The attractions of home
A thought that occurs to me with reasonable frequency is that I could quite happily make the Anglican Church my home, if I believed in it. When I turned my key in the car ignition this morning, it was Sunday Worship from Blackburn Cathedral that whispered from the radio. I allowed myself to listen to a few brief words and the first few bars of a choral anthem, before I turned it off to drive on in silence. My response to what I heard was not contemptuous dismissal, but instead these thoughts: ‘How beautiful.’
Occasionally I will catch an afternoon service on Radio 3 on my way home from work when my finger mistakenly hits a preset button instead of the off switch, and again similar reflections recur. At lunchtime, on my return from the mosque for the midday prayer, I will often meander along the cobbled pavement through an ancient church yard, skirting a great old church on my way back to the office. There is romance in ancient architecture which blends into our imagining of tradition. But the manners of people speak too; obtaining the times of services for Christian guests from local churches recently I was reminded of the great friendliness of church-going folk.
The tradition rooted firmly in this land, the often quaint buildings, the beautiful music, the feeling of warmth and the friendliness of its people: all of these elements give rise to those reflections, that I would happily make my home in the Anglican tradition, if I believed in it.
If, however, is the crux of the matter. For I do not believe that God has a son, or that God became man, or that the father and the son are one, or that God died for our sins. I believe in one God, the maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible. And I believe that we witness God’s mercy in that moment when we turn to Him in repentance, not in a ransom paid on our behalf.
I have often thought of myself as a reluctant believer. The path that I walk is not an act of rebellion, for I carry a fondness for the tradition that accompanied me from birth. When I first came to believe in Islam, I turned my back on it and began attending an evangelical church, reading every article from the Christian mission to Muslims all the while. There were many compelling reasons to turn my back on the conclusion I had reached, but on the other hand there was the unavoidable reason not to: the fact that I believed in it.
However much we feel attached to a tradition, a place, a culture, a group of people, our families, our comforts, our desires; a choice has to be made. When we come to believe in a way, we have two choices: to accept it or reject it. I was reluctant to act upon what I had come to believe, but the decision is not about our status in the eyes of other people, but about our status before our Lord. The attractions of home are strong, but for the sake of God we become strangers.
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Bismillah,
Assalam alaikum wrb,
MashaAllah, very true… I have had similar reflections and in the end it all boils down to this: we are all attached to the essence of what makes our homes beloved to us; love, warmth, peace, security, and all things good. All goodness comes from the Divine so if we just give credit to the source we can feel at home anywhere we go. There’s nothing wrong with loving our identity, the little ways and customs that just make us smile out of joy, as long as the Truth is being upheld and seeking the pleasure of God is foremost in our hearts.
We ask God to guide us to all that is good, Ameen
— noted by Somaya Al-houbani 8:22 pm on 14th June, 2009 .
Tim – salaams. Your words resonate with this convert!
I have similar feelings towards most black churches. I cannot hide the fact that the music I hear from inside sounds beautiful. Sadly, I was not raised in any church or religious tradition. I always sat outside looking in, as it were. You are in a very unique position – someone who loves the tradition of his family and his people yet chooses another path because it is The Truth. Sounds very similar to another man’s path: Muhammad ibn ‘Abdullah! May Allah send peace and blessings on him.
The Prophet [s] loved his people yet, because of their idol-worshiping ways, turned away. But his love for the Makkans is never lost on me. I pray that God always allows you to see this is a blessing.
Amin.
— noted by Marc 7:00 pm on 15th June, 2009 .
I catch myself singing the christian hymns I was raised listening to. The same hymns my grandmother sang to me as she rocked me to sleep. Usually it is after realizing what I’m humming that I remind myself that I am certainly no man-worshipping pagan.
Alhamdulillah, I cannot relate to your feelings of awe and respect. I carry with me disdain and contempt for the pagan religion that spiritually castrated my youth. Every time I see a church I recall the many akward moments of being told by my sunday school teachers “eventually you’ll understand” — of course referring to the skeptical approach I had towards some man “shedding his own blood for my salvation”.
It is with your post that I am reminded who are now “my” people. And I thank Allah for guiding me from that baatilism.
Jazakum Allahu Khayran.
Abul Layth
— noted by Abul Layth 3:51 am on 16th June, 2009 .
Bismillah
as salamu ‘alaykum
I don’t feel warmth but memories (good and bad) clearly return when I hear church bells. I completely agree with the main point of it all. We must make a decision. For too long, I will be honest, I have been back and forth between what I am and what could of been. I’m grateful for Islam and find it a blessing in my life — one that saved me from many evils, walillahil hamd.
But it has been hard for too long to find a balance, especially wearing niqab in the west you know? Being someone who adopts the Islamic dress, I find that I always carry this reminder. Anyhow, I can’t relate to past friends and to my own family. My family wishes I was less “extreme” (i.e. less Muslim) and for a while I pondered giving up some things for them, and not fully giving up certain things to fit in better with past friends (again, those memories of who we used to be).
Alhamdulillah, though, Allah has blessed me with a nature of questioning and this has probably been a factor in me not turning in that direction through my actions. I have always asked myself, why should I have to give up who I am for the sake of others? And during school years I gave up who I was for people. When I found Islam, I found my purpose subhana’Allah. Now, I just want Ihsan. This to some seems like wanting little but this is more than the entire world could ever give us. In order for this to happen I have to leave behind my past life and forget about the others. I’ve lost out on friendships that were because of my changes in belief. I refuse to be one that practices solely in the heart because that is pure hypocrisy and what is the point of believing in something ‘so much’ if we don’t find it worth our time to implement it and live it. I’m sure if I followed that route eventually I would fall of it. May Allah grant us His Mercy. ameen
As Ali, radhiyAllahu ‘anhu, said…”talaqtuki yaa dunya…talaqtuki yaa dunya… talaqtuki yaa dunya…”
I forget a lot but ultimately this is what I am after… I’m not after being Mexican, I’m not after being American. I’m not after being popular in my community or being an activist for the sake of being an activist. I want to attain Al Haqq. There is a reality and as you said, we either take it or leave it. There is no in between option… unless of course we don’t care too much and rely on our hope that simply following the fardh will get us to jannah… but this just isn’t enough for me and I don’t want my children following that example.
Enough venting eh?
Jazaka Allahu khairan for sharing this. Whether or not we feel that warmth, we must decide what it is we are really here for. Death is inescapable. Period.
— noted by Umm Layth 4:29 am on 16th June, 2009 .
The clattering of bells and especially wind chimes remind me of how the Prophet Muhammad, sallahu alyhe wa sallam, sometimes received revelation.
— noted by Mohamed 10:06 am on 16th June, 2009 .