Brooklyn Bedouin

From the Green Deen Cutting Floor...

Zaytuna co-founder, Hamza Yusuf wrote: “The Abrahamic religions are rooted in the mystery of time.”⁵⁰  You see the sun setting and the moon taking its place. You think quickly, “did I make wudu?” You run to the door, slip on a pair of shib shib or chupples – flip flops basically - and you walk under the shade of the vines. There is a mist in the air that cools your lips. You walk on the concrete at first but then decide to go barefoot, through the long grass and the dew from the mist washes between your toes.  

You arrive in the bathroom and there you make sure that you are in state of ritual purity. It has been a busy day full of both the good and the bad and you want to be pure. First the hands – for what you did that day, then the mouth – for what you said that day, then the nose – to cleanse your soul, then your face  - so that you shine to the angels that gather around for prayer time, then your arms up to your elbows, then your ears and over your head to your neck. You finish by washing each foot. You have made wudu, what billions of Muslims do everyday all around the world. What the millions do in the USA everyday all around the country. You must come to prayer and acts of worship clean and sober.⁵¹  

Then the teacher arrives. The air is filled, as you expected with the smell of the burning Ud tree. He whisks briskly up to the front of the class. All the students have arranged themselves. Some that were offering extra prayers finish and then get situated. The class begins. He begins with a small prayer whose structure is simple – praising Allah – the omnipotent One with no partners and None like Him, praising His humble servant and Last Messenger, and then praying for your teachers, family, and finally for yourself.  

The wiry and sun worn Mauritanian Shaikh Salek arrives like a finely tuned timepiece to call the adhan, the announcement that the prayer will commence shortly, and then the more immediate, iqama – that prayer will commence now. You will break to pray Magrib, or the prayer that happens just after sunset, and he will offer precisely the same Surahs, or chapters of the Qu’ran, every time he does it in class, so that if you are paying careful attention to his recitation, you can learn to recite them by listening – and if you are committed student, you will learn by doing it later, and then learn by writing it, and then learn by teaching. None of us truly knows anything unless we can teach it to someone else.  

Halfway through the class you notice that some people are moving faster than others. You find yourself in the middle and look to your faster and slower neighbors to either catch up or support them. The teacher does not move to another lesson unless the class has sufficiently moved forward together. You have learned a visceral lesson an aspect of Islam that is essential to understanding the ecological nature of the Qu’ran, that is the concept of Tawhid, or oneness. Since you know Islam is monotheistic, and you accept that there is nothing else worthy of worship but Allah, that part is simple. But Tawhid also has an all-inclusive aspect to it – in this class the whole of the class is one. So moving forward must proceed with all literally on the same page.  

As you grow deeper into the study of the Arabic you find that your eyesight sharpens. Not the sharpness of someone that does not need glasses – you still need those – but you see and focus on different things. As the instructor writes you subconsciously pick out letters and can sound them out, you see phrases and can identify them quicker, and you see the structure of possession so that you can begin to make out sentences. It is then that you begin to make out more and more of the different signs in nature and in the Earth that perhaps you may not have seen before.  

As class comes to a close you linger in the line of those waiting to ask the instructor a question. In the meantime you are meditating on what it felt like to be there, yet another time, focusing your vision, and most importantly orienting your soul.   

The instructor has always been careful to tell the class that the prerequisite is to come to the Qu’ran (or any religious text for that matter) with your heart – not your mind. We use our minds everyday all day. For you it was initially hard but he challenged you to think WITH your heart. You live in such a cerebral world that can rationalize near anything. He offered a parable of a person coming up with a reason to kill someone. While the mind would be able to plot and execute this act, our heart would have us shaking and convulsing at simply thinking of it. Because you have ever gotten into a fight then your knew what he was talking about. You could tell yourself anything with your mind, and you can be totally justified, but your heart will still hate the fact that you engaged in violence – you would tremble, feel terrible even though your rational mind made complete sense out of it. Your heart houses your addictions, your compulsions, your inner truths, even your illusions. We can rationalize and intellectualize all of those things to be truths, or that we have our addictions under control, that we even have our emotions under control, or that our illusions are real, and our hidden truths no longer exist – but our heart, our heart forces the truth out – always. Your heart never lies; it is the most connected organ to your soul.  

A learned Yemeni once said, Qur’an does not mention the brain at all yet repeatedly mentions the heart, over one hundred times in fact.⁵² For a serious seeker studying the Qu’ran as evidence of an Omnipotent God who has done nothing less than properly apportion you for the environment, order the stars and planets into fixed orbits, make an invisible energy field called gravity keeping everything in its place on Earth, make plants and animals our friends, protectors, and sustenance, and rain water on us so that our bodies stay moist – oh and perfectly position your heart in relationship to all your other organs so that you can live – plus making your soul and literally everything else: time, love, feelings. The Qu’ran, to Muslims is His last message. The heart is the seat of all this knowledge and wisdom.  

You know that our hearts need healing. We are addicted to a pollution-based way of living, an economic system that is focused more on consumption than well being  - of course we can rationalize this approach to the management of water, waste, energy, and food, but not when you thinking with your heart. This sort of heart-based approach will disallow you to rationalize your actions – because then you have to feel AND think about them. As you wait to speak with the teacher you look around you at the empty class. At the light bulbs sucking energy probably from a coal powered plant, you hear car driving away with students in oil powered vehicles – oil derived from a war torn place and extracted with no thought as to what would be the consequence for the air and the natural environment. It becomes very clear that what we are doing to our natural world is a shame, it is simply wrong, and there is a better way to operate. 

  

Me and my Mom :)

Fox News Interview with Ibrahim Abdul-Matin

Fox took it down but i got it back...  so here it is!

My World was an Urban Jungle...

My world was an urban jungle in the dawning of the age of crack and rap. When I was 5 years old I thought that the entire world was a sea of buildings. What shattered that reality was none other than my father.

There is a place just outside of New York City, just north, called Bear Mountain. You can get there by driving or even by bike. In the early 80’s my father took my older brother, my sister, and myself out there. I must have been 5 years old and that moment transformed the way that I would see the world forever.

Bear Mountain was a hiking paradise for the casual hiker and we were exactly that – little Black Muslim city kids walking around in the country for the first time. What I recall from that trip was moss growing on rocks, mushrooms on rotting wood, and drinking my first drink box where you have a straw to poke into the box. I had never been to a place that was not city. The lesson was the most clear and simple one.

On a personal note, I was raised Muslim by my parents who converted to Islam. Both my parents were attracted to the fellowship and empowerment message of the Nation of Islam. It is important to note that the Nation of Islam was more of a Black Nationalist religion and less of actual Islam. There is considerable writing on this. However the NOI had value in its emphasis on economic independence – an old fashioned self-reliance that was powerful enough to transform the lives of millions – like the lives of those in my community and family. The NOI contributed mightily to the Civil Rights movement which paved the way for Muslim immigrants coming from countries where immigration had previously been severely limited.

Where the NOI went wrong is that it did not officially follow the Sunnah – the example of the Prophet. My parents, along with many others, were then naturally drawn to a deeper connection with Islam and soon converted to Islam in its traditional form. I was the first child who, from birth, was “born Muslim” in my family. Meaning that my father recited the call to prayer in my right ear just as I was out of my mother, it was the first sound I heard on Earth.

  

My fathers’ family comes from Upstate NY where my grandfather was born on a Native American reservation in 1908 and from Virginia where my grandmother was one of nine in a traditionally well-educated churchgoing black family. When you go back to Scottsburg Virginia you can still see the grave markers from my extended family going back to the 1860’s. We are a proud people very much rooted in the land. There was some legend that suggested we even had family members that fought in the Revolutionary War. We are an All-American family in many respects.

My father was raised in Queens but took his summers in Virginia for this reason he always loved and respected the natural world. As a city kid and then a city father he took it upon himself to imbibe us with a love of the natural world himself. When he took us out to Bear Mountain my father stopped to pray one of the five mandatory prayers and told when we asked him if he could pray in the woods he told us: “the Earth is a Mosque”.

Conversations with a Pakistani Christian...

He started the conversation talking about a Muslim “Uncle” who was rather secular and then went back home to Pakistan and came back talking about Allah this and Allah that. – seemingly hyper religious. 

My Pakistani friend expressed concern about something in particular. He told me that because he is Pakistani and Christian (and in Brooklyn his community is small, and the majority of Pakistanis are Muslim that he grew up around Muslims) saying As-salaamu-alaikum (Peace and Blessings be Upon You) was like saying whassup, how ya doing – hello; normal and easy to do.

So when this particular uncle came back with his new found so-called religiosity and with some of his other newly religious uncles (older brothers) they informed him that they would no longer accept hearing the traditional blessing in the form of a greeting from him simply because he was not Muslim. WWPMD?

I mention this conversation because it led to another series of conversations that illuminated something quite troubling in regards to racism, halal, and the importance of knowing where your food comes from as well as illuminating that so-called religiosity from the outside says nothing about a persons inner state. 

In the Christian tradition there is a principle of the charity and sharing of the message or sharing the good news, not everyone has to do that per say, but it is considered part of your good works. Some people make it their mission or their calling and others simply are a good example and live their lives with such good character that they call people to their faith by their example.

Islam has a similar ethic. Dawah, which means to call, to appeal, or missionary activity, or a good wish, among other meanings. For some that means specifically and actively calling people to Islam but to others the application of this principle is the same as it is with Christians  - it is how your example resonates in such a way that calls people to your particular path. You example of good character can speak much louder than your words. 

If you are telling people that they cannot give you greetings of peace and blessings because they are not Muslim then you are not setting a good example. In fact you are setting a very very BAD example. 

That same cab driver was so hurt by this “uncle” (who was the father of his friend) because their families had broken bread many times and their kids play with one another as well. The uncle closed a door and destroyed a bridge between two families based on some absurd interpretation of his own bigotry.

Speaking of bigotry. The same Christian brother, lets call him Vic, lives in an area where he has the option of going to halal delis that are near one another. He goes to one all the time where the brother that works there has as his workers some Mexican gentlemen who do the behind the counter cutting of the meat. One day he decides to go to the other deli where the brother behind the counter tells him that he sees him going into the other deli all the time and has been wondering when he would stop byt HIS halal deli and proceeds to tell Vic that his deli is MORE halal because he cuts the meat himself… that because Vic’s usual place has Mexicans cutting the meat it is LESS halal. WHAT??!! WWPMD?

And speaking of Halal… Vic also related a story of back in the day when the meatpacking district was still the meatpacking district and when some of his Pakistani friends would be told to go out and get halal meat. Instead of going to known halal meat dealer they would simply go to the meatpacking district and come back with meat killed any old way and tell people it was halal.

Leave it to a Pakistani who can “pass” as Muslim to call out the Muslims. A moral of the story is watch where you get your meat. If you are trying to keep Halal then you better know where the meat was killed and who killed it etc.. Do not take it for granted that Halal and zabiha mean those things but don't always operate with suspicion when you eat at a Muslim persons' home. If they tell you the meat is halal that is between them and Allah. 

This leads me to the future: Green Deen Food is Clean Food for the Future.

In a little land called Green Zabiha where you know that your little chickens roam freely and eat off the land, that they are vegetarian fed and happy chickens. In Green Deen, InshAllah, I will tell you more about the alternative to racists and questionable zabiha… the everyday people making Green Zabiha happen now!

WWPMD? What Would Prophet Muhammad Do? - peace and blessings be upon him. 

bb

Eid Mubarak to All!

When i was a boy living in upstate ny i remember going to an Eid celebration in Binghamton NY with my family. The Muslim community in that part of the world was small but we represented as well as we could. My father and some of the brothers stood around the perimeter and kept a careful watch over the gathering and i took part in the thikr vigorously. I recall that it rained that day. I remember thinking that there had never been and Eid that i could not recall it raining. It was the first Eid that i recall being very aware of from a spiritual perspective - that the rain was more than just a nuisance, that perhaps the rain was a message of something far greater. I was cluing into the power of water. Or, better said, the Power of Allah with rain as one of His signs.

The majority of the Eid’s ever since have had some form of rain, snow, something faling from the skies. I am writing about Eid because in this year when an Oakland imam gave a kutba about our nafs - you know the concept? our lower desires - and that Ramadan is about our soul, the part of us that does not need to eat, sleep, shit, have sex, taking a moment to look at our nafs - the part of us that is tied inextricably to here - this life, and that if let out of control our nafs can totally undermine our knowledge of our soul and our success in this and the next life...

the Greatest Jihad is controlling the Nafs - prayer is forcing them to submit,

Ramadan is a time to see, observe, to take stock of your relationship with your nafs... and to get them to submit. The nafs are your compulsions, your ego, and they never stop in trying to control what you are doing. He inner battle, the real soul struggle is with the nafs. Again, it is called the greatest Jihad, the greatest  holy war, because the soul and the nafs constantly go at it.

This year i have been pulling back and observing the places where i am compulsive, the  places where i am not as much in control and feel more guided by animal like instinct. Noting that space and then marking it down - determined to not let me nafs control my soul because my soul is the undying part - i want to serve the Divine.

Strangely, this is the first Ramadan that i will be unable to celebrate Eid in community.

I usually go with a reliable sighting of the new moon as reported via the folks at Zaytuna and Crescent watch, see below:

Crescentwatch has not received any reliably confirmed reports of the new crescent moon being sighted in North America this evening, Saturday Sep. 19.

On the basis of numerous negative reports from California, Texas, and Florida, we will complete the 30th day of Ramadan tomorrow and celebrate Eid al-Fitr on Monday September 21, 2009 in sha Allah along with millions of other Muslims worldwide.

A number of claims have been made to sightings of the moon in the United States on Saturday evening, in locations as diverse as Buffalo, New York; New Orleans, Louisiana; and Lodi, California. We have taken the time to evaluate these claims individually and found them to be unreliable. In each case, some of the testimony provided by the witness did not match with widely agreed upon, simple observational facts, known to any person who makes a habit of consistently sighting the moon.

* We are aware of confirmed moon sightings in Guyana & Surinam, South America, and that some organizations have decided to accept those sightings for their determination of the date of Eid. In line with the criteria Crescentwatch used begin the month of Ramadan and that we, and numerous other moon sighting organizations, have been using for many years, Crescentwatch currently accepts confirmed sightings only from the continental U.S. and Canada.

However, acceptance of reliable sightings outside of those boundaries is an entirely valid fiqh position, and would allow for people to celebrate Eid on Sunday. Zaytuna Institute, Crescentwatch, the Hilal Sighting Committee of North America, and numerous other organizations have decided to stick with the standard continental U.S. sighting region, until a broad consensus on such important changes can be reached.

For all those that are celebrating Eid Sunday or Monday, we wish you Eid Mubarak. May Allah accept your fast and all your efforts during Ramadan.
Last Updated: September 19, 2009  23:26 PST
Posted: September 19, 2009  20:10 PST

I happen to be in California right now. Basically, i am fasting today. but in NYC the communities i am a part of are celebrating Eid today. I am leaving tonight, God Willing, and the communities that are celebrating the Eid tomorrow are having their prayer service tomorrow morning.

Basically. for the first time in my life i will not be able to enjoy the Eid in company of other people. For a Ramadan that has been about taming my nafs i can think of no better way for it to end. This process has been between me and Allah - of course, i have shared some insights on my blog and with friends, but at the end of the day - talk is cheap - it is our actions that shine and speak for us. That is a great reminder, the most excellent lesson that i could ever be blessed with in this most auspicious time.

Eid Mubarak and Eid Kareem to All. Allah is All-Seeing and All-Knowing, and the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. To Him i come from and to Him i will return. Blessings to Prophet Muhammad and all the rightly Prophets and Uluma.  May he accept our fasting, the best of our intentions, and may Allah grant us the best of our affairs in this life, and save us from the Abasement of this life and may Allah save us from the Punishment of the Fire in the Hereafter. I say this for myself, my mother, my father, my siblings, my aunts and uncles, my teachers, my imam’s, for someone special and her family and her teachers, and for the Muslim umma as a whole - particularly the strivers in NYC and California. Blessings to Prophet Muhammad and all the rightly Prophets and Uluma. Allah is the Most High, Allah, the Sublime, Ya Allah Ya Allah - there is nothing worthy of worship but Allah. Amin.

ps- look for rain today :)

bb-

Breathe peace, not nicotine!

Tarawih prayers let out on Steinway Street, and the chattering crowd moves slowly down the block through the low hanging smoke. There are almost 25 Hookah cafes in an approximately one-block stretch. With lolling fat men with mustaches and nubile nymphettes showing bare shoulders as they sip from Shisha pipes, the scene is from a bad 1950’s sword and sandal epic, perhaps a tale spun off from the Bible and populated with eye-rolling Philistines and other Hollywood “Middle Eastern” types. It is an orgy of Arab self-indulgence—and a carnival of cancer.

 

The fast of Ramadan is meant to help free us from bad habits. But as the month ends, how many of us have used this time to get free of the smoking habit?  Since starting a program called Nafis Salaam to study and stop smoking among Muslims, I have begun to notice smokers everywhere, and especially among the young. I see them clustered in doorways, I notice their itchy fingers and hungry mouths, I smell them smoking next door and downstairs, I notice their air of defensiveness, evasion and sometimes desperation.

 

Every day in the USA, 4,000 young people start smoking. And every year, some 400,000 Americans die from smoking related illnesses. Around the world, some Muslim ethnicities have the highest rates of smoking—over 50 percent among Turks, Bosnians, Muslims from the former Soviet republics, Bangladeshis. Arab communities’ smoking rates are also increasing, as tobacco companies target them in marketing. Studies demonstrate how sedentary and unhealthy many Arab nations are becoming, with increasing rates of cancer and heart disease.

 

Consumption of unbalanced foods and well as cigarettes is affecting your friends and neighbors. While perhaps slightly healthier than cousins back home, the South Asians in New York have been found to have a 28% rate of diabetes. And Nafis Salaam’s polls of over 150 diverse New York Muslims show that over 50 percent are regularly exposed to second hand smoke. We should be alarmed by this health crisis.

 

On top of this, we are now seeing the rapid spread of Shisha as an economic engine, chic—or kitschy--celebration of identity, and a habit that is more dangerous to your health than cigarettes. Steinway Street rakes in the cash from nargila pipes, while everywhere Yemeni and Egyptian delis sell packet after packet despite the prohibitive prices.

 

This is self-imposed genocide. This is mass delusion. We do this to ourselves. Interesting that NYC Mayor Bloomberg should ignore these Shisha cafes, making an exception to his tough anti-smoking laws. This exception easily kills more Arabs than Israelis killed in Gaza. Why, when even in Baghdad and in Istanbul new regulations against smoking are finally being implemented?

  

Unless they are smokers, imams are generally very clearly against smoking. Some will deliver passable Khotbas on the subject. And yet, how very few will organize AA style support groups for quitters in their congregations. I have floated the idea—but the real push for this must come from within the congregation. So many Muslims are passive consumers of religion and have low expectations. African American communities seem a step ahead on understanding the need for social services, but are woefully under-funded. Someone has to start this service! How will our mosques grow into the healing gardens they were meant to be?

 

Many leaders have promised to help our Nafis Salaam program, but are slow to water our own gardens. Imams should step up to the plate on smoking prevention and cessation, no messy gender issues for them since it mainly affects male Muslims. We hope to soon have videos of imams' khotbas posted along with quitters’ stories. We would also be willing to post your personal stories.

 

As we go through the NYC Muslim community, I meet men and women who tell me stories—of loved ones unable to quit, who die suddenly, of their own attempts and frustration, and also stories of victory. ‘I feel so healthy and clean” they say. “I can taste food again!”

 

Recently I have been reading some Ibn al Arabi passages that remind us that how we treat our bodies is a service to God. I have to admit I hardly ever think this way. I wonder: if we were all more in touch with this intimate truth, would we be more tender towards His creation, and to each other?

 

Addiction is such a prison and smoking is a internal rendition. It is not enough to hate this evil in our hearts! It is more appropriate to ask, “How can I help?”  You may risk a sour look, but why not tell Muslim merchants not to sell this haraam. Even if you think it is just Makruh, help your friends and family to get free. Help them lovingly.

 

And if you are a smoker reading this please know that this struggle to quit is a form of the Greatest Jihad. Let us all celebrate quitters, and seek the inner freedom through struggle, insha’Allah. There are streams of waters beneath our feet along smoky Steinway Street— you can almost hear these silent waters--healing is so near. Breathe peace, not nicotine, not 15 known carcinogens.

 

Our community can often seem like a broken thing. With the self-congratulatory public iftars, the insecurities and blame, all the habits of our beleaguered cultures, it is as if we sit on a hill of ants. But we can begin to listen to our human souls, in order to address the disconnect between cultural versions of Islam and the spirit of the deen.

If you think you might be able to help us develop this movement of awareness against the smoking habit, a movement of liberation and empowerment, a hope for new life, please be in touch. Please contact or call 718 512 5176. Peace to you.

this is a re-post from Adem Carroll of the Muslim Consultative Network

How Hearts Change...

“What conversation are you having inside yourself?”

I walk around the crowded streets of Manhattan, listening to the calls of the sneaker sellers, the street meat vendors, passing rows and rows of plants and flowers that crowd the side streets below the garment district. I walk to the mosque in the middle of the day to pray my midday prayers.

One day as I was leaving I came upon a young Bengali brother who I knew from going to Baruch College. We chatted and talked and he walked me near to my block – going about 5 blocks out of his way to accommodate me. The next day we met again, and I paid him the same courtesy and we walked 5 blocks out of my direction. He told me a story:

He said it was a Hadith, which I cannot narrate the chain of authenticity so please forgive me. I will relate what he told me because it is relevant in terms of our responsibility to one another, our understanding of what it means to lives as brothers and sisters on this planet earth, and for its connection to the concept of justice in Islam.

The false choice we make in the United States is between a sense of a collective responsibility and our so-called rugged individualism. Obama mentioned it in his speech on health care last night. And it comes to mind when I think of the story the young brother related.

He said that in the time of the Prophet  - peace and blessings be upon him – there was a very rich man praying, and a very poor man lined up next to him and began praying. The rich man brushed off his shoulder signaling that he did not want to pray next to this poor man. Upon the end of the salat the Prophet was told of this and subsequently commanded the rich man to give the poor man half of his wealth. The poor man refused the wealth because he did not want to become such as the rich man. Allah knows best, forgive me if I have related it wrong.

“What conversation are you having inside yourself?”

So I began walking back to my office, over one block, down another, into the dregs of the garment district where they fix sewing machines and hagglers wrestle over the price of thread and needles, then over another block and down a stretch. En route I came upon a fruit vendor selling an assortment that included dates. I rarely see a fruit vendor selling dates (especially during Ramadan) so I bought 4 for a dollar and he put them (wastefully) into a plastic bag. Clutching the plastic bag I proceeded along my merry way until I turned on a street I rarely turn and then to my left saw a young man sitting against a building with a sign on cardboard written in English saying that he was homeless, hungry, and would accept any assistance. He was different than the other people in The City with these types of signs. Why? Because he was NOT white. Usually I see young wayward white youth hawking in NYC in this manner.

This man was Indian. Not what I expected to see. I passed him then turned back and of course gave him the bag with the dates. The smile on his face was enough to make me tear. Not because what I did was so special, but because we shared a very human moment. I was ecstatic for that smile – I may have made his day but he seriously made mine.

“What conversation are you having inside yourself?”

THE conversation --- about hearts and how they change:

Signs for those who Reflect

Literally everyday of Ramadan has its own miracles. Today was not different. Even still, I am stunned by them and anticipate them. It is like knowing that The Creator is going to do something special for you (besides properly apportion you for the environment, order the stars and planets into fixed orbits, make an invisible energy field called gravity keeping everything in its place on earth, make plants and animals our friends, protectors, and sustenance, and rain water on us so that our bodies stay moist – oh and perfectly position my heart in relationship to all my other organs so that I can live – plus making my soul and literally everything else: time, love, feelings, etc…) Still, everyday I feel like Allah gives me a special opportunity to reflect in a way that is like a mini revelation. In Ramadan I suppose I am keenly tuned in.

It is the month that the Angel Gabriel would relate the signs of Allah in the form of Arabic verse, and ordered divinely to our Nabi (saws), so that now we have a collection called The Quran. SO being open-hearted an able to discern the previously indiscernible is quite likely.

Regarding my heart… a dear friend sent me this:

There’s this pace in all of us that wants to love, a soft childlike place – the place that can connect easily to spirit, to God, to joy. This place is the most exposed and hurting during times of heartbreak. Much of the time, we aren’t as connected to this part of us. But in heartbreak we can connect easily, we are constantly mindful of this soft part. We have a unique opportunity to open up to this part – to fall in it – to let groundlessness be grounding. We can see with new eyes when we are seeing from this soft place – we can see ourselves differently and move in different ways. If we allow it, we can learn, grow, and love, pray, eat, sleep, and work more intensely & with more presence and awareness than ever before. We have new insight, we can become more awake. If we don’t fight it. This is ultimately a chance to surrender.

So with these new eyes, with this open heart, with a situation where I needed to really take a look at myself and find out what I can do to get myself right within I have been spending more time around the elders in my Muslim community. As a result I came across a recurring friendship with Brother Abdul Qadir, of Masjid At-Taqwa, the special assistant to Imam Siraj. He and I have been talking, building, me listening and learning from my elder. This is a miracle in itself – time with an elder black anchor in my community. Especially since both of my grandfathers passed long before I could come to know them.

Well, it turns out that this brother also has a role in my life that I did not even know. It has to do with him and my mother. Here’s how she tells it:

“I was a freshman in college, he would sell Muhammad speaks, on Franklin Ave, I  started buying the paper and would go to this progressive afro centric shop to get black stuff …  that sorta stuff was still relatively new in 1970. We would talk about the Nation and eventually invited me to the mosque on 116^th street first, its’s where I first took shahada, prior to taking that I was in college taking a religious course, I took theology and liberation, that and other courses, one of instructors was a Muslim from Egypt, gave me a Quran he got in 1952, the year I was born – I was planning to convert, serious thinking, I had gone to the mosque on 72^nd and riverside [now the 96^th street mosque] and went a few times, and never felt quite at home and that is why I joined the nation of Islam. He would come by the house and sell the paper, and soon I became active with the paper, then I became one of the secretaries, over the years we would always recognize one anther. [as the community grew more insular and less accepting of difference] He was one of the people that was never harsh, never judged me”

Brother Qadir did not take me under his wing because he knew who my mother was. But when he did find out he shocked me and mentioned the street where my mother grew up. After that we became buddies. Last night after iftar at Taqwa (Imam Siraj returned yesterday too and I handed him a date that he broke his fast with!) we rushed to his house and ate some strip steak, green beans, and brown rice his wife left for us. A wonderful circle of faith and fellowship in black and Muslim Brooklyn – that is a Ramadan Miracle, and its one for the ages.

bb

 

The Heart and why you should Quit Smoking.

I see this arab brother every year. He is frail but sturdy, scraggly but tidy. He drives a cab – a favorite profession amongst immigrant Muslims in NYC. He always smiles and in his voice you can hear the effects of too many years of inhaling smoke, the smoke from Marlboro cigarettes, on his throat – but it is till nice to hear his voice.

We first met when I too enjoyed that pastime from time to time. knowing full well that it was a nasty and dirty habit and that it was no good for me. Still, our propensity is to think of goods and bads, particularly when it comes to matters of the physical body, purely in terms of scientific ramifications. We never think of the unseen.

I recall him standing outside the Masjid one day during Ramadan, we had just broken our fast, and it was still decent weather so people were not huddled inside. The after sunset prayer was offered, and the meal was eaten, but other people – like him – had other more important matters to attend to. He needed a cigarette.

I looked at him when I exited and laughed a little and asked if he was going to give them up for the month of Mercy – Ramadan. He smiled, he knew he should have but he did not. Now, I see him often. We sometimes arrive at the Masjid for the mid-afternoon prayer around the same time, just after the larger group has prayed, and so we pray together. Almost everytime I see him I ask : “you quit yet?” and he laughs and says, “no, but I should” and then we laugh and go about our way.

Yesterday, after being reminded of the importance of the dua just before you break your fast, i was sitting in the same masajid where we often run into one another, I made that dua and wiped tears from my eyes - praying of matters of the heart nonetheless, and I looked up. The man who calls us to prayer was walking towards the Mihrab, the part of the mosque that is pointing to Mecca, and then my buddy passed by me. I asked the same question:

“you quit this Ramadan?”

“no, no,” he laughs, “they’re ready for just after prayer” he said, pulling a pack of Marlboro cigarettes out of his pocket.

Then I told him what made me never want to even think about smoking again. What made me truly ashamed for my soul and for the souls of others that smoke and for the souls of all the people in the world that are connected to those that smoke. It all started when I read a translation of the writings of a scholar named Ibn Al-Qayyem, well- really it started when a Shaikh from Turim said in a class:

“tell me one part of the Quran that talks about your brain, you can’t,” he continued, “Allah mentions the heart repeatedly but not the brain”

The heart.

We live in such a cerebral place that we can rationalize near anything. We can come up with a reason to kill someone. But our heart would have us shaking and convulsing at doing such a terrible act. Similarly to our addictions, our compulsions, our inner truths, our illusions. We can rationalize and intellectualize all of those things to be truths, or that we have our addictions under control, that we even have our emotions under control, or that our illusions are real, and our hidden truths no longer exist – but our heart, our heart forces the truth out – always.

It is this pulsating glob of flesh that sends blood to every part of our body – literally having an effect on the entire magnificent system. In Ibn Al-Qayyem’s writings I learned a simple scientific truth of the heart – that it is a warm organ and it is surrounded by a cooling organ – the lungs.

The translator added: “the lungs have been made as a ventilator for it (the heart) and they constantly blow on it (to keep it cool). This is because the heart is the hottest of the body parts. Rather it is a spring of heat.”

I understand now that when we smoke we are inhaling the corrosive and the burning and it is enveloping our heart - already hot and now we singe it from an outside source. We stain and put a mark on our hearts. We already deal with heartache and sorrow, but the heart can overcome these things, it is built to hold and to forget and to stay beating. 

Now, I also understand that in the realm of the unseen:

The translator added: “The heart provides energy to the senses, a non-physical energy that does not require any particular paths and nerves to be it carrier”

What then are we constricting when we inhale pollutants? What about the pollutants in the air or in the food that we eat? I focus on the act of smoking because it is a deliberate and conscious act that is preventable. It is the cause of millions of deaths every year and yet we knowingly choose to engage in it. For a moment think again about all of the things you inhale on a daily basis. If you could control all of it in a positive way – would you not?

The rational mind can kill another. The rational mind can kill itself. The heart is unable to cosign on this.

The Prophet (peace and Blessings be Upon him), reported by Al-Bukhari and Muslim, said:

“Verily, there is in the body a piece of flesh, that if it is correct, the rest of the body will be correct due to it, and if it is corrupt, then the rest of the body will be corrupt due to it. Verily, it is the heart.”

I shared this with the brother. He shook his head. I patted my hand on my heart and asked him if he would start thinking about his heart when he took a drag of his cigarette. “ I need to” I replied.

If you smoke. So do you. The Creator Knows Best.

 

bb

 

Slow Down Muslims...

A few early Ramadan reflections.

A few years ago I was celebrating Eid in Oakland California at MacArthur Park. It was a typically lovely day, bright sun, hot but a cool breeze, and the Muslims of 31^st street mosque – mostly Arabs and East Africans – were enjoying the day with their families.

I was alone as is the case for a part-time partying, hanging out and single Muslim, still engrossed in the fine line of hypocrisy of dunya, and deen. A place all too familiar with many in my generation and our parents’ generation. For us it was navigating being raised Muslim in this very secular world, for our parents it was navigating making money and participating in this secular world while trying to raise children and learning a new culture – regardless if they were immigrant or not, and if they were immigrant – learning the culture that their children were being raised…

That was a digression. Let me bring you back to Oakland. I was running. I thought I dropped my cell phone. I did. A older Muslim brother, and “uncle” pulled me aside and said something plain, simple: “slow down” he said.

In my mouth I agreed. In my mind I said, “he doesn’t understand the pace of the life I lead”

My heart tells me now that he did and that is why he said what he said.

Just the other morning I woke up to make the late night prayer. In doing so I re-read a part of Fiq-us-Sunnah that reminds people not to rush going to prayer.

There it was again: SLOW DOWN.

Just days before I had seen the beginnings of a fire, and ran to prayer, the passage I read was relating a saying of the Prophet – Peace and Blessings be Upon him – which instructed people to come to the place of prayer in a state of peace. Not to rush.

I decided that morning that I would try and incorporate that into my day. What I found was that remembrance of Allah and placing blessings upon the Prophet slows me down and makes me more aware. It becomes a walking state of submission and things literally fall into place.

Yesterday it all did fall into place. In the morning i applied that pace to my walk for fajr at Masjid Tawhid, and i arrived right on time. I recited my remembrances in the daytime on my way to A R Rahman for Dhur and Asr prayers. And in the evening I had an engagement – a Iftar at the Mayor’s ceremonial home – Gracie Mansion. He invited some Muslim leaders from throughout the city to eat a yummy Turkish meal and spend time with one another. I had to walk from west to east to get on the train on Lexington. The whole time I sent blessings to the Prophet and walked at a even, measured pace, keeping my gaze focused just slightly down and slightly in front of me and my peripheral vision alive for any danger.

I walked to Lexington, and then I turned left. Instead of getting on at 28^th, which I almost did, I turned and walked up to 33^rd . I got down the stairs and the train arrived. I kept up my remembrances and blessings leaning against a door. Soon I was standing above another Muslim brother who tapped me on my elbow offering an earphone – I plugged it in and he had Qur’an playing. It was the most beautiful way for things to fall into place.

My walk to the Mansion was also serendipitous because I walked with a West African Imam who happens to be a major leader in the NYC community. Forgive me that I forget his name, but we walked, that same pace, to the entrance… and the gathering of Muslims… overlooking the East River, in The City of my Birth…

Allahuma salli ala saydinna Muhammad….