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.
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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: Ustadh Ubaydullah Evans I 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 evans In 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 evans Calibrate: 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 evans By: 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 evans Photograph 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. By Ustadh ubaydullah evans Photograph by Blaine Ohigashi / The New Yorker “I was once riding behind the Prophet (upon him be peace) and I recited to him one hundred couplets from the poetry of Umayyah ibn Abī aṣ-Ṣalt al-Thaqafī. Each time I recited a couplet, the Prophet (upon him be peace) would say to me, “Recite more!” until I recited one hundred couplets, whereupon the Prophet said, ‘He nearly embraced Islam.’”
By now, it appears the whole world knows that Will Smith assaulted Chris Rock during the live broadcast of the Oscars. And if it weren’t for one of the most strenuous branding campaigns in modern show business, the public might have taken the unfortunate incident at face value: Will Smith lost control over his emotions and unjustly slapped Chris Rock for an ill-conceived joke. However, in the process of building a multi-media empire, the Smiths have opened intimate and sometimes unsettling details about their personal lives. As a result, social commentary on the incident has framed Will Smith as everything from a vengeful cuckold trying to reassert his masculinity to a tutored soul, reliving the trauma of watching his mother suffer domestic violence. The carousel of public opinion continues to spin: biting, satirical, pseudo-therapeutic but very rarely introspective. For the Muslim community, I see two issues of interest here. First, should we even care about this? Does concern about what happened between Will Smith and Chris Rock represent an unjustifiable descent into the inane and vulgar? Secondly, as opposed to either aimless schadenfreude or psychological quackery, is there anything we can learn about ourselves and our tradition from this incident? Ustadh Ubadullah evans Ta’ḍhīm ash-Shari’ah or esteem for the law has always defined the Muslim community. Familiarity with the language of the law and its categories among non-specialists is a unique feature of our community. If truth be told, as a student of Shari’ah, I express a quiet joy each time I encounter Muslims who negotiate the realities of day-to-day life through the use of terms like: ḥarām, halāl, makrūh, obligatory, permissible, recommended, etc. Whether we have training in Islamic law or not; deploy the language of the law with precision and clarity or not; simply invoking the law expresses some of our deepest moral commitments. Namely, that the God we serve is concerned about us and has given us guidelines by which to lead good lives. Additionally, a concern with law articulates a faith that is relevant in the lives of believers.
Ustadh Ubaydullah Evans ALIF. LĀM. MĪM. The first verse of Sūrat al-Baqarah and perhaps one of the most well-known of the Qur’ān is simply three seemingly unrelated letters. The ḥurūf al-muqaṭṭa’āt, the disjoined letter combinations which begin twenty-nine separate chapters of the Qur’ān are considered a mystery by the vast majority of classical authorities. Although exegetical literature reveals much speculation about these letters, nothing definitive is offered in the Qur’ān nor attributed to the Prophet (upon him be peace). The subtle irony is that this scripture, which contains verses such as:
{“We have sent it down as an Arabic Qur’ān so you may understand.” Quran 12:2} {“And we have revealed the Book as an explanation of everything.” Qur’ān 16:89} {“Those to whom we have given the book (the Qur’ān) study it as it should be studied: they are the ones that believe therein: those who reject faith therein the loss is their own.” Quran 2:121} Ustadh Ubaydullah Evans My friends, Imam Dawood Yasin and Imran Malik named the Clubhouse room “Evergreen Soul.” I had recently returned from a family hiking trip in Utah—for which Imam Dawood graciously assisted me with my equipment—and I agreed to share some stories. This trip, organized by my wife Hadiyah and with her careful, meticulous planning, was a first for our family. I entered the room prepared to offer standard fare: Funny anecdotes about my children and the stale bon mot about the gaping mouths and curious glances generated by a Black, Muslim family in rural Utah. What I encountered, however, was a deeply impassioned conversation led by two erudite Muslims who were also experienced outdoorsmen. The spiritual and intellectual vistas that were explored during the session—by the hosts as well as the attendees—prompted a reflection. Ustadh Ubaydullah Evans The American Learning Institute for Muslims (ALIM) condemns in the strongest possible terms the violence that has been perpetrated against the Palestinian people by the Israeli regime and its enablers. It is at once harrowing and humiliating for the American community to watch passively as the lethal machinery of modern warfare is deployed against a defenseless, civilian population. Contrary to some uninformed opinion, ALIM has never defined itself as apolitical or quietest. Over our more than twenty year history, ALIM has offered an unrestricted platform to our faculty and guest contributors. This means we’ve learned from scholars and activists who have broadened the scope of our political awareness, challenged us to identify with the oppressed, and agitated concerning our complicity with injustice. Stated unequivocally, solidarity with our brothers and sisters suffering oppression is a core tenet of our faith. As such, to deny the imperative of advocating for them would violate our mission of empowering the American Muslim community through literacy. What Islamic literacy can our community claim if we fail to recognize the centrality of condemning injustice to Islam? How can our community claim empowerment if we can’t voice disapproval with the fact that our tax dollars are used to fund the unjustifiable deaths of our co-religionists?
Ustadh Ubaydullah Evans "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.
Ustadh Ubaydullah Evans “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. Ustadh Ubaydullah Evans 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.
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Zelle: [email protected]
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