“I think it was silly, Abba. They were obviously trying to play on people’s fears and emotions.”
“Yes, I agree, beyta, but sometimes that’s not bad. We should be frightened of hell, and we should be frightened of Allah’s wrath.”
I was nonplussed. “So you think the play was good?”
Abba laughed. “I didn’t say that! I think there was something much worse than their attempts to scare people.”
“Well, the message is all wrong,” I started, collecting my thoughts. “What they’re teaching people is they can do whatever they want their whole lives, and all they have to do is say a prayer and they’ll go to heaven.”
Abba nodded. “Right. And what’s wrong with that? What’s the purpose of religion?”
“The purpose of religion is to make good people and a good society. If people can do whatever they want, they will indulge their sinful desires and society will fall apart. They have a blank check to sin. Even Hitler could go to heaven just by accepting Jesus.”
Abba prompted me on. “And that’s why . . .”
“And that’s why America is the way it is. Christians teach that there is no accountability for their deeds.”
“Good. Very good, beyta. So when your friend at school asks you what you thought, make sure you share that with her. But don’t leave her with just that. You need to sweep away falsehood with the truth. What is the truth about judgment?”
“Allah judges us based on our choices in this world. Everything we do is recorded by angels: one on our right shoulder recording our good deeds, and one on our left shoulder recording our bad deeds. When we stand before Allah, our deeds will be read aloud. No one will be able to intercede for us; not our family, not Jesus, not even Muhammad . Allah will weigh our good deeds and our bad, and if our good deeds are greater than our bad deeds, Allah will give us paradise.”
“What about Christians, Billoo. Can Christians go to heaven?”
“Yes. The Quran says that if Christians and Jews believe in one God and do good deeds, they can go to heaven.”26
I was referring to a Quranic verse that is a point of controversy among Muslims. Some Muslims argue that this verse was abrogated by a later Quranic verse that says, “If someone comes to Allah with a religion other than Islam, it will not be accepted from him.”27 Other Muslims, our jamaat among them, reconcile the two verses by arguing that “Islam” here does not refer to the faith-system, but to the broader meaning of the word, peace.
The latter interpretation is obviously more tenuous, but only if one believes in the doctrine of abrogation. Surah 2:116 and 16:101 of the Quran both apparently teach that Allah can cancel older sections of the Quran with newer ones. Traditionally, Muslims developed a field of Quranic exegesis called “the abrogator and the abrogated” in which they strove to determine the criteria and history of Quranic abrogation. Some Muslim scholars taught that up to five hundred verses of the Quran no longer apply because later verses abrogated them. Other Muslim scholars taught that as few as five verses were abrogated. Regardless of the exact number, most orthodox sects of Islam believe in the doctrine of abrogation.
Doctrine of abrogation: The belief that teachings and verses of the Quran have been repealed, usually by later Quranic revelations
A few Muslims dissent on this view, and the Ahmadi jamaat is among them. These Muslims argue that if any part of the Quran could be canceled, then it would not be the eternal word of God. They resort instead to harmonization of apparently abrogated verses, like the tenuous interpretation above. The difficulty for this view, though, is that the hadith are full of accounts of abrogation.
But I didn’t know these things at the time. All I knew was what our jamaat taught about salvation and that anyone who believed in one God could go to heaven, as at least one verse of the Quran clearly stated.
“And how many gods do Christians believe in, Billoo?”
“Some believe in one, some believe in three.”
“Yes, and the Quran says it would be better for them if they stopped saying ‘three.’ ”28 That is why I’m glad you’re having these conversations with your friends. They at least need to hear that there is only one God. If you can bring them to Islam and Ahmadiyyat, that would be even better.”
Before wrapping up our conversation on salvation, he quickly added, “But don’t spend too much time with this girl! Girls are dangerous for you, especially at this age. You are like a fire, and they are like oil. Even if you are not attracted to each other, after time, just being close to each other causes you to start burning. That is how you were made.”
“Okay, Abba, gosh! I got it. Can we talk about something else?”
Ammi and Abba were only too willing to give me the “fire and oil” talk. It served to remind me that, when the time was right, we would come together as a family and discuss whom I would like to marry. If I had a girl in mind, my parents would then talk to her and try to arrange the marriage. If not, my parents would find a suitable wife. I would not date anyone at all, let alone a Western girl. To do so would be to depart from tradition.
Chapter Sixteen
TREASURED TRADITIONS
TRADITION IS THE OUTWARD STRUCTURE of Islam, the body animated by the soul of Islamic teaching. It seeped into us through immersion in the Muslim lifestyle; every single day was imbued with tradition. I strived to pray the salaat five times a day, recited many detailed du’aas, followed intricate instructions for ceremonial washings, and regularly looked to Muhammad’s example for guidance. More than a billion Muslims joined me in adherence to traditions, whether praying about whom to marry, determining the appropriate length of a beard, or deciding whether to wear gold.
But these traditions did not come from the Quran. They are found in hadith. From marital rites to martial restrictions, commercial laws to civil suits, the vast majority of sharia and the Islamic way of life is derived from the hadith.
There is no overestimating the importance of hadith in the Islamic world.
As Baji and I grew older, Ammi and Abba considered it very important that we learn hadith and their precepts. They often read from hadith collections, urging us to memorize the Arabic and understand its meaning. The first time they asked us to memorize a hadith was immediately after maghrib prayer one evening, while our family was still on the prayer rugs.
“Beytee, beyta, we want you to memorize this short hadith. Hazrat Umar narrates that Muhammad said ‘Deeds are judged by their intentions.’ ”29
After we recited the Arabic a few times, Ammi and Abba were satisfied that we had memorized it. They asked if we had any questions.
I had a few. “Abba, what book of hadith does this one come from?”
“This one comes from Sahih Bukhari. What can you tell us about Sahih Bukhari?”
“It is the most trustworthy book of hadith, compiled by Imam Bukhari. The hadith were not collected into books until a long time after Muhammad ’s death. Many false hadiths had been fabricated, and it was difficult to determine which ones were accurate. Imam Bukhari sifted through five hundred thousand hadith and picked out the five thousand most accurate.”
Sahih Bukhari: A classical collection of hadith, often considered by Sunnis as the most trustworthy accounts of Muhammad’s life
Ammi followed up, asking, “And how did he do that?”
“When Imam Bukhari heard a hadith, he assessed whether the person telling the hadith was trustworthy or not. If he had a bad reputation, if he had ever gotten in trouble, or even if he treated animals poorly, Imam Bukhari ignored that hadith. If he found the person trustworthy, he would ask him from whom he heard the hadith, and who that person heard it from, and who that person heard it from, all the way back to Muhammad. Imam Bukhari assessed the reputation of each individual in the chain, and if they were all trustworthy, then Imam Bukhari recorded the hadith in his book.”
The chain of transmission was called the isnad, and it was immeasurably important to classical Muslim scholars. Islam arose in an author
ity-based society. When they asked the question, “Is this hadith authentic?” they answered by deferring to the authorities who transmitted it. Without the isnad, the hadith was considered worthless. Muslims put less stock into sirah literature than hadith specifically because sirah does not record isnad.
Ammi continued. “Very good. Beytee, what is the next most trustworthy book of hadith?”
“I don’t know, Ammi.” Baji was now eighteen years old and in college. She did not enjoy these detailed questions like she once had, but Ammi wouldn’t let her off that easy.
“Yes you do. Challo, just answer this one, and that will be it. What is next after Sahih Bukhari?”
“Sahih Muslim?”
“Shabash. Nabeel, do you know any others?”
“I know Sunan Abu Daud, and I know that there are six that we consider authentic, and the rest are a mix of reliable and unreliable hadith. The six are called Sahih Sittah, and the first three are Sahih Bukhari, Sahih Muslim, and Sunan Abu Daud.”
Abba continued the list for me, “And the other three are Sunan Tirmidhi, Sunan Ibn Majah, and Sunan Nisai.30 These are the best six books of hadith, but among them, Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim are the most trustworthy.”
Ammi quickly added, “But even the most accurate ones are the word of Muhammad , not the word of Allah. We must not equate the hadith to the Quran.”
I pushed on this clarification. “But if Muhammad said it, don’t we have to obey him?”
Isnad: The chain of transmission for a particular hadith
Sahih Sittah: The six books of hadith that Sunni Muslims consider most authentic
Abba interjected, “Of course! But still, Muhammad is not God. The Quran is the only uncorrupted, perfect book in the world. The books of hadith are more like the Bible because they are the works of men. There is divine truth there, but we have to be careful of corruption. We always have to check the truths we get from other sources against the Quran. Challo, that’s enough for tonight. Don’t forget the hadith you learned today. We’ll ask you to recite it tomorrow!”
I was very interested in the hadith, not so much in their content as much as in their history and the ways Muslim scholars assessed them. I wanted to become adept at recognizing authentic hadith from fabricated ones. I started asking Ammi and Abba more about the systems of grading hadith, and I quickly came against the boundaries of their knowledge in these matters. In order to learn more, I would have to wait until our next jamaat gathering, when I could ask the experts about the right books to buy to find out more.
It so happened that Ammi and Abba decided to go back to the United Kingdom during the upcoming summer to attend a jamaat gathering. I decided to do some research while there. What I didn’t plan, though, was to experience God in a very personal way. God was going to perform a miracle that changed my life forever.
Chapter Seventeen
SIGNS IN THE SKY
IT WAS MY FIRST TIME BACK in Britain since we had moved to Connecticut eight years prior. I could hardly contain my excitement. Abba did not even have a chance to get us out of Heathrow Airport before I managed to get a bottle of Irn-Bru and a bag of Hula Hoops crisps.
We headed back to the Tilford countryside, the same site where we had attended the centenary nine years earlier. As we drove past quaint English towns, I felt like I was taking a tour through my past. The narrow roads, clustered buildings, and smaller vehicles all brought back memories of a childhood I loved. Even the thought of English food didn’t bother me.
This jamaat gathering was called jalsa. Our family attended the United States jalsa every year in Washington, D.C., and we usually attended the Canadian jalsa as well. But the United Kingdom jalsa was different. This is where the leader of our jamaat lived, and it always felt special to be in his presence. Because of him, tens of thousands of Ahmadis attended the United Kingdom jalsa.
As much as I anticipated seeing him, the people I most longed for were my friends from Scotland, the Maliks. Apart from one letter that I received from the youngest brother while I was in seventh grade, I had not heard from any of them. Public email was still in its nascent phase, and international phone calls were too expensive to justify.
But when I arrived at the jalsa, I realized I did not know if my friends would even be there. As special as the gathering was, there were myriad circumstances that could preclude their attendance. It would be nearly impossible to look for them by walking through the jalsa too. Apart from the sheer number of people to search through, we had all grown up over the previous seven years, and I was not sure I would recognize them even if I saw them. I sorely wanted to reunite with them, but I did not know where to start.
So I turned to God.
From a very early age, Ammi had trained me to respond in dire moments with prayer, but I knew of no du’aa for finding people. I had memorized a prayer to recite when looking for lost items, but given that it was the same prayer we recite when we hear the news of someone’s death, I decided it would not be apt for the occasion. Instead, I just prayed from my heart, bowing my head and closing my eyes.
“God, can You please help me find my friends?” I had nothing else to say, so I said nothing else.
When I opened my eyes, what I saw stunned me stock-still. In the air before me were two streaks of color, one gold and one silver, as if whimsically painted onto the sky by an ethereal brush. They trailed into the distance, obviously leading me somewhere.
I still remember the words I spoke in shock: “You’re kidding. I’m supposed to follow those, right?”
Whether I was speaking to God or myself, I am not sure. What I intrinsically knew was that no one could see the stripes but me. They were not so much in the sky as they were in my perception of the sky. They were neither a mile away, nor a foot away, nor anywhere in between. They just were. And they were waiting for me.
The jalsa was crowded, and everyone was outside the tents because there was no speech currently in session. I followed the streaks into swarms of people, sifting my way through the crowd as if in a Pakistani bazaar.
And in fact, the streaks swirled over the jalsa marketplace, the same area where I wanted to go for a badge almost a decade prior. This time, I was not intercepted by a surly senior citizen. Instead, the streaks funneled downward, dissipating over a space next to a clothing tent. When I weeded my way to the clearing, I saw two men standing there, chatting and trying on skullcaps. It took a moment, but I recognized them: they were the older Malik brothers.
I ran to them and grasped their arms. When they recognized me, we rejoiced together. They were incredulous at my height, incessantly repeating, “You were just a wee boy!” And so they dragged me through the jalsa, reintroducing me to everyone from Glasgow whom I once knew. We were overjoyed. For the time being, the streaks in the sky were forgotten.
Later that evening, as I considered the day’s events while lying in bed, I could not get past the gold and silver streaks. To me, there was nothing else for it: they meant God must exist.
Of course, I already believed that God existed. I had seen answered prayers, prophetic dreams, and rational argumentation pointing toward the existence of God, but there was always room for doubt. Perhaps the answered prayers were coincidences, or maybe the prophetic dreams were exaggerated over time to fit reality, or it was possible there were flaws in the logic of the arguments. Sure, I was 99 percent certain that God existed, but that shadow of doubt was always there.
But now, there was no remotely plausible alternative. How else could I explain what happened that day? I had no idea where my friends were, and when I prayed, I was supernaturally led to them.
I began to consider alternative explanations. Maybe I had imagined the streaks? No, that couldn’t work, because I went straight to my friends. Maybe I subconsciously knew where my friends were? No, that was impossible. I did not even know if they were at the jalsa, let alone at that exact spot in the marketplace. Perhaps while I lived in Scotland I developed extrasensory connections with my fr
iends that remained dormant until I called on them that afternoon, whereupon our psychic bonds were able to manifest themselves in my visual sensorium? Honestly, that was the best naturalistic explanation I could come up with, but not only did it skirt the boundaries of naturalism, it totally blew past the boundaries of plausibility.
“No,” I told myself. “There is no alternative. God is real, and He hears my prayers, even the little ones like wanting to know where my friends are.” That day, I no longer just believed that God was real. I knew God was real. And I knew God cared for me.
The timing could not have been better. When I returned to Princess Anne for my junior year, one of my mandatory classes was “Theory of Knowledge” (TOK), and it served as an introductory course to general philosophy and epistemology. Our textbook was called Man is the Measure, and one of the first discussions we had in class was, “How can we know whether God exists?” The discussions were deep and shook the faith of many theists in the class.
Although our conversations focused on objective argumentation, as they should have, I came to realize that subjective knowledge can be far more powerful. I would never be able to convince anyone that I actually saw the streaks in the sky or that they actually led me to my friends. But I did not need to. It was a sign for me, and I went from being 99 percent sure that God exists to 100 percent certain.
Four years later, when my world started falling apart, that 1 percent made all the difference.
Chapter Eighteen
HONOR AND AUTHORITY
TOK WAS ONE OF THE MANY CLASSES that I had with my best friend, David. We had grown closer and closer since seventh grade, and by the time we were upperclassmen, we were inseparable. We had six of our seven classes together, became co-captains of the academic trivia team, and entered into the forensics team as a duo. David and I won fifth place in the state competition our junior year, surprising everyone because we were both rookies. During senior year, we won the state championship.
Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus: A Devout Muslim Encounters Christianity Page 9