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 a quarter century. Needless to say, much has changed in 25 years. However, ALIM has demonstrated incredible consistency. We’ve remained committed to our mission. We empower Muslims through Islamic literacy.

As a signifier of commitment to progressive values, the terms “diversity and inclusion” are nearly ubiquitous. The past decade or so has witnessed “diversity and inclusion” move from the Affirmative Action inspired charters of schools and businesses to a vibrant part of our media, art, and vernacular cultures. Put differently, we no longer only expect diversity and inclusion where we work or study; it’s something we’ve come to seek more broadly. Taken at face value, this shift toward plurality should inspire American Muslims with great satisfaction. Our faith affords inter- religious/cultural exchange and ultimately familiarity, spiritual value. The Qur’ān proclaims:

Dr. Sherman Jackson is very eloquent, mashallah. In fact, so appreciated is his ability to “turn a phrase” that we jokingly use the term “Jacksonian” to describe the rhetorical flourishes for which he’s known. However, the most eloquent I’ve ever heard him is in response to a question about the “essence of Ramadan.” For Dr. Jackson, such a broad, open-ended question was like a pitch right down the middle of the plate. So in his simple response, “Ramadan is about being hungry” he appeared to bunt. A slight chuckle could be heard among the audience. For many, he had either ironically or jokingly stated the obvious.
 
Hunger is undoubtedly our most primal urge. It is at once the greatest unifying factor within our humanity and the source of our greatest disparity. And for all that could be correctly said concerning our advocacy around hunger: the obligation to fight it, to repudiate the greed that subjects so many of our fellow men and women to it involuntarily, the unacceptable callousness with which we turn a blind eye to those afflicted by hunger, it remains a perennial human universal.

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.
​
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!
​
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.
​
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.