“The search for knowledge is an obligation laid on every Muslim."
(Ibn Majah, Baihaqi).
I have thought about what to write about for a few days now, wondering where I was going to take my story next. I have written a lot about the ignorance of Americans in Islam, but it isn’t only the non-Muslims in the world who have ignorant views on Islam. One of the very first things I learned about Islam is always check what you are told about Islam. Sometimes people say things that have good intent, but in fact have no basis in Quran or Hadith. We must always check sources, take what we are taught to the next level and understand it to a complete degree, ask to see it in hadith or quran so you can better understand.
There are a few questions that are repeatedly asked to me when I meet a Muslim. I am always asked what brought me to Islam, which I never hesitate to talk about. Most questions never bother me. However the question, what Muslim Name will you take? Is a question asked out of ignorance. When I took shaahda I was told to start thinking about what my new name would be. When this happened I went to the books, researching. I wanted to see why the name changes occurred in the time of the prophet Muhammad (PBUH) so I began to look for name changes. Most of the companions kept their names when reverting to Islam. In fact, the only mention of name change I could find was when someone’s name had bad intent, for example, if you name’s meaning was the one who worshiped the sun, then you should change your name.
So my first reason that my name is Joshua Cooke
Joshua is the English version of Yusha.
My parents when selecting my name at birth gave me a “Muslim” name. They didn’t know it. I share the name of a great prophet in Islam Yusha, just a different form of his name. So the meaning of my name is has no bad intent.
My second reason for my name is Joshua Cooke:
Your Lord had decreed that you worship none but Him, and that you are kind to parents whether one or both of them attain old age in your lifetime. Say not to them a word of contempt or repel them but address them in terms of honor and out of kindness lower to them the wing of humility and say: "My Lord, bestow on them your mercy, even as they cherished me in childhood".
(Quran 17:23-24)
Indeed there was an occasion when Prophet Mohammed (pbuh) commanded a believer to care for his non-Muslim parents rather than participate in Jihad (holy war).
Abdullah ibn Omar relates: "Once a person came to the Messenger of Allah and expressed his desire to participate in jihad in order to please Allah. The Holy Prophet asked him "Are your parents alive?" The man said "Yes. Both are alive". The Holy Prophet said 'Then go and serve them well".
(Bukhari and Muslim).
And also:
Mu'aviyah ibn Jahimah reported, Jahimah came to the Prophet (peace be upon him) and said: "O Messenger of Allah! I intend that I should enlist in the fighting force and I have come to consult thee. He said "Hast thou a mother?" He said, "Yes." He said: "Then stick to her, for paradise is beneath her two feet.
(Nisai).
I felt that it was important that my parents who are both practicing Christians should realize that I was not rejecting them, my upbringing or most of the things they held dear. It was simply that I had come to a new understanding of theology. Rejecting the name they had given me could really have been interpreted as being quite insulting to them, which in itself would be contrary to Islam. I am thinking here of the following ahadith:
"He, who wishes to enter paradise at the best gate, must please
his father and mother."
(Bukhari & Muslim)
One who cuts ties of relationship will not enter paradise.
(Bukhari, Muslim).
The Lord's good pleasure results from a father's good pleasure, and the Lord's displeasure results from the father's displeasure.
(Tirmidhi).
"Messenger of God, who is most deserving of friendly care from me?" He (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) replied, "Your mother." He asked who came next, and He replied, "Your mother." He asked who came next and He replied, "Your mother." He asked who came next and He replied, "Your father."
(Bukhari, Muslim).
Indeed according to one hadith, Prophet Mohammed (pbuh) states that showing kindness to parents takes precedence even over striving in the cause of Allah:
"Once the Prophet was asked: 'Tell us, which action is dearest to Allah?' He answered: 'To say your prayer at its proper time.' Again he was asked: 'What comes next?' Mohammed said: 'To show kindness to parents.' 'Then what?' he was asked, 'To strive for the cause of Allah!' "
(Ibn Masad, Bukhari)
In my case, I felt that abandoning for no good reason the very name given me by my loving parents would have been straining the ties of relationship, creating displeasure and certainly not indicative of showing kindness to or taking friendly care of my mother and father.
My third reason my name is Joshua Cooke:
A majority of the reason I was afraid of Islam before becoming Muslim is simple. It was alien; it was the religion of the Arabs in the Middle East I thought. Of course we know this not to be true; it is the region of all humanity. Most “Muslim” names are simply names from the regions of the Middle East nothing more. So by not adopting a “Muslim” name I can show others that it is a religion that is for the western world as it is for the eastern world. The following excerpt from an article on Islam written by Andrew Marr in the liberal British Sunday newspaper, The Observer, in January 1999 illustrates just how difficult most westerners find it to relate to Islam, even those who like to pride themselves on being open-minded and unprejudiced. Marr writes:
Here is a movement which declares its undying opposition to Western liberal values; whose militants engage in terrorism; which dreams of a huge, sprawling Islamic community or 'umma', recreating the days of greatness of the early Caliphate. It has adherents round the world.
It looks and sounds alien. Alien is not a word this newspaper approves of generally. But for a Western liberal, it has a literal truth when applied to Islam: I can see my fellow human, the Muslim, and touch, and talk of many things. But there is a thick, impenetrable mental bubble between us.
As Muslims we should be breaking down the barriers! Let Islam, the truth spread. It is the fastest growing religion in the world, in spite of some Muslims who are uninviting to new Muslims and in spite of Muslim who create an alien world for westerns to see Islam as.
On a completely different note, I do understand adopting new names after reverting for some, the symbolic new birth, which I respect. These are simply the reasons I have kept my given name. But please, if you feel I am wrong in my analysis of Islam or can show me something I have not seen yet, please do.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Telling my Family...
After long conversation from my new found brothers in Islam, I couldn’t hide this from my family any longer. I had studied long and hard to be able to answer the question that they might ask, I thought being prepared with knowledge would ease things.
My mother:
I wasn’t living close to them, thousands of miles away in fact. So my first communication about Islam with my parents and family came via telephone. The decision came from the little hope maybe they would see the light also, and the feeling that I was some how lying to them. The Quran calls that we respect our parents to the highest degree. So with a mixture of these feelings, I blurted out to my mother on the telephone, “I am a Muslim”. The first reaction was confusion. She asked if I was joking. She just didn’t understand what I was trying to tell her. She kept repeating to me, you are a Christian. Then silence. It was a scary silence. She wouldn’t speak a word to me. Then the only explanation I have to what happened next is that shaytan was speaking through her. The most vulgar and scary things came out of my mothers mouth. At first she condemned unnamed men that she had claimed to have brain washed me, and of course was going to make me “blow my self up”. After listening for a while, I attempted to speak to her again. Thinking it would put her to ease that this was a decision I have come to by my own studying, I told her if she had any questions at all then please ask. Her questions were not question but statements at first. I knew that first night I would not be able to speak to her while she was calm. There was no good bye or good night on the phone that night, she hung up and refused to speak to me. My greatest fears were rushing through my head, I cried for hours afraid that my mother would no longer talk to me. But knew all I could do is pray for her, and for my self, that Allah would take care of me.
It would be nearly a week later before I was able to speak to my mother again, she had turned into “let me save you”. I would spend many nights listening to her read me the bible, and I would reply with things from the Quran or even contradicting bible verses. Until I grew where I understood, there was no point in debating about the religions with her, and I told her something beautiful from the Quran, “You shall have your religion and I shall have my religion.” That I will always respect her, but this must come be fore her. I asked her, what do you have when you die? What can we take with us to the afterlife? She was quiet and then said “nothing”. I replied, I won’t have you and you won’t have me to stand beside, these are things we have to figure out and understand for our selves. I told her I would do anything in this world for her, but this is beyond this world. That conversation was a turning point. She began to see that I wasn’t going to change, and a love of a mother showed through. I sent her books so that she could read, and we could talk. Of course I would spend months defending Islam still, having heated talks about what I believed, but I wouldn’t lose my mother. At the end of the day she loved me.
Our relationship today is strong, we still have our struggles. She is in the phase where she chooses to ignore everything about me that says Islam. I hear that my beard is poufy and I need to shave all the time from her, and stopped asking why I excuse my self during the day when I am with her for those five distinct times. But honestly all and all, we are okay. I know there will be many more struggles to come, but a mother’s love will prevail.
My father:
Well my father was and very much is a different story then my mother. You see he served in the military in Iraq in the early 90’s and has an ignorance that has been deeply ingrained into him about Muslims.
I did not tell my father, as I knew my mother had already done so. I knew this because when I had attempted to tell my father about this I was unable. He simply would not speak to me. The story with our interaction would take months to develop, because he and I didn’t speak for that long. He was so angry with me. He wouldn’t answer my phone calls or my emails to him. Until two months after he found out, I received an ugly email from him. Telling me I have done an evil thing, which I make my mother cry every night. Telling me that these people are going to take me away from them, which I will change my name and run away to be a terrorist, that finally I needed to come back to my family and god before something terrible happens.
I replied to him by email, as I saw that he would be passive aggressive about this entire thing. I told him that it was ok. I am still the same son they had before, but in fact improved. The little differences they would see were I wouldn’t eat pork, and maybe a beard. But day to day and our relationship does not need to change. This email would be replied with, “whatever”, one word from him that would hurt deep into me.
The silent treatment would last for some time. Well not complete silence. Facebook comments would be left on my wall for everyone to see, “I am sorry world for having a disappointing son” or “it hurts to see my son turn into this”. The thing that really hurt my father more then anything I believe was his image as a father to the small community that I was raised in. Everyone in the community new, because I was no longer shy about my faith, and honestly I didn’t realize the backlash would come back on my family also. He once posted a comment that asked me publicly. “Where did I mess up as a father raising you?” That was it, if he wanted to talk, we would have to do it somewhere besides publicly on a social networking site. I was simply deleting his comments, but that time, I have to admit I deleted him off my site.
I called him and he finally answered, after many hateful words, I asked if he would come to dc to help me pack and return home. I felt it would give us time to talk on a long road, and I had planned that he would meet some of my friends that are Muslims. Maybe all he needed to see was that Muslims are good people, normal as he and everyone he knew. I had arranged that he meet with a few brothers, a few white Muslims reverts like my self, a few that did work as firemen and police officers.
He came to DC after much convincing, refused to meet the group that we arranged for him, but did meet the Muslim family that I had become so close to while I was there, Rizwan and his family. If there is one way I know how to get to my dad it is by luring him somewhere there is good food. I talked him into meeting rizwan and his family by telling him about the amazing food that his wife makes. (And it was amazing!)
He would be quiet there, it was an awkward occasion. But I thought it was good at the time. We left, directly from Rizwans home to return to texas, a home I hadn’t seen in two years. We spent two days driving, and not a word spoken from him the entire time. Silence filled my car moving down the high way, but thoughts filled my head the entire way.
When returning home, it was a mixed emotions seeing my family again, slightly awkward but still the love you have with a family is amazing.
My father had filled the house with things that I didn’t agree with. A family that did not drink alcohol now kept alcohol in their home. A family that rarely ate pork had what looked like it would amount to 5 pigs in the freezer.
Our relationship today is hot and cold, mostly cold. Some days he seems to be ok with me, but most he chooses not to speak to me. One day a fathers love will show through inshallah.
My grandmother:
I would have one family member that would surprise me. Never shed a word from her mouth that sounded hateful. My grandmother when finding out about this would say, “let’s study together”. Most likely to have me convert back, but our conversation would be amazing through those months we talked. She was sincere when she listened and ever more she spoke. She told me, “I don’t have long Josh on this earth. I really do need to know the truth.” I would send her a book that I had read, and the next day we would be talking about it, as she had already finished the book. She seemed to be just as interested in this as me. I don’t really know today if it was because it was because it was me, or if it was because she was genuinely interested.
She would inspire me over the next few months, with questions about Islam. She would make me a better Muslim.
Then one day, I received a heart wrenching call. She was in the hospital. It doest look good. She would spend two weeks there, fighting for her life, on life support. I would go into her room and she would hold my hand, I knew it was the end. There was a look there at the end, and tear, I don’t know what she was thinking, but she took everything she could to squeeze my hand… almost to thank me. I don’t know if she ever accepted Islam for her self and I wont know while I live on this earth, but if any family member of mine did, it was her.
The hospital would provide awkward moments as I would try to avoid my family when they prayed Christian prayers. I even had to tell my great uncle whom is a preacher that he needed to leave his hands off me, as he attempted to physically force me into a room for prayer.
Then the time came to say good bye, we couldn’t leave her on life support any longer. It was over. I stood beside her when she took her last breathe, holding her hand like I had done time and time again those two weeks. The only thing that could come to my mind as I watched and felt her slip away was.. ʾašhadu ʾan lā ilāha illa (A)llāh, wa ʾašhadu ʾanna Muḥammada(n) rasūlo (A)llāh
There were other family members to act in distinct ways, but these were the ones that I will never forget. Three different ways that family member may respond. Oh.. Then there is the fourth my sister who said, “I don’t care his still my brother”. Aunts and uncles took varying responses. Some don’t talk to me other want to save me. It’s the same with my cousins and other grandparents. Each person that cares about you in this time will deal with it in their own way, in their own degree. I still struggle every day. But all I can do is continue to live my life for Allah, and pray.
My mother:
I wasn’t living close to them, thousands of miles away in fact. So my first communication about Islam with my parents and family came via telephone. The decision came from the little hope maybe they would see the light also, and the feeling that I was some how lying to them. The Quran calls that we respect our parents to the highest degree. So with a mixture of these feelings, I blurted out to my mother on the telephone, “I am a Muslim”. The first reaction was confusion. She asked if I was joking. She just didn’t understand what I was trying to tell her. She kept repeating to me, you are a Christian. Then silence. It was a scary silence. She wouldn’t speak a word to me. Then the only explanation I have to what happened next is that shaytan was speaking through her. The most vulgar and scary things came out of my mothers mouth. At first she condemned unnamed men that she had claimed to have brain washed me, and of course was going to make me “blow my self up”. After listening for a while, I attempted to speak to her again. Thinking it would put her to ease that this was a decision I have come to by my own studying, I told her if she had any questions at all then please ask. Her questions were not question but statements at first. I knew that first night I would not be able to speak to her while she was calm. There was no good bye or good night on the phone that night, she hung up and refused to speak to me. My greatest fears were rushing through my head, I cried for hours afraid that my mother would no longer talk to me. But knew all I could do is pray for her, and for my self, that Allah would take care of me.
It would be nearly a week later before I was able to speak to my mother again, she had turned into “let me save you”. I would spend many nights listening to her read me the bible, and I would reply with things from the Quran or even contradicting bible verses. Until I grew where I understood, there was no point in debating about the religions with her, and I told her something beautiful from the Quran, “You shall have your religion and I shall have my religion.” That I will always respect her, but this must come be fore her. I asked her, what do you have when you die? What can we take with us to the afterlife? She was quiet and then said “nothing”. I replied, I won’t have you and you won’t have me to stand beside, these are things we have to figure out and understand for our selves. I told her I would do anything in this world for her, but this is beyond this world. That conversation was a turning point. She began to see that I wasn’t going to change, and a love of a mother showed through. I sent her books so that she could read, and we could talk. Of course I would spend months defending Islam still, having heated talks about what I believed, but I wouldn’t lose my mother. At the end of the day she loved me.
Our relationship today is strong, we still have our struggles. She is in the phase where she chooses to ignore everything about me that says Islam. I hear that my beard is poufy and I need to shave all the time from her, and stopped asking why I excuse my self during the day when I am with her for those five distinct times. But honestly all and all, we are okay. I know there will be many more struggles to come, but a mother’s love will prevail.
My father:
Well my father was and very much is a different story then my mother. You see he served in the military in Iraq in the early 90’s and has an ignorance that has been deeply ingrained into him about Muslims.
I did not tell my father, as I knew my mother had already done so. I knew this because when I had attempted to tell my father about this I was unable. He simply would not speak to me. The story with our interaction would take months to develop, because he and I didn’t speak for that long. He was so angry with me. He wouldn’t answer my phone calls or my emails to him. Until two months after he found out, I received an ugly email from him. Telling me I have done an evil thing, which I make my mother cry every night. Telling me that these people are going to take me away from them, which I will change my name and run away to be a terrorist, that finally I needed to come back to my family and god before something terrible happens.
I replied to him by email, as I saw that he would be passive aggressive about this entire thing. I told him that it was ok. I am still the same son they had before, but in fact improved. The little differences they would see were I wouldn’t eat pork, and maybe a beard. But day to day and our relationship does not need to change. This email would be replied with, “whatever”, one word from him that would hurt deep into me.
The silent treatment would last for some time. Well not complete silence. Facebook comments would be left on my wall for everyone to see, “I am sorry world for having a disappointing son” or “it hurts to see my son turn into this”. The thing that really hurt my father more then anything I believe was his image as a father to the small community that I was raised in. Everyone in the community new, because I was no longer shy about my faith, and honestly I didn’t realize the backlash would come back on my family also. He once posted a comment that asked me publicly. “Where did I mess up as a father raising you?” That was it, if he wanted to talk, we would have to do it somewhere besides publicly on a social networking site. I was simply deleting his comments, but that time, I have to admit I deleted him off my site.
I called him and he finally answered, after many hateful words, I asked if he would come to dc to help me pack and return home. I felt it would give us time to talk on a long road, and I had planned that he would meet some of my friends that are Muslims. Maybe all he needed to see was that Muslims are good people, normal as he and everyone he knew. I had arranged that he meet with a few brothers, a few white Muslims reverts like my self, a few that did work as firemen and police officers.
He came to DC after much convincing, refused to meet the group that we arranged for him, but did meet the Muslim family that I had become so close to while I was there, Rizwan and his family. If there is one way I know how to get to my dad it is by luring him somewhere there is good food. I talked him into meeting rizwan and his family by telling him about the amazing food that his wife makes. (And it was amazing!)
He would be quiet there, it was an awkward occasion. But I thought it was good at the time. We left, directly from Rizwans home to return to texas, a home I hadn’t seen in two years. We spent two days driving, and not a word spoken from him the entire time. Silence filled my car moving down the high way, but thoughts filled my head the entire way.
When returning home, it was a mixed emotions seeing my family again, slightly awkward but still the love you have with a family is amazing.
My father had filled the house with things that I didn’t agree with. A family that did not drink alcohol now kept alcohol in their home. A family that rarely ate pork had what looked like it would amount to 5 pigs in the freezer.
Our relationship today is hot and cold, mostly cold. Some days he seems to be ok with me, but most he chooses not to speak to me. One day a fathers love will show through inshallah.
My grandmother:
I would have one family member that would surprise me. Never shed a word from her mouth that sounded hateful. My grandmother when finding out about this would say, “let’s study together”. Most likely to have me convert back, but our conversation would be amazing through those months we talked. She was sincere when she listened and ever more she spoke. She told me, “I don’t have long Josh on this earth. I really do need to know the truth.” I would send her a book that I had read, and the next day we would be talking about it, as she had already finished the book. She seemed to be just as interested in this as me. I don’t really know today if it was because it was because it was me, or if it was because she was genuinely interested.
She would inspire me over the next few months, with questions about Islam. She would make me a better Muslim.
Then one day, I received a heart wrenching call. She was in the hospital. It doest look good. She would spend two weeks there, fighting for her life, on life support. I would go into her room and she would hold my hand, I knew it was the end. There was a look there at the end, and tear, I don’t know what she was thinking, but she took everything she could to squeeze my hand… almost to thank me. I don’t know if she ever accepted Islam for her self and I wont know while I live on this earth, but if any family member of mine did, it was her.
The hospital would provide awkward moments as I would try to avoid my family when they prayed Christian prayers. I even had to tell my great uncle whom is a preacher that he needed to leave his hands off me, as he attempted to physically force me into a room for prayer.
Then the time came to say good bye, we couldn’t leave her on life support any longer. It was over. I stood beside her when she took her last breathe, holding her hand like I had done time and time again those two weeks. The only thing that could come to my mind as I watched and felt her slip away was.. ʾašhadu ʾan lā ilāha illa (A)llāh, wa ʾašhadu ʾanna Muḥammada(n) rasūlo (A)llāh
There were other family members to act in distinct ways, but these were the ones that I will never forget. Three different ways that family member may respond. Oh.. Then there is the fourth my sister who said, “I don’t care his still my brother”. Aunts and uncles took varying responses. Some don’t talk to me other want to save me. It’s the same with my cousins and other grandparents. Each person that cares about you in this time will deal with it in their own way, in their own degree. I still struggle every day. But all I can do is continue to live my life for Allah, and pray.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Friends V.S Brothers...
My life after accepting Islam was no longer the same.
I lost some friends, but gained many true fiends.
Immediately after accepting Islam at the mosque I was surrounded by Muslim brothers. They were very interested to hear my story, to get to know me, and more importantly to help teach me the ways of my new life choice. Little did I know that giving my phone number to the small group of Muslim brothers that day on the mosque steps would be so impactful in the upcoming months, Or the development of knowledge in my life.
That day I would learn a lot from a cab driver named Muhammad. He invited me to dinner, where we would talk about the very basics of Muslim life and what it meant to be a Muslim, some Islamic etiquette, such as when to say bismillah. We had a lot of laughs that night, until he had to return to his work. I was really begging to see that his life was going to be ok.
It’s funny sometimes how we start out at one place, that day I thought I would find my self praying in this mosque often, but Allah (SWT) had much better plans that I didn’t know about.
I received a phone call from a brother, who received my phone number from a brother that had received it on the steps of the mosque that day. Never the less, this was probably one of the best people for me to meet at the time. Also and American revert, we shared a similar background. Meeting him was comforting, it was nice to see I wasn’t alone, someone else had experience the coming events that I feared. He had experienced, telling his family and his friends, and had attempted to shed light on the ignorance. He introduced me to another Muslim revert that he knew, a brother who was a Jew before he reverted to Islam. These two I knew would understand my hardships that I was to face and would give me advice on a daily basis. The one thing that I have found to be more helpful in the ability to face those fears was simple, having friends who understood because they had been there. This is one of the reasons I write, if one person is helped by my stories (inshallah) then the nights of blogging are worth every second.
We spent many night talking about my fears; about the day I tell my mother I am a Muslim. It is a scary thing to do, you fear losing everything. But here stood to white Muslim brothers, from varying families who had told their families. Though they admitted, it had been tough years, and the relationships were still rocky. I was still inspired. For no other reason then they still had relationships with their parents.
I would meet many more inspiring characters through these brothers this is how I would come into contact with the most influential Muslim yet, Rizwan. Rizwan would take me in like a brother, teaching more then he even realizes about life and Islam. He introduced me to his entire family, and I felt at home with them. Some of my fondest memories would come from his home.
I made a lot of friend’s right after reverting, and in later post you will hear many stories about these brothers and how they have helped me. But with every friend I made, I lost friends also. After reverting, I wanted to tackle the world of ignorance all at once. I was proud of who I am and what I was apart of. Foolishly thinking I thought I would be able to make a difference with my friend’s views on Islam.
To truly make a difference, there would have had to been a discussion between us. After I began to tell my friends, they began to disappear. My worst fears at the time were coming true; friend after friend would ask if I would not talk them anymore, that they didn’t want to be friends with someone who were involved with that. I would always leave them with, I am not different, and I am always here to talk about anything. Most I still haven’t heard from again, some I receive emails from condemning me to hell, and others attempting to “save my soul”.
Some of my friends, who found out, called the navy afraid for my well being. I received a call from a navy Chaplin. Which would turn into a short conversation, he asked if I need help, and I said yes. I asked him if he could help me find more Muslims in the military or a navy Chaplin who was Muslim. He gave me a short response; I don’t know anyone else who is a Muslim. Then he was no longer on the line.
Then the day cam that my superiors found out about it in the military, to put this plainly, it wasn’t and easy day. Mixed emotions filled the room when I had been asked about my religious choice. I would be cross examined about this for a little over an hour, but this being a free country there is nothing more that they could do. I could tell that my stay in the military wouldn’t be easy, that I would begin to get the jobs that I didn’t want, and I was right. Few were understanding, but most would treat me differently every day. I don’t blame those men though. It had already instilled into them in training that Muslims were the enemy. I know that was what I was taught in training. To my surprise I would find a few more Muslims in the area who were also in the military. They too shared my pains. In fact a navy officer, who was Muslim, wrote an article about Islam and gaining interest of the sailors around the world. This article was met with backlash. A navy admiral, whom he would not name, exclaimed in profanity to him that he was in fact glorying the enemy.
I would gain many friends those months, and loser many others. But during that time you must know this, Allah will take care of you. I was given something from him that is better then friends, I was given brothers. If you are reverting, the odds are, you will have people that you cared about run away from you. But trust in Allah and he will give you strength inshalalh.
My next post I will go through my families reaction and stories with them, inshalalh.
I lost some friends, but gained many true fiends.
Immediately after accepting Islam at the mosque I was surrounded by Muslim brothers. They were very interested to hear my story, to get to know me, and more importantly to help teach me the ways of my new life choice. Little did I know that giving my phone number to the small group of Muslim brothers that day on the mosque steps would be so impactful in the upcoming months, Or the development of knowledge in my life.
That day I would learn a lot from a cab driver named Muhammad. He invited me to dinner, where we would talk about the very basics of Muslim life and what it meant to be a Muslim, some Islamic etiquette, such as when to say bismillah. We had a lot of laughs that night, until he had to return to his work. I was really begging to see that his life was going to be ok.
It’s funny sometimes how we start out at one place, that day I thought I would find my self praying in this mosque often, but Allah (SWT) had much better plans that I didn’t know about.
I received a phone call from a brother, who received my phone number from a brother that had received it on the steps of the mosque that day. Never the less, this was probably one of the best people for me to meet at the time. Also and American revert, we shared a similar background. Meeting him was comforting, it was nice to see I wasn’t alone, someone else had experience the coming events that I feared. He had experienced, telling his family and his friends, and had attempted to shed light on the ignorance. He introduced me to another Muslim revert that he knew, a brother who was a Jew before he reverted to Islam. These two I knew would understand my hardships that I was to face and would give me advice on a daily basis. The one thing that I have found to be more helpful in the ability to face those fears was simple, having friends who understood because they had been there. This is one of the reasons I write, if one person is helped by my stories (inshallah) then the nights of blogging are worth every second.
We spent many night talking about my fears; about the day I tell my mother I am a Muslim. It is a scary thing to do, you fear losing everything. But here stood to white Muslim brothers, from varying families who had told their families. Though they admitted, it had been tough years, and the relationships were still rocky. I was still inspired. For no other reason then they still had relationships with their parents.
I would meet many more inspiring characters through these brothers this is how I would come into contact with the most influential Muslim yet, Rizwan. Rizwan would take me in like a brother, teaching more then he even realizes about life and Islam. He introduced me to his entire family, and I felt at home with them. Some of my fondest memories would come from his home.
I made a lot of friend’s right after reverting, and in later post you will hear many stories about these brothers and how they have helped me. But with every friend I made, I lost friends also. After reverting, I wanted to tackle the world of ignorance all at once. I was proud of who I am and what I was apart of. Foolishly thinking I thought I would be able to make a difference with my friend’s views on Islam.
To truly make a difference, there would have had to been a discussion between us. After I began to tell my friends, they began to disappear. My worst fears at the time were coming true; friend after friend would ask if I would not talk them anymore, that they didn’t want to be friends with someone who were involved with that. I would always leave them with, I am not different, and I am always here to talk about anything. Most I still haven’t heard from again, some I receive emails from condemning me to hell, and others attempting to “save my soul”.
Some of my friends, who found out, called the navy afraid for my well being. I received a call from a navy Chaplin. Which would turn into a short conversation, he asked if I need help, and I said yes. I asked him if he could help me find more Muslims in the military or a navy Chaplin who was Muslim. He gave me a short response; I don’t know anyone else who is a Muslim. Then he was no longer on the line.
Then the day cam that my superiors found out about it in the military, to put this plainly, it wasn’t and easy day. Mixed emotions filled the room when I had been asked about my religious choice. I would be cross examined about this for a little over an hour, but this being a free country there is nothing more that they could do. I could tell that my stay in the military wouldn’t be easy, that I would begin to get the jobs that I didn’t want, and I was right. Few were understanding, but most would treat me differently every day. I don’t blame those men though. It had already instilled into them in training that Muslims were the enemy. I know that was what I was taught in training. To my surprise I would find a few more Muslims in the area who were also in the military. They too shared my pains. In fact a navy officer, who was Muslim, wrote an article about Islam and gaining interest of the sailors around the world. This article was met with backlash. A navy admiral, whom he would not name, exclaimed in profanity to him that he was in fact glorying the enemy.
I would gain many friends those months, and loser many others. But during that time you must know this, Allah will take care of you. I was given something from him that is better then friends, I was given brothers. If you are reverting, the odds are, you will have people that you cared about run away from you. But trust in Allah and he will give you strength inshalalh.
My next post I will go through my families reaction and stories with them, inshalalh.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Introduction to Islam..
Americans for the majority are ignorant on Islam.
The sad truth is, ignorance only reinforces ignorance, and like any ignorant thoughts in the past in American creates hatred. I am not proud of my thoughts about Islam prior to my actual discovery of the truth, and I am not proud that I didn’t search for the truth before I did. I didn’t search because, what I was told about this religion was wrong. This was a religion of hate, this was the enemy.
My first true encounter with Islam happened on September 11 2001, like most Americans. Before then, Islam was a far of religion. A religion of another world, we knew it existed, but had no idea what it was. I had seen pictures of Muslim women; I had seen pictures of Iraq and hear the name of Muhammad (peace be upon him). Besides that, nothing. On that infamous day, men spoke out of ignorance, and reinforced untrue claims to Islam without warrant. Sitting in a class in school, we spoke about the attacks, talked about it being Muslims. Not once did the teacher bring up that it was radically extremist, but encouraged the ignorant talk that continued. "That religion teaches to kill everyone who is not a Muslim." That statement became a common theme heard on the news and through out the chattering of Americans that day.
To be honest, I stayed away from the religion. I was fearful of what it was, and fearful of Muslims. All based on unwarranted claims made by the media, family and friends. This is one of the most embarrassing parts of my story, and I am hesitant to write it, but it should be written. You have to realize, ignorance is not an incurable cancer, it is easy to fix. I am proof of that.
The years after September 11, I spent in high school. I grew to know the politics of Muslims countries, but did not understand more then the basis, because I didn’t know Islam. To know why people do something you have to understand them, and you can not understand the Muslims unless you have a basic understanding what Islam is. I was a debater in high school, many debates and speech topics came through my hands about the Middle East, and saw many speak about the subjects, sadly most spoke out of ignorance even in public forums, they were applauded.
When I joined the military, I quickly learned that they, despite what the military says, they train you to be in a Muslims are the enemy mindset. I become emotional here; this is difficult even to think about now.... When we were training in the military, Muslims names were written on the targets during shooting practice. After we would have a good day at the gun range, we would be congratulated for killing hajji afterwards. Sadly this is not an isolated incident, but that is the only one that needs to be talked about. I am sure you get the picture of the ignorant men training the United States soldiers and sailors.
I find a lot of irony in my story of becoming Muslim. Everything that made me fear Muslims and Islam prior to becoming Muslim would all come together in one place and be the driving force that first made me study Islam.
I was stationed in the nation’s capitol, at base where I could look down the Potomac River and see where the plane hit the pentagon on September. 11. I worked as an anti-terrorism force specialist there, and a few months after arriving I found out that a civilian man I worked with was Muslim. This was a huge shock to me. He looked normal, talked normal, and was a black American male. If the conversation of religion would have never been brought up one day, it might have gone right by me.
How the conversation was brought up is an interesting story. This elderly woman would bring in pamphlets from her church and give them to us; we would in return throw them away. So being a kind Muslim man as he was, he wanted to share his truth with her. He walked into work with a stack of hand outs on Islam, and said "if she wants to give them out, maybe she will take them and read them, it’s only fair". We didn’t see her for about a week, but little did my friend know that those hand outs were sparking someone else’s interest, mine. I read each and every one of them he had there.
One day, just the two of us sitting and talking, I finally opened up and said, "so what do you know about Jesus". (Peace be upon him) He turned his head with a smirk on his face and said, "What do you want to know?" Its funny, all these years I didn’t know that Islam was even a religion of Abraham. It wasn’t mentioned to me while going to church. I thought it was as far from Christianity as paganism is. We began to talk about Islam. My first real conversation in my life about the truth. Jesus (peace be upon him), I was told was a prophet sent by god. Nothing more, he lived and was here on earth but is not divine himself. He looked at me, and said, "Where in the bible does Jesus say “I am divine?""
My friend had no previous knowledge of my story, but yet hit exactly my problem in Christianity. I had never agreed with anything more. We began our on and off talks about Islam, while I bought every book I could find, and watched every YouTube video about Islam that I could fit in my time. (In fact a funny side note, my first book on Islam was, “An Idiots Guide to Islam.”) Then one day, he brought me a gift. He had a book wrapped in a plastic bag, and said here read this. Inside was the holy Quran. With in 3 days, I had read every word. I had cried my way through it, because I was ashamed of what I had thought before... and now knew this is the truth. It finally felt good to be enlightened.
I wasn’t having enough interaction with my friend at work, not enough communication about Islam. So one day, I decided to go to an Islamic book store. When I pulled into the place I thought was simply a book store, and it was actually a mosque with a book store. Half way afraid, I walked up and spoke to a man sitting on the steps. I asked him, if he could help me. He looked at me and simply pointed to the iman office. I had no idea what I was doing, I walk up to this cheerful looking Muslim man and we began to talk. Prayer time came, and he asked if I wanted to watch them pray. Stepping into the mousqe for the first time was almost overwhelming, the silence was chilling, but inside I felt warm and at home. Sitting in the back a man came and set down next to me, we began talking about Islam, then it happened. The most beautiful sound I have ever heard rang through the building, the man looked back and invited me to join him... said "just do what I do, I will teach you to pray."
I did, then and there, when I prayed for the first time, I felt enlightened. It was the truth, a warm feeling took over me, and while I prayed with my face on the floor I accepted Islam for my self fully. The one decision in my life that I am more proud of then any thing else. After the prayer, the iman looked up and saw me in the crowd. His smile was amazing, in his broken English that I had been getting use to all day of talking, he asked are you ready? I said my shaahda, in front of Muslim brothers there that day. Stumbling through the Arabic, instead of feeling emotional I felt proud and enlightened.
It funny how someone’s name sometimes describes them, I was introduced to Islam from a man named abdul-nur. The slave of the light, and that he was. He showed me the light that I had been blindfolded from for years. I will always be thankful for Washington dc and the military for letting me meet him.
The sad truth is, ignorance only reinforces ignorance, and like any ignorant thoughts in the past in American creates hatred. I am not proud of my thoughts about Islam prior to my actual discovery of the truth, and I am not proud that I didn’t search for the truth before I did. I didn’t search because, what I was told about this religion was wrong. This was a religion of hate, this was the enemy.
My first true encounter with Islam happened on September 11 2001, like most Americans. Before then, Islam was a far of religion. A religion of another world, we knew it existed, but had no idea what it was. I had seen pictures of Muslim women; I had seen pictures of Iraq and hear the name of Muhammad (peace be upon him). Besides that, nothing. On that infamous day, men spoke out of ignorance, and reinforced untrue claims to Islam without warrant. Sitting in a class in school, we spoke about the attacks, talked about it being Muslims. Not once did the teacher bring up that it was radically extremist, but encouraged the ignorant talk that continued. "That religion teaches to kill everyone who is not a Muslim." That statement became a common theme heard on the news and through out the chattering of Americans that day.
To be honest, I stayed away from the religion. I was fearful of what it was, and fearful of Muslims. All based on unwarranted claims made by the media, family and friends. This is one of the most embarrassing parts of my story, and I am hesitant to write it, but it should be written. You have to realize, ignorance is not an incurable cancer, it is easy to fix. I am proof of that.
The years after September 11, I spent in high school. I grew to know the politics of Muslims countries, but did not understand more then the basis, because I didn’t know Islam. To know why people do something you have to understand them, and you can not understand the Muslims unless you have a basic understanding what Islam is. I was a debater in high school, many debates and speech topics came through my hands about the Middle East, and saw many speak about the subjects, sadly most spoke out of ignorance even in public forums, they were applauded.
When I joined the military, I quickly learned that they, despite what the military says, they train you to be in a Muslims are the enemy mindset. I become emotional here; this is difficult even to think about now.... When we were training in the military, Muslims names were written on the targets during shooting practice. After we would have a good day at the gun range, we would be congratulated for killing hajji afterwards. Sadly this is not an isolated incident, but that is the only one that needs to be talked about. I am sure you get the picture of the ignorant men training the United States soldiers and sailors.
I find a lot of irony in my story of becoming Muslim. Everything that made me fear Muslims and Islam prior to becoming Muslim would all come together in one place and be the driving force that first made me study Islam.
I was stationed in the nation’s capitol, at base where I could look down the Potomac River and see where the plane hit the pentagon on September. 11. I worked as an anti-terrorism force specialist there, and a few months after arriving I found out that a civilian man I worked with was Muslim. This was a huge shock to me. He looked normal, talked normal, and was a black American male. If the conversation of religion would have never been brought up one day, it might have gone right by me.
How the conversation was brought up is an interesting story. This elderly woman would bring in pamphlets from her church and give them to us; we would in return throw them away. So being a kind Muslim man as he was, he wanted to share his truth with her. He walked into work with a stack of hand outs on Islam, and said "if she wants to give them out, maybe she will take them and read them, it’s only fair". We didn’t see her for about a week, but little did my friend know that those hand outs were sparking someone else’s interest, mine. I read each and every one of them he had there.
One day, just the two of us sitting and talking, I finally opened up and said, "so what do you know about Jesus". (Peace be upon him) He turned his head with a smirk on his face and said, "What do you want to know?" Its funny, all these years I didn’t know that Islam was even a religion of Abraham. It wasn’t mentioned to me while going to church. I thought it was as far from Christianity as paganism is. We began to talk about Islam. My first real conversation in my life about the truth. Jesus (peace be upon him), I was told was a prophet sent by god. Nothing more, he lived and was here on earth but is not divine himself. He looked at me, and said, "Where in the bible does Jesus say “I am divine?""
My friend had no previous knowledge of my story, but yet hit exactly my problem in Christianity. I had never agreed with anything more. We began our on and off talks about Islam, while I bought every book I could find, and watched every YouTube video about Islam that I could fit in my time. (In fact a funny side note, my first book on Islam was, “An Idiots Guide to Islam.”) Then one day, he brought me a gift. He had a book wrapped in a plastic bag, and said here read this. Inside was the holy Quran. With in 3 days, I had read every word. I had cried my way through it, because I was ashamed of what I had thought before... and now knew this is the truth. It finally felt good to be enlightened.
I wasn’t having enough interaction with my friend at work, not enough communication about Islam. So one day, I decided to go to an Islamic book store. When I pulled into the place I thought was simply a book store, and it was actually a mosque with a book store. Half way afraid, I walked up and spoke to a man sitting on the steps. I asked him, if he could help me. He looked at me and simply pointed to the iman office. I had no idea what I was doing, I walk up to this cheerful looking Muslim man and we began to talk. Prayer time came, and he asked if I wanted to watch them pray. Stepping into the mousqe for the first time was almost overwhelming, the silence was chilling, but inside I felt warm and at home. Sitting in the back a man came and set down next to me, we began talking about Islam, then it happened. The most beautiful sound I have ever heard rang through the building, the man looked back and invited me to join him... said "just do what I do, I will teach you to pray."
I did, then and there, when I prayed for the first time, I felt enlightened. It was the truth, a warm feeling took over me, and while I prayed with my face on the floor I accepted Islam for my self fully. The one decision in my life that I am more proud of then any thing else. After the prayer, the iman looked up and saw me in the crowd. His smile was amazing, in his broken English that I had been getting use to all day of talking, he asked are you ready? I said my shaahda, in front of Muslim brothers there that day. Stumbling through the Arabic, instead of feeling emotional I felt proud and enlightened.
It funny how someone’s name sometimes describes them, I was introduced to Islam from a man named abdul-nur. The slave of the light, and that he was. He showed me the light that I had been blindfolded from for years. I will always be thankful for Washington dc and the military for letting me meet him.
who i am..
I am a Muslim.
I grew up in a small town in east Texas, where Islam is a taboo word. A town that has more churches then business and schools combined, in fact the common slang for the area I reside in is the "bible belt". This is where I spent my childhood and teen years, fishing and doing the typical Texan thing. Waking up every morning to the smells and sounds of a farm.
My family is a devout Christian family. Most have thick Texan accents, wear wrangler jeans, and of course can’t forget those cowboy hats they love to wear. My parents are both from large families, according to American standards that is, and opinions are just as large as the families and their unique personalities.
An ironic story that my parents once proudly told to anyone who they met, that would listen, was a story of my early childhood. When most children wanted to be fire men or police officers, I wanted to be a preacher. So much in fact, I would gather my cousins at family events, and church would be in session, there I would be, speaking on the balance of life, about how merciful and powerful god is. My cousins, fifteen of them at least gathered by me listening intently to my sermons. Sermons that flowed from a child’s heart. Sermons that spoke about god. In retrospect, I was Muslim then. Never connecting the Christian doctrine of the three parts of god, god was singular.
As I grew older, I studied, examining the bible, comparing these words to science and to historical evidence. If I found a documentary on religion, there I would be flat on the floor watching and learning. I loved to go to church; I loved to learn more and more. I figured, the more I learn, the easier this doctrine would to understand. I read my bible every night, went to Sunday worship and a Wednesday class. Then came the day where I gave up.
I couldn’t make it make sense to me, I believe in god, but this didn’t make sense. I at an early age in my life came to a startling conclusion. The bible, the "word of god", was corrupted by man. However, in and act of desperation I was baptized into Christianity. I remember that night well, it wasn’t a normal night that anyone would be at the church. But after studying long and hard, I walked up to my mother and uttered the words, I need to be baptized. She wept of joy. This is a big deal in Christian beliefs, it marks that no matter what you shall do you are going to heaven. In my mind, the water, give me the gift of wisdom. Maybe this is what I am missing, maybe when I come out of the water, I will have an understanding, and I will be enlightened. There will be a revolutionary understanding, the heavens will part and I will be blessed with the ability to blindly follow what my father and his father before followed.
They called several people to whiteness the baptism; the preacher brought me to a cold pool of water where we both walked in. Both of us freezing from the cold water, he took me and gently dunked me under the ice cold water, pronouncing it in the name of the father the son and the Holy Spirit. Under the water, it felt like forever. Then I cam out of the water, right then, I was enlightened. I heard singing and rejoicing, But I only felt, hurt and ashamed. I stood in front of a group of onlookers who were rejoicing my acceptance to heaven and I was weeping. Weeping because of their ignorance and more because I know what I had been taught was officially wrong.
I was 15 when I was baptized, and immediately I would stop going to church and practicing. I would never stop studying, my studying just grew to encompass more then what I was told was OK to study. My next few years, I would spend in high school, most of my time dedicated to performing in award winning plays, and winning debate rounds. I would become a well respected person in the community, the small community of van Texas, which would grow to have high expectation of me, for me to become a lawyer, an actor, someone successful in life. This is evidence, in my being voted home coming king my senior year, student council president and most likely to succeed by my classmates. I only say this, because it is ironic of how things end up and how ashamed of me many are today. Going from that, to being told by my own father that he Is ashamed as me as a son. But none the less, I graduated high school, went off to college to study theatre. I spent one semester on a full ride scholarship at a university. Only one, something was missing in my life still and I knew it.
So where did I end up? In of all places in the United States navy, serving in Washington dc this is where I will leave you today, because this is ironically where I found what was missing in my life. This is where I found Islam.
I grew up in a small town in east Texas, where Islam is a taboo word. A town that has more churches then business and schools combined, in fact the common slang for the area I reside in is the "bible belt". This is where I spent my childhood and teen years, fishing and doing the typical Texan thing. Waking up every morning to the smells and sounds of a farm.
My family is a devout Christian family. Most have thick Texan accents, wear wrangler jeans, and of course can’t forget those cowboy hats they love to wear. My parents are both from large families, according to American standards that is, and opinions are just as large as the families and their unique personalities.
An ironic story that my parents once proudly told to anyone who they met, that would listen, was a story of my early childhood. When most children wanted to be fire men or police officers, I wanted to be a preacher. So much in fact, I would gather my cousins at family events, and church would be in session, there I would be, speaking on the balance of life, about how merciful and powerful god is. My cousins, fifteen of them at least gathered by me listening intently to my sermons. Sermons that flowed from a child’s heart. Sermons that spoke about god. In retrospect, I was Muslim then. Never connecting the Christian doctrine of the three parts of god, god was singular.
As I grew older, I studied, examining the bible, comparing these words to science and to historical evidence. If I found a documentary on religion, there I would be flat on the floor watching and learning. I loved to go to church; I loved to learn more and more. I figured, the more I learn, the easier this doctrine would to understand. I read my bible every night, went to Sunday worship and a Wednesday class. Then came the day where I gave up.
I couldn’t make it make sense to me, I believe in god, but this didn’t make sense. I at an early age in my life came to a startling conclusion. The bible, the "word of god", was corrupted by man. However, in and act of desperation I was baptized into Christianity. I remember that night well, it wasn’t a normal night that anyone would be at the church. But after studying long and hard, I walked up to my mother and uttered the words, I need to be baptized. She wept of joy. This is a big deal in Christian beliefs, it marks that no matter what you shall do you are going to heaven. In my mind, the water, give me the gift of wisdom. Maybe this is what I am missing, maybe when I come out of the water, I will have an understanding, and I will be enlightened. There will be a revolutionary understanding, the heavens will part and I will be blessed with the ability to blindly follow what my father and his father before followed.
They called several people to whiteness the baptism; the preacher brought me to a cold pool of water where we both walked in. Both of us freezing from the cold water, he took me and gently dunked me under the ice cold water, pronouncing it in the name of the father the son and the Holy Spirit. Under the water, it felt like forever. Then I cam out of the water, right then, I was enlightened. I heard singing and rejoicing, But I only felt, hurt and ashamed. I stood in front of a group of onlookers who were rejoicing my acceptance to heaven and I was weeping. Weeping because of their ignorance and more because I know what I had been taught was officially wrong.
I was 15 when I was baptized, and immediately I would stop going to church and practicing. I would never stop studying, my studying just grew to encompass more then what I was told was OK to study. My next few years, I would spend in high school, most of my time dedicated to performing in award winning plays, and winning debate rounds. I would become a well respected person in the community, the small community of van Texas, which would grow to have high expectation of me, for me to become a lawyer, an actor, someone successful in life. This is evidence, in my being voted home coming king my senior year, student council president and most likely to succeed by my classmates. I only say this, because it is ironic of how things end up and how ashamed of me many are today. Going from that, to being told by my own father that he Is ashamed as me as a son. But none the less, I graduated high school, went off to college to study theatre. I spent one semester on a full ride scholarship at a university. Only one, something was missing in my life still and I knew it.
So where did I end up? In of all places in the United States navy, serving in Washington dc this is where I will leave you today, because this is ironically where I found what was missing in my life. This is where I found Islam.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Why i am blogging.
I am beggining this blog journey a little after one year of reverting to islam, i hope to share my journey thus far and my journey in the future here. I was once posed the question, "if you have only one hour to live, what would you do? would you pray for an hour? hug your family for an hour? do something crazy before you leave? or something else?" The answer i bevlive is simple, there is only one thing that will make you stronger in the after life.. that is knowledge. Knowledge is power. We should spend our last seconds gaining as much as we can. What better way to do that then to know and discuss from each other.. after all the quran was revealed not in written form but as a spoken word. In order to know the quran, you had to learn it from a person. People, fellow muslims and non muslism are where our knowledge of life comes from. Maybe my ideas, my story and my faith will help you, inshallah. Mabye you can help me, as i have questions everyday, faced with adversity, and hatred. I will go in more depth in my next post, where i will introduce my self fully. inshalalh
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
