I have been spending much of my free time listening to lectures on halaltube.com
In one such lecture, Nouman Ali Khan preaches that, according to Surat-al-Baqarah, questioning in Islam constitutes unbelief. <http://www.halaltube.com/nouman-ali-khan-do-you-intend-to-question-the-messenger>
“Questioning,” in Khan’s view, consists of asking too many questions or too fundamental questions about Islam—and could come from either Muslims or non-Muslims. The only permissible questions, according to Khan, are ones that ask about applications of Islamic principles to specific situations. Khan's view disallows virtually any “why” question. He belittles critical interpretation while furthering the hegemony of a groveling attitude towards the text.
I found this lecture incredibly disheartening. Since I started reading about Islam, I have kept a little notebook (several notebooks, at this point) in which I maintained a running list of questions that have occurred to me as I have read the Quran and books about Islam. When I get an opportunity to ask someone one of these questions, I welcome and cherish that interaction and their responses. Questioning—and especially the asking of open-ended questions—is a rhetorical strategy that opens up potentials and ways of meaning. Questioning incites commentary and dialogue. Questioning inspires and insences and instigates. Questioning can ensure continuous renewal and reevaluation of purpose, as articulating a response to the question can reaffirm positions or lead to new areas of questioning.
As a student and a critic, I doubt that I could be part of any institution or knowledge community that closes off the possibility for questioning.
Showing posts with label islam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label islam. Show all posts
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
On Conversion
My attitude towards conversion (or, as it’s often called “reversion”) has shifted over the course of these past months in which I have been learning about Islam. At first, conversion was not even on my radar as a possibility. I saw myself a non-Muslim, period. Converting to any religion, and perhaps particularly to Islam, was simply unthinkable to me at that time.
As I began to read about Islam, and especially as I read the Quran, I experienced moments of being overwhelmingly compelled by the poetry of the Quran. I began to toy with the idea of conversion as possibility, if only a remote one.
I was thinking in terms of "if I convert" -- I was engaged in an open process of learning about Islam, which might face conversion as one of many possible outcomes but certainly not the most likely one. For some of that time, I was staying in another city with some friends who are now adamantly secular atheist “born” Muslims and who productively challenged and questioned my evolving views. One of them told me, “If you convert, you better be sure, because if you convert and then leave Islam, they’ll kill you.” Obviously, that is a ridiculous prospect—no one would kill me for apostasy here in the contemporary United States—but his warning highlighted the high stakes of choosing Islam. For many people, choosing Islam means a matter of life and death—or at least paradise vs. the fire.
After I returned to my home town, I started taking the Islam 101 course at the local masjid, and began to think in terms of "when and how I will convert". Conversion seemed a likely, if not imminent, possibility. The "Islam 101" course is also known as the "New Muslims" course, and most of the other sisters in the class are recent converts who expect me to join them soon as a fellow new Muslim.
Most recently, though, I have wavered between intense moments of wanting to convert and moments of thinking that Islam is definitely not for me, all centering around the question of "why I would convert". I do not want to end up converting simply because it is expected of me—or because I feel that I owe it to the fine people who have been giving me Dawah. I want to feel that it is the right thing for me. If someone asks me why I am converting, I should be able to articulate a coherent and theoretically sophisticated response, as I would to explain any of my political or ethical positions. I am asking myself if my reasons for finding meaning in Islam are good reasons, insufficient reasons, or symptomatic of other issues.
Conversion in Islam consists of taking Shahadah—saying two basic sentences in Arabic in front of witnesses. That conversion process is, on face, simple and easy. However, speaking those words, knowing their meaning, and believing that meaning do not make for a simple matter and I do not wish to take that matter lightly.
Shahadah means “witnessing”—a strong public affirmation of unwavering belief. To witness does not mean “this idea seems most plausible to me at this moment” or “I believe some of this but the rest I’m not sure of or haven’t even learned about yet”. I feel that I need to learn more before I can be a viable witness.
These questions of “if” “when” “how” and “why” are questions that surface and submerge in the daily reconfiguration of my thinking about conversion in particular and my relationship to Islam in general.
As I began to read about Islam, and especially as I read the Quran, I experienced moments of being overwhelmingly compelled by the poetry of the Quran. I began to toy with the idea of conversion as possibility, if only a remote one.
I was thinking in terms of "if I convert" -- I was engaged in an open process of learning about Islam, which might face conversion as one of many possible outcomes but certainly not the most likely one. For some of that time, I was staying in another city with some friends who are now adamantly secular atheist “born” Muslims and who productively challenged and questioned my evolving views. One of them told me, “If you convert, you better be sure, because if you convert and then leave Islam, they’ll kill you.” Obviously, that is a ridiculous prospect—no one would kill me for apostasy here in the contemporary United States—but his warning highlighted the high stakes of choosing Islam. For many people, choosing Islam means a matter of life and death—or at least paradise vs. the fire.
After I returned to my home town, I started taking the Islam 101 course at the local masjid, and began to think in terms of "when and how I will convert". Conversion seemed a likely, if not imminent, possibility. The "Islam 101" course is also known as the "New Muslims" course, and most of the other sisters in the class are recent converts who expect me to join them soon as a fellow new Muslim.
Most recently, though, I have wavered between intense moments of wanting to convert and moments of thinking that Islam is definitely not for me, all centering around the question of "why I would convert". I do not want to end up converting simply because it is expected of me—or because I feel that I owe it to the fine people who have been giving me Dawah. I want to feel that it is the right thing for me. If someone asks me why I am converting, I should be able to articulate a coherent and theoretically sophisticated response, as I would to explain any of my political or ethical positions. I am asking myself if my reasons for finding meaning in Islam are good reasons, insufficient reasons, or symptomatic of other issues.
Conversion in Islam consists of taking Shahadah—saying two basic sentences in Arabic in front of witnesses. That conversion process is, on face, simple and easy. However, speaking those words, knowing their meaning, and believing that meaning do not make for a simple matter and I do not wish to take that matter lightly.
Shahadah means “witnessing”—a strong public affirmation of unwavering belief. To witness does not mean “this idea seems most plausible to me at this moment” or “I believe some of this but the rest I’m not sure of or haven’t even learned about yet”. I feel that I need to learn more before I can be a viable witness.
These questions of “if” “when” “how” and “why” are questions that surface and submerge in the daily reconfiguration of my thinking about conversion in particular and my relationship to Islam in general.
Monday, March 23, 2009
What I find attractive about Islam
Most of my friends, when I have told them that I’m considering converting to Islam, have been very surprised and curious. They have wondered, “Why? What would a highly educated queer feminist Jew find appealing in Islam? Isn’t Islam against everything she stands for???”
Well, here is a brief list of the major factors that draw me to Islam:
1.) The basic monotheism, the Oneness of Allah. “There is no god but God."
2.) The abstract unseen power that is Allah. A phrase repeated frequently in the Muslim ritual prayer is “Allahu akhbar” = God is greater. So, what is God? That which is greater! Anything we can sense or imagine as divine can only approximate the greatness of Allah, who is always beyond and exceeding human capacities and worldiness. Allah is the Lord of the Worlds – plural – meaning there are other worlds in which Allah not only exists but also creates and rules. According to the tradition of al-Farabi’s theorizing on negative theology, Allah has no affirmative characteristics. The Quran includes 99 most beautiful names of Allah, and no other qualities can be attributed to Allah. Even the most beautiful names in the Quran are metaphorical/inadequate to describe the greatness of Allah to the extent that these words are in a human language and intended for human comprehension. That is, the Quran says that Allah is All-Seeing, but that does not mean that Allah has eyes or vision like that of humans or other animals. Allah is unlike Allah’s creation. Similarly, the use of “he” as a pronoun referring to Allah does not indicate that Allah is a man or a male creature. Again, Allah is unlike Allah’s creation. Rather the “he” pronoun could be considered a kind of compromise, as there was no adequate pronoun for Allah in Arabic, and the Quran is to be message intelligible to humanity.
3.) Prayer. The somatic component of worship—the Muslim way of praying requires both words and bodily movements; one worships Allah not just with the tongue but with the whole body. The physical act of bowing and prostrating to God. The regularity of prayer (praying according to the prescribed prayer times). The connection of prayer times to the rotation and revolution of the Earth. The elegant simplicity (and complexity in that simplicity) of the words of prayer.
That list is not comprehensive, but it includes the primary elements that draw me to Islam.
There is much about Islam that gives me pause and that seems possibly irreconcilable with ideas and causes that I hold dear to me. However, these three factors sustain my interest in Islam and my project of learning and thinking through how to incorporate Islamic values into my life more thoroughly.
Well, here is a brief list of the major factors that draw me to Islam:
1.) The basic monotheism, the Oneness of Allah. “There is no god but God."
2.) The abstract unseen power that is Allah. A phrase repeated frequently in the Muslim ritual prayer is “Allahu akhbar” = God is greater. So, what is God? That which is greater! Anything we can sense or imagine as divine can only approximate the greatness of Allah, who is always beyond and exceeding human capacities and worldiness. Allah is the Lord of the Worlds – plural – meaning there are other worlds in which Allah not only exists but also creates and rules. According to the tradition of al-Farabi’s theorizing on negative theology, Allah has no affirmative characteristics. The Quran includes 99 most beautiful names of Allah, and no other qualities can be attributed to Allah. Even the most beautiful names in the Quran are metaphorical/inadequate to describe the greatness of Allah to the extent that these words are in a human language and intended for human comprehension. That is, the Quran says that Allah is All-Seeing, but that does not mean that Allah has eyes or vision like that of humans or other animals. Allah is unlike Allah’s creation. Similarly, the use of “he” as a pronoun referring to Allah does not indicate that Allah is a man or a male creature. Again, Allah is unlike Allah’s creation. Rather the “he” pronoun could be considered a kind of compromise, as there was no adequate pronoun for Allah in Arabic, and the Quran is to be message intelligible to humanity.
3.) Prayer. The somatic component of worship—the Muslim way of praying requires both words and bodily movements; one worships Allah not just with the tongue but with the whole body. The physical act of bowing and prostrating to God. The regularity of prayer (praying according to the prescribed prayer times). The connection of prayer times to the rotation and revolution of the Earth. The elegant simplicity (and complexity in that simplicity) of the words of prayer.
That list is not comprehensive, but it includes the primary elements that draw me to Islam.
There is much about Islam that gives me pause and that seems possibly irreconcilable with ideas and causes that I hold dear to me. However, these three factors sustain my interest in Islam and my project of learning and thinking through how to incorporate Islamic values into my life more thoroughly.
Introduction
Thanks for reading my blog. I would like to briefly introduce myself to you. At least for now, I would like to be anonymous, but I do not want to be a complete stranger. This blog is, after all, something of a diary, so I have to include some details about my life.
I am 26 years old. I currently live in a mid-sized metropolitan area in the United States of America. I have lived in other cities and towns in the United States and Europe, but I have never traveled anywhere else in the world. My politics tend towards the social-democratic and the left-liberal, the non-violent, feminist and queer. I graduated from a well-known university in the U.S. and have pursued postgraduate study in the humanities. I consider myself to be a thoughtful and critical person. I like to ask questions, learn new ideas and skills, and interact with a wide variety of people. Above all else, I consider myself to be a student. My attitude towards the people I love, towards my friends and allies, is that I want to learn everything they know and teach them everything I know—an impossible and never-ending project, but a goal that drives friendships and mutually benefits the people involved.
I was raised Jewish (in the Reform movement). I had the privilege of a basic Jewish education in Biblical Hebrew, Torah and Haftarah reading, and Jewish traditions. I've never considered myself to be a very religious person. I do not strictly follow Jewish law (nor to most people in the Reform Jewish movement) and I lead a rather secularized life. I value many aspects of Jewish tradition, particularly the traditions of debate of ethical questions and critical analysis of texts. I attend synagogue on major holidays and read the parsha (weekly Torah portion) most weeks. I find modern Jewish thought to be fascinating and an invaluable part of modern European and North American intellectual history. I have long dis-identified from “identity politics”-based Jewish groups as well as from Zionist pro-occupation politics. When I was in middle school, I got into an argument with fellow members of a Jewish youth group because I took the position that it was more important that Israel be a true democracy than it be a Jewish State. Now I am a member of Jewish Voices for Peace and other such anti-occupation activist groups. What I find most meaningful and valuable for me in Judaism are the texts, the community, and the community of letters that is the history of Jewish thought. Though I think there is great value in continuing the Jewish tradition of reading and thinking about the Torah, I don’t believe that the Torah was authored directly by God or that its value is dependent on its being Divinely authored.
When I was 14 years old, I told my friends and my parents that I was queer. Since then, I have been actively involved in queer politics, queer theory, and queer communities. B y queer politics, I mean efforts to clear linguistic and material space for non-normative sexualities and genders.
My first personal interest in Islam began only a few months ago. I was at a colleague's office to work on a project with a new colleague and he excused himself to go pray. I asked him about his praying and his religion we got into a fascinating discussion about the nature of God, the formation of belief, ways of approaching religious texts, etc. I enjoyed discussing such ideas with him, perhaps mainly because he was so passionately pious as well as politically progressive (at least on some issues). I learned a lot from him and heard constellations of views that I had not heard before and that often surprised me. Frequently , when he and I were discussing a particular topic, such as a news item or the way a person had reacted in a given situation, he would say “the Islamic perspective on that is…” At times, that phrasing sounded strange to me—I was used to people stating opinions as their own and not as that of their religion. I felt that in order to understand where this person was coming from, I should learn more about Islam. I also thought that any educated person should know at least some basic information about Islam, a major world religion. I had learned in a high school social studies class that there were the 5 pillars and the Prophet Mohammed, but I had never taken any interest in learning about the complexity, diversity, and meaning of Islam as a lived and practiced religion. I knew enough to dismiss the Fox News or Samuel Huntington-style portrayal of Islam or Muslims as something extra-civilizational or enemy. However, I had never before had any observant Muslim friends or close colleagues. Despite being a history buff, I knew nothing of early Islamic history or the life of the Prophet Mohammed and his companions and followers. Despite being a voracious reader of social theory and European philosophy, I had never read a work of Islamic philosophy.
I asked for recommendations of books about Islam, and read Ali Rafea’s book _The Book of Essential Islam_. I was surprised at how similar Islam seemed to Judaism (especially in contrast to Christianity). I was deeply moved by and even more curious about the spiritual aspects of Islam and the practice of the daily prayers. I eventually got up the courage to ask my one Muslim friend if I could pray with him, and he showed me how to make wudu and how to pray.
A couple months ago, I read an English version of the Quran, and I was completely fascinated. I stayed up late reading and then read it first thing in the morning. I took copious notes and wrote down many questions as well as resonant passages that I wanted to remember. I searched eagerly for places online and in my local area where I might get my questions answered. Last month, I joined a women-only “Islam 101” class at the local masjid. I met some local Muslim sisters who have been generous enough to talk with me about Islam and answer some of my questions. I am still eagerly learning about Islam and thinking about converting.
I am 26 years old. I currently live in a mid-sized metropolitan area in the United States of America. I have lived in other cities and towns in the United States and Europe, but I have never traveled anywhere else in the world. My politics tend towards the social-democratic and the left-liberal, the non-violent, feminist and queer. I graduated from a well-known university in the U.S. and have pursued postgraduate study in the humanities. I consider myself to be a thoughtful and critical person. I like to ask questions, learn new ideas and skills, and interact with a wide variety of people. Above all else, I consider myself to be a student. My attitude towards the people I love, towards my friends and allies, is that I want to learn everything they know and teach them everything I know—an impossible and never-ending project, but a goal that drives friendships and mutually benefits the people involved.
I was raised Jewish (in the Reform movement). I had the privilege of a basic Jewish education in Biblical Hebrew, Torah and Haftarah reading, and Jewish traditions. I've never considered myself to be a very religious person. I do not strictly follow Jewish law (nor to most people in the Reform Jewish movement) and I lead a rather secularized life. I value many aspects of Jewish tradition, particularly the traditions of debate of ethical questions and critical analysis of texts. I attend synagogue on major holidays and read the parsha (weekly Torah portion) most weeks. I find modern Jewish thought to be fascinating and an invaluable part of modern European and North American intellectual history. I have long dis-identified from “identity politics”-based Jewish groups as well as from Zionist pro-occupation politics. When I was in middle school, I got into an argument with fellow members of a Jewish youth group because I took the position that it was more important that Israel be a true democracy than it be a Jewish State. Now I am a member of Jewish Voices for Peace and other such anti-occupation activist groups. What I find most meaningful and valuable for me in Judaism are the texts, the community, and the community of letters that is the history of Jewish thought. Though I think there is great value in continuing the Jewish tradition of reading and thinking about the Torah, I don’t believe that the Torah was authored directly by God or that its value is dependent on its being Divinely authored.
When I was 14 years old, I told my friends and my parents that I was queer. Since then, I have been actively involved in queer politics, queer theory, and queer communities. B y queer politics, I mean efforts to clear linguistic and material space for non-normative sexualities and genders.
My first personal interest in Islam began only a few months ago. I was at a colleague's office to work on a project with a new colleague and he excused himself to go pray. I asked him about his praying and his religion we got into a fascinating discussion about the nature of God, the formation of belief, ways of approaching religious texts, etc. I enjoyed discussing such ideas with him, perhaps mainly because he was so passionately pious as well as politically progressive (at least on some issues). I learned a lot from him and heard constellations of views that I had not heard before and that often surprised me. Frequently , when he and I were discussing a particular topic, such as a news item or the way a person had reacted in a given situation, he would say “the Islamic perspective on that is…” At times, that phrasing sounded strange to me—I was used to people stating opinions as their own and not as that of their religion. I felt that in order to understand where this person was coming from, I should learn more about Islam. I also thought that any educated person should know at least some basic information about Islam, a major world religion. I had learned in a high school social studies class that there were the 5 pillars and the Prophet Mohammed, but I had never taken any interest in learning about the complexity, diversity, and meaning of Islam as a lived and practiced religion. I knew enough to dismiss the Fox News or Samuel Huntington-style portrayal of Islam or Muslims as something extra-civilizational or enemy. However, I had never before had any observant Muslim friends or close colleagues. Despite being a history buff, I knew nothing of early Islamic history or the life of the Prophet Mohammed and his companions and followers. Despite being a voracious reader of social theory and European philosophy, I had never read a work of Islamic philosophy.
I asked for recommendations of books about Islam, and read Ali Rafea’s book _The Book of Essential Islam_. I was surprised at how similar Islam seemed to Judaism (especially in contrast to Christianity). I was deeply moved by and even more curious about the spiritual aspects of Islam and the practice of the daily prayers. I eventually got up the courage to ask my one Muslim friend if I could pray with him, and he showed me how to make wudu and how to pray.
A couple months ago, I read an English version of the Quran, and I was completely fascinated. I stayed up late reading and then read it first thing in the morning. I took copious notes and wrote down many questions as well as resonant passages that I wanted to remember. I searched eagerly for places online and in my local area where I might get my questions answered. Last month, I joined a women-only “Islam 101” class at the local masjid. I met some local Muslim sisters who have been generous enough to talk with me about Islam and answer some of my questions. I am still eagerly learning about Islam and thinking about converting.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Desiring/Submitting
Salaams,
I am writing this blog as a diaristic account of my thinking and experiences, particularly regarding religion, philosophy, theory, culture, and my recent engagement with Islam. Other related topics might include aesthetics and art, gender and sexuality, the body, subjectivity, and social and material relations.
I have titled this blog Desiring/Submitting. I have recently been struggling with two categories. I hope that my thinking through some issues relating to these categories may create a conversation with other readers in the blogosphere.
Both of these terms are complex and polysemous, inflected with numerous connotations.Desiring and desire are terms that have been in circulation in anglophone and francophone queer theory and history of sexuality academic circles. In common parlance, desire can signify any need or want or craving. Desire can connote a bodily hunger, a refined and educated taste, and a complex cultural field. The material and cultural production of desire and the history of desire are important areas of study that I wish to engage as part of this blog. I also describe some of my own interests, wishes, and desires in my everyday interactions.
"Submission" is the literal translation of the Arabic word "Islam". To be a Muslim is to be one who submits to the will of Allah. "Submission" is also a term in circulation in the BDSM (bondage/discipline, dominance/submission, sadomasochism) community and culture, in which submission virtually always means a consensual and negotiated submission to a particular person or people in an erotically charged context. Both Islam and BDSM are constellations of knowledge about which I have been learning and communities in which I have been participating in the past several months.
I do not present desiring and submitting as two poles of a binary opposition. Desire does not entail a libertarian-hedonistic worldview of "I do what I want". Submission does not require a denial or destruction of the self. Rather, desiring/submitting constitutes a troubled und unstable dialectic of sorts. Desiring and submitting are each techniques of affirming and closing off possibilities.
Both desiring and submitting are relational processes. Desire frequently invokes a desiring subject and a desired object. Submission requires a submittor and that to which the submitter submits. Paradoxically (and fabulously), in submission, the power to which the submitter submits--who may be God or some worldly power--is actually the grammatical "object".
I put these terms in the presenting progressive--"desiring" not "desire"; "submitting" not "submission"--because these are active and ongoing engagements in my life. Rather than seeing either desire or submission as a fixed momentary action, I see these as continuous practices and challenges. In that spirit, this blog is an unfolding conversation.
Islamic studies, queer theory, and Euro-Marxian critical theory are not theoretical approaches that have frequently found a comfortable home together in the blogosphere or other forums. inshaAllah this blog can be one small forum for such a critical project.
Thank you for reading. I welcome comments.
I am writing this blog as a diaristic account of my thinking and experiences, particularly regarding religion, philosophy, theory, culture, and my recent engagement with Islam. Other related topics might include aesthetics and art, gender and sexuality, the body, subjectivity, and social and material relations.
I have titled this blog Desiring/Submitting. I have recently been struggling with two categories. I hope that my thinking through some issues relating to these categories may create a conversation with other readers in the blogosphere.
Both of these terms are complex and polysemous, inflected with numerous connotations.Desiring and desire are terms that have been in circulation in anglophone and francophone queer theory and history of sexuality academic circles. In common parlance, desire can signify any need or want or craving. Desire can connote a bodily hunger, a refined and educated taste, and a complex cultural field. The material and cultural production of desire and the history of desire are important areas of study that I wish to engage as part of this blog. I also describe some of my own interests, wishes, and desires in my everyday interactions.
"Submission" is the literal translation of the Arabic word "Islam". To be a Muslim is to be one who submits to the will of Allah. "Submission" is also a term in circulation in the BDSM (bondage/discipline, dominance/submission, sadomasochism) community and culture, in which submission virtually always means a consensual and negotiated submission to a particular person or people in an erotically charged context. Both Islam and BDSM are constellations of knowledge about which I have been learning and communities in which I have been participating in the past several months.
I do not present desiring and submitting as two poles of a binary opposition. Desire does not entail a libertarian-hedonistic worldview of "I do what I want". Submission does not require a denial or destruction of the self. Rather, desiring/submitting constitutes a troubled und unstable dialectic of sorts. Desiring and submitting are each techniques of affirming and closing off possibilities.
Both desiring and submitting are relational processes. Desire frequently invokes a desiring subject and a desired object. Submission requires a submittor and that to which the submitter submits. Paradoxically (and fabulously), in submission, the power to which the submitter submits--who may be God or some worldly power--is actually the grammatical "object".
I put these terms in the presenting progressive--"desiring" not "desire"; "submitting" not "submission"--because these are active and ongoing engagements in my life. Rather than seeing either desire or submission as a fixed momentary action, I see these as continuous practices and challenges. In that spirit, this blog is an unfolding conversation.
Islamic studies, queer theory, and Euro-Marxian critical theory are not theoretical approaches that have frequently found a comfortable home together in the blogosphere or other forums. inshaAllah this blog can be one small forum for such a critical project.
Thank you for reading. I welcome comments.
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