Moz Boondoggle

By Shabina S. Khatri

February 2007

I’ve been journeying a lot lately, both literally and figuratively. Via car, plane, co-workers, books, movies and even music, I’ve been wandering in and out of other people’s lives. It’s an exhilarating experience to leave one’s own thoughts and world behind and learn something new, but it’s also frightening. Maybe that’s why we don’t do it enough.

Many of us get frustrated when our religion or cultures or lifestyles are painted with a broad brush. It’s easy to chalk up unfair portrayals to prejudice and blind hatred. It would be more astute, however, to identify ignorance as the cause behind stereotypes swirling around our community. Yet, during my recent travails, I couldn’t help but wonder, how ignorant are we? What do we know of other cultures and faiths and practices? How much have we learned about the preferences espoused by those who don’t live in our self-contained bubbles?

Ignorance is a two-way street, no? Perhaps more people would understand us if we made an attempt to understand them. An easy enough concept to grasp, but one I’ve found is much harder in practice than theory. While visiting New York, for example, my friends and I sat across from an exhausted-looking black woman on the subway. She eyed the white American convert among us and began sharing with us her thoughts on the problems with white people.

The easy thing to do would have been to do things her way – take the actions of one or a handful of people as indicative of a whole race, and base our judgments of that race on those actions. But not all black people disdain all white people, so taking the easy way would only have perpetuated the problem. So while listening to her talk, I mentally tried to picture her life – her experiences with white people, the trials she’s endured, what it must have been like to be in the same room as Malcolm X while he talks about race relations in the United States. Trying to understand why she felt angry with Malcolm when he began advocating racial harmony instead of only black pride.

It helped to empathize with her, because it made it harder to dismiss her as a human being –one I was admittedly not inclined to agree with, but someone who deserved my respect and the dignity of an open ear nevertheless. It made me wonder, what would happen if more of us took the time to understand and talk to each other, rather than jump to conclusions and talk at each other? Wouldn’t that be wonderful dawah?

While on the job as a reporter, I often get all kinds of stares, remarks and questions about my faith. But what would be more productive – acting offended and huffy when a stranger comments on my lack of an accent, or pleasantly asking him why he assumed I had any accent at all? To react without anger or offense would require me to pause and imagine myself in the stranger’s shoes. Did he grow up in a town that lacked diversity? Has he ever met a Muslim, or only seen them portrayed on TV? Is he asking me a question out of malice, or genuine curiosity? To accomplish anything in such discourses, I would have to know my audience, and to do that I would have to have empathy.

That requires humility, because we would have to recognize that the world doesn’t revolve around us, that other realities exist. But the scariest part is that empathy has a darker side. It comes with conditions and caveats, the biggest one being: It makes you care. And once you care, it’s much harder to jump to conclusions, to turn away, or turn off, or do nothing when injustice prevails.

Take the quagmire in Iraq, for example. Many people have dismissed the Iraqi people as uncivilized heathens who simply don’t want peace. This, of course, is ridiculous. It also explains why we can’t solve the problems there – we don’t understand them. And we don’t understand them because we’re either too lazy or too scared to try.

How many of us, really, have tried to picture what Iraqis went through when the lights went out and the bombs started raining liquid fire? Or if Iraq is too far away, how many of us have tried to imagine being in New Orleans when Katrina struck and homes and families were drowned and children died of dehydration or heatstroke or simple unadultered despair? It’s almost unimaginable, isn’t it?

Must we move even closer to home? Perhaps try to imagine a homeless family, shivering outside on the streets we traverse every day, because after dad lost his job he couldn’t make the mortgage payments or meet rent and so his wife and children were kicked unmercifully to the curb. Or perhaps mercifully, by a landlord who also needs to pay the bills so he can feed his family.

Where is society and where are the Muslims now?

Taking turns being offended by the latest newspaper article or TV show or magazine expose on our communities? Snubbing our neighbors in favor of biryani potlucks at the masjid? Forgoing involvement in our children’s schools for fear of rubbing elbows with those funny-smelling Amreekans who have no sense of family or decency or style?

It’s silly to hate people because they seem to hate us. How will the cycle ever end if everyone perpetuates it? I guess all I’m pleading for is a little understanding, a moment of sanity, even when chaos breaks out and succumbing to the madness seems so much more attractive.

Before retorting to our spouses, our parents, our children, our friends; before jumping to conclusions about the bus driver, the cab driver, the waitress, the cashier; before dismissing the protestors, the naysayers, the advocates, the zealots; just listen for a while. It may be frightening, but we could learn something.

And who knows, maybe so will they.

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By Shabina S. Khatri

January 2007

Eid Mubarak, and Happy New Year! If you’re anything like me, you’re already counting the minutes till Memorial Day, the symbolic start of summer, with its long sunny days and lazy luxurious nights. Sigh. How are ever going to survive the broad stretch of dreary weather and holiday-less months that lay ahead? No worries – there’s plenty to do while we wait.

January is the most popular month for New Year’s resolutions. For Muslims, who should be striving for self-improvement 365 days of the year, it’s as good a time as any for goal-setting. Or, in the case of those who made New Year’s resolutions a few months ago after Ramadan, it’s as good a time as any to fill out a progress report.

One way to prepare for the future is to reflect on the past. So think back, to last January, or last month, or last week, even. How has your environment changed? And how have you changed your environment? What has been the response to these changes?

Are they for better or worse?

Though quantifying the sum of everything that’s changed would be nearly impossible – it would be hard to conclude, for example, that I’m 30% better off than I was this time last year – conducting a self-assessment doesn’t have to be daunting. I suggest dividing life up into a handful of categories, and then listing the differences as they come to mind.

In terms of spirituality, for example, have you started waking up for fajr? Or stopped? When it comes to furthering your personal growth, have you learned anything new? How to cook your favorite dish, perhaps? Or are you still leaving your plates in the sink? And as far as relationships go, have you shown more kindness to the people around you? Or less appreciation?

Once you’ve hashed out where you stand, it’s time to set some concrete goals. This is usually where most of us get carried away, making unrealistic resolutions that doom us to failure. While it may be commendable for a couch potato to resolve to exercise every day of the week, for example, he may find it too difficult to go from 0 to 60 overnight and simply give up. Another common pitfall is stretching ourselves too thin and setting too many attainable goals at once. Spending more time with the kids, increasing productivity at work, reading more books each week and keeping the house spic and span – simultaneously? I don’t think so.

I’m not saying don’t be optimistic – just add a dash of pragmatism to the mix. Aisha (R) once asked the Prophet (SAW), “What is the most loved deed to Allah?” He answered, “One that is performed constantly even if it is a small deed.” The wisdom behind his statement is not lost on motivational speakers, who say it takes anywhere from three weeks to a month to establish a habit – good or bad. So consistently praying on time throughout January could help set you up for the rest of the year, and the rest of your life. Spending 30 evenings gossiping with your friends over the Internet and on the phone, however, could also affect the way the rest of your 2007 plays out.

Once goals have been set, be sure to take some periodic pauses to regroup – and tweak, if necessary. If eating five servings of fruits and vegetables a day just isn’t possible, then lower the bar a little. Rather than just giving it up, strive for three or four. Conversely, if making up all the fasts you missed during Ramadan was a snap, don’t just rest on your laurels and become complacent. Instead, perhaps resolve to start keeping nafl fasts on Mondays and Thursdays. The key is to tailor your goals to your personality, your life and your needs so that there is continuous progress, even if that progress is as minute as reading one page of Qur’an a day (that’s much better than reading none).

Everyone is different, but I’ve found success builds on itself, and is the best motivator to continue the process of self-improvement. Hanging up my clothes on Monday, for example, inspires me to continue keeping my room uncluttered during the rest of the week, so I’m not faced with a huge pile of things to put away by the weekend.

Another motivator – the incredibly satisfying feeling of setting and surpassing goals that pit you against…you. Because at the end of the day, we are the only ones really stopping ourselves from being who we truly want to be.

InshAllah I pray that January is a good month for all of us, and the rest of the year even better, in terms of our development as Muslims, spouses, siblings, children, co-workers and friends. And who knows, maybe we’ll get so caught up in the challenge of improving ourselves and our surroundings, we’ll forget about the dreary weather. Ameen!

*Deep gratitude to Shabnam Khan for this article idea.

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By Shabina S. Khatri

December 2006

It didn’t take long for political pundits to pooh-pooh the astonishing results of last month’s mid-term elections. Despite the dramatic power shift in both the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives, and the resignation of controversial Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, the pessimists were quick to point out that a veto-wielding Republican president still remains in the White House.

The naysayers also expressed skepticism about Keith Ellison’s election to Congress. As the nation’s first Muslim American congressman, Ellison is many things to many people.

To some, he is a token minority in a hostile sea of politicians who are hell-bent on destroying the ummah. To others, he is a beacon of light, the tipping point that will finally start our community down the path of acceptance in this great land of the free, home of the brave.

But ask Ellison what he thinks about his election – and many journalists have – and he’d probably just shrug. That’s because the affable criminal defense attorney, who converted to Islam while attending Wayne State University, didn’t focus his campaign on religion.

Rather, he pushed a platform centered on civil and human rights, an agenda perfectly compatible with Islam but simultaneously palatable to all of the people in the district he now represents.

It was a politically savvy strategy, but it also landed Ellison in a lot of hot water. To some folks, he wasn’t being Muslim enough. To others, he was still too Muslim.

Such is the nature of politics, that you can’t please everyone.

As Muslims, we should be proud of Ellison’s accomplishments. Not simply because he is our brother, but because he is doing exactly what all of us need to do to keep Islam thriving in the U.S.

He is being himself.

As in, a man whose record shows him to be a firm advocate of universal health care, one who favors peace and a fast withdrawal of U.S. troops in Iraq, and a unifying figure who mobilized election-time support from not only the Muslims in his town, but also members of Minneapolis’ black, Jewish, and gay and lesbian communities.

He is proud to be Muslim, but doesn’t profess to represent or speak on behalf of all of us. He is proud to be black, but doesn’t profess to represent or speak all blacks, either.

He is being himself.

Though I may not agree with everything Keith Ellison says or does, I am proud of him for attempting to effect change through politics. It takes guts to face the many critics he is up against. On one side of the spectrum, there are the Muslim-haters who falsely accuse him of representing Louis Farrakhan and make other ridiculously bigoted allegations. And on the other, there are his own people, the Muslims who denounce him for his stances on abortion and Middle East politics, telling him such policies are unbefitting of a believer.

Unfortunately, Ellison’s title as the first Muslim American congressman sets him up for years of challenges in the dirty world of politics, where reputation always turns on the fickle tide of public opinion.

Capitol Hill may not be the most inviting place for a practicing Muslim, or any minority for that matter, but that’s all the more reason we should aspire to get there.

Congrats to Keith Ellison. InshAllah may he be an inspiration to any person who wishes to beat the odds and make a difference in the world, no matter what his/her race, creed or religion.

Ameen.

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By Shabina S. Khatri

November 2006

During announcements delivered after ish’aa salat at the masjid recently, I was amazed to hear four separate requests for monetary donations, one after another – first for IAGD, then for aid overseas, and finally two more for relief efforts closer to home.

It wasn’t the existence of such sheer need that surprised me, but rather, my reaction to these pleas. Feeling overwhelmed, I briefly thought to myself, what’s the point? It’s too much to handle, so why bother at all?

Then, alhumdullilah, my senses returned.

Even though I can’t fix everything, I reminded myself, I could always contribute something.

And something is always better than nothing.

It’s a simple enough notion, but one that’s easy to miss when you have been conditioned, like so many of us, with an all-or-nothing mentality.

The detrimental thought process works something like this:

Say you wish to establish a regular exercise routine. The first few weeks go smoothly and then inevitably, you miss a workout – on a Monday.

Uh oh.

Now, it’s suddenly 10 times harder to get to the gym the rest of the week. Why? Because you’ve fallen behind, and under the all-or-nothing approach, one setback is inexcusable. So you become discouraged and forego workouts all week, which only makes you feel worse, so you skip the next week as well, perpetuating the cycle of your supposed failures until even the thought of returning to your original schedule exhausts you into complete inactivity.

Whew.

As Muslims, we’re supposed to be the most enthusiastic practitioners of the middle way. But too often, we get just as caught up in extremes as everybody else.

Fortunately, life doesn’t have to be this dramatic.

It is critical that we work to find long-term solutions to recurring problems like poverty, crime and corruption. But such grandiose efforts can always be supplemented with smaller gestures.

Few of you, for example, would assert that not having the time or ability to memorize the entire Qur’an excuses you from learning the Fatiha. Similarly, then, while you may not have the energy to clean up all the trash littering your college campus, that’s not an excuse to disregard the empty pop can sitting at your foot. And on a grander scale, you may not be able to solve homelessness in Detroit, but that’s not an excuse to turn away the one man who asks you to spare a dollar for dinner.

In the best-selling book “The Tipping Point,” author Malcolm Gladwell contends that when small numbers of people start behaving differently, that behavior can ripple outward until a critical mass or “tipping point” is reached, changing the world.

As an example, he credits the cleanup of New York’s subways in the 1980s to the city’s subsequent drop in violent crime.

“Weird as it sounds,” Gladwell concludes, “it is possible to be a better person on a clean street or in a clean subway than in one littered with trash and graffiti.”

On an intuitive level, it makes sense that little things can add up to spark very significant changes. Consider the implications of something as small as smiling and holding the door open for a stranger. The gesture could inspire the beneficiary to do the same thing for the person behind him, and so forth, paying forward your good deed infinitum.

But even if the heavens don’t open up and mountains remain unmoved by the actions of one individual, it helps to remember that results aren’t everything.

Intentions matter, too.

Our beloved Prophet (SAW) once said, “If an individual has an opportunity to plant a tree, even if he knows the Day of Judgement is imminent, let him plant the tree.”

So even if the world is coming to an end and no one is around to benefit from our actions, we are advised to complete good deeds. Why? Because if nothing else, they benefit us.

There are many reasons, then, to not give in or give up when our efforts seem in vain – and the primary one is that they’re not in vain.

Because whether through our time, our money, our hands, our tongues, our smiles or our du’as, we can always contribute something.

And something is always better than nothing.

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By Shabina S. Khatri

October 2006

When the bombs first began dropping over Beirut in July, I reacted with disbelief. Grieved to see such a beautiful city, one that I had visited and fallen in love with just a few years ago, reduced to rubble – again – I wallowed in self-pity, eating ice cream and feeling sorry for the pathetic state of the Muslim ummah.

This went on for about a week, until I realized that drowning in depression and despair would not solve any problems – neither here at home, nor in the Middle East. So in the ensuing weeks, I found myself running more and praying more, seeking solace in sweat and sunnah. Pushing my own physical and spiritual limits was the least I could do, given that my exhausted brethren overseas have little choice but to push through theirs. Of course, if I fail, I only suffer a blow to my ego. If they fail, they suffer a far worse fate.

We would do well to remember that, as we fall asleep in our comfortable beds and eat our fresh food and goof off in our safe parks and masajid. The truth is, we, the American Muslim community, have no right to pull the victim card in this situation. We’re not hungry, we’re not homeless, and we’re not helpless. Alhumdulillah.

We all know the hadith – if you see a wrong, you should first try to stop it with your hands. Since for most of us, booking a ticket to Lebanon and getting involved in any type of relief effort on the ground isn’t really an option, we are left with two other choices – stopping the wrong with our tongues, or at the very least hating it in our hearts. I think we’ve got the latter down to a science. But that’s because wringing our hands is so much easier than being productive, than putting ourselves on the line and speaking out when we see wrong being done.

It’s been hard for me to articulate my thoughts on this war (to call it an “ongoing crisis” seems inappropriate and insensitive). As a journalist, I have made a choice to effect change from the inside, through media portrayals, and not political activism. But, as Martin Luther King Jr. once said, there comes a time when silence is betrayal.

He was referring to Vietnam, but I believe his words are just as relevant today. The loudest amongst us have been great at hosting rallies and writing letters. But generally speaking, the majority of us seem to have gone positively mute. It’s as if we’ve convinced ourselves that it’s ok to sit back and turn off the TV sets as long as we hate what’s happening with our hearts. But in the deafening quiet, no progress is made. Neither inside nor outside have we helped.

So, why the silence? Fear, perhaps. Of speaking up but sounding foolish, or uneducated, or anti-Jewish, even. But there are easy ways to remedy these concerns.

To catch up on current events, all one really has to do is log onto BBC or a myriad of other online news resources. Do that, and you’d be amazed to find that, through our silence, we are tacitly supporting the death of hundreds of innocent civilians. It is our tax dollars, after all, that are funding the missiles and smart bombs dropping all over Lebanon. It is our media that report the issues with antiseptic language so that news of death and destruction and bloodshed don’t pierce our hearts and move our feet.

Regarding the anti-Jewish charge, it’s very simple to avoid that label – Don’t be anti-Jew.

Don’t pull a Mel Gibson and heap the horrors of the world onto one people’s shoulders. But – don’t be afraid to criticize Israel’s military transgressions, either. It is possible to do this without being a bigot, as a number of Jews are also appalled with how this war has been progressing, and how it, if anything, only seems to be eroding Israel’s security and safety.

In a nutshell, a wrong is a wrong. Terrorism, whether state-sponsored or loosely organized, is terrorism. So when a Hezbollah rocket kills an Israeli family, that’s wrong. When an Israeli missile destroys a Lebanese village and its occupants, that’s wrong, too. Hate these atrocities in your heart, but also denounce them with your tongue, because like in Vietnam, like what is happening in Iraq, the end of the violence hinges on the turning tide of public opinion.

This war won’t stop until we make it unpopular, and it won’t be unpopular until we speak up and discuss these issues with our neighbors, co-workers, friends and family members. It’s true, we are separated from what’s happening by many continents and oceans. But despite the physical distance, we remain bound by our responsibilities. As some of the world’s most privileged and influential Muslims, we have no right to turn away and hang our heads and give up. Those unfortunate enough to reside near the bloodshed may be justified in doing so, but we are not.

I’ll conclude with a few Divinely inspired passages. InshAllah they’ll provide some sparks of hope for those of us who have been feeling nothing but hopelessness. The first is an exhortation from the Talmud, the book of our cousins:

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

And the second is from the Qur’an, a reminder that no matter what we do, the future lies in the hands of our Creator – for to Him we belong, and to Him we return.

If Allah (SWT) helps you none can overcome you, and if He forsakes you, who is there, after Him, that can help you? And in Allah (SWT) (alone) let believers put their trust (3:160).

Ameen.

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By Shabina S. Khatri

August 2006

I’m big on making Islam work for me. After all, it’s not just a religion, but a way of life, right? If the whole of my being is to revolve around one faith, then that faith better make good sense to me. Otherwise, it won’t be unshakable. And I could lose it.

I see a loss of faith happening a lot these days. Not for a lack of trying – but rather, a lack of understanding. A frustration at not being able to reconcile faith with practice, with culture, with lifestyle. The mainstream belief is that Muslims are a serious, violent people, so hell-bent on reaching their promised reward in the afterlife that they can only see this world as a trial to be endured – and never enjoyed.

Sadly, this is a misconception that both Muslims and non-Muslims perpetuate, and one that is wreaking extensive damage particularly among the youth.

It’s a daunting task, for our children to grow up memorizing a long list of don’ts in a culture that only exalts do’s. No Lucky Charms, no hot dogs, no alcohol, no dating, no joking, no laughing, no fun. No fun?

Not quite.

The 28^th chapter of the Qur’an tells the story of Qarun, cousin of Moses (PBUH). Qarun is so wealthy that even the keys to his riches are too heavy to lift. He is eventually swallowed up by the earth for his insolence, but prior to that, is advised, “Do not exult, surely Allah does not love the exultant/ And seek by means of what Allah has given you the future abode, and do not neglect your portion of this world, and do good (to others) as Allah has done good to you, and do not seek to make mischief in the land, surely Allah does not love the mischief-makers (28:76-77).”

Not only is Qarun not forbidden to enjoy his wealth, but he is actually encouraged to do so! Of course, that advice is tempered with a call for moderation. I will make the same call here, for therein lies the key to reconciling faith with fun.

Because let’s face it, Muslims are fun-starved. Most of us take the stories of the companions throwing watermelon seeds at each other and the Prophet (SAW) racing his wife literally, thinking those are the only Islamically-sanctioned ways to have fun.

Sounds silly, doesn’t it? But I can understand why we’re so afraid of stepping over the invisible line, of crossing to the point of no return. Just look at our environment.

It’s full of excess, so oversaturated with thrills that obesity and adultery and corporate corruption have become downright commonplace, almost ho-hum in their frequency.

Islam rebels against such indulgence, and justly so, because the more, more, more mentality robs people of self-control. It makes people addicted to pleasure, making them slaves of their own desires. And we all know such submission should be reserved for a far loftier purpose.

But I wonder if, in rebelling against excess, Muslims have rebelled to excess. As in, we’re so afraid of falling into sin that we are too hard on ourselves when it comes to having a good time. Islamically speaking, there is nothing wrong with indulging in a (halal) pleasure or two – a funny film, a tasty dessert, a shopping excursion. These things make us feel good, and Allah (SWT) never prohibited that.

The problem arises when we start to live only for those moments that make us feel good – when we refuse to recognize the transience in pleasure, which is by definition a temporary pursuit. That kind of denial is what transforms one scoop of ice cream into a pint; one hour of TV into four; one innocent glance into an unholy stare. More, more, more.

Yet ironically, even as we fill up on unhealthy treats, evening excursions and the latest Hollywood gossip, we can’t get full. Even by exploiting that which has been made halal for us, we are never full.

Which bewilders and dismays us, much like it bewilders and dismays our secular neighbors and friends. Which brings us full circle back to Islam, and the reason why the Prophet (SAW) advised us to never eat or drink to the point of fullness, and why Allah (SWT) orders us to curb our consumption during the month of Ramadan. Temporary pleasure brings temporary relief, but if our souls are to thrive, they will require the infusion of something far more substantial.

That substance is what some people might call the spiritual side of life. The quiet time, the moments of reflection, the pause in between checking e-mails and washing dishes, barking orders and filling our tanks with (over-priced) gas. The time we spend not rushing to get that quick fix, but simply allowing a connection to be made between ourselves and the universe, and to the only One who can ever make us full.

It’s so easy to have fun these days. And it’s ok to have it. But Muslims who truly crave satisfaction will find it only by striking a balance, by walking the line between worldly and other-worldly, all the while realizing that God can be found in both pursuits.

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By Shabina S. Khatri

July 2006

It’s hard to keep the big picture in mind these days. Given the craziness of the world, it seems like all we Muslims do is run from place to place putting out the fire of the moment, with no time to stop and catch our collective breath, no time to regroup and plan for the future.

But now really is the time to stop and allow ourselves a brief respite from terrorism and racism and classism and all the other –isms that schism our community. It really is time to gather our wits and purify our intentions so that we know why we’re doing what we’re doing, and toward what aim we are contributing our toil and sweat.

Fourteen centuries ago, the word that defined the times was iqraa’ – read.
Today, it is ta’ammal – reflect.

As a community, we’ve grown adept at asking, what now?

But to truly arrive at that answer, we must first figure out, what next?

It seems almost presumptuous, doesn’t it, to envision the future while we are just now barely getting by? It’s like a hobo writing himself a million-dollar check and expecting to actually cash it one day.

Sounds ridiculous – but it’s not.

What will the future hold for Muslims in America?

Well, that depends on what we hope to make of it.

Right now, it seems that we are caught up in a wave of reactions – reacting to fill the needs of the moment, like lack of space, or lack of funds, or lack of leadership.

But by doing that, we are setting ourselves up for exhaustion, burn-out, failure. It’s like buying a fish because it’s cheaper and easier than buying a pole and learning how to catch the fish ourselves. The strategy works today and tomorrow, but in the long run, we end up fools without tools, regretful for not taking the time to plan before implementing, think before jumping.

What will the future hold for Muslims in America?

Will the beautiful masajid we have built teem with third, fourth and fifth-generation children? Or will they stand empty, a testament to the efforts of immigrants who, however sincere, did not think to establish the infrastructure necessary to support such institutions?

Will the portion of our community that is affluent and well-educated continue to isolate itself from the part that is working class and inner city? Will we continue to be frustrated because we choose careers that yield wealth but no influence, while those who are ignorant of our ways define our public face?

Alhumdulillah, these are not fires we will be forced to put out any time soon. But the embers are starting to smolder, and that should be enough to get our attention.

Some might respond that we plan and Allah (SWT) is the Best Planner, so if something ain’t broke, why waste precious time fixing it? But it’s easier to mend a small crack than a gaping fissure, is it not?

And even if problems like empty masajid and wayward children are not as immediately obvious as unlawful detentions and racial profiling, their very existence should merit our immediate consideration, because our future depends on it.

Now, I am not trying to frighten anyone with doom-and-gloom predictions. I am simply trying to point out problems that have been boiling below the surface, issues that have felled other short-sighted communities who didn’t take the time to deal with them before it was too late. The Catholic Church, for example, now faces the heart-breaking task of closing several of its glorious buildings and schools because there are no people to fill them. A groundbreaking study reveals that the U.S. Jewish population has tumbled by several thousand people over the last few years. Do you really think it couldn’t happen to us?

Maybe you agree, but just don’t have the time to worry about all of this. Let someone else deal with it, you may say. That’s fine, if one or two react in such a way. But if all of us pass the buck in terms of this forward-looking responsibility, then just where and when will that buck stop?

Lack of time is something I can certainly appreciate, and as someone who is terribly disorganized, this call for reflection goes to myself first and foremost. I understand what it’s like to have your hand in several projects but never finish one. But if I can prioritize my schedule to include family time, exercise time, and yes, even the stray American Idol episode, then do I really have an excuse for not chipping in?

The beauty of reflection and planning is that contributions can take all forms – time, money, words, hands – and include everyone – spiritual leaders, academics, professionals, housewives, teenagers, children.

Many of us understand the value of investing our money – putting in a principal sum with the expectation that greater rewards can be achieved over time. Consider, then, the much-needed planning for our futures to be the principal that will pay off generations from now – in the form of a proud, thriving and well-adjusted American Muslim community. InshAllah, ameen.

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May 2006

By Shabina S. Khatri

We don’t all have to be the same. Really.

Muslims are allowed to disagree, and Islam was built on the mercy of disagreement. That’s why our history is replete with not just the record and character of our beloved Prophet (SAW), but also with stories of his closest companions – feisty Aisha, prudent Abu Bakr, intense Omar, unassuming Uthman and valiant Ali, peace be upon them all.

To be sure, these Muslims – the best of all Muslims – differed amongst themselves on both deen and duniya issues, just like we do today. But unlike us, they did it with dignity and always with the purest of intentions. And the disagreements they chose to pursue increased their understanding of faith, while ours usually lead us farther down the path of ignorance.

What is it that the Prophet (SAW) and his companions had that made it ok to disagree?

Despite their differences, these people shared several key personality traits – qualities we should work to acquire and nurture, so that our arguments can also yield ideal results. Here are four of the most important characteristics, and how/why we should exude them.

Wisdom
Alhumdulillah, many of us have been blessed with tons of knowledge about our deen. But without wisdom, knowledge can be as much a curse as it is a blessing. It’s not enough to stay abreast of the latest fatwas and memorize each intricate detail of fiqh; we must also understand how to apply that knowledge. The Prophet (SAW) said, “When Allah (SWT) wishes good for someone, He bestows upon him the understanding of Deen.”

Wisdom is also helpful when it comes to arguing with stubborn people. Sometimes, disagreement can morph into pointless debate, in which all opinions are proven clearly but nobody expresses a willingness to change his/her point of view. Recognizing when an argument has reached this point is a sign of wisdom. So is walking away or changing the subject once the conversation has devolved in such a way.

Sincerity
This is what I like to call the pre-emptive strike of all traits, because exercising sincerity would probably prevent 90% of our disagreements from getting out of control. How? By forcing ourselves to evaluate our intentions before (and during) an argument we can really affect what comes out of our mouths.

Are we wielding our knowledge like a weapon so as to beat our opponent, or are we applying our knowledge as a tool to help us understand one another and bring us closer to faith?

Many of the disagreements we have today have more to do with ego trips than with a sincere desire to arrive at some sort of useful conclusion. Taking the time to evaluate our intentions before things get heated is a great way to prevent unnecessary divisions among friends, family and community members.

Patience
Listening is a very difficult skill to hone, especially when we talk to people who disagree with us. During these conversations, we are usually too busy waiting until it’s our turn to speak to really comprehend the points made by the other person. This disregard can cause misunderstandings to occur, so that even a benign conversation can escalate into an unproductive shouting match.

Exercising restraint and patience during such times is essential. Think twice, speak once is usually a good rule of thumb. The Prophet (SAW) was a master of this technique, which served him especially well while conducting da’wah.

Consider his reaction to the Bedouin who urinated in the masjid. Rather than punish him, the Prophet (SAW) ordered that water be poured over the spot and reminded his companions, “your mission is to facilitate matters, not complicate them (Bukhari).”

Mercy
A popular joke on the convert circuit is, “I’m glad I found Islam before I met the Muslims.” That’s because we have a tendency to give people who don’t know as much as we think we do a hard time – especially if we see them making a mistake in their practice.

Back in the day, the Prophet (SAW) sneezed in prayer. A man who didn’t know not to speak during salat blessed him, saying ’Yarhamuk Allah (may Allah (SWT) have mercy on you). People starting glaring at him, so he asked what was wrong. Then the congregation began to slap their thighs with their hands until the man fell silent. When the Prophet (SAW) finished the prayer, he did not scold the man or shame him. He just said, “This prayer should contain nothing of the speech of men; it is only tasbeeh and takbeer and recitation of the Quran (Muslim).”

SubhanAllah. Such a simple reaction, yet one that is so difficult for us to emulate!

If it seems like all of this advice sound like common sense, it’s because it is. Like the Prophet (SAW) said, Islam was not sent to complicate life, but to simplify it. Asking ourselves whether a subject is worth debate; whether we are debating it for the right reasons; and whether there is a better way to facilitate understanding about the topic in question are great ways to bridge divides in our community.

In addition to wisdom, sincerity, patience and mercy, humility was also a hallmark characteristic of the Prophet (SAW) and his companions. That’s why the best Muslim scholars always conclude their rulings in the same way – saying that there is a chance that others could be correct and they could be wrong.

In seeking to emulate this tradition, I will conclude by saying that all of this advice I give is to myself first and foremost, and Inshallah it will be useful to you as well.

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April 2006

By Shabina S. Khatri

Old-school author Elbert Hubbard once said, “experience is the name every one gives his mistakes.” If that’s indeed the case, the now-infamous cartoon controversy has been quite the “experience” for our Muslim community.

I can’t even begin to count the number of mistakes we (collectively speaking, as in the global ummah) made in response to the degradation of our Prophet (SAW).

But in the interest of productivity, let us skip that step, and instead turn toward the future, applying what we’ve learned to make sure we handle things better the next time around. (And yes, unfortunately there is always a next time)

The lesson I’d like to focus on involves the media – namely, understanding how it works, so that we can begin to use it to advance (rather than defeat) our own agenda.

The Wall Street Journal recently ran an intriguing piece about celebrities who are constant fodder for tabloid publications. Like everyone, famous people need the media as much as the media needs them. That’s why handling paparazzi can get so tricky. The Journal writes:

The photographers’ onslaught has put stars in a tough spot. If they ignore the magazines, they let such pictures define their public image. But sitting down for formulaic interviews and staged publicity shots won’t necessarily satisfy the magazines’ lust for juicy stories.

The answer is manipulation so subtle it’s hard to say if there’s any manipulation at all…

It’s an ingenious strategy. Rather than wait to be surprised by flashbulbs, the savviest celebrities are now tipping off select photographers about special events. That gives celebs the chance to be photographed on their own terms, while at the same time granting the media the elite access they seek.

Thus, famous people have effectively turned a potential enemy into an ally – a trick that we Muslims should consider appropriating for ourselves.

To do this, there are a few things we must first understand about the media (and here I will switch to first-person and speak as a journalist):

1) In terms of story ideas, we are always looking for something new. The same old masjid open house article is not going to get the play it used to, because that event is just not novel anymore. The key is pitching the “something different” that will get editors excited and readers interested enough to read past the first two lines/continue watching after the first three seconds. Perhaps this year, you expect blockbuster attendance, or the leadership is unveiling a new program that the public might be interested in. Think fresh, and you will be rewarded for it.

2) Of course, that’s only if you can communicate your ideas effectively. That means taking the time to establish a rapport with your media outlets – before something big happens. Use the Internet to find out which journalists cover ethnic and/or religious issues and introduce yourself to them via e-mail. Ask them if they would like to be kept abreast of what’s going on in your community, and promise to only drop them a line or phone call occasionally, so they know you don’t intend to be a pest. Also, it always helps to offer photo suggestions and/or numerical facts and figures with your article ideas. Even if these journalists take up only three of the ten ideas you’ve pitched them, you should consider yourself successful. Why?

3) Because you’ve set yourself up for the big payoff. In cultivating a relationship of trust and respect with these journalists, you have now become the first person they think of when something major in your community happens. At my newspaper, for example, when the cartoon controversy hit the fan, the reporter who wrote the story headed straight for the Muslims with whom he had already established a rapport – because he knew them to be reasonable, decent people. And if they were angry and disappointed about what happened, then that indicated this was something to be taken seriously. Additionally, if these people ever expressed dissatisfaction or approval with a story, that opinion will hit home with a reporter more so than if a total stranger had expressed the same sentiments.

Kudos if you’ve come this far in the media game. Experience has now taught you that information (who has it) and timing (who has it first) are everything. This is the time to start playing media outlets against one another. Say you’ve got an interesting story pitch about a new matchmaking program for Muslim singles (an article that actually recently ran in the New York Times). That in and of itself may not generate much interest among a mainstream publication. But let’s say, in sending one of your regular e-mail thank you’s to a journalist, that you “happened” to mention something about the program’s opening event – how it’s closed to the media, but you thought the reporter might want to look into it. That very idea of having exclusive access could be just what’s needed to draw attention to a story that might be otherwise have been overlooked.

I know it sounds sneaky. But the only way to harness the power of mass dissemination is to understand it, and exploiting a journalist’s desire to get the scoop is just an application of that understanding. The truth is, many reporters (including myself) actually come to expect this from our most media savvy sources.

Of course, for those of you who don’t wish to exert all this effort building rapport with the media, there are still small things you can do to improve Muslims’ relationship with journalists, and thus our coverage and thus public opinion of our deen and its followers. Those measures include:

-Offering tons of feedback – on any story or piece that moved you. It doesn’t have to be related to Islam. Maybe you really liked an article on secondary education, or were offended by a news segment on teen dating. If I were an editor, I would be delighted to read a letter to the editor about the Oscars from someone with a Muslim-sounding name. That would lead me to believe that Muslims care about more than just their “own” issues. And that kind of feedback, even if it’s a simple two-line e-mail, goes miles in “normalizing” Muslim Americans into the fabric of this nation.

-Becoming a customer. News outlets tend to pay more attention if the person who is contacting them is a paid subscriber. If you’re a customer, they must cater to you. So fork over the cash, and let your voice be heard.
InshAllah this very basic primer on the media has been helpful. I’ve been a Muslim a lot longer than I’ve been a journalist, but I don’t think the two identities have to be mutually exclusive. That’s actually my final suggestion for ridding the world of media misconceptions about Muslims – acknowledging that in this Information Age, we have a far better chance of doing this by joining, rather than trying to shut down or censor, the news-making machines.

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March 2006

By Shabina S. Khatri

We’re going over a book about morals and manners in my Sunday School class, and in a recent lesson we talked about truthfulness. Islam regards this trait so highly that, when asked, the Prophet (SAW) said a Muslim can be a miser and a coward, but not a liar. Never a liar.

So I was quite dismayed when my teenage students announced, very matter-of-factly, that they lie all the time, and think nothing of it. If the cashier handed them extra change at checkout? They’d keep it. If mom asked what they ate for lunch? No problem saying it was something healthy (even if it wasn’t).

Wow.

At first, I was too taken aback to say anything. I mean, I can’t even choke out a lie to score a student discount at the movies.

But then I thought about it. Really, my students were just being honest about being liars. And I should exercise that honesty, too. Am I a good liar? Yes. But am I comfortable with lying? Not anymore.

The more I’ve read about my deen throughout the years, the more I’ve come to abhor dishonesty. I believe, like the Prophet (SAW), that unity and therefore community cannot exist where distrust runs rampant, because even the simplest of transactions would become impossible.

But telling the truth has gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion. And in today’s culture, many contend that lying is actually the glue that keeps society together. Which leads to the question, can someone who lies still be a good Muslim? The answer, surprisingly, is yes.

According to the Prophet (SAW), there are three instances in which lying is permitted:
1) When a man is talking to his wife (no, of course you don’t look fat!);
2) For strategic purposes during times of war (I don’t know where their camp is)
3) To bring about reconciliation between people (he told me how sorry he is).

If we use this hadith as our guide, we can feel better about some of the most popular types of lies told today. The first are kind-hearted lies, the ones we tell to avoid unnecessarily hurting someone’s feelings. Most of us wouldn’t tell a host how terrible dinner tasted, nor would we disclose to a friend that we hate his/her children.

If told in the right spirit, this kind of lie may be deemed permissible – but the trick here is to not delve into abject flattery for the sake of personal gain. The Prophet (SAW) said to one of his admirers, “don’t exaggerate while praising me as the Christians do while praising the son of Mary, because I am only His servant; so call me the slave of Allah and His messenger.”

In other words, being directly asked about someone’s cooking is a far different situation than apple-polishing your boss into a promotion – because the latter is done purely for personal strategic gain.

Clearly, the concept of lying is not as black and white as we would like to believe. We tread through the minefield every day with these issues, but rarely pause to consider them within an Islamic context. In my experience, I think the best rule of thumb is: if it doesn’t feel right, then don’t do it. Of course, as with all sins, the more you lie, the easier it becomes. The New York Times recently ran an in-depth article on lie-detecting and the problems associated with catching veteran phonies:

Unfortunately, most of the devices now available, like the polygraph, detect not the lie but anxiety about the lie. The polygraph measures physiological responses to stress, like increases in blood pressure, respiration rate and electrodermal skin response. So it can miss the most dangerous liars: the ones who don’t care that they’re lying, don’t know that they’re lying or have been trained to lie. It can also miss liars with nothing to lose if they’re detected, the true believers willing to die for the cause.

To avoid getting to that point, then, it’s best to steer clear of lying, unless in the special cases outlined by the Prophet (SAW), who said: “Adopt truthfulness, because truth guides to virtue and virtue leads to Paradise. A man speaks the truth and continues to do so until he is called the truthful. Avoid falsehood because it leads to sin and sin leads to Hell. A man lies and continues to do so until he is recorded as a liar in the sight of Allah (SWT).”

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