By Salma T. Wahdy

“If any do deeds of righteousness—

be they male of female—

and have faith, they will enter Heaven,

and not the least injustice will be done to them.

“Who can be better in religion than one

who submits his whole self to ALLAH, does good,

and follows the way of Abraham the true in faith?

For ALLAH did take Abraham for a friend.”

HOLY QUR’AN 4:124-125

IT WAS A GREAT BLESSING OF GOD

that He allowed me to be born into a Muslim family. Not only was my family Muslim by name, but they followed all the tenets of orthodox ISLAM, so I was brought up learning to pray, to fast, to revere the Holy Ka’ba in al-Makkah.

I was always proud of being a Muslim, proud of being different than everybody else in school. My religion was not limited only to within me, but also without, as we followed its dictates on clothing, behavior, speech, manners, and conduct.

Beginning in first grade (six years old) I covered my hair with a scarf and when I began fifth grade whilst only nine, I began to wear the complete hijab. My classmates became accustomed to the sight of me, but did not accept it¾for children can be cruel in their ignorance. This did not disturb me, however, for even inside I felt different than others. I was not like them.

I was too young to fully grasp the complete spirituality of my religion, perhaps, for in my young age I still looked on life with a two-dimensional glance. I believed in God, but I followed his dictates and laws much like any other piece of nature, naturally succumbing to His Will with no further thought. I knew I was to pray, wear hijab, fast in the Holy Month of Ramadan, be charitable¾these were all natural for me, the way I ordinarily lived. I had been brought up to do all these things. I knew about death and of Heaven and Hell. I felt so intimate with all these aspects. I knew how many blessings we received for praying extra, for being obedient to my parents, for being kind to my little sisters, for trying to help others, for studying hard in school. I knew about the grave, and the questions that would be asked me, about the after-life, its description, and the weighing of the good and bad deeds. I knew of the description of Hell and those doomed to live there and the description of Heaven and those blessed to live there

I knew of all the Prophets (May God be pleased with them all), and felt so close to them that I would at turns, whilst engaged in reading about them, feel happy for them in their successes or sorry for them in their failures. I particularly sympathized with Noah, for having lived for so long and having gained so few adherents. Prophet Moses was another favorite and I loved giggling over the story when he punched the Angel of Death in the eye to ward off death. I especially loved Prophet Jesus. His uncompleted life fascinated me and I used to pray that I might one day live to see him when he returned to finish his life; be part of it all when he would win the world for the believers. Be in the world that had a Prophet living in it, although his message would not be different.

Yet of course the dearest of all the Prophets was the Messenger of God, Prophet Muhammad (May ALLAH grant him peace). As I listened to my mother read his Hadiths, or narrations aloud, or as I read them myself whilst still a child; I could almost see him, his smiling eyes, his kind face, his handsome features, the noble light shining from his face. I loved to hear his words, nearly hearing his own voice behind them. He was so real, so true and I was completely content with him as my Prophet.

I felt sorry for those who were not so intimate with his character as we were and was at that time fortunately ignorant of the garbage non-believers blackened his name with. If I had heard them then, I would have been so hurt for him. I felt I knew him better than anyone else and I envied the Sahabas, his Companions, his company and his presence and was pleased by their over-awed behavior to him. I felt satisfied with them when I read how they reverently lowered their eyes when he spoke to them, how they kept their own voices low when speaking to him, how they valued his blessings and his words and how they imitated him to their full capacities. I yearned just to be like them¾to be part of the very blessed community who lived with the Prophet. And of them all, I loved Aisha the best. She who always seemed to be around my age, even as I grew into my teens. I wished I had lived during their times, been her closest friend and learned everything from her about the Prophet’s daily life.

As I grew older, I became more aware of the outside world about me. Of its problems and its sinking morality. I was shocked by the rampant rage of immodesty—I who was inherently shy. But now public school began to take a lot of my time. When still young, I had read voraciously. I was ten, beyond listening to my Mother read and explain the HOLY QUR’AN to us, I perused “The Gospel of Barnabas” and many other biographies of the Prophets, of Prophet Muhammad, of his Companions, of Aisha (may ALLAH be pleased with them all). But most of their contents had gone over my head since I had yet to develop my vocabulary. Now older, I found my time occupied more elsewhere. Homework was no longer a one hour to two hour affair. Reports were expected to be more lengthy and in depth. The history of America and other Western European countries were especially stressed until I grew more familiar with them than I did with the Muslim World. Little by little, I found less and less time to even remember my religion, beyond mechanically praying and fasting and wearing my hijab. I was able to, praise be to God, retain my hold on my belief in only One God because throughout my life, while my grasp was slipping and I became too involved elsewhere to ponder on Him, astaghfirrullah (May ALLAH forgive me), a sudden incident would jolt me as if He (Glory be to Him alone) had taken hold of my shoulders and given me a good teeth-rattling shake. There was a God, only One, who controlled and managed all of His Creation’s affairs and Who had Full control over all things; and Full knowledge of all things.

I continued like this for awhile, wavering in and out. Sometimes, while deep in some study, I would lift my head up in despair, feeling as if I was sinking further and further away. I felt so incomplete and lacking, as if I only half-existed. My pre-teens passed and soon I was in high school. I was, as usual, shut out from most things, since I was so markedly different. I did have a few friends, all quiet ones who did not always stick together. Sometimes I would sit with a few of them, other times I would sit alone in the library. I was not content nor very displeased, but I suppose my depression made itself known through my sudden disinterest in studying. Nothing seemed real or important. I felt as though I was just hanging in life, doing absolutely nothing.

Then one day I came across an old book about Aisha that we had in our over-cluttered bookshelf. I looked at it almost as if I had come across an old friend, almost unrecognizable because of long neglect. I settled down on a nearby chair, flipped absent-mindedly through its pages while recalling a few half-remembered parts of Aisha’s life that I had especially loved and that had always been my favorite. Knowing what I was in store for by being able to reread all the small little details I had memorized while young, I felt excited as I began it and my heart thumped in anticipation. From then on, I was on my way back home.

It was still difficult, for I still had a lot of time in school. But after tenth grade, I decided I needed to finish school quickly and go onto the studies that were more important to me, that fascinated me more: study of the HOLY QUR’AN, i.e. Tafsir, and study of the Prophet’s sayings, i.e. hadith. I then began to study at home and graduated earlier from high school. I felt immense relief, as if a heavy weight had been removed from my shoulders. I felt free once more to learn more about my beloved religion. And then, with perfect timing (How else could it be, with God watching over all our affairs?)¾it was Ramadan. It was the most special Ramadan I ever had.

I could have stayed on and on praying behind the Sheikh that was over from al-Azhar to lead. I knew he was a very good person, who was renown throughout the Community for his righteousness. It reminded me that there were good people still in the world and I wanted to be amongst them. I tried to be extra good, ate little for Iftar (the breaking of the fast at sunset) to understand its true significance, and tried to pray as many Tahujjud (early pre-dawn prayers that began at 3:00am) that I could. I felt at peace, pleased with my religion and my Lord more than ever before. Loving Him and adoring Him, yearning to be completely what He would have me be. And I did not feel alone anymore. I felt I had once more a connection with Aisha, and with all the other Companions and a much closer connection to our Beloved Messenger. Complete serenity entered my heart, and I cherished every moment of Ramadan. I felt that if I just tried hard enough, I could bridge that gap that had appeared between myself and my worship of God.

This was the kind of life I wanted to lead, totally and completely immersed in my beautiful religion. I wanted to be righteous and good, I wanted to attain Heaven and not sink into Hell. I felt as if I had been rescued from quicksand. It was a relief to wash away all the mire that had been on my body, to wash it away with clean pure water. I felt refreshed and rejuvenated. I felt I was finally where I belonged.

Ms. Wahdy is third generation Muslim living in the U.S.