatever experiences I may have in my life of violence or of trauma or the absence thereof also influence the way that I process or come to understand these events. So this journey is also a journey of self-discovery as I ask myself what meaning do I make of this, I also observe how I am making that meaning, I learn about how I function as this unique and individual human being named Hisham.

Though it may be necessary or expedient to say, “We have nothing to do with this!” it’s also sad that we have to condemn it or decry it. So then the question comes up for me, with all this discourse about radical Islam, is that really where the problem lies? And I think one of the issues that comes up, and of course, this has to do with how things are framed, and this is a way of making meaning: a terrible thing happens, how do I understand it, what is the cause of it? Oh, well it’s radical Islam, of course. There goes radical Islam, again! Well thanks, now I can put my mind at rest about it, and we can just focus on that, and all of our problems will vanish. This is a simplistic answer but I can see why it’s convenient, because if I adopt it, I absolve myself of the task of asking challenging questions and making meaning out of their answers.

The problem with the “Radical Islam” framework is that it gives too much credit to ideology. It says that people do horrible things because they hold certain ideologies. And the reality is that there are people who hold these ideologies who do harm in the world and there are those who hold those ideologies and do no harm in the world. Contrarily, there are people who don’t hold these ideologies and do harm in the world as well. So for me, the answer must lie somewhere other than just the realm of ideology. And that’s in no way to say that ideology does not play a part in these harms. Muslims who commit acts of violence knowingly and willingly seem to find their justification through religious scripture. And it is valuable and important to us to pay attention to the ways they do this. But at the same time, combatting violence cannot just be an intellectual conversation about ideology. It cannot just be a debate about interpretations of traditions and of religious texts. I think it has to go far deeper at the human level.

So if radical Islam is not the most meaningful frame, then how else can we frame it? One way is to ascribe it to “radical Muslims,” so that it’s not about this ideology but it’s about the people who espouse that ideology. And I think that’s valuable but then how does one define “radical,” which is one of these words that takes on the meaning intended by its respective speaker. Lupe Fiasco is speaking out against predatory lending, against state-sponsored terrorism, against all political parties and the very political system that creates contexts in which larger wars and violence can occur and he’s saying something has to radically change for us to live in harmony. So that’s an example of a radical Muslim. He’s not violent, he’s not blowing anyone up, and in many respects, the things he’s calling to are quite laudable and praiseworthy. A radical Muslim might also be a woman who gets behind the driver seat of a car in Saudi Arabia. That would be a radical Muslim. So this term radical Muslim for me doesn’t really get at what we’re really talking about.

So maybe more appropriately, it’s about violent Muslims. I think that’s what we’re talking about. We’re talking about Muslims who choose to commit acts of violence, for a variety of reasons. And in this sense, while Muslims justify their acts of violence possibly through Islam—there are of course many violent Muslims who are just violent Muslims. And I wonder, therefore, how different violent Muslims are from just violent human beings, because we live in a world where we are constantly struck by the violence that surrounds us. And many of us may be lucky enough to not be personally touched by this violence, but it is something that pervades our society. It is noteworthy that those who are the victims of violent Muslims are other Muslims, and on the day of the Boston marathon bombing, over fifty Muslims were killed by car bombings in Iraq. And I think it’s also important to note that violence occurs in our society every day and we often don’t hear about it, because it doesn’t always happen in Georgetown or Lexington, it happens in Covington. And all of those deaths, there is silence about. And so paying attention when these things happen, not to radical Islam or radical Muslims, but to violence as a human phenomenon and reality, to me, that becomes a far more meaningful framework and allows me to understand so much more about my world. For then we begin to ask, what leads to violence? If it’s not just about ideology, what are the stories of human pain and suffering and neglect and injustice that lead people to commit these acts of violence, sometimes in the name of Islam and sometimes not. And we can also see that violence comes in various forms, it comes in those outward actions of violence of gunfire and explosions but it also comes in the far more subtle and quiet and insidious form of neglect. If we look at the garment factory in Bangladesh that collapsed and killed over 800 people because there are no standards for the buildings, because we want to buy cheap clothes. So when we look at violence in this broader sense, we all can see that we are complicit in acts of violence in our world, regardless of even if we are not outwardly committing acts of violence with our own hands. And this is important because when this gets framed as radical Islam or being about radical Muslims, it’s much easier for me to distance myself from it. It’s easy for me to say that, well, that’s not about Islam, and whatever those people are calling Islam, well that’s not my Islam. And whatever kind of Muslim that guy thinks he is, he’s not the kind of Muslim I am, that’s got nothing to do with me. But if I framed it as being about violence and about how pervasive violence is in my society, I can start to see that there are ways, even through my neglect, even through my turning away, I participate in that violence. And by making that realization, I am able to make choices about how I show up in my communities to help bring an end to that violence and create a world that is more in accordance with the kind of society that I want to live in and that I want to share with all of you.

When judging a religious tradition by its source texts, Any text devoid of a context is susceptible to the reader’s pretext. “Tell me how you’ve understood a text, and I’ll tell you something about your personality, not necessarily what’s in the text” (Tariq Ramadan). Islam is not a religion of peace, because the human being is not a being of peace.

But to address the ideology piece, what ends up happening is that it is very easy to take scripture out of its context and then justify any act of violence against non-Muslims. What’s much more difficult and challenging is to place those pieces of scripture in their historical context (giving the Prophet permission to fight his aggressors), but also the context of everything else we know about the Prophet. One finds that the overarching ethical value is mercy, such that all the verses that speak about warfare must be interpreted in light of that greater context. So it’s crucial for us to look at Islam as this comprehensive tradition, which includes revelation, law, ethics, literature, theology; we must look at Islam as a whole that comprises all of these parts, and if we take a look at just this one small piece of one of those parts, we will surely be led astray about what the reality of Islam is and what it asks us to do in the world.

Those who live and breathe the Qur’an and its ancillary sciences are scholars and their judgment will necessarily differ from those who have studied Islam from the purview of political science, i.e., experts, which will feed right into the perspective propagated by those whose study of Islam surpasses not the sound bytes of pundits.

Arabia before its Prophet did not regard mercy meritoriously; rather, much like Palestine before Jesus, mercy and forgiveness were marks of weakness. Both were honor/shame cultures that ranked dominance and exploitation above service and selflessness. In an honor/shame matrix, one gains honor for himself and his family or tribe by taking it from another. Both Jesus and the Prophet redefined this rubric, teaching that honor lies in pardoning others for their infractions. The Prophet’s statement, “The strong among you are not those who fight well, rather, strength lies in controlling oneself when angry,” subtly echoes Jesus’ washing the feet of his disciples, for example, inasmuch as both were seeking to redefine honor principles that had suffocated their respective societies for centuries before their advents. In just 23 years, the Prophet united tens of thousands whose former lifestyles glorified warfare, slavery, drunkenness, and licentiousness. His merciful demeanor drew unto himself the most belligerent of his enemies, who quickly became his staunchest supporters. Mercy, then, is the hallmark of his call, and one consistently observes the thread of mercy weaving through his actions. The Qur’an declares, “It was only by God’s mercy that you were lenient with them, and had you been quick tempered and harsh hearted, they would have dispersed from around you.”

Perhaps the following anecdotes, if you will, from his life can afford us a salient glimpse into his character and personality.

The Prophet said to one of his companions, “Shall I inform you of the loftiest achievements of the denizens of this world and the next? Maintain relations with those who cut you off; give freely to those who deny you; and pardon those who oppress you.” A similar narration from another companion differs only in the third exhort: “…and pardon those who offend you out of ignorance.”

The Prophet also said, “The Beneficent is merciful to those who are merciful. Show mercy to those on earth, and the One who transcends the heavens will be merciful to you.”

The Prophet was in the frequent habit of going into personal debt in order to spend on the poor. One of his lenders, in this case, a Jewish neighbor with scriptural knowledge, approached him from behind and yanked his cloak such that it tore from the front, leaving marks on his neck and fitting limply on his shoulders. At this, his companion `Umar chastised and threatened the lender, while the Prophet turned to face him, smiling. The lender continued to insult the Prophet, stating that his family was not known for delinquency. The Prophet then ordered `Umar to accompany the lender, pay him what he owed from the community storehouse, and increase his payment by twenty containers of dates. At this, the lender confessed that he only wanted to test the Prophet’s claim to prophecy, being that prophets were known not to be provoked by ignorance, and that any increase in foul treatment increases the Prophet’s forbearance. Then the lender donated all that was owed to him and declared Muhammad God’s messenger.

One of the companions described him thus, “None of us knew which of us were more dearly beloved to him.” Another companion related that the Prophet jestingly nicknamed him, “The guy with two ears.”

During the Battle of Uhud- the second of many battles in which the Muslims fought for self-determination against invading Meccan armies- the Prophet’s front teeth were knocked out, his cheeks pierced with shards of metal, and he had a bleeding gash on his forehead. He was hastily trying to contain the blood and prevent it from falling to the ground, professing, “I fear that should a drop of a prophet’s blood fall to the ground, his people may be condemned for it.” The situation weighed on the Muslims, who implored, “Why do you not just curse them?” He replied, “I have not been sent to damn people. I have only been sent as a mercy. O God! Forgive my people, for they know no better.”

The Prophet once kissed his grandson, prompting another to inquire: “You kiss your children? I swear by God, I have ten children and I have never kissed any one of them!” The Prophet answered, “He who does not show mercy will not be shown mercy.”

The Prophet had a neighbor who despised him without ever having engaged him. Every night, the man would place his household trash in front of the Prophet’s door out of spite. Each morning, the Prophet would open his door to leave his home, only to be greeted with the man’s garbage. In time, however, this neighbor fell ill, and the Prophet knocked at his door and went in to visit him. When the Prophet sat at his bedside, the man asked in surprise, “What would bring you here to see me? Do you not know how I loathe you?” The Prophet answered, “Yes I know, but my faith directs me to care after my neighbors and to visit the sick. You are my neighbor and you are sick.”

Such texts abound and adorn libraries of every language, whether academic or personal. Such was the Prophet as his family, friends, and enemies knew him. Because the outsider, whether cartoonist, politician, elected official, or anchorman, has not taken the time to study any aspect of the person of Muhammad, his perception is circumscribed by ignorance, hate, mockery, and all the dynamics of the playground. Likewise, because the insider, whether uninformed preacher, disenfranchised flag-burner, or angry kidnapper with a video camera, has yet to realize that he is the messenger of the Messenger; his actions are polluted by rage, lawlessness, brutality, and murder.