Who am I?

My name is Asim Ahmad and I have been teaching the hadith of Kitab al-fitan and Ashrat al-Sa’at (Signs before the Day of Judgment) for over 15 years.

But the truth is that you don’t need to be any sort of instructor of hadith to realize that we live in the time of fulfilment of prophecies. Most if not all the minor signs the Prophet stated have materialized in our time. In fact, they are so commonplace, we hardly ever notice them even when they are before our eyes.

From the rise of modern communication technology to deterioration in the quality of our relationships, the Prophet forecasted many phenomena of the modern world. The base of all prophesies are the two cited in the hadith of Jibril: the rapid transformation of the Arabian Peninsula and second, the rise of a hostile new generation (part 1 and part 2 on the rapid transformation of the Arabian Peninsula).

The question is that now that we live in that time, what are we to do and what are our responsibilities?

We could all run to Madina Munawwara, as I have heard some suggest. But there is an easier way. The Prophet said that if a believer is steadfast on his worship, it is as if he has migrated to me. So you may live in New York, but if you are consistent in your worship, you are in Madina Munawwara with the Prophet. Likewise, if you are in Madina Munawwara but make no time for worship, you might as well be in New York.

Here is what we need to know about worship: it is harder than ever in our times. Too many distractions, too little time, and even less faith. But it is the only way to protect ourselves.

Worship is about transcendence. It is about jumping out of our shell, the trappings of our society and culture, and getting closer to Allah. Transcendence is what allows us to think outside of the box.We become outsiders looking in. If news corporations had this quality, all news would be unbiased, unslanted and objective.

Wouldn’t that make for a better world?

Our Prophet’s ability to see the future is based in revelation, but revelation itself is based on that special connection he had with Allah.

It was spiritual transcendence.

That is what empowered him and lifted the veils so he could prophesize our future.

At IslamToday, the purpose is to encourage worship so that we can transcend our own shells and complexes, be more objective and see the world from the outside looking in. Not from the perspective of a Muslim or non-Muslim, American or African, but from the perspective of a seeker who is struggling to save his/her faith in a world that is disintegrating before our eyes.

My story

My name is Asim (didn’t I already mention that? Oh, well). I studied the traditional darse nizami course (or the alimiyyat program, as it is often called) in three different madrasas (Islamic seminaries) from 1990-97. My first four years of the program were completed in Jamia Ashrafiyya in Lahore, Pakistan. This madrasa was founded by Mufti Hasan Amratsari, the famous khaleefa of Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi. I moved on from there and hopped over to Bury, England to study in the madrasa of the late Maulana Yusuf Mutala (may Allah fill his grave with light) for two years (94-95), completing my final year in the prestigious Jamiah Islamiyya Taleemuddin in Dabhel, India where Maulana Anwar Shah Kashmiri and many of his most eminent students like Maulana Yusuf Binnori taught for many years.

What I mean to say is that I am backward by modern standards since I do not hold a degree that is accepted by any secular institution or program.

But that is perfectly fine by me.

I have been too defiant in life to care what others feel or think about me. I follow my own path and hope I will be respected for that choice.

The only reason I never enrolled in a secular institution for most of my whole life was the fear of assimilation in thought and practice. Because I strongly believe that many of the viruses that corrupt our faith are imbibed in the secular education system we pass through in the developmental stages of life.

As I grow in life, I feel more confirmed in that opinion.

So, what exactly are you trying to say, Mr. Backward? Are you saying drop everything and live like Tarzan in the jungle or enroll in a traditional madrasa system?

Actually, neither.

What I am saying though is that we need to revive traditional Islam in our lives and communities and be more aware that the more we assimilate to the society around us, the more we have to lose than to gain. Let me explain through my own experience.

The 80’s

I was born in the 70’s in the U.S. though the world dawned on me somewhere in the 80’s. There weren’t a whole lot of Muslims at the time. The population of Muslims in my own hometown was so small, it could hardly be called a community. So, my parents reached out to Muslim families from other areas to help us cope with the isolation of being a minority.

The goal my parents had in mind, I think, was to provide some wholesome fun but in a more Islamic environment. It was the next best thing any expat parent could do outside of shipping their children back (via UPS) to their home countries.

I thank Allah that never happened.

I made some friends from the outreach community, though none of us really did anything Islamic.

Why would we?

We went to school like everyone else and learned all the same stuff (movies, girlfriends, fads and trends etc.) like everyone else. You could throw in some education on the side. The only major difference may be Sunday school in the masjid for about two hours a week. But that didn’t change much. If anything, it was just a nuisance from the materalistic goals that were determined for us at school—good job, good money, big house, nice car and other such schmeer.

I do not remember much of what I learned in the classroom from the teachers and textbooks, but do recall most everything else I imbued from a very rotten and materalistic environment. I remember the bullies who mocked you for buying from cheap ol’ Kmart, and how all the obsession was with fads, fun and friends, brand-name sneakers, and, oh yeah, the Cabbage Patch Dolls.

I never understood why everyone (including the boys) wanted those. Even myself. Because if everyone had to have it, then so did I. Otherwise, I risked being an outcast. The kids who couldn’t afford any of the things everyone else had were the butt of all jokes.

In this breeding ground of materialism, if I was an outcast I would suffer the same fate, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.

How could I not remember all this? It characterizes much of my love for the dunya over my deen and my desire to be what modern society wants me to be. My need to compromise my own nature and belief to just go with the flow.

To this day, it is something I seek and struggle to reform on a daily basis.

But it also led to my defiance. I don’t know where the attitude came from, but I had decided I will not bow to pressure or to the system.

I will wear the beard and an imama because that is what my Prophet (peace be upon him) liked, damn what anyone thought of it!

The traditional mindset helped foster that, but that later.

Anyhow, we were no different than the other kids/youth of the days of funky oversized collars and plaid jackets. Today, all those friends I made but for one vanished in the Melting Pot. They do not practice the deen, and I have good reason to believe that some may no longer even identify themselves as Muslims.

This painful story is not only my own. I think many Muslims born in my time struggled with assimilation and an identity crisis. Most didn’t make it through, and those who did, only made it because of support from their more religiously-inclined families, or divine intervention of some sort.

This was a growing phenomena that emerged with the reality of being a stereotyped religious minority confronted with two internal challenges; for one, an inferiority complex to the West and, secondly, a love for the ephemeral world over the Hereafter reflected in the alloting of two hours a week for deen and over 30 hours a week for secular education. Sometimes, those two hours a week were readily canceled for extracurricular activities, weekend getaways, or a stuffy nose.

The result?

A first-second generation of immigrant Muslims whose numbers were diminishing by the year.

And no one in the community cared.

I never heard the imams talk about it or the uncles and aunties, though it was transpiring right under their noses. Were we blindfolded by our love for dunya to that degree?

My father made the wise decision to pull me out of the public school system and enroll me in the traditional madrasa institutions overseas when I was 14, which I have been a part of ever since.

This is why I was a Muslim American, but not your typical one that also went to cinemas and secretly had a girlfriend and did many of the things mainstream America does. Mind you, I still wasn’t traditional, and I certainly wasn’t sinless then, nor am I now.

I just had my own way of getting around doing what I wanted to do. It was a little more benign, but nothing to ever be proud of.

Today, the West is still my home but within a traditional enclave that offers a juxtaposition of the Islamic and secular world all at once, almost like a state within a state.

Most of my musings in this blog are a comparative study and personal observations of both these two worlds that collide and yet are similar in so many ways. For one, they are both expansionist in nature that sets both on a permanent collision course, which I see our younger crowd struggling to overcome day in and day out. That doesn’t mean I support the thesis on Clash of Civilizations all the way, just that the theory is not all that wrong either.

The struggle between keeping a Muslim identity, being a proud Muslim and living in a secular society that seeks to swallow them whole is not easy, and it doesn’t make it any easier that expat parents who have never seen nor faced that struggle do not understand their children’s dilemma. Most of the older generation of emigrants from my background are tiger parents who typically demand one singular course of action:

get a degree and become a doctor or engineer!

There is very little wiggle room for negotiation in this matter. If not, the wrath of baba/papa/ abu/daddy (all titles included to accomodate all victims:) descends.

Tiger parents cannot stand for their children taking on blue-collar jobs because image and status matter. How about the issue of whether the job is halal and haram?

“Sing Hellulajah,” I say.

The thought processes that saved my faith despite all the odds until now are based in traditional Islam. I honestly see no other way to save our faith and our generations here in the western hemisphere.

The stories and lives of the Sahaba are a great way to revive traditional Islam because I see that many who become role models in our part of the world betray our trust.

Much of that has to do with our own stilted definition of a Muslim scholar. Many of the people we look up to as scholars are outstanding speakers, which we often translate into as pious Muslims, though being articulate about Islam and being a good Muslim is two very different things. Though, our criteria of a good Muslim doesn’t allow us to make that clear differentiation.

Some fell into scandals while many monetized their speaking capabilities into a money-making scheme.

I do not seek to make judgments about anyone but fame and money in our Islamic tradition are the two greatest threats to our faith; and they have corrupted many.

I too could be another victim.

This is why we must fear anything that stokes our innate desire for recognition. The social media is quite adept at that with the instant feedback system of likes and followers.

The camera lens also has produced a good share of celebrities out of perfectly average people. They are celebrated because they are telegenic and/or postured for the camera while saying the same stuff our predecessors have been saying for centuries, but in a more lively, entertaining way.

I seek Allah’s protection for all of us against these spiritual fitna.

None of these spiritual fitnas were an issue for the Sahaba. They died in the state that Allah and His prophet were pleased with them, which means that choosing them as our models of life poses no threat to our faith in this time.

Sure, they lived in a different age but human beings never change no matter what era they hail from. We all still love money, power, and fame as much as the ancestors did. That love is manifested in the same scenarios that have repeated themselves throughout history and continue to this day.

The stage changes, the characters are always the same.

Why do you think the epic Romeo and Juliet is so relevant even in our times? Why is the tragedy replayed in theater and rehashed so many times over to this day?

Because the basic theme of love at first sight always has run through the vein of human society, past, present and future.

Likewise, those who love the deen spread it in the past like the Sahaba did and still spread it now.

Before, they traveled far and wide from city to city and door to door. They rode horses and camels and preserved the sacred knowledge on parchments with inkpots and quills. Now, we use digital tools to achieve the same noble objectives.

They had to make a greater sacrifice because the times didn’t offer as much, while the modern stage does. But the drive is the same, the intention is the same, and the objective is the same.

Al in all, we believers are all in the same boat regardless of the epoch. So, taking the Sahaba as our examples is the safest way to reach Allah.

The Sahaba had received the divine stamp of approval.

While many fell victim to fame and wealth, there are those unsung scholars, activists, and community members in our time who adhere to the example of the Sahaba.

They might not be publicized by the cameras, but are working hard and have devoted their time and lives to guiding our communities in these tough times.

We are Muslims and believe like ones. But sometimes, I feel that we don’t always think like ones since we never had exposure to the traditional culture that helps us imbibe the ethos of our Prophet, the Sahaba, and pious predecessors.

I ask Allah to make my blog a source of guidance and blessings for myself and those who read and learn something from it.

Thank you to all my brothers and sisters, Muslim and non-Muslim, for visiting my blog!