“Souls are like conscripted soldiers. Those familiar with each other get on easily while those who don’t know each other feel mutual estrangement.” From the very moment Imam Sohaib Sultan and I met we got on with easy familiarity. Something about his posture and demeanor immediately disarmed me. Usually, a kind of ritual “feeling out” takes place when Muslims with public profiles meet.  In addition to the semiotics regularly associated with dress and presentation; the manner in which a person deploys classical Arabic, the scholars they cite, their take on certain contemporary issues, etc. places them in some category or another: Traditional, progressive, Sufi, reformist, liberal, conservative, woke, apolitical…whatever. My encounters with my brother Sohaib were never degraded by the issuance of such litmus tests. We always spoke as friends.
    The qualities of strength and gentleness rest at different points along the same axis but this eludes many men. The Prophet Muhammad (upon him be peace) was simultaneously the most gentle of people and the strongest of them. Concerning gentleness, he (upon him be peace) is reported to have said, “Everything characterized by gentleness is beautified by it and everything devoid of gentleness is marred.” For me, the term “gentleman” has always been a “tongue-in-cheek” designation. A man that hails from a certain class background whose commitment to purposeful, often arcane, manners in dress, speech, and behavior mark him as distinct from the “rabble.” The greatest irony, perhaps, is that there is never anything gentle about an attitude of condescension. Imam Sohaib, on the other hand, was a gentle man. Even in his position as chaplain at Princeton, an institution known for its patrician bearing, I never knew him to look down upon anyone. In my visits with him there, everyone seemed to have the same affinity for him. He was known for many things: his avuncular charm, his intelligent, inquisitive demeanor, his distinct, infectious laugh. However, the thing for which I pray my brother will be best remembered is the great gentleness and compassion with which he engaged his family and students. 
    Princeton was actually one of the first places I lectured after I began my work with the American Learning Institute for Muslims (ALIM). When I landed at Philadelphia International Airport, Sohaib and his beloved wife, Arshe Ahmed, then just a duo, picked me up together. As we rode along the freeway, Sohaib and Arshe went back and forth seamlessly sharing perspectives about pastoral care and advising me of the best ways to connect with students. Arshe’s perspectives were as unique and personal as those offered by Sohaib. When I earnestly questioned, “So you both work at the university?” Imam Sohaib responded, “This is very much a team effort. I currently serve as chaplain but we do this together.” I started lovingly referring to them as “Imam Sohaib and Imama Arshe.” And that openness to collaboration, itself a Prophetic trait, was very much at the heart of the way he led our community. 
    Once, Imam Sohaib phoned me on a Friday morning. His characteristic mellow and warm tenor had given way to a slight urgency. “Some of the students on campus have made suggestions concerning the Friday Prayer,” he said. “Some brothers and sisters,” he continued, “feel that the current seating arrangement, with the sisters seated behind the brothers, inhibits their ability to fully connect with the service. Additionally, many of the sisters have expressed a desire to hear from a greater diversity of khaṭībs (preachers) including women. What do you think?” Reflecting upon our conversation, the thing most telling to me now was that my protective instincts were focused on the tradition whereas his were fixed upon the students. The fact that he also held great respect for the tradition and I also identified with the aim of making Islam accessible to people on campus made for a memorable exchange. I fulminated, “No time is devoid of shifting cultural currents and ours’ is no different. In our time, these shifts tend to be about race, gender, and sexuality and in others they were about epistemology, the nature of divinity and political power. Through it all, the core elements of Islamic practice have, for the most part, resisted being reactionary. Cultural shifts will inevitably take place but they should take place elsewhere.” He simply countered, “But Ustadh Ubaydullah, our goal on campus is simply to meet people where they are. We’re not tasked with making decisions for the entire Ummah! I just want the students on campus to feel comfortable at Jumu’ah. And I don’t want to do anything which contradicts the guidance of our tradition. In sha’ Allah, we will be guided to something that fits within the boundaries of the tradition and meets the needs of our students.” 
    The next time we spoke I asked, “what happened with the Jumu’ah?” He said, “We divided the room in half with lanterns so that the men and women are separate but equidistant from the khaṭīb. And for the khaṭīb, we all agreed that the responsibility of leading the prayer would remain that of the brothers. However, at the conclusion of the prayer, every week one of our sisters will offer a reflection and lead the attendees in du’a.” Caring, brilliant, creative, deeply rooted in knowledge, devout, and unafraid to challenge a prevailing norm if he thought it would help people connect with our vast, beautiful religion, this was Imam Sohaib Sultan.
    The last time my brother and I spent time together was at the Ivy Muslims conference in East Windsor. Sohaib had recently become a father; welcoming his precious Radiyya, and he was incandescent. He probably didn’t notice me watching him as he endearingly gazed upon the child darting about his peaceful home. That morning, we had breakfast with his parents and the omelet that Arshe prepared was so delicious it nearly distracted me from the fine company I was blessed to enjoy. As a parent myself, I thought, how gratifying must it be for Sohaib’s parents to witness their son getting an opportunity to share with Radiyya in parenthood some of the gifts they had shared with Sohaib. And his cancer diagnosis and subsequent passing will not frustrate that legacy. God-willing, Radiyya will one day read the memoirs and listen to the addresses that her father delivered in his final days. Sohaib offered us lifetimes of beauty, reflection, compassion and grace. What a beautiful man he was. May Allah grant him access to Firdaus, the Highest, the company of the Prophets, the martyrs, the righteous and the spiritual ecstasy of gazing upon His (Glorified and Exalted) blessed countenance.

Ubaydullah  Evans
Chicago 2021  

​

​“The Third Resurrection” refers to Blackamerican engagement with the scholarly
tradition of Islam. It is not simply about learning the tradition. To be sure, classical training is an
essential point of departure. However, the Third Res, cannot be realized until we deploy tradition
in ways that are both authentic and relevant. This requires a subtle balance. On the one hand,
tradition places a premium on precedent and on the other, many of the realities confronting
Blackamerican Muslims are unprecedented.
In most cases, authenticity and relevance can be bridged through renewing classical
principles and calibrating them to our circumstances. Even among those that embrace dynamic
approaches, wholesale rejection of the tradition is rare. And yet, tradition contains things which
produce great discomfort among Blackamericans. In particular, re-negotiating or omitting
teachings which connect rank and prestige with lineage might be an instance in which
Blackamerican Muslims would call upon some Third Resurrection interpretive license. Ideas
that many Muslims regard as completely uncontroversial, such as love of the Ahl al-Bayt (The
family of the Prophet [upon him be peace]), afḍalīyyat al-`Arab (the ascendancy of Arabian
lineage), etc. have quietly vexed some Blackamerican Muslims for generations.
In fact, for many, the suggestion of a racial/ethnic hierarchy within Islam is not only
deeply offensive; it undermines the very basis of their conversion. For Black people, achieving
dignity and respect within America’s dominant culture has been elusive—if not intentionally
denied. As such, the notion that there is some biological/historical set of factors that makes
another people their categorical superiors is an anathema. The universalist message of the
Prophet’s (upon him be peace) Last Sermon or the thirteenth verse of Sūrat al-Ḥujurāt is more
consistent with the moral clarity they seek from Islam. Interestingly enough, different iterations
of principles such as the obligation of loving the family of the Prophet (upon him be peace) and
afḍalīyyat al-`Arab have been embraced by non-Arab Muslim communities across time/space.
Those communities—many of the most productive and prolific of whom have been
African—never understood those principles to violate the fundamental equality of human beings
and moral meritocracy. Quite the reverse, they understood these precepts to be an extension of
loving the Messenger of God (upon him be peace). Is this then, for us, an issue of misplaced
sensitivity?
Or perhaps this is an example of “fitnah” being “worse than slaughter.” Feelings of
insecurity and displacement are not inherent responses to special honor which has been conferred
upon someone other than oneself. The secure response is to call to mind the honor that has been
uniquely conferred upon oneself to the exclusion of others. There is surely historical and
contemporaneous trauma within the Black experience which heightens our awareness of the
potential danger of ethnocentrism. Additionally, our community has experienced a corresponding
anti-Blackness which makes it difficult for Blackamerican Muslims to see our own unique God-
given gifts and distinctions.

Earlier this year, I was honored with a request to write a foreword for the recent
publication of The Spirits of Black Folk: Sages through the Ages. This is an abridged translation
of Raf’ Sha’n al-Ḥubshān, an original work of the famed Imam Jalāluddin aṣ-Ṣuyūṭī. This text is
a carefully curated collection of biographical entries of prominent Black spiritual luminaries and
an exposé on some of the metaphysical dimensions of blackness. In bringing it to light, Shaykhs
Adeyinka Mendes and Talut Dawud (may God reward them) have done our entire Muslim
community a tremendous service. For Blackamericans specifically, it serves as a reminder that
people of African descent have no reason to feel insecure concerning where God has placed His
good favor.
We’re engaging the sources of our tradition. We seek to be edified by it as our Salaf were
but we afford to ourselves some license in the manner in which we deploy it. Everything which
contributes to the love of the Messenger of God (upon him be peace) is for our benefit. And
similarly, anything which induces feelings of inadequacy and inferiority is not suited for us.
Imam al-Bukhārī reports that “Umar (may God be pleased with him) came to the
Blackstone, kissed it and said, ‘I know that you are a stone, you do not cause benefit or
harm; and if it were not that I had seen the Messenger of God (upon him be peace) kiss
you, I would have never kissed you.’” I have always found this narration fascinating. Umar
followed the precedent set by the Messenger of God (upon him be peace) by kissing the
Blackstone. This isn’t surprising. Umar is noted for his impassioned adherence to the Prophetic
way. His preamble before hand; the qualification of his action, however, seems uncharacteristic
of him. Kissing the Blackstone produced an uncomfortable memory of idolatry. Umar adheres to
Prophetic practice but not without first making a personal declaration: “I don’t worship idols! I
don’t believe stones can harm or hurt me. I am only adhering to the Prophetic way!” The parallel
here is striking. As Blackamerican Muslims, we too aspire to express love and esteem for Ahl al-
Bayt and those associated with the Messenger of God (upon him be peace) through language or
tribe. However, not without a declaration: “We don’t subscribe to theories about any “master
races.” And we don’t exclusively locate piety, value, or worthiness outside of our own people.
We are only expressing love for the Prophet Muhammad (upon him be peace).”

Ubaydullah Evans
March 2021

I was actually in a relationship when I decided to embrace Islam. Not only did I not assume any tension between my relationship and newfound religious beliefs, I was proud of both! So it wasn’t uncommon, on the Fridays we didn’t have school, for me to invite my girlfriend to the mosque. And although she could never quite summon the nerve to enter, we’d often stroll about arm-in-arm afterwards; checking out the various vendors and their tables. Thinking back to that time, all I can say is: If I WAS doing something wrong, no one would’ve been able to guess. I walked as confidently among the community as I would have if she and I had been married. Now that isn’t to say, at that time, my girlfriend and I were doing other things married people do. I was familiar with abstinence as a religious virtue. In fact, among all the different social groups that existed within my high school, there was a group of popular, attractive, very outspoken evangelical Christian girls. They dressed modestly, threw their own chaperoned parties or attended the parties of others as a group. Perhaps the most curious thing about them was that they all wore rings on their ring fingers. And it seemed like they never missed an opportunity to hold up their left hands and tell all the hormonally charged young “heathens” lusting after them that sex would only happen, “when this ring is replaced by a wedding ring.” In retrospect, I can see their profound impact on me. They had chastity rings, an admirable solidarity, and they were completely unapologetic about who they were. As silly as it sounds now, for me, those young girls represented the ne plus ultra in terms of religious commitment as a teenager. And even they dated! It was normal to see one of them at homecoming with some clean-cut type who shared their conviction. Or you would see them at the movies with one of “the guys” who had been feigning an interest in devotion so he could test their virtue—only to report some hand-holding and maybe even kissing but ultimately, “that she wasn’t budging.” Hence, after embracing Islam the highest ideal of piety I could imagine was “not budging.” But there wasn’t anything wrong with hanging out. At that point, I’m not sure I understood there was anything wrong with making out. Just don’t have sex before marriage.

I was very serious for my age. Honestly, by 17 I had already seen a lot and I knew I needed some kind of religious discipline. And that ended up benefitting me tremendously. To the middle-aged and older black men in my community, I think there was just something about seeing a young black man, still a teenager, trying to apply himself to practicing Islam. It made them generous to me. I was always being reminded, “eat with your right hand,” “don’t lie down on your stomach,” “clip your fingernails,” etc. That being the case, whenever I happened upon a brother outside the mosque I would always approach them hoping to get a lesson of some kind. One day, while walking the mall with my girlfriend, I noticed one of my “Jumu’ah brothers” selling perfume at a kiosk. After introducing my girlfriend and purchasing some perfume, I asked Brother Wafiq to give us a lesson. I think I was hoping he would be able to say something to pique her interest in Islam. And he was unfailingly polite and engaging. There were no disapproving glances or coded references to our relationship, just a kind, gentle reflection.  I remember walking away thinking about how much I valued the intergenerational relationships I was forming in the Muslim community.

The next time I encountered Wafiq I was alone. There were no customers at his kiosk and he appeared to be reading. More concerned with maintaining my reputation for enthusiasm than respecting his privacy, I was intrusive, “What are you reading? “This is a book about enjoining good and forbidding evil,” he offered with characteristic openness. Years later, I would become familiar with the unique battery of terms and phrases that make up the American Muslim lexicon. Then, however, phrases like circumambulate, ablution, supplication, expiation of sin, enjoining the good, etc. flummoxed me like they would almost any non-Muslim American! I followed, “I don’t think I’m up on that one. What does that mean?” He continued, “We have a responsibility towards each other. We must encourage each other to good and we must take each other to task when any of us slip.” He then cited the tradition of the Prophet (upon him be peace) which is recorded in the collection of Imam Muslim: “Whosoever of you sees something wrong let him change it with his hand. And if he is unable to do so then he shall change it by speaking out against it. And if he is unable to do even that then let him dislike it in his heart, and this is the weakest of faith.”  When I asked him to provide practical examples, he said, “The task is not a simple one, Brother Will (my given name). For instance, what if you saw a brother--that you didn’t know well but you were getting to know—spending time with a woman he wasn’t married to in ways you thought could be spiritually harmful to the young couple? How would you address him? You owe it to him to say something but being harsh or overly forward might discourage him.” And there was no “ah-ha” moment or long introspective silence. He just moved along in conversation as if that particular example among the many others he hypothesized was of no special significance. It’s humbling when I think about some of the amazing people—without the benefits of Arabic fluency, religious training, residency abroad, or a title of any kind, who introduced me to the beauty and humanity of this great religion. 
 
​ I didn’t rush home and immediately break-up with my girlfriend. There is no remarkable story about my teenage piety worth telling. But my older brother had planted a seed. I began to think about romantic relationships differently. They could be edifying or destructive. I began to recognize that sex was neither something to be engaged casually nor something to be avoided by a couple growing in emotional closeness. As such, to date, hangout, or engage in a physical relationship without the gravity, transparency, and commitment offered by marriage is to set intimacy on the wrong course. In other words, when our steps are not ordered properly an intimate relationship that should be a source of longing, enjoyment and blessing can become a source of avoidance, shame, and punishment.
I often encounter young Muslims—many of them on college campuses—who find the idea of limiting male/female romantic engagement to the purposeful pursuit of marriage to be an overkill. “Ustadh Ubayd is it really that serious?” they ask incredulously. I usually go into my subsequent insipid moralizing. Ah! I only wish I had the light Prophetic touch and deft hand of Brother Wafiq.

Ubaydullah Evans
Chicago 2021

​

Most classical articulations of Islamic law are unanimous concerning the prohibition of Muslim women marrying non-Muslim men. Sūrat al-Mumtaḥana declares, {“…These women are not lawful wives for the disbelievers, nor are the disbelievers lawful husbands for them.”} [60:10].  This was revealed about Muslim émigrés to Medina that were married to Makkan polytheists. However, consistent with the Islamic legal maxim which states, “Interpretive consideration is given primarily to the general import of a text, not the particular event that occasioned the text.” (al-‘ibra bi ‘umūm al-lafdh wa laysa bi khuṣūṣ as-sabab), the verse became the basis of a general prohibition of interreligious marriage between Muslim women and non-Muslim men. Conversely, on the basis of the following verses in Sūrat al-Mā’ida: {“…Lawful unto you in marriage are (not only) the virtuous women of the believers but also virtuous women from among those who were given the Scripture (Jews and Christians) before your time…”}[5:5]

Muslim men were granted permission to intermarry with Jewish and Christian women. This allowance is not extended to Muslim women; neither in the scriptural sources nor the compendia of positive law. One would expect a ruling which expresses such a clear gender bias to generate a great deal of debate within the tradition.  Yet, it doesn’t appear that much ink was spilled by classical scholars concerning the issue. The lack of engagement here is likely an indication that the assumptions concerning gender and/or marriage, which underlie these rulings, are either considered essential or consistently demonstrable. Within our community, many women have begun to question this ruling. Although I wish I didn’t have to, it’s important to highlight the devoted and informed nature of the questions being posed.  Too often those deferential to tradition are unable to treat the questions, concerns, and critical insights of Muslim women with integrity. Yes, it is true that we live in a context in which revealed religion in general and Islam in particular is under heavy assault by philosophical liberalism. However, a Muslim woman asking questions through which she hopes to gain clarity about her faith is not engaged in a covert or unwitting attempt to destroy traditional Islam!  

As mentioned, scholars’ intellectual output on this issue is surprisingly limited. Nonetheless, the protection of faith is the most consistent reason offered for the prohibition. The idea being: a Muslim woman marrying a non-Muslim man would be placed in a precarious position with regard to the free exercise of her religion. Ironically, the nature of this precariousness is never really spelled out. It appears that pre-modern scholars understood “something” to be a given and their modern-day successors agreed. Was the source of that presumed precariousness legal? Islam recognizes not only the right of a Christian or Jewish woman married to a Muslim man to practice her faith, but also identifies each of those traditions as emanating from authentic Prophetic messages. In other words, a Jewish or Christian woman married to a Muslim man enjoys legal protection to exercise her faith AND a presumed modicum of respect for her prophets and religious tradition. Perhaps for classical scholars, the Muslim woman in a similar circumstance was presumed to enjoy neither. This reason would mean that the difference in the two rulings on intermarriage for men and women only secondarily involves gender. The primary difference involves understandings of tolerance within the respective religious traditions. 

Or is the assumed precariousness practical? The Qur’ān states {“Men are the caretakers of women. Men have been provisioned by God for the task and bear the responsibility of financially supporting women. And righteous women are compliant and when alone, protective of what God has entrusted them with…”} [4:34] This verse portrays the husband providing the foundational care and support upon which the couple’s life together is built. Our context—where there is much concern about hierarchy between men and women—will undoubtedly impact the way we read the compliance expected from wives in this verse. Unfortunately, some men and women in our community imagine this verse to refer to “the man” at the top handing out orders to his faithful ward. God help us. In fact, the opposite is true. This verse envisions the husband at the base, responsible for contributing foundational security and comfort. Upon that foundation, both husband and wife make other qualitatively more important spiritual and emotional contributions to their lives together. However, the nature of a base or foundation, of anything, as a matter of fact, is that it delimits and determines the character of what can be built on top of it. In other words, the verse cited above expresses a framework for marital harmony: The contributions of wives to their families are expected to be compliant or consistent with the material foundations provided by their husbands. This is the Qur’anic ideal regarding marriage. Upon that ideal, it’s easy to understand how a Muslim woman could be potentially compromised by having a non-Muslim husband. For example, what if her husband decides to own vineyards and sell wine for their livelihood? Would she be expected to comply? Can she, as a Muslim, build her life and make contributions to her family upon such a foundation?  This might be the precariousness classical scholars had in mind when upholding this prohibition. Within this reason for the preponderant ruling, i.e., that it is impermissible for Muslim women to marry non-Muslim men, gender is effective. However, it is not through the lens of essential masculine and feminine archetypes but rather socially contingent roles. 

I’m using the term “essential” masculinity and femininity to refer to the perspective of those who understand the verse, {…”and the male is not like the female…”} [3:36] to refer to more than the different roles into which we’ve been socialized. Rather, this view maintains, there are primordial or natural differences between men and women that make it inadvisable for Muslim women to marry non-Muslim men. It’s likely that some will take exception to this view. It has very bad company.  Historically, the most horrendous “self-serving, other-obliterating” ideologies, theories, beliefs, etc have been justified by citing “natural” differences. French sociologist Robert Hertz said it well, “Every social hierarchy claims to be founded on the nature of things. It thus accords to itself eternity; it escapes change and attacks the innovators.” However, to my mind, the most effective way to counteract toxic hierarchies is not by accepting the positive value of the characteristics of those at the top and then proving, “we’re that way too.”  This could result in self-obliteration.  Rather, it involves taking stock of oneself and affirming the positive value of your distinctiveness. In the context of offering a reason for the traditional ruling on intermarriage between Muslim women and non-Muslim men, Muslim women must take stock of themselves. Some of the ‘natural difference’ arguments might be regarded as inaccurate while others resonate. For example, an argument which states that a woman is so predisposed to following the example of her husband that just the act of marrying a non-Muslim man will remove her faith in God and His Messenger (upon him be peace) may be false. On the other hand, the idea that women derive greater satisfaction from group activity within families and are more adversely affected by its absence than men could be relevant.

​“A ruling necessarily follows the existence or absence of its reason” (al-ḥukmu yadūru ma ‘illatihi wujūdan wa ‘adman). In Islamic law, when looking at transactions (muāmalāt)—as opposed to acts of worship (‘ibādāt)—this maxim is cited often. In regard to the ruling that religious intermarriage is impermissible for Muslim women the reason given is protection of their integrity. The question is “protection from what?” In each of the scenarios we explored it’s easy to imagine how women might no longer find those reasons determinative. The right to freely exercise religious conviction is the first amendment of the US Constitution. American Muslim women enjoy legal protection to practice their faith and many progressive Jewish and Christian denominations have developed broad, ecumenical approaches to their respective traditions which reserve a place of honor for Islam. Additionally, there has never been a time in which men were the breadwinners in all families. In America today this is probably less common than ever. Families are structured in ways in which financial responsibility is shared. Many women no longer rely solely on their husbands to provide religiously acceptable livelihoods. And the arguments about essential masculinity and femininity impacting intermarriage are either something one accepts or not. On the whole, I submit that all of this is probabilistic. However, on account of the classical scholars unanimity on this position, the possibility that the reason for this ruling is a ḥikmah ilāhīya (Divine wisdom) to which we lack access and my own religious conservatism, I personally would find no solace in departing from precedent as a general rule. Nonetheless, I aspire to be sensitive to the plight of my Muslim sisters who desire to be married but who are with extremely limited options among Muslim men. First and foremost, I commit to holding brothers responsible for getting our stuff together so that we can be husbands. Secondly, for Muslim women seriously considering this as an option, I encourage them to seek counsel through personalized legal responsa (fatwa). Perhaps scholars trained in iftā (the issuance of fatwa) will be able offer opinions which move beyond general rules and come closer to home.

Ubaydullah Evans
Chicago 2020         

    The topic of polygamy generates strong opinions: It is the resource we’ve yet to utilize in our response to the marriage crisis. It is a vestige of Islam’s checkered patriarchal past. It is expressive of the priority Islam affords family and community. It is a fig leaf used by undisciplined men to justify their philandering ways. It is the litmus test whose acceptance proves a woman’s embrace of the Prophetic way (Sunnah). It is an outmoded form of marriage which might work in other contexts but is doomed to fail in our own. It uplifts men by forcing them to spiritually and materially prepare for greater responsibility. It degrades women by exposing them to emotional harm. Attend a dinner party among Muslims and you’re likely to encounter all of these views.  In my estimation, plural marriage is a unique aspect of the Sunnah. It was practiced by the Prophet (upon him be peace) and thus must have the potential for moral excellence. However, the Prophet (upon him be peace) was discerning in the manner in which he engaged the practice and thus it must be seen as potentially dangerous. This is an opinion-editorial; just another seat around the dinner table but (hopefully) with the added clarity offered by writing. This isn’t a sociological or anthropological treatment—I don’t have the resources or training for either. Nor is this, strictly speaking, a fiqhi treatment of the issue. Put simply, many American Muslim communities are witnessing an alarming trend:  Single, religiously-adherent, adult women are having a hard time finding partners for marriage and polygamy is increasingly being discussed as an alternative. To be sure, polygamy is no silver bullet. The only long-term solution is resuscitating our communal commitment to marriage and growing our young men in focus and capacity. Nonetheless, for people who don’t have the luxury of waiting for the paradigm to shift, plural marriage may represent a source of hope. 
     The prospect of polygamy in our community presents numerous questions. For starters, it’s illegal. Well-reasoned arguments that Muslims are religiously obliged to obey the ‘law of the land’ notwithstanding, there are those who deem marriage a personal, religious matter and regard government sanction therein as irrelevant. However, the monogamous ideal is still part and parcel of our society. In the Qur’an, God describes marriage as a mithāq ghalīdh (contract of grave importance). Contracts of this level of gravity are rarely without guarantors. Many of us would scoff at the prospect of purchasing an automobile much less a parcel of land with a simple handshake and gentleman’s agreement. With regard to marriage, the provisions of Islamic law and those of American civil law are not perfectly complementary. However, they do share some provisions such as health care power of attorney and inheritance. In the case of a single marriage, some version of these rights can be guaranteed for each party if the union is registered in civil court.  A second Islamic marriage, by comparison, couldn’t enjoy the same protections. To my mind, this doesn’t preclude the possibility of plural marriage among Muslims in the US.  However, it does mean that securing even a modicum of the rights Islamic law guarantees the second wife would require potentially costly, intentional engagement with the legal system.
    Other considerations such as insurance (health/auto/life), tax filing, etc also presume a monogamous ideal. These are secondary concerns but they highlight an important point. Comedian Azhar Usman once joked, “Only two kinds of Muslims actually practice polygamy…rich Arabs and poor African Americans.” This old bit hasn’t aged well.  The racial/ethnic stereotypes which carry it are distasteful.  Nonetheless, if we excuse that part of the joke on account of its age, it reveals an important aspect of this conversation. When one factors all the costs entailed by an additional marriage in terms of housing, education, child-care, health-care, food, auto, recreation, etc. you’ve narrowed down the pool of those eligible considerably. It’s easy to imagine a wealthy family absorbing those costs. And likewise, it’s hard to imagine a middle-class family—for whom generational upward mobility is priority—absorbing those costs. Though counterintuitive and even objectionable to some, much of our community’s current engagement with polygamy exists within working-class and struggling communities. The idea being that for some people marriage is primarily about chastity, companionship and fulfilling the rights of their partners to a religiously acceptable degree. The prospect of not being able realize such goals as home ownership, private school enrollment, diverse capital investment, annual vacations, college tuition payment, etc. are not things that would dissuade them from marriage—whether monogamous or polygamous. Any serious consideration of polygamy within our community would entail the same implication. Families would either need to raise their earning profile so as to comfortably absorb the costs of an additional marriage or adjust their expectations with regard to lifestyle. What this adjustment would mean to some segments of our community, in light of its mission to confront social ills like chronic, generational, poverty and economic injustice, is something to be considered.      
         True to the saying, “No romance before finance,” I began with a few reflections on the financial implications of plural marriage. Of much greater concern, I presume, to most people, are the romantic/interpersonal implications of polygamy. In a culture as deeply monogamous as our own, it’s difficult to point to morally inspiring examples of men in plural relationships. For many men, this means the archetype they most readily associate with polygamy is not the Prophet (upon him be peace) or the tireless family man pulling double duty. Rather, it’s the ladies’ man, the player, the pimp, etc. Similarly, for many women, it’s the cheater, the adulterer, the philanderer, the Lothario.  This makes it nearly impossible for men or women to view polygamy with integrity. Quite the reverse, given the lack of morally inspiring examples, almost by default, second marriages are rarely seen through the same family-affirming, responsibility-assuming, pleasure of God-seeking lens through which we generally view  marriage. Many of us are either married or know people that have gotten married. And although there is always recognition that marriage will make (mutually desired) intimacy between the couple permissible, it usually isn’t treated as a singular focus. There’s an acknowledgement—especially for married people—that the newlyweds are voluntarily committing to a relationship that will demand their absolute moral best: devotion, patience, dedication, sacrifice, service, a willingness to forgive, and a readiness to rear children. The two Muslims committing to marriage have taken their natural affinity for one another to the moral summit of romantic relationships, and for that we admire and commend them. However, when a family decides that the time is right for the husband to make that commitment a second time, that subsequent union is scarcely treated with the same respect and integrity. It’s from the Prophetic way, why not? Is it the overwhelming prevalence of bad examples of men who, in actual fact, have engaged such partnerships with little integrity or responsibility? Do we assume that within a culture of monogamy a woman whose husband marries a second time will inevitably feel betrayal, embarrassment and humiliation? Is it because the stereotypes of families engaged in plural marriage are things some of us don’t respect: poor, Black, urban, and Salafi in religious orientation? Or is it because we fear lending credence to Western depictions of Islam as a religion of sensuality and unbridled carnality? I don’t know the answer to this question. However, I do feel it is the barometer which measures the maturity and seriousness of our community concerning the topic. Any marriage that can’t be regarded with integrity and viewed as an expression of a Prophetic, morally inspiring ideal—and not that of players or cheaters—will have little success among Muslims.


Ubaydullah Evans
Chicago 2020  

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A wide assessment of the marriage prospects of women within our community reveals a crisis. There is a paucity of eligible bachelors and this is an ominous sign. Buoyed by misleading statistics which casts Islam as the “fastest growing religion in America” (this is true but certainly not because of conversion or sustained religious commitment. Rather, on average Muslims tend to have more children than their Jewish or Christian counterparts) and a delusional sense of permanence, we have failed to take stock of the threat of discontinuity facing Islam in America. A 2017 Pew research study found that nearly 23% of Muslims in the US grow disaffected with the religion by the time they reach adulthood. That’s nearly 1 in 4.  Without the benefit of hard data there’s no way of knowing for sure but I’d be willing to bet on a strong correlation between commitment/disaffection with Islam and intimate partner choice/accessibility. To be sure, there have been minority Muslim communities who failed to maintain distinct identities due, at least in part, to exogamy (marrying outside the community). This issue deserves a thorough treatment. A blog piece of 1500 words, even an overambitious one (wink wink) can offer nothing beyond impressions. Nonetheless, we would like to initiate some conversation: In light of the current situation, should we explore wiser ways of discussing the centrality of marriage to Muslim religious life?

A social phenomenon is the consequence of many factors: economic, cultural, religious, etc. In spite of the heterogeneous make up of our community, can we pinpoint any overarching trends? How might we approach responding to this challenge? As the saying goes, “We didn’t get into this overnight and we’re not getting out of it overnight.” When proposing solutions to the marriage breakdown, people tend toward boldness. This is productive.  Some say we should arrange marriages among our youth while they’re teenagers.  Some cite the Prophetic practice of plural marriage as a potential means of addressing this situation. Others maintain that the prohibition of interreligious marriage for Muslim women is based on outmoded notions of gender hierarchy and should be discarded so that Muslim women can pursue marriage with eligible Christian and Jewish men in addition to Muslims.

Prophetic record and practice indicate a clear priority given to the value of excellence in relationships over other modalities of religious devotion. The Prophet (upon him be peace) forbade monasticism, corrected a young man who assumed celibacy more expressive of high spiritual aspiration than marriage, and taught that marriage is half of our faith. This is undeniable. Yet, religious messaging that makes marriage the sine qua non of faith is potentially irresponsible—especially in our context. What is to be said of John the Baptist and Jesus Christ (upon them be peace), at-Ṭabarī, Rābia al-Adawīyya, an-Nawawī, Ibn Taymiyya, or the companion who was dragged to the Messenger of God (upon him be peace) by her father. In his homiletic compilation, at-Targhīb wa at-Tarhīb, al-Mundhiri cites an interesting tradition of the Prophet (upon him be peace):

“A man came to the Prophet dragging his daughter by the arm, complaining that she had no interest in marriage. He expected the Prophet (upon him be peace) to chide his daughter. Instead of encouraging her to get married, the Prophet (upon him be peace) simply asked: ‘Why don’t you have any interest in marriage?’ ‘Before gauging my interest in marriage,’ said the young woman whose composure and poise can be sensed from the text, ‘I would need to know exactly what marriage entails.’ After the Prophet explained the contractual dimension of marriage to her, she exclaimed, ‘I will never have that kind of responsibility to any man!’ turning to address the woman’s father at this point, the Prophet (upon him be peace) said, ‘She’s made her decision. You shouldn’t force her.’”

There was no mention of anything wanting in this woman’s adherence to the teachings of the Prophet (upon him be peace). The young man alluded to earlier erroneously assumed celibacy a superior expression of faith than marriage and he was swiftly corrected by the Prophet with his words: “…Who are these people? Whoever desires something other than my way is not from me.” Conversely, this woman appears to have no interest in such grand claims. She’s simply stating marriage isn’t for me. And that’s ok. For sure, there are vast differences between a woman who doesn’t have any interest in marriage owning her truth and living it boldly and a woman who wants to be married and can’t find a suitable match. What they share, however, is that neither of them is married and neither is deficient or inadequate in any way. For such individuals, perhaps being free of the responsibility of marriage will open them to other forms of encounter with the Divine. Many Muslim singles have personally confided in me that they feel depressed, religiously adrift, purposeless, etc. because they are single. Loneliness is real and it would be a reprehensible form of spiritual bypassing to assume a one-off scriptural reference held together by admittedly tenuous thread capable of removing the lack of fulfillment and even sadness being alone may contain. Scripture should not be used to blot out human emotion. However, knowing that nothing is religiously wrong with me because I’m not currently married might make patient perseverance a little less unnerving.

As stated, the reasons underlying the current crisis are multifarious, complex, and dynamic. Given the tremendous diversity within our community, it’s extremely difficult to generalize. For instance, Blackamerican Muslims (women and men) face disproportionate levels of discrimination in areas of education, employment, recidivism, etc. It goes without saying that these factors can militate against one’s ability to start/maintain a family. Addressing this specific challenge will involve continuing to develop visions of community which intentionally aim at mitigating the impact of these factors. Muslim women from second and third generation immigrant backgrounds still confront the phenomenon of in-group males marrying from “back home” or exclusively seeking partners that are younger and less accomplished. How can this coexist with a culture that encourages academic achievement and professional appointment for women?  Undoubtedly, this requires the renegotiation of certain priorities. However, as far as overarching trends go, in my estimation, the most consistent issue contributing to the breakdown of marriage within our community is our inability to create a culture that really esteems marriage.

By now, we have to face it. Marriage is no longer the exclusive or even preferred means of experiencing emotional and physical intimacy with a partner. Dating and now, hook-up culture, offer other forms of relationship; many of which are not nearly as public or demanding as marriage. Yes, for the devout it’s not merely the physical and emotional intimacy promised by marriage which makes it desirable. It is the grace of God. This is deeply inspiring and hugely problematic: Deeply inspiring because within a culture which doesn’t restrict romantic relationships to the marital bond, Muslims of conscience seek this responsibility for the sake of God. It’s hugely problematic because a culture of marriage can’t thrive if marriage is restricted to the devout. Once upon a time, family pressure and expectations of social conformity could shore up the places religious devotion failed to inspire a commitment to marriage. Those extraneous motivating factors haven’t lost all of their influence but a culture of radical individualism and decreased familial cohesion has weakened them significantly. In regard to motivating marriage, religious piety will continue to function as it always has. The crisis is the outcome of the waning influence of those secondary motivating factors.

Marriage in our tradition is not a religious sacrament or just something one does to avoid sin. Deep and abiding friendship, financial advantage, wellness promotion, providing the stability required to achieve greatness, a reunification of souls that were together on the day of “Am I not your Lord,” the depth and beauty of a commitment to another person based on love AND MERCY, the opportunity to explore yourself through service to someone else, etc. traditional articulations of marriage in Islam contain rich conceptual frameworks. We must make use of these and many more, especially when counseling our young men, if we aspire to develop a culture that truly esteems marriage. Earning the pleasure of God and avoiding His wrath is the ultimate motivation for the Muslim, but in regard to marriage, it’s always had reinforcements.
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From polygamy to pragmatism (the suggestion that traditional positions prohibiting interreligious marriages for women are irrelevant or outmoded), responses to the current situation are varied and bold. Sacred Law contains limits but also much variety and boldness. Inshallah, our next post will provide an opportunity to explore the viability of some of these proposals.

To Be Continued…

Ubaydullah Evans
Chicago 2020

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“Look homey run your chain/ not the one that’s on your neck/ But the one that’s on your brain/ that they use to keep in check”—Lupe Fiasco, Spazz Out 
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Highlighting “supposed” notions of Black moral failure in order to undermine calls for racial and economic justice is an old tactic. This isn’t that.               
Black people in America have many distinctions.  The great Toni Morrison’s description of a “blues sensibility” resonates with me: 

“The blues is about some loss, some pain, and some other things. But it doesn’t whine; even when it’s begging to be understood in the lyrics, the music contradicts that feeling of being a complete victim and completely taken over. There’s a sense of agency, even when someone has broken your heart. The process of having the freedom to have made that choice is what surfaces in blues. I don’t see it as crying music.” 

In light of that sensibility, a logic which explains looting and vandalism as the inevitable consequences of being victimized by white supremacy and anti-Black racism is impoverished.  Let’s suspend, for a moment, our moral judgments about rioting. No matter what, we dignify Black people when we affirm their agency.  Consider the following: Black people weren’t the only rioters. In fact, in the video footage I observed, the overwhelming majority of the looters in Chicago appeared to be non-Black.  However, white looters were identified as “anarchists and anti-fascists.” That sounds a lot different than “thugs and criminals,” and it sounds different than “people who can’t be blamed because they’ve been wronged.” Upon reflection, the terms sound intentional and even philosophical. White Americans, even if they’re considered misguided or evil, are always understood to exercise moral agency. White rioters, as the news media tacitly demonstrated, are neither byproducts of criminality nor desperation, just post-modern political philosophy. 
The Qur’an never denies the reality of oppression (fitnah); it describes this most lamentable of conditions in chilling terms: “…Oppression is worse than slaughter” [2:191] Affirming the moral agency of the oppressed doesn’t absolve the oppressor. Quite the reverse, affirming the agency of the oppressed limits the oppressor.  The oppressor may redline my community and intentionally create the conditions for its disinvestment but he has no authority over my actions or my soul. I belong to Allah: “Say: ‘Should I seek a lord other than Allah while He is the Lord of everything? And nobody does anything but to his own account, and no bearer of burden shall bear the burden of another. Then to your Lord is your return. And He will tell you the truth of your differences.” [6:164]

 Quietist piety makes for bad religion. We should take pride in the fact that our Prophet (upon him be peace) was not exclusively a pacifist. He was an iconoclast who employed many strategies to disrupt oppression: He prayed, commanded to charity, patiently endured, engaged in civil disobedience, commissioned land grants, entered treaties, waged war, and even expropriated the commercial goods of economic oppressors. And yet, none of this was done as an expression of lawlessness or anarchy.  The Prophet (upon him be peace) was defined by God’s Will; not the mere rejection of the status quo. Further, the teachings of Islamic spiritual psychology (taṣawwuf or tazkiyah) dictate that the soul is naturally inclined to evil (an-nafs al-ammārata bi as-sū’). In the absence of an intentional commitment to self-purification, those fighting oppression are more likely to emulate their oppressors—if they gain power—than to transcend them. This is perhaps the greatest liability of revolutionary strategies which lack a sustained focus on moral agency: Namely, the individual human struggle to be upright is obscured by ideological calls to revolution. Why does Marx assume the proletariat class will be more impervious to greed and corruption than the gentry and bourgeoisie if they gain control over society’s economic modes of production?  

Critical theorists like Derek Bell and Kimberlé Crenshaw have developed a compelling and useful framework for analyzing the impact of racial disparities. In this framework, power is defined as the sine qua non of racism. Is power also necessary for greed, wantonness, injustice, ingratitude, etc?  Again, my point is not that we need to become saints before demanding justice or worse yet that an oppressive power structure should be left undisturbed until we “purify” ourselves. It’s unfortunate that so many Black conservatives have attempted to undermine calls to end racial injustice by way of engaging in petty respectability politics. At times, it’s difficult to countenance reservations about Black moral responsibility as little else. Stated simply, our engagement with what we are must be at least as impassioned and critical as our engagement with what we oppose.      
          
From its earliest encounter with the Hebrew Bible (and perhaps through the familiarity of some of its members with the Qur’an), the enslaved community identified strongly with Moses (upon him be peace) and the Israelites. They were God’s chosen people. “Go down Moses,” “Wade in the Water,” they sang.  They identified their greatest liberator, Harriet Tubman (may Allah elevate her memory) with Moses, the flight to freedom with the Exodus, the Mason-Dixon line with the Red Sea, white supremacy with Pharaoh, etc. The symbolism is rich. Even now, there are significant numbers of Blackamericans who identify as Hebrew Israelites, Hebrew Christians, and African Hebrew Israelites or simply affirm an ancestral connection between Black people and the ancient Hebrews. As we mine our tradition for scriptural guidance in this moment, I think we should continue to invest in this interpretive connection.
In the Qur’an, the story of the Israelites is nuanced. Their subjugation in Egypt is described in horrific detail “…the people of Pharaoh: they set you to hard tasks and punishments, slaughtered your sons and let your womenfolk live; therein was a tremendous trial from your Lord.” [2:49]. And like the Biblical account, the story of Moses (upon him be peace) and the Exodus of the Israelites from bondage is also captured. However, the Qur’an alone—to my knowledge—expresses appreciable subtlety when discussing the interaction between Moses and the Children of Israel as they pursued liberation. Moses advises them:
“Pray for help from God, and (wait) in patience and constancy: for the earth is God’s, to give as a heritage to such of His Servants as He pleases, and the end is best for the righteous” [7:128]
He continues: “…it may be that your Lord will destroy your enemy and make you leaders in the earth; that so that He may try you by your deeds” [7:129]

Moses (upon him be peace) was not out of touch with his people and this was certainly no de-contextualized moralizing aimed at undermining the Israelites’ struggle for freedom. He was calling them to virtue and preparing them for the heightened moral responsibility entailed by leadership. Historically, leadership—not resistance—is the final frontier for people breaking the chains of oppression. Resistance requires the will to fight back. Leadership, on the other hand, requires not simply fight-back, but an independent moral vision that offers its own conception of the “good” and the “beautiful.”  Even after freedom and witnessing miracles at the hands of Moses, The Children of Israel still struggled to define themselves: 

“We took the Children of Israel across the sea. They came upon a people devoted entirely to some idols they had. They said: ‘O Moses! Fashion for us a god like the gods they have.’ He said: ‘Surely ye are a people without knowledge.’ [7:138].

    I make no appeals to “law and order,” for what can these platitudes mean to people denied justice under the law? And although the preservation of personal property is a fundamental objective of Islamic law, I can, at the very least, countenance arguments which bind that preservation to government fulfillment of a social contract. I recognize the prima facie legitimacy of a point I recently heard raised by Dr. Marc Lamont Hill: The spectacle of violence is an effective way to force recalcitrant power brokers to the table. And yet, if these approaches to social rebellion are the mere groans of a beleaguered people, capable of destroying what they hate but without any idea how to create what they should love, unprincipled rage will be our golden calf.

Ubaydullah Evans
Chicago 2020