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I am not being facetious when I say we are often an obstacle to people believing. It’s true. When we fail to conduct ourselves in accordance with our manners and mores, ceding ground on central principles for the sake of expediency, we ourselves become a hindrance to those invested in their own journeys of faith.

Take an old friend of ours, an elderly Armenian lady from Iran. Though we professed different faiths — she was an Orthodox Christian, while we were Muslims — we treated one another like family. In our personal relationships, we shared much in common, from mutual fondness, to our ethics and views. However, if pressed on the question of beliefs, there were clear impediments to her even contemplating our way.

The first contemporary, the second historical, the third political. The first the reality of her family’s life in Iran as a religious minority, often facing discrimination and sometimes persecution at the hands of the authorities. The second, the experience of the Armenians at the fall of the Ottoman Empire in World War I, during which around a million were displaced or killed. The third, the politics of minority identity against the bulwark of Muslim majoritarianism.

We encounter such obstacles wherever there has been conflict between communities. That’s not to say the Muslims are always to blame for the situations in which they find themselves; in many cases, Muslim do indeed find themselves in the position of the tyrannised minority, and if they do rise up, it may be to repel oppression. But even in such cases, believers are still required to act with dignity, mindful of the prohibitions and obligations enjoined on them.

Consider another example: some elderly friends of ours of Jewish heritage who became Muslim while living on a kibbutz in Israel, at the hands of an imam in Jerusalem who then became their spiritual guide. An incredible journey for the son of a devout Rabbi. All the more incredible when we consider contemporary hostilities between the Israeli right-wing and the Palestinian resistance. Could we imagine a kibbutz resident making such a journey today?

And yet people do still make these extraordinary journeys. My wife might be one of them. So too those raised as Hindus and Sikhs who sincerely take up the path, despite all the horrors of Partition inflicted on their forebears. Decisions not for the faint hearted, given that in many cases their entire families stand against them, recalling the great wrongs perpetrated against their peoples in former times. In some cases those wounds are still raw.

These are the tests of faith: to embrace a faith that for many has been associated with despicable deeds throughout history, at the hands of those who have deviated far from the essence of the way. How many onlookers in the modern world could honestly accept that ours is a path of humility, justice and law? Rather, we’re more likely to be described as a haughty, unjust and lawless people. “Misrepresentation!” we might protest, which might be true. It all depends on your perspective.

“As for those who strive for Us, We will surely guide them to Our Way. And God is certainly with the doers of good.”

Quran 29:69

What does it take to walk this path? Courage, that’s for sure. But more than that: to look beyond what seems apparent. To use one’s aql to probe beneath the surface, to determine the right way forward. Simply chasing after the majority, Muslim or otherwise, is not necessarily the way to go. In life we will meet many who may divert us and set us off course. Sometimes those obstacles may even come from within.

The task for the sincere and true is both to strive hard to overcome the obstacles in our way, and to remove those hurdles from every seeker following on.

“Our Lord! Make us not a trial for those who disbelieve, and forgive us, our Lord! Indeed, You are exalted in might, the wise.”

Quran 60:5