I begin in the name of Allah, sending peace and blessings upon the Prophet Muhammad, the last prophet, sallallahu alaihi wa salam.
My journey of faith starts at birth. I was born into a large, close-knit, mid-Western Catholic family and baptized into the faith at a very young age. Sunday mass was a weekly excursion, with our family of 8 siblings almost always arriving late enough that only the front row of pews were left to sit in—meaning our behavior, or misbehavior would be on display for all to see. After mass we would gather with various aunts, uncles, and cousins at a local restaurant for breakfast. Meals began with the sign of the cross and “Bless us oh Lord and these thy gifts,” and days would end with a bedtime prayer, “Now I lay me down to sleep.” My parents afforded us a quality education at a local Catholic school, whose team mascot were the Crusaders of all things, and whose teachers were nuns that were veiled, which always commanded an air of mystery and respect and led to me wanting to become a nun in my early years of grade school . We went to church nearly every day during the school year. It was a pleasant upbringing, a happy family life marked with religious celebrations of baptisms, First Reconciliations, First Communions and eventually Confirmation. I was proud to have the part of the Virgin Mary in the school Christmas play, although the role had no spoken lines. We believed until around fifth grade in the usual American childhood legends: Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, and fortunately experienced little trauma upon learning these were in fact fairy tales.
“Going to confession” however, was usually an unpleasant experience. Alone with the priest, we were required to disclose embarrassing sinful mistakes we had made since our prior confession. I usually took the easy way out and made up generic sins. “I told a lie.” “I fought with my sister.” Never really disclosing the worst of things or going into any sort of detail. After this confession the priest would assign penance, usually a few Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s and after reciting these prayers, supposedly our sins were forgiven.
I never really questioned these things at a young age. It was just the way things were. It was what everyone around me was doing, at least as far as I could tell. The small town farming community I grew up in was not exactly diverse. I knew there were other religions in grade school. Other Christian religions, that is, but I never knew what made them different from Catholicism and I never gave it much thought. The only non-Christian religion I knew anything about was Judaism, to the extent that the Jews had supposedly killed Jesus. And that pretty much killed my curiosity in other religions for the time being.
I remember praying often, and looking back what I remember most was that, except for the penance prayers assigned after confession or prayers said in groups, when I really prayed sincerely I didn’t pray to Jesus, or Mary, or the Holy Spirit or any saints. It was “Dear GOD, please….” Not “In Jesus’ name.” It was simply and directly to God.
As high school came along I was excited to attend public school, where uniforms were no longer required. The makeup of my small school, located in the middle of cornfields, was not much more diverse than my grade school, almost entirely white and Christian by name if not entirely by actions. It was pretty easy to be “Christian” at this age. There were no real formal requirements that made a marked difference between the Catholic students and the others, aside from attending Sunday and holiday church services, and closer to graduation attending classes that would lead up to Confirmation, which was basically the sacrament in which you accepted Catholicism as your religion as a consenting adult.
Even into college my brushes with different faiths and cultures were quite limited. I would be surprised at people who claimed to be atheists, but aside from a few atheists and quite a few more agnostics, I knew very little of religions outside of Christianity. It was around this time that between my busy work and study schedule, my attendance at weekly masses began to wane, until I was merely attending for special holiday services, funerals, or weddings.
My relationship with God unfortunately underwent a drastic change at the age of 19. My mother, who had been teaching us how to do backflips as an active 40 year old, was dead at the age of 46 after a painful battle with cancer. Although I desperately wanted to believe that my mother had gone on to a better place, I still couldn’t understand why God would allow such suffering. When I broke out of my numbness I was angry. Nowhere in my childhood or young adulthood had I been prepared for the true trials of life and death. In my shock and grief I wasn’t even able to formulate the questions that I so desperately needed to ask. So I drifted even further from the practice of religion. I would still identify myself as Catholic, attending mass and taking communion as family functions required, but my actual status was probably closer to agnostic, never an atheist but always questioning.
My life became quite shallow around this time. I was obsessed with fashion magazines, movies, music, pop culture and full of vanity. For many years I had no spiritual life to speak of. I turned up the music and tuned out the emptiness. I worked hard and played hard. I was living only for the moment, liberally making up my own morals as I saw fit or as social trends dictated. A self-described feminist, I was living but without any depth or maturity.
It was after college, in my late 20’s, that I had more time and a bit more maturity to ponder life’s big questions. I began to read into many different religions and philosophies and found beauty in many of them, but none of them seemed complete, and some seemed altogether irrational. Having a bit of Cherokee Indian in my ancestry, I was interested for a while in Native American traditions, and respected their appreciation for nature and their nobility, yet questions remained unanswered as to the creation of the universe and how to operate in today’s society. I admired Gandhi’s peaceful approach to political struggle, and enjoyed yoga but the elephant man gods, divinity of cows, and above all the caste system of Hinduism disturbed me. For a while I considered myself a follower of the Stoic philosophy, mostly in that it required one to endure pain and hardship without complaining or displaying feelings of sadness. I tried to understand some of the metaphysical writings of the Dalai Lama, and saw Buddhism as a tranquil means of existence which also emphasized detachment from this world and all its worries (and even from its beauty). But amidst all these readings, the one thing that was missing was ONE TRUE creator and the answer for my undefined question of why we suffer. Islam, however, barely registered in my mind. I read one book, a somewhat critical take on “harem” life in Morocco, and while the book itself was intriguing the religion itself didn’t grab my attention right away, as culture was more the focus of the book and it was mostly a negative portrayal, and the fact that it seemed more exotic and unattainable even than all the rest. Up until this time, my only other brush with the faith of Islam was Morgan Freeman’s Muslim character in Robin Hood.
It was in 2012 when I met and befriended a group of Muslims. This piqued my curiosity and I began reading article after article online about Islam and Muslims. Unbeknownst to anyone else, I eventually became quite obsessed with the topic, secretly checking out books from the library and watching YouTube videos into the wee hours of the night. I was impressed with my new friends and their strength of faith, that whatever we were doing they would stop at the appropriate times for their prayers, without any sort of embarrassment or shyness. Their view on popular American culture was similar to what mine was becoming as I matured, that while complete independence and freedom of youth seemed like an ideal way to operate, underneath it all was a lot of corruption, especially in gender relationships. In terms of family values and the process through which people are expected to find a spouse, there was chaos. I experienced it secondhand through too many of my friends who ended up being single or divorced mothers. This system of reinventing the wheel and writing our own rules just wasn’t working.
When I would read and study the topic, I would try to remain objective. I studied information both praising and criticizing Islam. I read a few books which attempted scathing criticism of Islam, but I wasn’t convinced by them. Sure, they gave anecdotes of unhappy second wives and oppressed or abused women, but they gave me NO evidence that any of this behavior was sanctioned by the actual teachings of Islam. It became clear to me later that these were cultural situations, and many of them weren’t so different from situations I had seen right here in America. I came to realize that I was in fact myself somewhat subconsciously prejudiced against Islam, whatever little I knew of it through the media. Framing things from my waning feminist perspective, I questioned why was it fair that the woman had to cover? Shouldn’t men just be able to control themselves? Why should men be allowed multiple wives? Shouldn’t women be allowed the same right to multiple spouses? What about terrorism? Was Islam an inherently violent religion?
The more I read the more my eyes were opened to different perspectives. Yes, men WERE required to control themselves. In fact, the Quran gave instruction to men to lower their gaze before instructing women to cover their hair and bodies. This meant that women were not merely created for men’s viewing pleasure, or to sell products in sexy advertisements. By covering her “adornments”, a woman could retain her feminity but erase her sexuality from the public sphere, allowing her to be viewed with respect rather than being ogled as a sex object.
What about multiple wives? Well, as should be clear to most people, men and women are biologically different with different needs and desires. Islam doesn’t allow men to take multiple girlfriends, or married men to take mistresses, unlike what is allowed in secular society. If a man wishes to take additional partners, he must do so justly and legally by making her his wife, allowing this partner all the rights and privileges that marriage entails. Didn’t the prophets in the Old Testament have multiple wives after all? As a matter of fact, Islam is the only religion whose holy book and teachings actually LIMITS the number of wives a man can take to four, and instructs them only to take multiple wives if they can treat all equally and justly. The number of women in the world exceeds that of men. The surplus is a result of men dying in wars, violent crimes, and women outliving men. Why should these surplus women be denied the right to a happy married life? And as for women taking multiple husbands, Islam strictly enforces everyone’s right to know their lineage and ancestry, thus if a woman has multiple husbands how would anyone ever truly know who their actual father is?
As I continued to read, I was becoming convinced that Islam’s teachings supported the different needs of men and women, equally, and if enacted could cure many of our society’s ills. But what about everything I had been taught, that God had come to earth in the person of Jesus, and had died for our sins, opening up the gates of heaven? If I denied Jesus, was I then to be denied entrance to heaven?
As it turns out, Muslims are REQUIRED to believe in Jesus, or Essa in Arabic. The virgin birth is described in the Quran, and Jesus is revered as one of the greatest prophets. An entire chapter of the Quran is dedicated to Jesus’ mother Mary, or Mariam. The major difference is in the belief of Jesus’ divinity. In Islam, Jesus is a man—a great man, and a prophet, but still a human nonetheless.
As I learned, even in Christianity there is some debate about the divinity of Jesus. The Bible itself is not entirely explicit in naming Jesus God or Son of God, and in fact there are many contradictions that one can see upon detailed reading of certain passages. For example, In Exodus 33:20 Moses had asked God to show himself to him, to which God responded that he will not because no one can see his face and live. This being the case, if Jesus is God and showed himself to people during his lifetime, how come all these people did not die?
In addition, when asked about the hour of his return, (Mark 24:36) Jesus replied that he did not know and that only the Father knows. If Jesus is God then how can there be anything that he does not know? God is all knowing, and certainly Jesus would not lie about his knowledge.
Human sacrifice is detested by God in numerous locations in the Bible, however the expiation of all mankinds' sins has supposedly occurred by human (Jesus') sacrifice! What about prayer. If Jesus is God, who did he pray to when in Matthew 26:39 he “Fell on his face and prayed”? Or the quote of “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” If Jesus was God, then by whom was he forsaken? Himself? In Mark 10:18, Jesus says, “Why do you call me good. No one is good but God alone.” In John 5:19 Jesus says “Truly, truly I say to you , the Son can do nothing of his own accord.” Also “My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me.” John 7:16. When Jesus says “The Father is greater than I” (John 14:28) this categorically negates the Trinity doctrine since both are of different nature, one greater than the other. These are just a few examples of the logical gaps and contradictions to be found if you put aside your biases and take a critical look at the Bible. Why would one want to base their entire life—and afterlife, on documents whose sources are often unknown and which contain errors and contradictions?
Time and time again people are told that these are mysteries that are beyond human comprehension, mysteries that just required faith. But why not have a faith that also coincides with reason, science, and logic? This is what I was finding in Islam. Belief in a creator is logical. If someone shows you a computer, and says this computer designed itself, you would laugh. Why then do people accept that the universe just somehow came to being of its own accord? Muslims are required to believe in and pray to only ONE God, Allah. Allah has no race or gender. Prayer, being a form of worship, is not allowed to be performed to anything or anyone but Allah. Scientific and linguistic miracles occurred in the Quran, for example detailed and accurate description of embryology and facts that in no way could be known 1,400 years ago.
Many of these things I learned from my research touched my logic, but it was when I truly started reading the Quran that I was touched emotionally. The first time I opened it I thought best to open it to a random page and start reading from there. I don’t recall the exact verse that I read, but I well remember the feelings it evoked. At the time it made me deeply afraid. It seemed to be speaking to my soul and saying, if you don’t get your act together and give some thought to the hereafter, everything you are working for is going to be a waste. Passage after passage reinforced this feeling, and I could at first only read for short increments. I had to put it down and walk away for a while, it was too hard for me to deal with the reality of the shortcomings I had in my life.
I knew for some time that I had to become a Muslim, but I was overcome with fear. What would my friends say, my family and co-workers? How would I learn to pray? Would I wear hijab in the middle of the Christian community in which I was raised and risk becoming the topic of gossip? Would my devoutly Catholic Dad be disgraced or angry? Would I be un-American?
It was around the spring of 2013 when I was “introduced” via email to a sister who herself had converted from Christianity to Islam. It was through her, may Allah reward her, that I was able to see that it was possible for me to take the steps toward becoming a Muslim. I was able to open up to her about my fears, all of which she understood and gave her own advice and stories of how she dealt with the trials of converting, or reverting as some people call it. Around this time, all the questioning and rethinking of my entire life and all the mistakes I had made brought me into a deep depression. I could see that the Islamic way was the right way to live, no matter how carefree a secular lifestyle may be. I so desperately wanted to pray but didn’t know exactly how that should be done. Using the prayer rug my friend had gifted me, I made prostration over and over like I had seen my Muslim friends do, sometimes crying and asking for strength and help to take to the necessary steps. And then on March 30, 2013, I finally found the strength and said my shahadah, much to the happiness of my Muslim friends. The shahadah is the testimony of faith in Islam, and saying it with belief is what makes one a Muslim. I hear many stories of converts and their shahadahs, that from the moment they pronounced the words “Ash hadu allah illah-ha illalah, wa ashadu ana Muhammadin rasulollah” that they felt at ease and as a weight was lifted. It wasn’t exactly like that for me, and although I knew that an honest declaration of faith meant that all one’s previous sins were wiped away, I still felt worried. Maybe my belief wasn’t strong enough, I thought to myself. I took immediate action to rectify this by increasing my quest for knowledge and pursuing an Islamic Studies Diploma online. From the first day on I began praying 5 times a day, and although it took several months to learn the meanings of what I was saying it became a welcome escape and a comforting ritual.
I was petrified of sharing the news with my father. Like many people, I was hopeful of making my father proud of me, and going against his beliefs in religion was not exactly a way to do this.While not supportive, I think he was glad that I had once again found connection with our Creator and was pursuing a moral code other than the ever-changing secular lifestyle.
Hijab was my next biggest hurdle. Although I watched video after video of hijab styles and found the modesty of hijab both elegant and stylish, may Allah forgive me I took gradual steps to implementing it. First increasing the modesty of my clothing, then wearing a headscarf when around my Muslim friends, and eventually when I was convinced that it was Fard, or religiously obligatory, I began wearing it full time. I chose to dive in and wear it to a family reunion to first test the waters with people who I knew loved me but would not be afraid to speak their minds. Aside from a few times being asked, “Aren’t you hot in that?” (it was July) and one person thinking I was playing a practical joke, there was little to no negativity surrounding my decision. One worried relative asked if I felt “restricted,” to which I wish I would have responded, much less restricted than while wearing the high heels I’ve been wearing all these years!! The first day I wore it to work I felt like I was jumping into a shark tank. Certainly all my co-workers would stare and attack with questions and criticism. I was sure that when I opened the door and entered the office that all eyes would be on me and I would be the talk of the town. Small towns, news travelled fast, after all, and anything out of the ordinary was quick to be spread from person to person. To my relief however, as I slid into my desk hoping to be invisible, it was as if I was invisible. Not a word. It wasn’t until I became more comfortable and confident in my new style that people came around and began asking questions, always politely and more curious than anything else. It wasn’t until a year later, while on a honeymoon with my husband in Egypt of all places, that I faced my first bit of discrimination for wearing the hijab. We were attempting to enter what we thought was a restaurant and were denied entry based on my headscarf. As it turned out, this wasn’t a restaurant but a nightclub! We were able to laugh it off at the time, but it saddens me somewhat that in a Muslim country tourist dollars are placed at a higher importance than the commandments of Allah. It is said in the Quran that Allah burdens no believer beyond what they can bear, and I can truly see this in the way the events of my adapting Islam unfolded. Three years later and I actually have nightmares about being outside without my headscarf, this is how much hijab has become a part of me.
Sometimes after converting to Islam I would feel as if I was a foreigner in my own hometown. These feelings weren’t brought on by people treating me any differently. In fact, people treated me exactly the same as before wearing hijab and being obviously Muslim, alhumdu lellah. The feelings I would get stemmed from my sadness that people were caught up in so many trivial and even unhealthy past-times that they forget to think about how short life is and how important it is to prepare for the afterlife. All the alcohol drinking that is so normalized , the objectification of women, young girls starving themselves to meet the ideal of the airbrushed images they see, girls competing in who can wear the least and who can hobble on the highest heels because they feel this is the only way to attract a man, however fleeting the attraction may be, all the while claiming to do so because they are “empowered” while men who could care less about women’s empowerment are leering at them in a cheap manner, the mixed gender relationships that confuse and break hearts and destroy families and childrens’ lives, the changing of laws based on changing popular opinion rather than divine commandments. Segregation by race was legal once, remember? All of these things, and many more, have a cure in Islam.
My sadness is dispelled however by the fact that Islam presents the most complete and defined way of life and an answer to the aching question I had always had in the back of my heart, why do we suffer? According to the teaching of Islam, suffering can have many reasons. It can be a sign that you are misguided and need to change your ways. It can be a purification of sins. It can be a test, to see if you are grateful for what Allah has given you. After all, he created you and gave you life and has given you the opportunity for a perfect, beautiful life in the hereafter. Muslims are taught to say Alhumdu lellah, all praises and thanks to Allah in times of hardship and in times of ease.
So you’re here, you’ve heard what I have to say, maybe see some truth in it but aren’t sure if Islam is for you based on everything you keep hearing in the media. My advice is to read, research, ask questions. If there’s one thing I’ve found about Islam, it is that there is no shame in questioning things. The seekers of knowledge are rewarded, and in today’s internet connected world there is no excuse for ignorance. In all cases I was able to find answers to my questions, with solid references from the Quran (which is preserved in its entirety since the days of the Prophet Muhammad peace be upon him) in addition to the Hadeeth (which includes the quotes and the practices authentically reported from the Prophet Muhammad peace be upon him). Don’t confuse culture with religion. There is no ideal Islamic society today, so don’t look at what Saudi Arabia, Iran, or even Turkey are doing and equate this necessarily and completely with Islam. Differentiate between what Islam preaches and what Muslims actually do and follow what Islam teaches.
Perfection is only for Allah after all. Read the Quran. If it bewilders you at first, go back to it. Read verses in context, and don’t take verses that hate sites have cherry picked on their own. Know that in Islam there is a worship and a reward for every action, if done with the right intention. This alone is unique and beautiful. Don’t be afraid of what people will say or how they will treat you. Your afterlife is much bigger than this life. Know that like a child who sometimes didn’t understand your parents’ commandments, you may not always understand the wisdom of Allah’s commandments but you can be sure the wisdom is there.
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