by: Ustadh Ubaydullah EvansALIM Core Scholar and ALIM's first Scholar-in-Residence The power of charisma is undeniable and often irresistible. Whenever our community witnesses the painful “fall from grace” of a religious figure, there is always a vocal faction calling out “cults of personality” and urging commitment to principle over people. On the one hand, this is appreciable. The Qur’an and traditions of the Prophet (upon him be peace) are replete with warnings about the injustice that accrues when focus is unduly placed on personalities as opposed to principles. On the other, while the virtue of qiṣṭ (moral commitment to justice) should guide our adjudication, it certainly cannot be said to account for the heartbreak we feel at the knowledge that one of our leaders has morally failed.
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By: Ustadh Ubaydullah EvansALIM Core Scholar and ALIM's First Scholar-in-Residence "Diversity and inclusion" are more than just buzzwords in our contemporary society. They represent a profound shift in how we perceive, engage with, and value differences in an increasingly globalized world. Originating from Affirmative Action policies that sought to redress historical injustices in educational and corporate environments, these terms have evolved to encompass a broader societal ethos. They have transitioned from being mere institutional objectives to becoming deeply ingrained societal values that influence our daily interactions, media representations, and cultural expressions.
BY: USTADH UBAYDULLAH EVANSALIM Core Scholar and ALIM's First Scholar-in-Residence The greatest liability of a good story is familiarity. Even the best stories are rendered a little less stirring with the passage of time and frequent repetition. Hakim Archuletta, a traditionally trained Islamic healer and homeopathy specialist, once described a good story as following life’s natural rhythm of contraction (qabḍ) and expansion (baṣṭ). The experience of listening intently, being wound up bit by bit, the tension (contraction) growing with the suspense, only to find relief (expansion) in the resolution is what holds our attention when listening to stories. As such, when suspense is lacking—because the outcome of the story is known—being present requires more intentionality. I’ve been told that the wheat is separated from the chaff among actors by a performer’s ability to completely act as if the story is unfolding before their character in real-time, in spite of their knowing the entire script.
BY: USTADH UBAYDULLAH EVANS “And never have We sent forth any apostle otherwise than [with a message] in his own people’s tongue” – Quran 14:4.
“England and America are two countries separated by the same language” – George Bernard Shaw. In twenty-first-century America, speaking the moral language of normative Islam is tricky, to say the least. On the one hand, the current generation of Muslim Americans (in contrast to their immigrant forebearers) have now mastered the various idioms of colloquial American English along with its various cultural references, both high and low. On the other hand, the language of our ethics seems more foreign and garbled to mainstream America than ever. Like a well-meaning but embarrassingly naïve American tourist abroad, we often think that if we just raise our voice, speak slowly, and over-enunciate our words, people will eventually understand us: “WE BELIEVE IN TRADITIONAL RELIGION. WE BELIEVE THAT OUR SCRIPTURE IS DIVINE SPEECH AND THAT WE MUST CONFORM ALL OF OUR ACTIONS TO THE WILL OF GOD, NOT LEAST OUR SEXUAL MORES.” Those fluent in the language of Tradition appreciate the nuanced connotations of such words; those who have grown up speaking a more modern language, however, just stare, half-amused and half-perplexed. But, whereas a generation ago, this socio-linguistic divide between Muslim Americans and mainstream society was taken for granted, the Muslim community itself is now unable to effectively talk to each other. As Shaw noted about England and America, the very fact that we are all ostensibly from the same highly specific background – Muslim and American – means that, while the words streaming forth from our mouths are ostensibly the same language, that very superficial commonality hinders actual communication even more than if we were speaking Chinese and Russian to one another. By: Ustadh Ubaydullah EvansALIM Scholar-in-Residence Recently, a dear friend sent me a link to an article about Hamtramck. The article highlighted the city council, which is comprised of all self-identified practicing Muslims, and the general population of the city which is also majority Muslim. The tone wasn’t alarmist, i.e. “The Shari’atization of America.” Nor was it an expression of Islamic triumphalism, i.e. “Hamtramck has become Dar al-Islam and Relocating there is a Religious Obligation.” Quite the reverse, the article struck me as relatively objective and expository. However, in covering some of the scenes of daily life there the journalist did select evocative descriptions of public Adhāns (call to prayer), veiled women, food carts, Arabic language billboards, etc.
BY: USTADH UBAYDULLAH EVANS“Ustadh, I feel so cheated! I’ve been fasting for the entire month and now I’m not praying on the 27th night of Ramadan.” I was teaching at a mosque a few years ago during Ramadan when a female attendee made the previous statement. I don’t think I had ever heard it put in such stark terms but I was familiar with the sentiment. Many of us think of the month of Ramadan as a time in which we do more for God: The fasting, praying, charity, scriptural readings, night-vigils, service projects, Laylatul-Qadr, etc. The increase in our devotion and worship in the month of Ramadan is undeniable. In fact, I would even go so far to say that for many of us, Ramadan offers glimpses into an ascetic lifestyle. The “even water” running joke among Muslims—which refers to the typical response of people of other faiths (or no faith at all) when informed about Ramadan—is reflective of the real attitudes of many people.
By: Ust. ubaydullah evans“Divorce may be retracted twice, then the husband must retain ‘his wife’ with honor or separate from her with grace…” [2:229]
My father’s absence is one of the most vivid memories of my childhood. From a very young age, I was keenly aware of the ways in which the dynamics of our single-parent family vexed my mother. I wanted to see someone care for her and provide our family with stability and leadership. Thus, even as a young man, I fetishized the idea of the nuclear family. And although I’ve critically examined this, I have no doubt my penchant for prioritizing family cohesion colors my judgment at times. Accordingly, whenever my opinion is sought about divorce, it is always advisable for the person seeking naṣīḥa to get a second opinion. If there are children involved and the situation is not positively unsalvageable (in other words, not involving abuse or infidelity), I always encourage the couple to reconcile. By: Ustadh Ubaydullah EvansI have always maintained that our context makes a full embrace of the Prophet Muhammad (upon him be peace) difficult. Within our sacred history, Jesus Christ of Nazareth (upon him and his blessed mother be peace) is the direct predecessor of the Prophet Muhammad (upon him be peace). Relative chronological proximity as well as being the central religious figures of the two largest religious communities in the world have linked inextricably the Christ and the Prophet (upon them be peace). When prophethood is understood as a continuous process, beginning with Adam and culminating in the Prophet, the differences between the various Prophets of God (upon them be peace) are appreciated as alternations in form but not essence. In fact, speaking of Jesus and the Prophet Muhammad (upon them be peace), their lives and respective ministries, offer the perfect complement to one another. But where the wise see connection and harmony, those with less expansive understandings see contradiction and sometimes (due to being chronologically later) attribute inauthenticity to the Prophet Muhammad (upon him be peace). Thus, the Prophet has been misunderstood among many Americans. In my estimation, this is not because any single aspect of his life is demonstrably out of favor among modern Americans. Rather, the towering influence of Jesus (upon him be peace) has so effectively colored the religious and social imaginary of Europe—and by extension America—that Prophet Muhammad (upon him be peace) is mostly judged as an ersatz Jesus (upon him be peace). There is certainly a better way to understand the Prophet (upon him be peace). Whenever the Prophet (upon him be peace) is evaluated and understood on his own merit, our neighbors of other faiths (or no faith at all) find greater appreciation for his life and teachings.
By: ustadh ubaydullah evansIn his seminal work on Islamic history, Conversion to Islam in the Medieval Period: An Essay in Quantitative History, Prof. Richard Bulliet makes a startling assertion: During some of the most fecund periods of Islamic history (the period sometimes romantically referred to as the “Golden Age” of Islamic civilization), Muslims were a religious minority within some of the central lands of Islam. Moreover, what we term classical “Islamic” civilization was in fact built by Jews, Christians, Zoroastrians, and Hellenistic philosophers inter alia. Stated more directly, Islam thrived in pluralistic societies. It had to define itself vis-à-vis traditions that were historically more established and numerically stronger. And yet, when considering our minority status in the US we hardly draw inspiration or even parallels from Muslim activity during that period. Why not? As opposed to seeing ourselves on the cusp of a renaissance, our community appears to harbor fears of being dissolved into the dominant culture. What can be said to account for this? More importantly, can this trend be reversed or at the very least staunched?
by: ustadh ubaydullah evansCalibrate: verb/ cal.i.brate/ `ka-lǝ-brāt/to adjust precisely for a particular function.
I don’t use the word kāfir; well, at least not in public. My particular grasp of the term notwithstanding, the risk its user assumes of being regarded a bad neighbor is simply too great for me. Indeed, this word has come to represent much of what both American Muslims and non-Muslims find unsettling about public religion: Intolerance and chauvinism. Salvific exclusivism is the idea that the adherents of only one religion will attain salvation in the Hereafter. Although I’ve neither conducted nor read any empirical research on the matter, anecdotally I can reference a number of stories in which Muslims (particularly millennials) expressed strong opposition to Islamic salvific exclusivism. “What about saints like Mother Teresa, freedom fighters like Martin Luther King Jr, and good people like my best friend—how can they go to Hell?” Each time I hear this I’m taken aback by the directness of the question itself. Where does the presumption that an Islamic understanding of exclusivism does, in fact, consign Mother Teresa, Martin King Jr., and their best friend to Hell come from? by: ustadh ubaydullah evansBy: Ustadh Ubaydullah evansRelevance is an important factor when assessing authority within religious communities. However, in the case of Sunni Islam it possesses added significance: In the absence of centralized, religiously binding authority (e.g. the Catholic Church) relevance can quickly become the sine qua non of religious authority. For many, pedigree and certification become meaningless if the authority in question is deemed “out of touch.”
With no divinely sanctioned body to confer authority upon them; historically, the scholars of Islam won positions of influence through a combination of ascendance within institutions whose source of authority was meritocratic rather than divine and personal charisma and forcefulness. With regard to the latter, it was the endorsement of the ‘people’ that raised a scholar from obscurity and gave their words weight. Unsurprisingly, not being “out of touch” was key in earning that endorsement. That a scholar deployed the correct religious language, embodied an ethic of conscientiousness (marūwwa or futūwwa), and that he or she at least appeared to retain a popular religious outlook all presumably contributed to their relevance and by extension authority. As Dr. Umar Faruq Abd Allah brilliantly put it: “Ijtihād (critical and analytical deduction) from the texts (i.e the Qur’ān and ḥadīth) was reserved for the scholars but ijtihād of the scholars has always been for everyone.” By: Ustadh Ubaydullah EvansALIM’s first Scholar-in-Residence. Admittedly, I didn’t grow up attending a mosque under the umbrella of the Islamic Society of North America (ISNA). I didn’t have a subscription to Islamic Horizons, the once thriving bi-monthly magazine of ISNA. And while I was familiar with some of the leadership of ISNA (Sheikh Mohammed Nur Abdullah, Muzzammil Siddiqi, Dr. Ingrid Mattson, and of course, our very own, Dr. Muneer Fareed) for me, the relevance of ISNA was never an extension of its leaders. For many, The Islamic Society of North America was an organization identified by one thing and one thing only: The annual convention. In fact, when my friends and I said “ISNA” we were only referring to the convention. As such, being invited as a speaker for the 59th annual ISNA convention which took place in my hometown Chicagoland community, I graciously and enthusiastically accepted.
By: Ustadh Ubaydullah evansIn his esteemed collection of rigorously authenticated Prophetic traditions, Imam al-Bukhārī records the statement of the Prophet (upon him be peace): "The best deeds in the sight of God are those that are performed with the greatest consistency.”
The American Learning Institute for Muslims (ALIM) has been hosting its annual summer program for over two decades. And although much has changed in nearly a quarter century, ALIM has consistently delivered on its mission of empowering Muslims through Islamic literacy. Our students have been consistently excellent; bringing with them a diverse range of experiences and areas of expertise which enhance exchange in the classroom. By: Ustadh Ubaydullah EvansGrammy and Oscar award-winning rapper Common released the song “Retrospect for Life” in 1996. The song, which featured production from fellow Chicago legend, No I.D., a lush musical sample from the inestimable Stevie Wonder and vocals from a then ascending Lauryn Hill, was an instant classic. Offering a rare glimpse of a Black male perspective on abortion, the artist introspectively begins:
By Ustadh Ubaydullah evansPhotograph by Stephanie Strasburg / Pittsburgh Post-Gazette AP Why did one straw break the camel’s back? / Here’s the secret/ the million other straws underneath it/ it’s all mathematics —Yasiin Bey (Mos Def).
Islamic law predates the creation of the modern nation-state. As such, the kind of legal monism (idea of there being a single “law of the land”) and centralization of power enjoyed by modern nations was unfathomable to Muslim political theorists in the classical period. By comparison, theirs was an ethic of non-domination and personal liberty vis-à-vis the State—at least with regard to a matter like the right to bear arms. Interestingly enough, it appears that this incidental feature of the pre-modern world (non-domination vis-à-vis the State) is an intentional moral commitment for those who refuse to countenance any nullification of their 2nd Amendment rights. However, our tradition subjects all moral commitments to an assessment of their impact on the Maqāṣid (objectives) of the Shari’ah. The preservation of: Faith, life, family, human cognitive ability, wealth, and dignity. Stated differently, where the will of God is concerned, no moral commitment that can be shown to harm or jeopardize the aforementioned values can be regarded as sound. |
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