When the question is: What book initially piqued your interest in Islam? Surprisingly, the Qur’ān (in any of its various translations) is not the most referenced book by Americans who eventually embrace Islam. That distinction actually belongs to the Autobiography of Malcolm X.
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In fact, it has always been my contention that Malcolm fits perfectly into the traditional Islamic discourse around wilāya (an idea similar to sainthood within Roman Catholicism sans the beatification and canonization) and karāmāt (miracles). Within this understanding, Malcolm is a walī and the influence of his autobiography is his miracle. In all, I have personally encountered over 100 Muslims who have cited Malcolm’s story as their gateway into Islam—and I’m sure there are many more.​

One of the most insightful religious reflections I ever heard was mentioned by an atheist. During the Q and A that directly followed my lecture, a questioner from the audience rose to speak. He was a middle-aged white man of slender build, dressed in business casual (chinos and a plaid button down shirt) clothing, and wearing glasses. I got the sense that he was a member of the faculty at the small college at which I was presenting. After thanking me for my remarks, which, if I recall correctly, were about Islam and Post-Modernity or something like that, he sought my permission to venture slightly off topic and ask a ‘personal’ question. Not knowing what to I expect, I forced a laugh and said, “well, it depends how personal.” After granting him permission, he identified himself as “an atheist but a seeker,” he then said, “I thought your remarks about religion were balanced. I’m clear about your conviction but it didn’t appear that you were attempting to evangelize [sic] the audience. I feel compelled to ask, what is the most challenging aspect of being a person of faith in the modern age?” The question was pithy and I don’t think any non-Muslim had ever posed it to me in such direct fashion.

Where are the Leaders!
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This latest attack on Ghazza raises difficult questions pertaining to leadership, and brings into sharp relief, once again, the tension between the leaders we demand and those we deserve. We demand of our leaders that they speak truth to power, when in fact, we should try and limit our demands to that which plays to their strengths, bearing in mind that strengths vary from person to person. Unfortunately, some of our leaders are equally to blame: instead of trying to punch above their weight they too should limit themselves to their strengths, and work on curbing their urge to bask in the limelight. ​

BY: USTADH UBAYDULLAH EVANS
​ALIM Core Scholar and Scholar-in-Residence

I have no problem condemning the killing of innocent civilians, wherever and whoever they might be. This is among the dictates of the Qur’ān itself. “O you who believe, be upholders of justice, witnesses for God, even if against yourselves.”

Once, the Prophet (SAWS) sent a group of Companions on a reconnaissance mission and gave them explicit instructions to do nothing but gather intelligence. They saw a Qurayshi caravan, however, and decided to attack it.
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Quraysh was outraged and set out to scandalize the Prophet, as this attack took place in one of the Forbidden Months, which banned anyone from attacking anyone. The Qur’ān refers to this incident in Sūrat al-Baqarah, 2: 217: “They ask you about fighting in the Forbidden Months. Say, fighting in them is an abomination. But impeding the path to God and rejecting Him, as well as the Sacred House, and turning its people out is an even greater abomination. And subjugation is worse than killing (wa ‘l-fitnatu akbar min al-qatl).”

"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.​

“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.

“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.

Calibrate: verb/ cal.i.brate/ `ka-lǝ-brāt/to adjust precisely for a particular function. 
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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?

In 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.

Grammy 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:

​​For better or worse, meritocracy shapes many of our ideals concerning achievement. On the one hand, as the famed Ibn Khaldūn summarized in his Muqaddimah: The work ethic of a people is strongest when the fruits of their labor are safe from the reach of government usurpation. Simply put, when people believe that hard work results in success, they work hard. This is meritocracy at its commendable best. On the other hand, an overemphasis on meritocracy may have the effect of minimizing the role of providence in success. Moreover, when success, and by extension prosperity, are separated from the Divine prerogative they are no longer embraced as tests and responsibilities. Quite the reverse, in the absence of an intentional acknowledgment of God’s favor, achievement—more than even appearance, talent, or status—can become a great source of delusion and ingratitude. If our individual worthiness, dedication, or ability has secured for us what we have, how do we view those who haven’t achieved as much? Are they definitively less worthy, unintelligent, or lazy? The Prophet (upon him be peace) said: “Whoever has an atom’s weight of arrogance in his/her heart will not enter Paradise.” Upon hearing this, one of the companions asked, “God’s Messenger! But a man may take pride in his appearance; this is an expression of arrogance?” The Prophet (upon him be peace) continued, “Indeed, God is beautiful and He loves beauty. Arrogance, however, is expressed in the wanton rejection of truth and looking at people with contempt.” The spiritual consequences of arrogance are indeed grave. Fortunately, God offers us a very expedient and effective way of reducing our susceptibility to it. Thanks and giving or ash-shukr and aṣ-ṣadaqa: Gratitude and charity are universally cited as foundational for a good life. For Americans and our often naïve beliefs around meritocracy; inundated with rags to riches stories and biographies which capture the heroic journeys of our cultural heroes, the need for these is even more immediate. The Islamic tradition is replete with conceptual frameworks which vivify the ideals of thanks and giving. In consonance with the spirit of the season and Giving Tuesday (which must be the most Islamic of all the days on the American social calendar after Mother’s Day!) we at the American Learning Institute for Muslims (ALIM) wanted to offer a few reflections.

​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.