Al-Istikhara

I'm not one to give up easily, to give up hope, that is. If there has been any value in the past week, it is that I've learned more about myself. I'm more confident now that I own my religious conviction. In other words, I'm not pursuing Islam to impress anyone, or for this person or that person. I'm humbled to become Muslim because I find great value in the spiritual disciplines inviting me to take refuge in Allah on a more than daily basis. I hope that the events of this week took place only to make this clearer to me, and evident to anyone around me who may questioned my motives for converting to Islam.

Not only have I seen more clearly than ever this week that my desire to be Muslim is not a passing phase, but I've also realised that I am where I am because I want to be. I am happy with my location in the scope of my entire life at this present moment. I am grateful for where I am.

I feel strength, but only in prayer. I find peace praying for those I love, trusting that Allah will answer our prayers in time. In the past week everything I thought I had, so much that I clung to slipped between my fingers, leaving my hands and heart empty. And I feel that the only reason I remain one piece, with some measure of hope fixed securely in my heart, is because I trust the guidance of Allah. 

The most terrifying prayer that I have ever prayer is Al-Istikhara, a prayer of guidance provided in Islam by the instruction of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). However much is the beauty of surrender and trust conveyed in Al-Istikhara, it is these same features that make me nervous. Must I really say that I know nothing? Must I really admit that my own vision is finite and extremely limited? Apparently, yes. 

Because in this admission, I am still able to maintain hope. This week was tragic because of earthly circumstances, something man-made that seems so daunting, there is no way for the human mind to conceive that these barriers can be overcome. But Salat Al-Istikhara, which I am praying daily, still gives me hope that even in the case that human obstacles block my way, if Allah chooses in grace and wisdom, Allah can miraculously remove those obstacles and carry out Allah's perfect will. All that I can do is wait and pray. I am therefore, doing everything that I can.

Oh Allah! I seek Your guidance by virtue of Your knowledge, and I seek ability by virtue of Your power, and I ask You of Your great bounty. You have power; I have none. And You know; I know not. You are the Knower of hidden things.

Oh Allah! If in Your knowledge, (this matter*) is good for my religion, my livelihood and my affairs, immediate and in the future, then ordain it for me, make it easy for me, and bless it for me. And if in Your knowledge, (this matter*) is bad for my religion, my livelihood and my affairs, immediate and in the future, then turn it away from me, and turn me away from it. And ordain for me the good wherever it may be, and make me content with it. 

* When making the du'a (prayer), the actual matter or decision should be mentioned instead of the words ("this matter").

Lastly, I should say that I do not feel that simply any challenge associated with a particular decision should be taken as an indication that it is not good for us. I believe that there are times that good choices in life are made easy for us when Allah grants us the strength that we need to endure and overcome. This is different from all barriers simply being eliminated. There are times when we walk like the Prophet Musa/Moses (peace be upon him) and the Children of Israel through the sea on dry ground, and there are times when we have to struggle, fight, walk through fire, to get where we need to go.

You are my best friend, You know too much

Yesterday I travelled with my mother to the Veteran's Cemetery in Maryland where my paternal grandfather is buried, himself a World War II Veteran. I cannot say that I am necessarily proud of my grandfather's participation in World War II, but I am not ashamed of him. Having never met him, I am more proud, for example, of knowing that my grandfather, himself a recovered alcoholic, led Alcoholics Anonymous groups that successfully sobered up many former alcoholics. Knowing the distress that alcohol has caused my nuclear and extended family made the Islamic prohibition of alcohol quite easy for me to incorporate into my life. I've never been drunk, never really wanted to be drunk. The instruction to abstain from alcohol is one of the few Islamic commands with an explanation. Allah says that there is "some benefit for people" in wine and gambling. But in this case, "their sin is greater than their benefit." Al-Baqarah 2:219)

Under a thick layer of gray clouds, in the cool wind of fall, we buried my grandmother with her husband. She was 82 years old. We share precisely the same name: first, middle and last. We buried my grandmother yesterday, on the same date that my father passed away seven years ago.

Thus, I reflect on loss. I reflect on the pain of losing people we love, the people who show us who we are, and where we come from. I reflect on the sense of connectedness I felt to history, the history of my family, the country, and the earth, when I gazed at the headstone of my grandfather and grandmother. I reflect on what it means to determine, based on our losses, where we are going next. I contemplate how easily life begins and ends, how easily we can return to dust. 

Today I face yet another loss, one that is private, and cannot be named here. Today I lose love, a dream. I don't know what to do with the photographs, and warm memories that still stir up happiness in my heart. I see myself in the photos and in my memories, as a genuinely happy young woman, who could not have asked for much more. I see a sincere young woman, who gave her heart fully and loyally. Sometimes these efforts are not rewarded. Sadly, sometimes something that appears to be good for us in our limited vision, may also be bad for us. In reference to the struggle to which Allah calls us, we are told 

But perhaps you hate a thing and it is good for you; and perhaps you love a thing and it is bad for you. And Allah knows, while you know not. (Al-Baqarah 2:216)

Patsy Cline sings, "I've loved and lost again. Oh what a crazy world we're living in." That much I can say as well. But perhaps the most important part of this loss for me is the realisation that I have lost much, and also gained much. I have been inspired to pray. I have been inspired to love and care for my mother more, to give without inhibition. At this moment, I cannot comprehend how someone who has taught me so much about love and care, could at the same time be a source of pain.

When I was a child, and even a teenager, I would cry. Not even my mother could console me. She would say, "You are crying like you lost your best friend." Today I have to hold back tears. If they start, they won't stop. I know that. I must be strong, in the face of the loss of yet another September. Hope in Allah for the best, trust that Allah knows best, and joy that my faith is not wavering as a result of the deepest of losses holds me together.

O Allah, may it be a beneficial rain cloud : اللهم صيبا نافعا

The rain continues to pour, and we're expecting two more days of it. How frightening and difficult it has been travelling back and forth to Philly over the past couple of days.

اللهم حوالينا و لا علينا اللهم على الاكام و الظراب و بطون الاودية و منابت الشجر

O Allah, let the rain fall around us and not upon us, O Allah (let it fall) on the pastures, hills, valleys and the roots of trees.

I distinctly recall the heavy rain that fell at the time of my father's death in September, seven years ago. Just days ago my paternal grandmother passed away, and yet again the rain is falling, even more heavily than before. Tonight my mom and I rode back from Philadelphia together, and had the chance to talk. We could also say that the circumstances forced us to continue a conversation that we cannot ignore, the elephant in the backseat, if you please.

Sadly, my mother does not feel that she can be happy in life if her children are not Orthodox. I can only imagine how difficult it is for a parent to find that their children, who they raised with love and devotion, do not meet their expectations. The truth is that I am most grateful for every sacrifice that my mother has made throughout my entire life in order to care for me. I could not have asked for a better mother. Even now that she is disappointed in me, she still shows me love and affection, the kind of loyalty only a mother can demonstrate. With all of my heart I do not want to hurt her - I wish that I she would not feel as if she has failed as a mother, simply because my faith has grown beyond Christianity into Islam. 

I tried to articulate how ironic it is to me that the Islam that she disdains has challenged me to respect and honor her. I listen patiently and with sincere respect to her convictions: She believes wholeheartedly that Jesus Christ is the son of God who gave his life as a sacrifice for humanity, was crucified and resurrected in order to overcome death and offer salvation to the world. I know this set of beliefs through and through. I am not asking and will not ask her to change her beliefs, and still I am happy to attend the Orthodox Liturgy with her. But I tried to convey my current state.

At this point and time in my life, I cannot conceive of a loving God who allows his prophet, let alone his own son, to be humiliated and violently murdered. I question why our omnipotent God would have to depend on his son, or any other, in order to forgive the sins of humanity. My sense in Islam is that from the beginning of time, Allah has been fully capable of forgiving human beings individually and collectively:

To Allah belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is in the earth. Whether you show what is within yourselves or conceal it, Allah will bring you to account for it. Then He will forgive whom He wills and punish whom He wills, and Allah is over all things competent. Surah al-Baqarah 2:284

Maybe I am wrong. I cannot be so proud as to assert that I have found absolute truth in Islam. Of course I believe that Islam is a totally valid faith, but still, in humility I recognise that I am on a spiritual journey, being led by the grace of God. Therefore, I asked my mother to continue praying for me, however she wishes. As part of the recitation of Al-Fatihah (see Right) 17 times daily throughout the 5 daily prayers, I pray that Allah will guide me to the Straight path. If I am asking and she is asking, I can only trust that if my belief in Islam is some mistake, that God will lead me out of it.

Meanwhile, I believe that Jesus Christ (peace be upon him) as the honored prophet of Allah constantly redirects the attention of his followers to God the Father. In John 14:28 Jesus says You heard me say to you, “I am going away, and I am coming to you.” If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. I admit that Matthew, Mark, and Luke more consistently represent Jesus as a humble character who is the Son of Man. John is an exception to nearly every rule of the Gospels, and has a stronger agenda than the others to suggest that Jesus is a divine figure. When I read the Gospels, particularly Matthew, Mark, and Luke, I find countless examples of Jesus calling his followers to worship and submit to God alone. Jesus did not ask to be worshipped. He said that it is God in heaven who forgives (Mark 11:25), God in heaven who answers prayer (Matthew 7:11), God in heaven who is perfect and worthy to be worshipped (Matthew 5:48). Even more, it is Satan who attempts to bow down and worship Jesus in the wilderness. Jesus' adamant response in Matthew 4:10 is Away with you, Satan! for it is written,"Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him." 

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus instructs his followers to pray as follows:

Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we have also forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one. - Matthew 6:9-13 NRSV

It should be noted that at the moment Jesus instructs his disciples on how to pray, he includes no instruction for prayers to be directed to him, nor instruction for worship of anyone but the one God in heaven. Below is the Lord's Prayer from Matthew again, with an English translation of Al-Fatihah running parallel. Al-Fatihah is the first Surah of Al-Quran and the Surah (verse) that is recited by Muslims before every rakat (prostration) during the 5 daily prayers. The consistency between the instruction of how to pray between the two prophets of God, Jesus and Muhammed (peace be upon him) are striking and most likely, not coincidental.

Photo property of AHMED ALMAHBUB

Our Father in heaven In the name of Allah, the Entirely Merciful, the Especially Merciful hallowed be your name. [All] praise is [due] to Allah, Lord of the worlds - The Entirely Merciful, the Especially Merciful Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Sovereign of the Day of Recompense/Judgment Give us this day our daily bread. It is You we worship and You we ask for help. And forgive us our debts, as we have also forgiven our debtors. Guide us to the straight path - And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one. The path of those upon whom You have bestowed favor, not of those who have evoked [Your] anger or of those who are astray.

At the core, I believe that the intention of the Lord's Prayer and Al-Fatihah are essentially the same: to worship the One God, Acknowledge Allah's ultimate authority over all of creation, Express our dependence on Allah, and ask for Allah to bestow forgiveness upon us out of his boundless mercy.

I'm grateful for the conversation with my mother this evening. If it is hope that she needs, I do not want her to lose hope in me, or her God. I am happy to have returned to a belief in God. The spiritual disciplines of prayer, fasting, and giving, disciplines also found in Christianity, will only better my character,  if God wills ان شاء الله تعالى. Jesus promised in Matthew 7:15-20 that we will know false prophets by their fruits. The fruit of the Prophet Muhammad's (peace be upon him) delivery of Al-Quran to the people from Allah is over 1 billion individuals who are commanded to pray, fast, respect the life and humanity of their neighbors, and give generously to all who ask. Oh Allah, may it be a beneficial rain cloud.

Being Muslim, Being Home

Islam is easy, I've been assured. And I agree - Islam has been made easy, for those who are sincere to practice it. Very recently the month-long fast of Ramadan came to a close for 2011. In Al-Quran, Allah makes clear that spiritual disciplines have not been established to make us suffer:

The month of Ramadhan [is that] in which was revealed the Quran, a guidance for the people and clear proofs of guidance and criterion. So whoever sights [the new moon of] the month, let him fast it; and whoever is ill or on a journey - then an equal number of other days. Allah intends for you ease and does not intend for you hardship and [wants] for you to complete the period and to glorify Allah for that [to] which He has guided you; and perhaps you will be grateful. - Surah Al-Baqarah 2:185

Often Muslims pray that Allah makes life easier for their brothers and sisters. We can pray this ourselves: My God, make my life easier for me:  ربي سهل لي امري

This week when travelling back to the US from London, I wore hijab. I feel more comfortable concealing my hair from those who do not need to see it. Also, I sense greater solidarity with my local Muslim community when I am visibly Muslim. When I see a Muslim person, I know that I can approach them and receive kindness, and I want them to know the same of me. 

Wearing al-hijab was painless. It does not hurt me to cover my hair, nor to dress modestly. Neither does it hurt anyone else. To my surprise, I appeared to be the only Muslim on our extremely crowded plane. The mother and daughter who were seated beside me treated me very kindly. I did not sense animosity from others. At the border entering the US I was asked about my conversion to Islam, and I explained honestly. Surely, I would have not have been asked had I not been wearing hijab. Unfortunately, I was asked if I've travelled to any Arab countries. The border agent failed to consider that only 15% of Muslims are actually Arab. Nevertheless, I answered him without arguing.

My kind Muslim friends have told me several times that there is no need for me to make the hijab an urgent practice. I can ease my way into the practices of Islam, and find a good time for the habits to unfold. I know at the moment that my hijab may make my mother, in particular, feel uncomfortable. There is no need to increase her stress, and therefore, when I'm with her, I simply make an effort to dress modestly, without hijab. I admit that in the past I may have misunderstood the hijab, and also, wrongly assumed that Muslim women wear the covering against their will. Now knowing many Muslim women from all around the world, and being in the position myself, I understand the gladness and willingness with which many Muslim women dress modestly. Coverings for women are described in the Quran, but not with the same propensity as fundamental Islamic behaviours, such as belief in the one God, prayer, giving, respect for parents, and avoidance of illegal sexual intercourse.

Friends, I remind you of the greatest challenge that I will face at home for the next few days. The respect for parents that Islam mandates has risen high the bar for my conduct and posture toward my mother. I would have said before, with conviction, that I love my mother. But I'm starting to sense how little I demonstrated love for her in the past. 

Repeatedly throughout Al-Quran, the believer is instructed to worship only Allah, and in the same breath, commanded to care patiently for parents. Building on my previous post on the topic, one of many examples is as follows:

And [recall] when We took the covenant from the Children of Israel, [enjoining upon them], "Do not worship except Allah; and to parents do good and to relatives, orphans, and the needy. And speak to people good [words] and establish prayer and zakah." Then you turned away, except a few of you, and you were refusing. -Surah Al-Baqarah 2:83

Hand in hand with my belief in God must be complete respect toward my mother, kindness to relatives and those in need, and goodness to all people. Then prayers and generosity towards all in need. As I've learned, it is not appropriate to show even the slightest frustration towards my mother, whatever she asks, whatever I feel. I must respond to her with obedience and respect.

Shall I say that when I am following this instruction, I feel happier because she is happier. I feel that I have changed to the better. When she calls me to her from upstairs or downstairs, I count it an honor to respond, rather than whining at the request that I get up from whatever I am doing. Whatever she asks, I want to do. If she wants a cup of water, even if she tells me that she will get it herself, she deserves that I use the life that she has given me to bring sustenance to her right hand. Unlike the prior years of my life, I am making every effort to obey my mother, rather than seeking ways to ignore or evade her requests. She is happier when someone listens to her, and she deserves this small honor.

Unfortunately, I confess that in the time that I've been home, I have grown frustrated at times, and have not been strong enough to conceal it. I failed to keep my voice low to my mother, as it should be. Last night my mother, sister and I were stranded on the side of a Pennsylvania backroad over 70 miles from home, our exhaust system dragging on the asphalt beneath our car in the pouring rain, flash floods, and strong wind. We hardly knew where we were, or who to call for help. The confusion and lonely attempt to get home safely ourselves, without our father, without family friends near to us, went on for hours. At certain points, I could not control my anger at the situation, and finally I resorted to silence, perhaps the safest avenue in that situation. Thanks be to Allah, today is a new day, and I will make a new effort to treat my family well.

Ramadan, Don't Go

My heart sank and my eyes filled with tears last night on the underground when Ahmed told me that tomorrow is not Ramadan anymore. They sighted the moon in Saudi Arabia, so Sunday evening was the start of the Eid celebration. Sure, it's meant to be a time of gladness, but I found that I was not the only one sad to reach the end of Ramadan. Several of my friends replying to my Eid Mubarak texts saying that they were crying for the end of Ramadan, as well. This is a reaction that I was not expecting. Usually when people are fasting they eagerly await the end of their suffering. For example, many count down the days of Lent, eager to live normally again.

But Ramadan is a season in which the Muslim has the privilege of being even more constantly reminded of their religious identity, their membership in a global religious community, the importance of obedience to Allah, however absurd it seems to abstain from food and drink in the daylight hours, and eat and drink at night when the rest of the world is sleeping. Ramadan is a time of rewards and graciousness. We're rewarded for fasting. We're rewarded for praying. The breath of one who is fasting is like musk to Allah, we learn. We read and memorize the Quran intentionally, and with gladness. 

I did not expect Ramadan to have such a profound impact on me. I did not know how happy Ramadan would make me. I've been quite lonely this summer, with no friends in my immediate proximity. Sure, there are folks to chat with at work, and there's the odd phone call. This summer I've wandered open fields to pass the hours after work. 

The Beauty of My Own Solitude

Ramadan breathed life and purpose into my solitude. This was my first time fasting Ramadan, and the first time that I read the entire Quran. My friend Mahram told me that when you finish reading the entire Quran, you should pray afterwards, and whatever you pray will be answered. I prayed about marriage. I've observed several Muslim families over the past few years. I like to see Muslim husbands helping their wives with the home and children. I like to see how they provide for their families. I like to see how Muslim husbands go far out of their way to support their wives in their studies, educational goals, and careers. I like to see how Muslim parents raise their children seriously and with constant reference to the ethics and morals established in Islam. I wish for marriage and family and a good future.

I'm looking forward to Ramadan next year. I feel that I want to be Muslim, and maybe I already am. At least, I'm more Muslim than anything else. I'm afraid that if I say I am, I won't be able to live up to the commitment. I'm afraid that I won't be able to face my family, and family friends. I'm afraid that I won't be accepted if I want to wear hijab. I do want to, and try to when no one is looking.

I attended Taraweeh prayers at the University on Sunday evening, and by chance ended up in the front row of the congregational prayers. I learned later on that there's a reward for that too. When listening to the recitation of the Quran, I felt moved emotionally, moved to tears. It was beautiful. The recitation of the Quran truly does sound like a miraculous, divine message, something like a gift. I felt welcome, just as much a part of the congregation as the folks beside me who have been praying since they were children, Muslims from birth. 

I've experienced a wide variety of religious communities throughout my life. In the Church of God, I was probably grafted in much more easily because I am white and middle class. When I was with Mennonites, I often felt the cultural rift between us. Although I deeply admired the peace church tradition, hymn sings, intentional communities, and potlucks, a Greek American non-cultural Mennonite could not so easily feel welcome, despite all of the hospitable efforts that were made. In the Greek Orthodox church communities I encountered I was not quite Greek enough. But to any Muslim, black, white, Asian, Arab, European - I can be just as Muslim as they are. I am welcome, all are welcome.

We are all PALESTINIAN!

At the invitation of the Islamic Human Rights Commission, I attended the Stop the Occupation Al Quds day march in London. When I arrived at the assembly point outside of BBC Radio, I noticed the heavy police presence, and prayed under my breath that I was not attending a march that was expected to turn violent. Then, I looked to my right to find that a group of 40 Muslim men and women were bowed with their foreheads and noses to the pavement, praying Dhuhr. There was no need for me to worry that I would miss the prayer time and have to pray late when I returned home - I forgot that I would be joining a group of people who are all concerned with the prayer times, and who were also all fasting. I will post my photos in about a week's time, and the speeches from a number of exceptional individuals at the forefront of advocacy for the freedom of Palestine. For now, I would simply like to  capture the emotion of the event for me.

I prayed with the group, right there on the street. I felt that I could approach any person there with a need or question and be treated hospitably. This is probably the phenomenon of the sense of belonging when one joins the Muslim community, or any religious community, perhaps. We all took hold of placards and flags in preparation for the march - I began the march with a BOYCOTT ISRAEL placard and my pro-Palestine scarf draped over my shoulders. I ended the march also waving a Palestinian flag that some sisters sold to me en route to our final destination at Trafalgar Square. 

When I decided at the spur of the moment this morning to travel into the heart of London for the event, I told myself that this is one small effort that I can make for the suffering innocents of Palestine. To my surprise, I felt inspired calling out "Allahu Akbar - God is great!" with the group. This phrase is misunderstood by the masses, and I know how negatively I've perceived it in the past. What a negative connotation it has, in the media, and with people unfamiliar with Islam. But this phrase was the uniting force, at least for the Muslims there. We had Orthodox Jews and Christians  and non-religious people all together. I joined in "La illaha ilallah - There is no other God but Allah!" just feeling that this was an expression of our unity regarding the matter at hand.

 Quickly, I learned the calls and responses for the march. What do we want? JUSTICE! When do we want it? NOW! One - two - three - four - OCCUPATION NO MORE! Five - six - seven - eight ISRAEL IS A TERRORIST STATE! What does Zionism stand for? TERRORISM. Zionism! TERRORISM! From the river to the sea PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! In our hundred in our millions WE ARE ALL PALESTINIANS! In our hundreds in our millions WE ARE ALL PALESTINIANS! Free free PALESTINE! Free free PALESTINE!

As I marched with hundreds of people from numerous languages, creeds, backgrounds, and cultures, our protest became increasingly meaningful to me. I cried the slogans at the top of my voice - I wanted the bystanders to hear our message, and to become aware of the illegal occupation of Palestine. I felt in my heart that we were giving a voice to the voiceless. We were crying out for every innocent Palestinian who is a victim of the illegal regime of Israel, and its backers.

 

I'll admit this was not my best moment to be captured on camera, but nonetheless!

We stopped at McDonalds and Starbucks and Boots (regarding the sale of Loreal products) shouting Mcdonalds SHAME ON YOU! McDonalds SHAME ON YOU! Starbucks SHAME ON YOU! Loreal SHAME ON YOU! Coca Cola SHAME ON YOU! Marks and Spencers SHAME ON YOU! All companies which we must boycott in protest of their funding of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Tears came to my eyes as we chanted, WE ARE ALL PALESTINIANS! 

I wanted to show my solidarity for innocent men, women and children in Palestine who are being massacred with the support of my own government. I write letters to my senators, and they reply saying that they make every effort to support our loyal ally Israel. How can they be so blind to the injustice that they are committing?

I learned the police were there to protect us, rather than vice versa. We were advised by the police and march organisers to travel to our respective stations in groups - just as last year, the English Defense League was prepared to violently attack the people who attended the peaceful, nonviolent march. How privileged we are to have the protection of the police as we march for Palestine, while Palestinians have no defense, not even in their own homes. I was very grateful for the presence and help of the Metropolitan Police who contained the march.

To Be a Good Child

A couple of days ago, Ahmed went to Riyadh with his mother. There were a few things that he wanted to do there, people he wanted to see. His mother told him the next morning that she wanted to go home. Knowing that his time in Riyadh was shorter than he expected, I asked Ahmed if he told his mother that he wanted to stay longer. He only said, "But she wanted to come home." I know that Ahmed was not conscious of it, but his response was a crystal clear example for me of the kind of respect that Islam demands children show to their parents. It would not even enter his mind to persuade his mother of something other than what she wanted.

Reading through Al-Quran, I notice that believers are repeatedly commanded to treat parents well, and often the commands go hand in hand with practicing the pillars of Islam, like praying five times daily and paying Zakat. The message of the Quran includes the good treatment of parents in descriptions of people who are truly Muslim.

The other night on Skype my mother said something that bothered me. I became angry and did not hide my anger. Immediately I regreted the tone I had taken and the words that I said in anger.  Curiously, there is more instruction in Al-Quran teaching children how to treat their parents, than there is to parents on how to raise their children. I was particularly struck by this guidance in Al-Quran regarding parents:

And your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him. And that you be dutiful to your parents. If one of them or both of them attain old age in your life, say not to them a word of disrespect, nor shout at them but address them in terms of honour. And lower to them the wing of submission and humility through mercy, and say: "My Lord! Bestow on them Your Mercy as they did bring me up when I was young." Your Lord knows best what is in your inner selves. If you are righteous, then, verily, He is Ever Most Forgiving to those who turn to Him again and again in obedience, and in repentance. Al-Isra 17:23-25

From the get-go, fulfilling our obligation to parents is linked directly to worship. The wording and order of the passage prompts me to consider my mother's age to be a privilege and blessing to me as a child - already, I cannot imagine who I would turn to without my mother there to speak with in good times and bad. Anticipating my upcoming visit home, I am internalizing this command to constantly speak respectfully and mercifully to my mother. Sadly enough, shouting is commonplace in our household, and I know that sometimes it will feel impossible to hold my tongue, or to just control my volume. But a Muslim child is not meant to even display frustration or anger towards their parents. If I write any more on the topic, I'll just quote Nouman Ali Khan from his teaching on Islam's requirement that we 'Be the Best to our Parents.' He explains that it does not matter what our parents say to us, or what volume or tone they assume, the child's voice and behavior must remain respectful and merciful. He suggests that when we are angry with our parents, we should go out of our way to do something kind for them. 

The ultimate example of the mercy we are required to offer parents is in Allah. Even in this short excerpt, Allah assures the believer that He is the source of mercy and forgiveness. Islam consistently calls believers to offer others forgiveness and mercy. Husbands and wives are told that the healthy, faithful marriage relationship is based on love and mercy. They couple is told to focus on the positive aspects of their spouse - getting hung up on small nuisances is foolishness. I've learned that Muslims make excuses for friends or neighbors who wrong them. If my friend arrives late for a meeting, before I get angry while watching minute after minute pass on my watch, I should make every excuse for their delay. Islam is full of practical, daily applications of mercy.

My mother does not approve of my interest in Islam, but Islamic teachings challenge me to treat her better than I ever have before. Up until now, I've mostly been soaking in Islamic concepts and instruction through conversations with friends, and by observing my local Muslim community. In this time I have learned to respect my mother more, and to be more generous to her. A few nights ago I woke up at 3am to pray Fajr and drink water before the fast began. My mother was struggling to make an online payment, so I offered to do it for her, after unsuccessfully leading her through the process over the phone. The next day at work, I felt like I was glowing. Although I had only a few hours of sleep, I felt that all of my energy grew out of my happiness at making one small thing easier for my mother. 

In Matthew 15 Jesus reminds the Pharisees and scribes that "God said, 'Honor your father and your mother,' and, 'Whoever speaks evil of father or mother must surely die.' In light of the Quranic teachings on the proper behavior of children, the words of Jesus here feel much heavier, and more serious than I ever sensed them before. His words reinforce the Islamic teaching that the person who disrespects their parents will not enter paradise; at the same time, respect for our parents in our pathway to paradise. Sheikh Shady Al-Suleiman states that it's even an honor for our parent to step on our head, to have their foot above our head.

Just as we practice self-discipline in order to abstain from food and water during daylight hours in Ramadan, I have to be silent in moments when my impulse is to argue, debate, or speak a disrespectful word to my mother. Also, I feel that I must speak more respectfully of my late father - I admit not all of my memories are positive, but as Ali Khan points out, parents deserve our respect, regardless of how they treated us.