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دعواتكم لزميلنا المفكر د.الباقر العفيف بالشفاء العاجل
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 Re: قصة هذا الشاب السوداني وقصة كتابه.. My Isl@m (Re: Yasir Elsharif)
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My Isl@m: How Fundamentalism Stole My Mind
–and Doubt Freed My Soul
by Amir Ahmad Nasr
Prologue
HE SMACKED HER ACROSS THE FACE—a violent thundering slap. The television seemed to reverberate with the impact. It was the climax of the show, and I had entered the living room uninvited.
“Why did he hit her?” I asked my mom. “Shush, not now,” she replied, her eyes still fixed on the screen.
I hated being ignored. “What happened? What did she do?” I continued, insisting that I get an answer. “I said, not now!” Mama snapped back, now obviously annoyed.
The woman collapsed on the floor and broke down in tears. The man who had hit her, clearly still enraged, stood tall above her, and then shouted in her face, “You’re divorced. Divorced. Divorced!”
The words marched out of his mouth, decisively and with absolute vengeance. I didn’t want to risk getting a similar response from my mom, but I couldn’t resist. “Why did he say that three times? What happened, Mama?” “How many times do I have to tell you, not now,” Mama shot back, still not fully acknowledging my presence. “Will you tell me later then?” I asked, desperate to know if I would ever get to find out what the mystery was all about. “Khalas, fine, yes,” she assured me.
My mom was busy watching an Egyptian series, and I was bored out of my six-year-old mind. I did my best to amuse myself, but neither my brother’s Michael Jackson tape, nor my Ninja Turtle action figures, nor my well-worn superhero fantasies did the trick. After what seemed like forever, I sensed movement outside my room. My mom was done with her television show, so I rushed out to demand my answer. “Will you tell me what happened now, Mama? Why did he hit her? And what was that thing he said three times?” “He got angry at his wife and divorced her,” she responded at last.
Still, I wasn’t satisfied. “Why did he get angry? What did she do?” I continued. “Later, Amir, later,” Mama replied.
Later—many years later—I’d finally come to better understand part of what happened in that memorable scene.
Generally speaking, in the Islamic tradition, a man can divorce his wife up to three times, after which it becomes extremely difficult—even virtually impossible—to remarry her. If a marriage is in trouble, but there is a chance of reconciliation, a husband will make the divorce proclamation, “You’re divorced,” just once to his wife. This leaves the door open for a change of heart. Even if, enraged or disillusioned, he makes the proclamation twice, hope is not lost.
Only deeply troubled, irreconcilable marriages end in a “three-proclamations divorce” and a mushroom cloud of heartbreak and anger like the one portrayed in that Egyptian television series.
Over the years, I often found myself recalling that scene, and wondering about the remaining questions. What did the wife ever do to deserve getting divorced with three fierce proclamations? Did her husband love her, and if he did, what changed? And why the hell did he have to hit her?
One day, however, I partly understood. I experienced that kind of rage, the agonizing pain of feeling betrayed by one that I had loved unconditionally. I, too, longed to end it with that fierce finality. But my love was not a woman. It was my faith.
Growing up, I loved my sci-fi cartoons. I loved my toys. I loved my LEGOs. I loved what I loved especially when it lit up my creative imagination freely and in all its magical glory. But above all, I loved Islam.
Therein lay all the heartbreak.
For a while, there was a beautiful, spiritually liberating, mystical Islam that I loved as a child; later, entwined with it, came another Islam, that dictated that I should hold on to certain beliefs or risk burning in hell for all eternity. It erected tall suffocating barriers between me and the magical curiosity and imaginative free thought I loved as a child.
I didn’t like that Islam. It was mean. It made me uneasy, but it was so thoroughly fused to the other one I revered and loved that I could no longer tell the difference.
And so I believed without questioning. Like a young man wedded to a stranger in a forced arranged marriage that he accepted for fear of betraying his family, I devoted myself to my faith. I practiced, worshipped, and swept doubt under the rug whenever it surfaced.
I memorized long passages of the Qur’an, joined national recitation competitions, won, and got featured in the newspaper. I listened to my bearded teachers, trusted them, and followed their instructions. I became wary of non-Muslims. I hated Jews, hated secularism, and doubted democracy. I had a love-hate relationship with the West and its leader, the “Big Satan,” the United States of America.
Finally, at the height of my deeply held jihadist euphoria, I wished I could die and martyr myself for Islam and occupied Palestine.
I was eleven years old.
What followed will not only surprise you, but it is my hope that it will inspire you to see various forms of religion in a fresh and more nuanced light. It includes tales about haunting melodic calls to prayer, a French girl named Doubt, anti-Muslim bigots, five pillars and a teddy bear, a sexy bellybutton ring, a soulful three-eyed beauty nicknamed Trinity, American bombs raining on a pharmaceuticals factory, and an accidental blog that turned my life upside down.
This book is my story. Part memoir, part manifesto for liberty, it’s about my relationship with Islam and its guardians. It’s about my journey from arranged marriage to infidelity to the brink of irreconcilability . . . and back.
It’s a meditation on blogging and the Internet, and how they’ve forever altered yesterday’s dictatorial politics of ignorance and ushered in a new politics of knowledge that helped trigger and facilitate the so-called Arab Spring. It’s about courageously following your heart’s cause, finding your tribe, and doing what you can to help change the world. It’s about the search for identity, meaning and, ultimately, Truth.
If you’re someone who’s had a difficult relationship with religion, or you have a deep interest in it; someone who’s got a burning desire to help advance freedom, human dignity, and justice on our increasingly shrinking planet; someone who’s passionate about personal and cultural transformation and self-empowerment, what I write is for you.
If having your beliefs challenged boils your blood, this book is probably not for you.
Lastly, if you value evidence, and if you passionately believe that God (or “God” if you wish) shouldn’t be reduced to ink on paper, but should instead be experienced, expressed, and honored freely in love and ecstasy, and without coercion, then this book is certainly for you.
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 Re: قصة هذا الشاب السوداني وقصة كتابه.. My Isl@m (Re: Yasir Elsharif)
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سلام للجميع
قرأت اليوم هذا المقال أدناه ورأيت من المناسب إضافته إلى هذا البوست. وسأعود للتعليق.
SUDAN'S GHANDI AND THE MECCA VERSES
by Amir Ahmad Nasr* Published on Sunday, 31 March 2013 13:00
Mahmoud Mohammed Taha wielded only a pen yet posed such a threat to Sudanese Islamists that he was executed and buried in a secret location. What made this thinker so dangerous?
He had a calm yet serious look in his eyes that hinted tranquility and defiance. Dressed in white robes, he could have resembled Mahatma Gandhi were it not for his bulkier stature. Yet even if he didn’t resemble Gandhi in appearance, he certainly did in temperament and conduct. I took another look at his picture on my computer screen and clicked on to the next page. The more I read about him, the more intrigued I became.
Born in around 1910, Ustaz Mahmoud Mohammed Taha was an Islamic reformer who mobilized a movement in Sudan for religious reform. He called for equality between men and women and equal citizenship status for Muslims and non-Muslims. Taha provided hope. And it was precisely that hope as well as a new refrs/hing interpretation that galvanized a growing number of young Sudanese students – and in turn incensed many Sudanese Islamists.
Reading about Taha years after his public execution, I learned new perspectives that presented a path for reconciling the conflicts that troubled my relationship with Islam. In his view, Islam in its original form had gotten corrupted, and Muslims needed to re-read the Qur’an in light of a crucial distinction between two categories of verses it contained–Meccan verses and Medina verses.
(Source: Jamiatalhurriyat.org)
Mahmoud Mohamed Taha.
According to the Islamic tradition, the Qur’an was revealed to Prophet Muhammad in two stages, the first of which began in Mecca. At the time, the Prophet’s nascent community of followers was still small but growing, and its calls for social justice caused concern amongst the oppressive and brutal ruling tribal polytheists of Mecca.
For 13 years, Muhammad and his followers were mocked, ridiculed and at the peak of hostilities, boycotted and persecuted. Some of the Prophet’s earliest followers from were mercilessly tortured to death by pagans to make them renounce their newfound monotheistic faith and discourage others from adopting it. The conditions endured by the community for over a decade were harsh and ugly.
Yet during this entire period, the Prophet responded with peace, patience and restraint. For instance, in 23:96 the Qur’an commanded Muhammad to “repel evil with that which is best,” and in 16:125 to “invite (all) to the way of thy Lord with wisdom and beautiful preaching; and argue with them in ways that are best and most gracious.”
Islam throughout the Meccan period was essentially pacifist in nature. Critics claim this was only because the Prophet had no other choice, as he was powerless and in no position to engage in violence. Yet later Qur’anic verses – from when Muhammad returned to Mecca triumphant – reveal that the Meccan period was not a strategy but rather a principled affirmation of the primacy of peace.
After the situation in Mecca became unbearable, Muhammad emigrated to Medina, a journey that marks the beginning of the Islamic calendar. There the Muslim community grew in influence under his political and his religious leadership. Mecca’s ruling elite wasn’t pleased with this development, which set the stage for violent confrontation. As battles loomed and then occurred, Muhammad continued receiving regular Qur’anic revelation, though in stages.
First, they granted Muslims permission to fight unbelievers who persecuted them: “To those against whom war is made, permission is given (to fight), because they are wronged, and verily, God is most powerful for their aid” (22:39).
Secondly, defensive fighting must be conducted with restrictions: “Fight in the cause of God those who fight you, but do not transgress limits… fight them on until there is no more tumult or oppression, and there prevail justice and faith in God; but if they cease, let there be no hostility except to those who practice oppression. If then any one transgresses the prohibition against you, transgress ye likewise against him. But fear God, and know that God is with those who restrain themselves” (2:190-2:194).
Following the intensification of hostility between Mecca and Medina, verses but un#####ocally made war a religious duty: “Fighting is prescribed for you, and ye dislike it. But it is possible that ye dislike a thing which is good for you, and that ye love a thing which is bad for you. But God knoweth, and ye know not” (2:216-2:217). In effect, the verses enjoined Muslims to wage militaristic jihad against the unbelievers of Mecca, albeit conditionally and under certain circumstances.
Ultimately, the battles between the Muslims and Meccan pagans came to a close with a Muslim take over of Mecca, which the army led by Muhammad could have vengefully massacred into a bloodbath but didn’t – as that would have been a violation of Qur’anic commandments and limits.
And herein all the “fun” begins. If things are so straight-forward, why is there so much turmoil and senseless violence in the name of Islam? And what of the expansionary conquests undertaken by Muslim armies after Muhammad’s death?
Since Muhammad's passing, Muslim scholars developed a complex body of religious literature consisting of competing interpretations of the Qur'an and the Prophet's sayings and conduct. Eventually, the prevailing view dictated that the Medina verses abrogated earlier Meccan verses – based on a principle in verse 16:101: "When we substitute one revelation for another - and God knows best what He reveals (in stages) - they say, 'Thou are but a forger' but most of them understand not."
And thus the million-dollar question: Who amongst the religious scholars gets to decide the verses that abrogate and that get abrogated – how, why and on what basis? The intricacies involved are complicated, but in essence, the pro-abrogation perspective ultimately prevailed in matters of jihad because it was politically useful. Since then, it has become the rather accepted consensus amongst dominant and domineering Muslim scholars.
It is precisely this type of politically-motivated consensus that Mahmoud Mohammed Taha was mobilizing his nonviolent religious reform movement against. Specifically, he advocated for a new Sharia based on Meccan verses – a stance that many came to find controversial because in their view, Taha appeared to be dismissing the rest of the Qur'an consisting of Medina verses.
Still, while Taha's movement was relatively small, it was loyal and its ideas threatened the status quo. Consequently, Sudan's military regime, led at the time by the opportunistic dictator Jaafar al-Nimeiri – with alleged collaboration from elements of the Sudanese Muslim Brotherhood, particularly Hassan al-Turabi – conspired to bring down Taha, who was already in his 70s.
The despots made their move after Taha published a piece opposing the implementation of the government's version of the Sharia. For authoring it and distributing it, Taha was accused of apostasy and sedition. Taha refused to recant his beliefs and within days he was finished.
On January, 18, 1985, Taha was brought out for his hanging and again refused to recant. As a crowd of Muslim Brotherhood supporters cheered, he was executed. Then, to hinder Taha's followers from building a cult of martyrdom around him, his body was then flown by helicopter and secretly buried in a remote location, unknown til today.
Four months later, appalled Sudanese angry at the dictatorial regime's abuses took to the streets in a revolution that overthrew Nimeiri. Democratic rule was soon restored, only to be deposed again in 1989 by al-Turabi's National Islamic Front.
In a 2006 piece for The New Yorker, George Packer called Taha "The Moderate Martyr." But he wasn't. "Moderate" is but a relative term, used to describe inadequately one in contrast with worse company. In Taha's case, while some of his ideas were awkward, his message is ultimately so full of humanity, it puts him nowhere near the ruthless dictator and power-hungry Islamists who murdered him.
* This article is adapted from Amir Ahmad Nasr's forthcoming book “My Isl@m”.
هناك كلمة أعدت كتابتها بوضع / حتى لا يتم شطبها.
(عدل بواسطة Yasir Elsharif on 09-23-2013, 02:49 PM)
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Yasir Elsharif
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