Ruminating’s Not Just for Cows

I thought after graduating I would cease to contribute to Stony Brook MSA's Minaret... yet it was hard to resist submitting at least one more article. In a nutshell, I talk about the importance of dedicating ample time to the act of purely ruminating or meditating, particularly with the hope of developing our spirituality and intellect. May this be of benefit to its readers, insyaAllah.

Ruminating’s Not Just for Cows

Bismillahir-Rahmanir-Rahim,

Before I delve into the topic, I would first like to apologize if I led you to believe last year that it was my last time writing for the Minaret. I had resisted the urge for a good while, but alas, I have yet to find a better outlet for my ardent desire to share some musings of mine that, I hope, may benefit their readers. And because it is quite difficult to extricate oneself completely from a people whom you love for the sake of Allah. On that note, please allow me to share some of my experience, from a friend to another.

In case you were wondering whatever happened to me after I graduated, I was in an academic limbo. I was no longer an undergraduate student, yet not quite a grad student, and certainly not a professional; introducing myself always ended up being a story. Taking a year off was an interesting experience, to say the least. Initially, I did it to give myself time to work on the medical school application process, and to do some things (research, volunteer, etc) that might boost my chances of getting accepted. What ends up happening, and it won’t take you long to realize it, is that you’re going to have a lot of time in your hands. The research doesn’t take up nearly as much time as you anticipated; the volunteer thing didn’t – for some reason or another – work out; these kinds of factors add up to give you a substantial amount of time. Now, if your sole intention was to impress the med school admissions committee, being able to list several activities may satisfy you. After all, they may look at the number of hours you put in, but what they won’t do is stalk you and check on every single hour you spend doing virtually nothing. But of course, we have someone else we are to account our time to: Allah. This in itself can mean several things.

The most important implication is establishing a connection with our Creator. I once read the story that ‘Ali RA was stabbed in a battle and could not remove the sword from his body, due to the immensity of the pain. His friends were perplexed as to how and when to remove it, when his son said, “Remove it while he is doing his prayer.” SubhanAllah, the level of khushu’(concentration) that the Sahaba achieved was so high, they could not even feel the bodily pain inflicted upon them! How on earth are such things possible? The simple answer is: Effort and Time. While as Muslims we must accept that Allah SWT does bless certain people with certain virtues, we must also realize that nothing is achieved without effort, not exempting spiritual achievements. And efforts are almost always meaningless without time invested in them.

Understandably, this society has conditioned us to always be “on-the-go,” and we are always “doing, doing, doing.” That in itself isn’t inherently bad. Productivity is at the heart of Islamic values: Wal-‘Asr, By Time; make use of our time while we still have it. The true problem lies with the superficial understanding of “on-the-go.” The masses believe “productivity” to mean how many things get done, as opposed to how well things were done. In other words, we are less inclined to “marinate” our minds, allowing ideas and philosophies to sink in, as well as ponder over them thoroughly, and are more apt to load our schedules with activities. I am as guilty of this as anyone else. I know well that anxiety that comes when your mind runs through the never-ending list of tasks to get done. And for some odd reason this secretary of ours preferentially does this during a salah or du’a. Yet we must steadfastly be active in being passive. Bolt yourself to your prayer mat (figuratively speaking) and force yourself to ruminate over every word you are communicating to your Lord. With discipline, the process should come with more ease over time, inshaAllah.

Recently the New York Times published an article (“Mindful Eating as Food for Thought”) on the benefits of eating slowly, the way Buddhist monks have done. The article urges us to “meditate with food, expanding consciousness by paying close attention to the sensation and purpose of each morsel.” We should treat all of our nourishments the same way. That is, we should also imbibe knowledge and spiritual experiences in this slow and steady manner. By this we are exercising sabr (patience) and training our body and mind to be supple.

When you start to become anxious during this process of meditation, remember that the Prophet SAW himself would retreat for a month to a cave in order to establish this relationship with Allah. I think as average people we can expect to dedicate at least as much effort as, but most likely more than, the Prophet SAW with his retreats. This may not be as feasible in the 21^st as in the 7^th century, but there are other ways. Personally I found taking a year off to be immensely helpful, though I understand that “taking a year off” implies a luxury that some people feel they cannot afford. Whatever means you use, though, do not forget what you are created to do: Worship Allah. Take the time while you still have it to plow the preliminary path. May Allah make our journey in this life easy for us.

So That I May Not Forget...

To remain on the pre-med path is one task that - at least personally - is difficult and that needs constant reminders of why I was on it in the first place, and how I imagine the end of the tunnel to look like. The idealist youth in me believes I am totally capable of achieving my dream; the pragmatic woman in me says "you're most likely going to give up, especially once you get married and have kids. If you're already tired now, what makes you think you're going to gain more strength once you get REAL responsibilities?" This sort of debate goes on daily in my mind, as if an invisible hand presses on the play button the moment I wake up and will only turn it off once I return to my bed. Actually, the act of going to bed also adds that guilt of "it must feel so nice, being able to sleep. Interns in hospitals pray for 5 minutes of being able to close their eyes. Forget the bed - it'd be a miracle if they get it standing."

So my sharing this article I wrote for the Minaret is to make that reminder permanent for myself. To remind myself not to be a hypocrite, and to remember to uphold exactly what I told other pre-meds to do. And because I hope that if in the end I do not make it, at least someone else have benefited from it:

9 OUT OF 10 MSA MEMBERS...

...are pre-med. You knew this before I told you. As such, I feel obligated to share some of what my experiences taught me as my parting gift. If you’re a junior, you’re most likely under the impression that “unlike my seniors, I will take my MCAT in April, and submit my AMCAS applications on the first day of June.” If you’re a senior, then you have either decided not to go to medical school after all, or, like me, have grudgingly come to accept that I would have to take at least a year off. What is true of every (serious) pre-med, though, is that we are only ever really eager to do things that can be checked off the extensive premed checklist. “Why are you volunteering?” “Because it looks good to have had patient interaction on the app.” “Why are you doing research?” “Because it makes me more competitive.” And so on and so forth.

          

         To be sure, part of the recipe of success is to have a battle tactic. In fact, you would need to have an iron gut to be able to stomach looking at how much you loans you racked up throughout your medical education, and to attend the bloodiest patients. But the medical field is unique in that it relies more on passion than on abilities. As the heads of the Mt. Sinai medical school committee told me and other volunteers, “we’re not looking for the applicant with a GPA of 4.0 and MCAT score of 45. It’d be nice but we’re like your parents: We want to see you go to the right field for you, and so we look at your passion more than anything.”

            

        For your own sake, I would recommend that you start narrowing down your passion now. “I want to help people” is nice, but that can be accomplished through many other ways – cheaper and quicker means at that. To help you find that specific goal, I would like to give a reminder of the special position we are in.

           

        I was in Indonesia last summer with the primary goal of attaining a “hands-on healthcare experience.” But do to unforeseen circumstances (Allah gives us what is best for us), I found myself doing somewhat different activities than expected with a nursing institute. My first task was to give a presentation to nursing students – older than myself – on the differences between nursing homes in the U.S. and in Indonesia. At the end of the discussion my mentor brought up the point that Indonesian healthcare professionals such as herself work relentlessly to improve their standards up to the U.S. and Europe level. Like a typical American, I commented, “Asal ada maunya” or “If there’s a will, there’s a way.” She gave a little laugh and said, “you mean asal ada uangya – as long as there’s the money.” After all, with the dire lack of governmental support, it’s difficult to make meaningful progress, no matter how much “they will.” That made me realize how privileged we are: In the U.S., it is not “audacious” to hope for a change, to think that our best effort will count. But how do physicians in Indonesia, Bangladesh, or Haiti improve their nation’s healthcare system? They cannot even realistically hope.

            

       Furthermore, who becomes the physician in such countries? If you cannot afford to pay at least $80,000 a semester in cash, you cannot joke about going to med school – unless, of course, you have that 4.0/45 combo we talked about. And we may grumble about the laborious process of the applications, but the doctors I spoke to there wished they had that system. “Here we don’t conduct interviews. So we have many doctors that are actually socially inept, and even psychologically very disturbed.” I’m not saying that all our American doctors are mentally sound; however, thanks to that process, we can have sufficient trust in our physicians.

            

       Now let us go back to us, the MSA pre-meds. Since we have the privilege to hope, what do we wish to change? What will we do with the trust that will be bestowed upon us? There’s no simple answer. We do, however, have the obligation to put in twice the work, because unlike the physicians in Third World countries, we had our road paved for us. 

To Take Advantage of Our Youth

Today I attended a Grand Rounds on Global Health Initiative in Japan by the hospital I volunteer at. Basically the doctor explained how Japanese doctors from the U.S., including himself, went to provide aid during the earthquake/tsunami crisis, and how the crisis in general was handled medically there. He also pointed out how amazed he was that these doctors took time out of their hectic schedules to go voluntarily, and also how his colleagues covered for him here.

As I continued to listen to the talk I thought to myself how I keep finding myself drawn to global health. Especially since I went to Indonesia, it has been my biggest goal to go back and "lend a helping hand." Yet while my peers are going to New Orleans and Tanzania etc for relief, I still find myself here. Not doing half the things I keep talking about and wishing for. And one of the questions you would be asked on the Day of Judgement: What did you do with your youth?


Yes, there are gender issues that come to play. And financial. I also tell myself to just have patience, build your self up first into a well-educated person before jumping into work that needs all that education and training. But do these answers suffice?

So props to people who are truly able to put their own needs and wants aside, go out of their comfort zone and make a difference in the world. InsyaAllah we will all eventually gain the courage and strength to reach the top of that mountain.

Let's Get Personal

Something I looked forward to when I returned home for the weekend from college: Weekend breakfasts. My mother being a person of ceremony (or routine, however you'd like to phrase it), she likes to have breakfast with  brewed hazelnut coffee, and classic American or Indonesian music playing on the stereo. As breakfast proceeds she tends to begin a lecture, sharing a mother's wisdom with her two daughters. This morning's topic was parenting.

We were initially discussing how some Indonesian mothers tend to worry over the slightest signs of "abnormality" in their children's behavior. She reflected for a moment and then said, "I think it's how we were raised in Indonesia. We become harsh to children and overly negative and critical. Americans, on the other hand, are more open to understanding their children. In Indonesia we say, 'kids shouldn't talk, they don't know anything.' Here children's opinions are more respected. Maybe that's why you guys (referring to my sister and I) are the way you are. Dominant parents produce children that lack self-confidence. Especially working parents, who are so tired from work there's usually little energy to spare into being patient with 'incompetent behavior'."

Before I proceed to her other words I want to add some of my reflections on several points. First I'd like to show my appreciation for her analysis and her openness. Though it is quite the norm in our household (being open about our thoughts and feelings), I still like to be grateful every time, particularly when I hear my friends and how they yearn for similar openness. And secondly, this sort of parenting is typical of all Asian parents, I believe, and it can prove to be very detrimental to the children. If you haven't seen the movie the King's Speech, you should. It addresses exactly the outcome. In that way the American parenting is more Islamic. The Prophet SAW, for example, gave total respect to 'Ali RA's opinion though he was a mere 13-year-old.

To return to mama's words: "There are of course pluses and minuses for both the Western and Indonesian/Asian way of parenting. On the plus side, the Indonesian parenting brings the traditional and religious values." She then became more specific to her own parenting experience. She explained that she tried so hard  in the beginning to shed the negative aspect of such parenting by reading Western parenting books before having us. Yet culture is not so easily shed. "You (again, referring to my sister and I) should be able to parent the right way and only take the positives from your Indonesian background because you grew up here."

It's difficult, at least for me, I argued. Though I am nowhere near being a parent, I already see traces of how I would parent by how I care for my sister. Our mother being a single parent, she often has to play the father role. And I, as the older sister, by default often play the mommy role. Which makes it difficult at times to remember that my primary role is to be the supportive older sister, not the critical mother. And the fact that I grew up in Indonesia makes it hard for me to extract just the positives. You can't put one of your legs in the mud and expect to pull it out in the pristine condition it was before.

"Yes, it's hard," she replied, "but it needs effort. If we do not analyze our behavior, if we just do as we've been taught, then we're not going to change. You need to stop and analyze every once in a while: 'Am I raising my children the way I wanted to?' You need to actively stop yourself. Stop yourself starting now and don't wait until it carries over to your kids."

Her final words should be considered well beyond the context of parenting. Every aspect of our lives requires that we make frequent self-reflections, particularly when those aspects involve other people's lives. We need to pay particular attention and practice particular restraint when dealing with other people's children (yes, that includes your friends and colleagues), my mother warns. Because when they hear the same criticism from their mothers, they can but be angry at that moment before they go back to loving their mothers. But with anyone else, particularly if we truly overstep our boundaries, the ties can be severed. So be mindful of your impact on this world and its inhabitants (or shall we say passerby?)

THE TREASURED GIFTS FROM OUR BELOVED FRIEND, RAMADAN

Eid Mubarak, everyone! Though today should be a festive day, I believe I'm not alone when I say "I really, really miss Ramadan." So I thought I'd share some of my ruminations on the blessed month that just left us. I wrote this reflection for a competition by IMSA (Indonesia Muslim Society in America) on the hikmah of Ramadan. InsyaAllah it may benefit its readers:

THE TREASURED GIFTS FROM OUR BELOVED FRIEND, RAMADAN

“Whoever their ending was illuminated, their beginning was illuminated.”

– Ibn 'Attaullah al-Askandari

I have spent the past four Ramadan at Stony Brook University. I received in each of the four months all that a student would hope for when fasting: friends to have suhr, iftar and qiyaam with, delicious iftar food, hufaz to lead Taraweeh prayers, and the overall support a Muslim Students Association provides. To spend Ramadan in the company of people who are eager to get the most reward from Allah and who are in constant remembrance of Him is a true blessing. The first week or so of last year’s Ramadan, which I spent in Jakarta, offered a different joy. The words “Marhaban Ya Ramadhan!” are visible and audible with every turn I take. Each aisle of the supermarket with Ramadan-special products featured; TV programs of Islamic lectures aired during suhr (even Ramadan-themed sinetron during the evenings); adzan heard being called from the masaajid all over the city and from television sets, announcing the time to break the fast. Believers and nonbelievers alike become saturated with the spirit of Ramadan.

This Ramadan, however, is different. This Ramadan was the most anticipated Ramadan of my adult life, though considering my age, the statement perhaps falls short of impact. This was the Ramadan that would be free of pressing engagements (i.e., from school, exams and work). With most of my days spent as a hermit at home, I was determined to accomplish the most ‘ibadah and self-reflection I could.

Certainly, we can never truly extract ourselves from the dunya. Alas, as much as we would like the world to hold its demands until after Eid, the world still turns very much the same way. Work, classes, and medical school admissions, in my case, do not freeze their calendars for the month of Ramadan. As such, no matter how much we desire it, we are unable to read the Qur’an throughout the day and pray Sunnah prayers all through the night every day of the month. Alhamdulillah, however, the quote I opened with seems to have held true for me overall. As the quote explains, if the niyaat is good, then insyaAllah everything will fall into place, though perhaps not in the manner we thought it would be in, and the result will be good. Before Ramadan began, my family, friends and I had intended to prepare by attending NYU’s Islamic Center workshop series on “How to Prepare for Ramadan,” which embedded both ‘ilm and motivation in us. One of the numerous lessons I took from it is that Ramadan should not so much focus on increasing acts of ‘ibadah as on increasing the quality of our ‘ibadah. We should ultimately leave Ramadan having fixed or removed certain bad characteristics and habits, and hopefully remain as the improved person until the next time we meet Ramadan again, if Allah permits.

This task is, of course, easier said than done, as most tasks are. Much of what we do unfortunately come from our primitive nafs, which, particularly in the absence of Shaytan in Ramadan, becomes our worst enemy. It has been narrated that after Allah created the Mind (‘Aql), Allah orders it to face Him; the Mind obeys. Allah then asks it: “Who are you and Who am I?” The Mind replies: “You are my Lord and I am but your weak servant.” Allah then creates the Nafs and orders it to face Him; it, however, refuses. Allah asks it: “Who are you and Who am I?” The Nafs replies: “I am me and You are You.” Allah punishes it in the Hell of Jahim for a hundred years, and then releases it. Allah again asks the question, to which it offers the same reply. Allah places it in the Hell of Juu’ for another hundred years. When Allah asks it the question again, it finally accepts that it is His servant and Allah is its Lord. That is why Allah has made it obligatory upon us to fast (Misykaatun). 

Fasting, however, by no means guarantee a submissive nafs. Just as Allah had to send the Nafs back to Hell for another hundred years in addition to the hundred years it already spent in another Hell, our nafs is like a wild horse that takes a lifetime to be broken. From the many that fast from food in Ramadan, far less truly fast their limbs, eyes, ears and tongue. These people, as the Prophet SAW says, “will have attained nothing from their fast except hunger and thirst.” And for those who have fasted all day, most let the reins on the nafs loose during iftar and overeat. Yet the Prophet SAW has said, “No vessel is more hated by Allah than a man’s stomach when it is full, even with that which is halal.” He also said: “Man fills no vessel worse than his stomach. It is sufficient for the son of Adam to have a few mouthfuls to give him the strength he needs. If he has to fill his stomach, then let him leave one-third for food, one-third for drink and one-third for air.” [Reported by at-Tirmidhee and Ibn Majah. Saheeh al-Jamee (5674)].

Why is it so difficult for us to refrain from pleasing our senses? Why do we overeat each time, knowing the discomfort that follows a stuffed stomach? We seek to gratify our senses to the point of abuse when we are too attached to the dunya. Looking at the aforementioned quote of the Prophet SAW, it should be clear to us that the purpose of eating is to provide us with strength. Though of course we may enjoy – nay, even urged by Allah to enjoy – the ni’mat that Allah has provided us, we should not lose focus of the true purpose of eating: to gain the strength to continue ‘ibadah so that we may please Allah SWT and collect reward for the Hereafter. Once ‘Umar Ibn al-Khattab RA entered upon the Messenger of Allah SAW when he was lying on a mat of palm fibers, which had left marks on his side. ‘Umar RA said: “O Messenger of Allah, why do you not get something more comfortable than this?” He SAW said: “What do I have to do with this world? My relationship with this world is like that of a traveler on a hot summer's day, who seeks shade under a tree for an hour, then moves on.” [Musnad Ahmad and al-Hakim. Saheeh al-Jamee (5545)].

Another hard lesson to learn is tawakkul, or the complete submission of matters beyond our control to Allah SWT. Ramadan in many ways becomes the ultimate time to test one’s sense of tawakkul. The Stony Brook MSA would hold a “Fastathon” during or immediately after the month of Ramadan to invite non-Muslims to experience fasting a whole day with us, both for the sake of the experience and for charity. The most common given reason for not participating? “I like to eat; I’m worried about what will happen if I don’t eat all day.” In reality, unless you have certain medical conditions or overexert yourself, you would probably make it through the day, even without having had suhr. And Allah is Ever-Merciful; He exempts travelers and the ill, among others, from fasting. At least here in the U.S. it is almost a guarantee that we will have something to break our fast with. But the people of Somalia do not know if they will see another morsel of food in their life. What we need is to have complete trust in Allah. We voluntarily fast to seek Allah’s pleasure. We must therefore be reassured that Allah will not abandon us, and that Allah has complete control over all of our matters.  

And remember the story of the Prophet SAW and Abu Bakr RA when they headed for Yemen and hid in the Thawr cave from the Quraysh. When the Quraysh were visible at the mouth of the cave, Abu Bakr RA cried the Prophet: “They will surely see us!” To which the Prophet SAW replied: “Have no fear, for God is with us. What do you think of two people whose third is Allah?” The Quraysh, seeing cobwebs and a nestling dove at the entrance, surmised that no one could be within the cave and left the Prophet SAW and Abu Bakr RA without harm. “Their lives had been preserved by nothing but that fragile spiderweb; trust in God (at-tawakkul ala Allah), of which the Prophet reminded Abu Bakr at that particular moment, thus took its full meaning and strength” (Ramadan 82).

The final encompassing lesson is to never take anything for granted: neither your food, nor your parents, nor your faculty of mind, nor your or anyone else’s life. Say “Alhamdulillah!” every time you are blessed with food or drink. Have sabr when dealing with your parents: “And lower your wing humbly for them, with mercy, and pray, ‘My Lord! Have mercy on them both, the way they nursed me when I was young.’” (17:23-24). Think of the orphans who have lost them. I was given several reminders this Ramadan. One of our small pet fish jumped out of its water unnoticed by us and laid on the floor gasping for air for some time. Once I saw it I immediately returned it to its water. Thankfully after some moments to recover from the shock it swam again. Yet I was led to ponder about its life. I had been so used to its presence in our home that I had forgotten no one’s life goes on forever. Though most of us are accustomed to having our parents and family around, take the time to reflect and thank Allah each day that they are still with us. There were also the small earthquake and the hurricane Irene that threatened my area, which reminded all of us that no matter how intelligent and mighty we might think ourselves to be, we are ultimately powerless.

And remember to attribute your memory and understanding of the Qur’an and any other ‘ilm to Allah SWT, as well as your ability to pay zakat and to perform other good deeds. One of my goals this Ramadan, something my roommate in college and I had encouraged each other to do before the summer, was to finally complete the memorization of juz ‘Amma, and insyaAllah to continue the effort of memorizing even after the month until we memorize the entire Qur’an. Alhamdulillah I was able to accomplish this, and learned a very important lesson in the process: I may be able to memorize, but I have no control over what word or ayat I will forget, even from surah I believed to have been cemented in my mind. The du’a we recite when we complete reading the Qur’an perfectly addresses this: “Ya Allah, remind me that which I have forgotten from the Qur’an, and teach me that which I do not know from it, and bless me with the ability to read it day and night every day.”  After all, if your mind or limbs were to be debilitated by an illness or a tragedy, who but Allah is able to restore them?

Had Ramadan been longer than a month, perhaps we would have learnt so much more. Yet all good things come to an end eventually, like Nabi Musa’s journey with Khidr, to which the Prophet SAW commented: "We wish that Moses could have remained patient by virtue of which Allah might have told us more about their story." We can do nothing except to reflect and make the most of the hikmah we gained. In the last evening of the month of Ramadan, all that is in the earth and heavens and all the Angels cry for the calamity that has befallen the ummah of Muhammad SAW. The Prophet SAW was asked: “What calamity is that, ya Rasulullah?” The Prophet SAW answered: ‘The depart of the month of Ramadan; for in that month, all du’as are granted, all sadaqa are accepted and all good deeds are multiplied in its reward, and punishment is brought to a halt.” Is there any larger calamity than the departure of the month of Ramadan? If even all that is in the earth and heavens cry for us, do we not have a greater right to cry? (Hayaatul Quluubi).

True Wisdom Lies in the Humble Heart

Assalamu'alaikum,


Today is the sixth day of Ramadan, and Alhamdulillah, so far it has been - for the most part- spent as I had envisioned it. I wanted to put even extra effort into this Ramadan because it might be my last chance having this whole month to myself at home, with no urgent (school or work-related) duties. When you have graduated, it finally hits you how little time you have left to spend on cultivating yourself. You then realize just how much you wish you had spent all those years as an undergrad and as a h.s. student memorizing the Qur'an, etc. But regrets get us nowhere; we can only optimize the chances we have left. 


I had intended to not be active with social websites, even this one, during this month, but some issues become rather pressing and the only solution I find is to discuss it. Topics regarding Islam are often touchy subjects, and require delicate approach. Especially when it comes to interpretation. How far do we follow the literal translation, who is qualified to voice judgement, and to what extent can one follow Islam - to the best of one's abilities - without running the risk of being called "extremist"? 


The two main lessons I derived from personal interactions regarding the said topics are:


1. Honestly ask yourself what your intentions are. Do I do the things I do because I genuinely want to please Allah, to follow His word because I believe He is the Most Great, and that as His slave my ego should be irrelevant, nonexistent? Or do you have an agenda of some sort, or an immense pride in your intellect? Remember, “Anyone who possesses a speck of pride (kibr) in his heart will not enter Paradise”. There is no greater wisdom than in humbly accepting your mistakes. And the opposite is true: the biggest fool is one who obstinately sticks by his judgement though all respectable, sound proof run contrary to it. May Allah protect us from such pride.


2. Respect those who have dedicated their life to scholarship. One is only qualified to rely on their judgement regarding the interpretation of the Qur'an and the sunnah once one has actually studied. Much like how the lay people cannot make a convincing argument against a complex policy without having really studied it, we cannot trust our ability to judge what is the "essence" or the intended meaning of a verse or a law without having been equipped. A snippet from an article regarding madhabs:

"While the call for a return to the Qur'an and sunna is an attractive slogan, in reality it is a great leap backward, a call to abandon centuries of detailed, case-by-case Islamic scholarship in finding and spelling out the commands of the Qur'an and sunna, a highly sophisticated, interdisciplinary effort by mujtahids, hadith specialists, Qur'anic exegetes, lexicographers, and other masters of the Islamic legal sciences. To abandon the fruits of this research, the Islamic shari'a, for the following of contemporary sheikhs who, despite the claims, are not at the level of their predecessors, is a replacement of something tried and proven for something at best tentative. "  - © Nuh Ha Mim Keller 2000, http://www.masud.co.uk/ISLAM/nuh/madhhab.htm

Brothers and sisters, let us renew our intentions every day and night, and may Allah grant us patience and peace in our hearts and His Mercy. May this Ramadan prove to be fruitful for all of us, insyaAllah.

Ma'asalam,

Sarah

First Post: Interweaving the Part with the Present

Assalamu'alaikum,

The intention of this blog iA is to provide a space in which to have intellectual and enlightening discussions. Though I may center on 3 main topics - mainly Islam, medicine and literature - I sincerely wish to open this to all forms of musings, provided that they are respectful. With that I'd like to share one of my older writings that I submitted to the Stony Brook MSA's newsletter the Minaret in 2009. As a heads up I would be doing this a lot, for two reasons: 1) so the reader gets an idea of my personal view of Islam, without me having to reiterate through other means, and 2) with the hopes of readers benefiting from them, iA:

The Art of Evading Punishment

Usually whenever we read the Qur’an the message we get is of how incredibly torturous of a place Hell is, and that Allah would only send people there who He wills to punish. The logical follow-up question would be, “why does Allah torture us in the first place?” and “how do we avoid being thrown into Hell?” Yes, Allah created us, and He undeniably has the power to punish us whenever He so wills, so is that all there is to punishment? But Allah is Most Merciful, and He punishes people who do not appreciate His gifts: “For each person there are angels in succession, before and behind him. They guard him by the Command of Allah. Verily! Allah will not change the good condition of a people as long as they do not change their state of goodness themselves. But when Allah wills a people’s punishment, there can be no turning back of it, and they will find beside Him no protector (Surat arR’ad, 11).” Based on what this ayah says, upon our birth Allah blesses us with angels to guard us from front and back – what a wonderful gift! This is indeed a good condition, for this shows Allah’s love of us. And this ayah guarantees that we may keep this gift so long as we do not violate Allah’s laws and defile our selves. Allah also gives us other gifts, – including the biggest one of all, a life– all of which makes up our good condition.  If someone gives another a gift, and the person receiving it destroys the gift in the giver’s face or backstabs this person in return, will not the person who gave the gift be justified in displaying some anger, or break the bond of friendship as punishment? And Allah is so much mightier than a mere human friend.

Obviously we always fear punishment – this is why most people, Muslim or not, avoid doing “bad” things. But while we always fear the idea of being punished, this fear does not always dictate our actions. You know what I’m talking about. That thing you do at night in front of the computer, or even out in the daylight with friends. We are not constantly conscious of just how badly we will get smite in return of what we do: “Did the people of the towns then feel secure against the coming of Our Punishment by night while they are asleep? Or, did the people of the towns then feel secure against the coming of Our Punishment in the forenoon while they play?(Al A’raf 97-99).” It’s often hard for this to get through our heads, especially with long summer vacations. Just because the sun is up and people are around us are alive and well doesn’t mean we won’t get punished then and there, and just because we’re sleeping doesn’t mean God and His angels are. The angels around us protect us, but they also record every deed of ours, and Allah is All Knowing.

So how do we avoid getting thrown like coals into the Hellfire? The most important way is first and foremost to repent:  “Allah is more pleased with the repentance of His slave than anyone of you is pleased with finding his camel which he had lost in a desert (Sahih Al-Bukhari, vol. 8, hadith No.321).” More pleased than someone finding his lost camel in the desert. If I lost my camel, with no trains or buses around, I’d be pretty ecstatic finding it. So you can just imagine how our repentance – for something we shouldn’t be doing anyway – pleases Allah SWT. Mashallah!

An additional way would be to heed others’ advice, or if you have repented, help spread the word of good. Allah describes an advice so effectively in the Qur’an:“See you not how Allah sets forth a parable? – A goodly word as a goodly tree, whose root is firmly fixed, and its branches reach to the sky (Surat Ibrahim, 24).” When an advice takes root in us and grows, we are kept sturdy and we are being kept on the straight path, the path that goes on to the heavens to Allah, not down to Hell. That is why Da’wah is so important. Da’wah doesn’t have to take the form of stuffing pamphlets into the hands of non-Muslims. Or staging an interaction between Muslims in front of a target nonMuslim, hoping the performance would miraculously open the latter’s eyes. Da’wah needs to start with our private interactions, both with Muslims and nonMuslims. A personal example is when this kind, older sister at Stony Brook gave me a wonderful gift at the end of my freshman year  - the Fortress of the Muslim booklet. When I asked why she said it was because it was my first year wearing the hijab, and it was a congratulatory gift. I cannot describe how touched I was; though this might seem a small gesture to some, the impact is far larger than the gesture. When Allah has given us a gift, shouldn’t we be fervent in sharing our blessings? This is a way to keep our “state of goodness.”

Just as there are numerable methods of how to receive punishment from Allah, there are just as many methods of how to evade it. Even if we have fallen into the pitfalls, we still can evade it by repenting. We are in charge of our good condition, and we must do whatever it takes to maintain it – before the times comes when Allah will take no more effort from us and begins His call of Judgment.