The Faith Letters

Dearest whose trust in the Muslim community has been lost after an immensity of love,

On this day, nearly fifteen hundred lunar years ago, our Prophet Muhammed ﷺ was born. His birth changed history. His legacy, and our religion, was built on the foundation of our Prophet's character before he received revelation: honesty and trustworthiness. 

Yet, our ummah is plagued by corruption, deceit, manipulation, and hypocrisy. These qualities are in every human society, to some extent. It's normal that some Muslims will have these qualities (after all, most Muslims don't choose their religion but rather treat it like cultural inheritance). But to find these qualities in the ones who have put themselves in positions of being entrusted to revive the message in the hearts, of people, who are elevated for that role, and who are privy to the spiritual hunger and thirst of vulnerable people --that is among the greatest fitnahs.

I am concerned about how desensitized we are becoming to news of this nature. I notice it in myself, and I see it in friends: a spiritual fatigue that doesn't want to be spoken about. 

And it breaks my heart.

When there's a lack of consistency or agreement between two beliefs (or values) or a belief and behavior, the mind enters a state of cognitive dissonance. This state of unrest feels heavy and unsettling, and people are naturally motivated to alleviate this discomfort by changing their behaviors, adopting a new belief or idea, seeking new information that offers an alternative paradigm, or deciding to reduce the importance of one of the beliefs or values that are in disharmony. This seems like the state of the majority of young American Muslims today. 

The more dangerous trend I see emerging is what I consider spiritual fission. In this state, people can no longer identify or point to the countless directions in which their faith has been shattered. It's a chaotic state, and it's too uncomfortable to confront directly so it naturally leads to numbness and apathy regarding anything religious or an inability to engage with such topics deeply.

Our religious institutions and spiritual leaders are largely responsible for the young generation's disconnection from their mosques and communities (parents play a significant role, too, but that's a topic for another time). It's stories like the ones that came out recently that have caused many people deep despair in spiritual communities. 

We are all flawed people. The issue isn't that a Muslim committed a major sin or was fallible to his desires. The real issue is the lack of truthfulness in how it's handled by many involved. Deceit is what erodes trust, and trust is the foundation of faith and community. When it is revealed to a spiritual leader and the community members who closely work with him in a leadership capacity that he is no longer able to uphold his responsibility, the right thing to do is proactively step down and acknowledge a struggle and need for improvement.

Of course, none of us have heard of this type of honorable handling of such situations happening in our communities (I really hope I'm wrong here). Why? Money and ego. 

Sadly, many of our spiritual leaders are financially reliant upon their image and reputation as people of God among the community. This means that a religious leader who becomes exposed for a betrayal of his position may suddenly lose all his income and face an overwhelming fear of instability and anxiety about the future. So the survival instinct kicks in (especially if family is involved) and the man no longer sees the moral and ethical layers of the situation. 

Money and religion should never mix. Easy to say, complex to implement. I know. Yet, necessary and true, nonetheless. 

Another primary reason so-called spiritual leaders don't step down or come forward truthfully when they've betrayed their positions of trust is probably that they don't want to lose their status in the community. Being a celebrity imam can become so ingrained into someone's identity that it becomes almost like an addiction to attention or power. This is also connected to a larger societal shift in values (studies show an upward trend of youth who say they want to become famous). It's even more connected to the shift in values hierarchy we have as a larger Muslim community. Authenticity, truthfulness, integrity...those are all secondary to knowledgeability, charm, and "success." 

Until we become a people who hold honesty and trustworthiness among our highest values, our leaders will continue to reflect us. 

As we continue to remain obsessed with image and reputation in the community independent of actual virtue or character, we continue to cultivate a culture of hypocrisy and double-lives. People only hide the sins that aren't yet accepted by the community. It's only a matter of time before the scope widens. 

I have nothing juicy to say about the recent news regarding Usama Canon. Like many of you who had only love and admiration for Usama Canon and the community he founded, this week's news have been tough for me. I participated in Ta'leef's Refining the Core program earlier this year and met Usama Canon in 2016 when he came to Maryland to give a talk. He was one of the few people who took the time to answer a question I had with careful consideration and respect. I left that talk feeling a sense of hope. And then when I started learning about Ta'leef and participated in their community, I continued to carry with me the hope for our community to be healthy, respectful of all people, and authentically striving for goodness. For the good that he's done, and if this in fact his way of acknowledging the harm he's made and making amends, I pray for his wellbeing. And if this is Ta'leef's uplifting of accountability and honoring their positions of trust, I pray for their success and healing. 

Like many, I wish I were surprised by this. Sadly, I know this kind of stuff happens. I’ve witnessed misconduct and heard about it from friends. I’ve tried to speak up about the betrayal of authority and unhealthy behaviors, but the disappointing reactions I got were discouraging. I talked to the spiritual leader who I had witnessed inappropriateness from, and his response was gaslighting. It was a complex and spiritually fatiguing experience. In the end, I just removed myself from the community. Though I didn’t experience abuse, my faith was deeply tested and my heart hurt. I almost lost my religion. I was lucky to be able to notice and protect myself from anyone taking advantage of me. I can’t imagine the pain actual victims endure, and it saddens me that the community cares more about the celebrity abusers than the “nobodies” who are abused (often the most vulnerable members of our communities who don’t have powerful families, financial resources, or impressive professional titles).

I've had my faith and hope in this community shattered a few times, and every time God somehow found a way to remind me that there are still beautiful people out there who are true seekers. They aren't the ones with the followers and fans and financial ties to their religion or spirituality. More often than not, the modern-day companions of the Prophet (the ones he referred to as his brothers and sisters he hadn't yet met) are those who keep their good deeds concealed and remain patient in the face of oppression. Their words aren't tweet-worthy and there are no fun perks to being their friends. They treat their family members and parents better than anyone else. They are known for their honesty and trustworthiness. On the day our Prophet Muhammad ﷺ was born, I pray we are all able to take a moment to be truthful with ourselves about the state of our hearts. Where are we not truthful? What steps must we take to embody more honesty and trustworthiness? Where is our faith hurting? How are we in community? What are our own hierarchies of values? How can we be better believers?

Salam.

Dear God,

You send me beautiful people. Ones who cherish me and listen to me and love me. 

You send me kind people. Ones who care for me and carry my burden and sacrifice for me. 

You send me strong people. Ones who challenge me and ask me tough questions and expect much from me. 

And you send me people I don’t understand. Ones who confuse me and hurt me and betray my trust.

In all the people you’ve sent me, I was longing for an essence of your Being. You’ve given us 99 names to call you by, 99 ways to know you, and I was hoping these people would teach me about just one of them. 

You’ve given me more. And you continue in abundance. 

Yours,

Dear God,

They say

 The Messenger spoke about a time

when holding on to faith

 would feel like holding on to burning coal.

Dear God, 

My palms are stained with charcoal dust,

and they burn still.

Yours,

Dearest Muslim kid with a heavy heart,

Times are tough right now, you already know that. It’s almost every day now that you open your eyes to the news of a Muslim somewhere being attacked in a “non-hate” crime or Islam being blamed for a “hate” crime. And the recent death of our sister Nabra is an example of that that has hit particularly close to home for many of us. 

Many of you knew Nabra, or at least knew of her. Many of you are the same age as her, appreciate the same humor as her, and walked that same path she did -both literally and figuratively. Others, like myself, didn’t know her but maybe feel she looks so familiar. Maybe I saw her this Ramadan at ADAMs center? Maybe she was a MIST competitor? Maybe she just had a familiar face and the kind of smile that makes anyone feel like they’ve known her a long time. 

I didn’t know Nabra yet my heart feels heavy right now, and I can only imagine the weight you feel in your chest. There are probably so many emotions going on in your mind right now. Sorrow. Anger. Confusion. Fear. Exhaustion. Silence. A scattering of thoughts and a complete loss for words to describe this event and all the other tragedies your heart has witnessed in the months leading up to this: the war-torn children of Syria and the starving children in Yemen, the casualties of drones in Afghanistan and the scorched land and its people in Somalia. 

It hurts everywhere, I know, but I want you to pay attention to something. These past 24 hours since the news of Nabra’s death, men, women, and children across the US and rest of the world raised their hands in prayer for their sister Nabra. People who never knew her sincerely felt her loss and their eyes shed many tears over it. A stranger she never knew performed Umrah on her behalf. So when you hear these stories and when you stand in her Janazah prayer today or at one of the vigil’s in her honor tonight, I want you to listen closely for something: love. 

There is so much love for you in this world. For you, for Nabra, and for the Muslim youth everywhere, there is an entire community that aches when you’re in pain and wishes you health and peace and prosperity. So in times like these, I hope you can quiet your mind enough to hear the prayers of love from your Muslim family and, in turn, find it in yourself to extend nothing but love to the people in your life here on out. I hope you allow your heart to open as it breaks, and I hope you honor all the truth you recognize in these rare moments of deepened consciousness. 

“The believers in their mutual kindness, compassion and sympathy are just like one body. When one of the limbs suffers, the whole body responds to it with wakefulness and fever.” [Hadith in Sahih Al-Bukhari]

May the angels bring Allah’s blessings to our sister Nabra in her grave, may her family be comforted by Allah’s mercy, and may Allah’s light guide us all.

Much love to you all, fam.

Yours,

Dearest,

I hope this letter finds you in the best of spirits. And I hope that my response is even a little bit useful to you despite its delay -I had not been notified of your letter earlier. 

In reading your letter, I could not help but notice your eloquent self-awareness and your desire to grow in your faith. You write about a topic that is so fundamentally human, so hopelessly common, and yet so profoundly difficult to subdue: love. Who of us hasn’t been a little, or a lot, in love? And who among us has ever been able to quiet the heart in the presence of the beloved? 

Through your words, you paint an image of two distinct loves: the one that is in opposition to your faith, and your love for your faith itself. Though you don’t explicitly mention the latter, it’s evident that you care about growing in the direction of your spirituality. Your concerns imply a deep level of caring to live your life in accordance with your faith and, beyond the actions, to also be aligned with it in your heart and mind. 

You, my friend, are spiritually motivated and ambitious. You are not complacent about the state of your heart, and you do not want to stay stagnant in a still spirituality. You are standing in a lake, but searching for an ocean. And what this experience has done is open your eyes to the potential gap between where you currently are with your faith and where you wish you were. You have gained this understanding through this “test,” and you even took the opportunity to further reflect by sending this letter.

You may have not overcome being a little in love, but do you have to? I personally don’t believe that loving another ever needs to harm the heart. What harms the heart, in my opinion, is a need to control, a selfish desire to own or dominate through love, or an expectation that love will lead to a material outcome. So, what would it look like if you were a little in love still, but that love reminded you of a greater spiritual love? What if every experience of love for a human being reminded you of the originator of all beings? And what if you got to love God more by appreciating all that is a Divine creation?

I pray you find the kind of love that deepens your faith and elevates your heart. I pray it’s a love you never have to overcome.

Yours,

Dearest,

I feel like I’m floating. Not the way butterflies effortlessly hang between glides, soaking in the sunlit meadows. Not the way a boat sways in a lazy river or a branch bobs down the stream, but the way a helium balloon that was let go accidentally into the open skies does: suddenly, aimlessly, and with heartache. 

Send me your wishes.

Dearest,

It’s always going to be a struggle. That, I’ve accepted. Faith is the work of every human who has a desire to believe in something -be it God, love, the power of family, or the payoff of hard work.

And you must believe in something.

Even if you believe that the world is without a maker, that love is a selfish illusion, that family is fiction, or that luck determines destiny more than anything else, that is a belief you have faith in. And that faith is what fuels you with the confidence to wake up every morning and to continue living in the world as you know it.

Faith is necessarily irrational. But faith is also necessary and rational. You don’t have the time or energy to be diligently faithless. The truly faithless are immobile. The ones who claim to be faithless are often just choosing to have faith in the material.

You gotta believe in something.

Yours,

Loved ones,

It's been a rough past couple of days, but it’s warming my heart to see people post messages of solidarity and empowerment and it’s comforting to know that others are hurting and not okay. I've been trying to sort through all the thoughts that have flooded my mind since the news broke out, and amidst the chaos I found a few things I want to hold on to and share with you.

1. When there's a mountain in front of you, you tackle it one step at a time. You don't think of all the ways you can slip, because the fear will shake you, and those who shake will fall. To imagine every potential Trump-tragedy is to create a mountain in front of us. And mountains are insurmountable and not meant to be crossed without proper preparation.

Which brings me to my next thought:

2. There is a need for proper organizing. And while I'm sure there are qualified people out there planning for ways to minimize the aftermath of Trump's victory, the burden is on all of us to collaborate with one another to spread the word, listen to each another, and show up.

And speaking of showing up...

3. There is nothing wrong with non-destructive, peaceful protest. Joining one another in solidarity to deliver a message amplifies our voices and affords us a platform in front of the media and those watching throughout the nation. Protest as a means of saying that the views expressed by Trump and condoned by his supporters are unacceptable to you is one thing, but protesting to say Trump cannot be President and demanding that the results of the election be overturned is a different thing. 

This matters because:

4. A tenet of justice is to accept when the rules you agreed to don't result in the outcome you wanted. For that reason, I cannot reject Trump's presidency. Yes, the electoral college system is incredibly flawed. Yes, I wish members of the electoral college would side with the popular vote, and I will do what I can to voice that plea to them, but at the end of the day I accept the outcome because this is democracy. The other alternative would be akin to what happened in Egypt, where a group of people overthrew a democratically-elected president because they believed he was bringing the country backward. That attack on democracy in Egypt is what ended up dragging the country backward.

5. The best way forward is for all of us to face the same direction and link arms along the way. That way, any leap by one of us or even any slow inching forward moves us all in the right direction. To make that a reality, we need to turn inward first to ground ourselves to that commitment. Be committed to your growth, first, then find others to connect to on your journey. And no matter what, be committed to endless growth of self and community. Take classes after work. Volunteer. Read. Turn off the TV. Take a break from the Netflix marathons. Try not to aimlessly scroll down your social media timelines. Be intentional and always be moving forward. And as you’re growing, remember to cultivate community. 

Speaking of which...

6. When it comes to community, times like these are particularly challenging because we turn to those around us looking for comfort and validation of our grief and the shape it has taken, but the truth is -even in community -our grief rarely takes the same shape. Some protest, some write, some seek shelter, and others yet stand still. Many are angry, perhaps at the people they know who voted third party or didn't vote at all. But to be community is to welcome all that and listen. No anger at each other, even if there is silent disappointment. 

Now...

7. Truth be told, I was really disappointed in the people I know who voted third party or didn't vote at all. Especially those who were motivated by religion. That's a frustration that needs a post of its own, but for now, it suffices to say there is a need for reflection on the mistakes that we made. I am especially upset by this situation because I find it sad and dangerous that religion is used  to silence voices and cause further division. This applies to those who voted for Trump only because he's "pro-life" and they think it's their religious duty to vote against abortion, even if that means voting against the safety of many other marginalized groups. They didn't stop to consider that maybe religion isn't about CYA so that you don't get a "sin" counted against you, but rather that it's about the intention and action of doing what's kind and just to ALL people. Or the people who couldn't get themselves to vote for Clinton because she would uphold the US' ties to the Saudi regime, which is currently engaging in a war against Shia rebels in the Yemen. I was hoping, instead, they had considered that the attacks by the Saudi government would never be stopped by Trump. So, really, this wasn't about helping the people of Yemen. It was about voting for CYA from "sin." And that, to me, is everything wrong with how people practice religion. I hope you’re not offended by this because I’m only disappointed because I expected more from you -out of love and respect and connection. 

8. It may seem like I'm saying everyone should have voted for Clinton, otherwise they are mistaken. I'm not, though. What I'm saying is that there is something problematic in wanting a certain outcome for this election yet acting in a way that doesn't bring about that outcome. So, really, I'm talking about the people who thought that Clinton would win because other people are voting for her, and, therefore, they can just do what would absolve them of any blame when Clinton does become President and messes up. It's a typical case of Tragedy of the Commons. So I'm pointing it out in hopes that people may recognize it as such and act accordingly for future purposes. 

That being said...

9. At the end of the day, we shouldn't be shaming each other. We can be disappointed because we expected more from one another, but we can’t be shaming. We can reflect and learn and grow from these experiences, but in order to do that together, there is no room for shaming or pointing fingers. It's too late for that anyway. Find the takeaways and share the lessons that you've learned, but make sure the space stays open and warm for those who might be regretful right now. I, for one, am calling myself out on not doing more. It wasn’t enough to just post on social media urging others to vote against Trump. It wasn’t enough that I woke up at 5 AM and was among the first in line at the polls. I could have phone-banked and volunteered and assisted in other ways. I could have done more, and I am regretful, but I have learned my lesson. I am saying that because there is no shame in realizing our errors; there is no shame in publicly acknowledging them. 

This brings me to why words matter and the role they may have played leading up to this election.

10. These past few years, we've all seen a lot of new vocabulary being introduced into the mainstream lexicon. Most of it has been much needed and positive. Terms like "people of color," for example, played an important role in defining a shared experience of struggle, and normalizing that term has brought forth much needed dialogue. Other words we've normalized, however, were antagonistic. An example of which is using "white people" in a derogatory manner. I understand that some find it empowering to be able to speak in such a manner after our history of white supremacy and its tragedies, but the truth is there's hate there. And hate breeds more hate. And there really are white kids in this country who feel hated because of their race. They don't understand the complexity of where that comes from, they just know that their lives are difficult enough and that this hatred seems undeserved. If this doesn’t make any sense to you, just look up "White people" on urban dictionary and you will know what I mean. It’s fair to use “white people” as a description because that deconstructs the notion that White is normal and, therefore, does not need to be named. Using it in a derogatory manner and making generalizations about “white people” is problematic and it’s destructive and it’s hateful. 

11. Finally, I want to leave you with this:

When I read the news of Trump's victory, this line from a spoken word poem I heard more than 6 months ago randomly played in my mind. These words, by a young black poet by the name Mohamed Tall, just kept repeating:

“I got a target on my body, somebody, please protect me… I got a target on my body, somebody, please protect me… I got a target on my body, somebody, please protect me… “

When I first heard Tall's poem, I got chills. And then 6 months later it appeared in my mind, all the while I was unaware that it had been with me all along. That's the power of art. It shows people how they feel. It captures and concretes what is otherwise fleeting, deceiving, and difficult. Art is empowering and powerful. Use what you know and what you can, whether it's the art of connecting, writing, singing, filming, praying or just being. Find your power and gift it to others.

It's been a rough past of couple of days, but we've got each other. That’s faith I’ll hold on to. 

Yours,

Dear God,

I went to the mountains last week

first time in a long time.

They were magnificent,

but I couldn’t comprehend their beauty.

Something about mountains always reminded me of You,

though nothing compares to you in beauty or magnificence. 

Something about the mountains has an aesthetic of the sacred,

in their greatness they are both transcendent and immanent.

Something about about the mountains always reminded me of You,

though this time I didn’t remember.

I went to the mountains last week

first time in a long time.

They were magnificent,

but I couldn’t comprehend their beauty.

Yours,

Dear You,

lost in wander,

wondering of your coming of days,

What does your today look like?

And what do you hope tomorrow will bring?

I bet you didn’t account for the little things,

while you were too busy planning your big dreams,

worrying that you don’t actually have what it takes

to be standing next to giants.

If you’re overwhelmed with the thoughts

that maybe you’ll never amount to anything,

darling, I want you to know that math was never a part of your destiny.

And if you’re too scared to face the future

because your past has been nothing but darkness,

darling, I hope you remember that fortune-telling was never your forte.

So when you find yourself honey-stuck

in thoughts spiraling downwards,

darling, please awaken to the truth

that there will always be light,

that, though you may never know

if you’ll ever reach your giant goals,

you will always have the little moments.

The stranger wrapped in a blanket,

sitting on a bench,

at a quarter past noon,

warming you with her smile,

the three seconds

when you were running late

that made all the difference,

the single dollar bill

you folded into an old man’s hand,

that made you twofold richer,

those are the moments you were fated to keep.

Those are the numbers that will bring you meaning,

and, only then, you will be written among the giants.

Yours,

Dear Self in Doubt,

If today is one of those days you find your heart tipped toward disbelief, I want you to remember the days you were lifted by the Divine. 

Remember the first of September. The day you whispered a prayer in a room full of people, in a state they called an” emergency”, in a mess of your doing. Remember that you could have trembled but you stood firm because you knew He* was with you. Despite all the times you doubted the Divine’s presence, He was like He always said He would be: Near and Listening and Answering the prayers of those who whisper His name in their times of need. 

Today was beautiful despite how stressful it was, but it wasn’t special. He saves you everyday from harm that you didn’t know was coming your way. He has answered countless of your prayers and blesses you everyday with His grace. The beauty of today isn’t that your prayer was answered, it was you being able to recognize it as such. 

For months, your faith was interrupted up by the concept of freewill and how you couldn’t comprehend its existence in a world so causally linked. As you write these words, you aren’t completely sure you understand how we can be meaningfully free yet influenced by the plan of the Divine. Yet, today, as you knelt in prayer and your temple touched the ground you recalled the unpredictability of particles at a quantum level -how we have discovered that the smallest of particles have a trajectory of paths they could take and we can never really know where they will end. You probably didn’t fully understand quantum physics as you probably don’t now, but the story is in how you were quick to find theories to affirm your faith when your heart desired it. This story is so that you remember that you will find theories to make any belief in the Divine seem illogical when your heart desires it. My hope is that you will remember in times of darkness that there could be light, if your heart desired it. 

A week before you wrote this, you sat on the bench around the corner under the unknown tree and you read the introduction of The Existence of God by John Hick and, though he argued against the Divine, his words only strengthened your faith. Reading the summaries of arguments given by many philosophers over the centuries on the existence of God reminded you of the fact that this wasn’t an issue with any clear winning argument. Likely, there never will be. No discoveries about the nature of the universe will make it known to us whether the entirety of it all was designed by the Divine or whether it simply existed without cause. This is a matter entirely separate of organized religion, so no matter what current events shape our modern day perspectives of religion, the existence of the Divine is independent of all that. And, today, I hope you learned that this is the most valuable thought you’ll have.

When you fall, like you did today, whisper His name. Remember His blessings without letting it deduct from your gratitude to the good women and men who helped you get back on your feet. Remember that you will always have a long way to go when it comes to being a better person, but the stories you collect can always be passed on to your self in doubt. 

Yours,

Aaliah

Dear Aaliah, All my life I've had bad luck. All my life I was neglected. I've never felt loved by anyone other than my parents. I feel like my whole life has been ibtila'a, but I'm not strong enough for my whole life to be ibtila'a. I find myself getting angry at Allah for not giving me a break. I wish I could find comfort and safety in the Divine but I am struggling to do so. I've been looking for a silver lining but I can't seem to find it, and sometimes I doubt it exists.

_____________________________________________________________

Dearest Anonymous,

Last night, there were many thoughts keeping me awake. Your letter was one of them. For the past week or so, I’ve found my thoughts wandering around the idea of luck and misfortune. What you wrote me about is an issue that could be covered in books, so nothing I say will do this topic any justice. I do hope, however, that in sharing my thoughts with you, you are one step closer to finding peace. 

First, I want to know that I don’t doubt your feelings of having bad luck, being neglected, and not being loved. I know a lot of times people are inclined to respond to terrible realities by denying they exist. I won’t do that. If you feel this way, it must have at least some basis in reality. That being said, here are some potential ways to create better luck or a silver lining: 

1. Challenge the narrative.

From what you have written me, I get this sense that you have chosen a narrative for your life. You’ve described your entire life as characterized by misfortune. Implied in your letter is a belief that this misfortune cannot be changed -that the only way out is to make peace with it or make sense of it. Maybe you are saying this because you have seen such dark days that holding on to hope for better days is too painful. I hope this is not the case, and I want to tell you this: While making peace with it is an option, I believe it should only be the last resort. Before giving up, you are tasked with exhausting all other options. Here are some:

a) Examine your expectations.

How we feel about a given situation is often influenced by the expectations we have regarding it. This is why we are more hurt when someone we consider a friend betrays us and why impromptu anythings can be so much fun. Expectations matter. So maybe take some time to look at the expectations you have about what a good life, one not troubled with misfortune, looks like. What are your expectations about the fair amount of misfortune that will find its way into every human’s life? Examine your expectations about love. How do you measure other people’s love for you? Do you have an expectation that this love is to be expressed in a certain way? Identifying your expectations is the first step in understanding the roots of your misfortune. 

b) Identify the role of cause-and-effect.

Whether one is a theist or an atheist, we can all attest to the law of cause-and-effect that governs our universe. Everything is caused by something. In your case, let’s say you’ve examined your expectations about love and found that all you are looking for is friends who would enjoy your company or that the people you expressed love to would reciprocate it. If you can rule out that your expectations are problematic, the next likely culprit for your misfortune is ignoring the role of cause-and-effect. Love and friendship aren’t lucky hands dealt to some of us and not others. They are often the results of relationships that were nurtured in a way that grows love and friendship. Luck is a factor at certain stages of this process, such as running into people that make it easier to foster love and friendship, but the role it plays isn’t huge. The reason some people have more friends than others is because they act in a way that makes others want to be their friends. Whether or not people are genuine is a different story, but it’s their actions that matter when it comes to making friends -their actions toward others but also their actions in general. For example, someone who is extremely nice and supportive to others might not have many friends if he is considered too boring or very unconfident to the point that makes others uncomfortable in his presence. If he doesn’t think about the role of cause-and-effect, he might think that it’s just bad luck. This will likely leave him feeling defeated and hopeless, and it definitely won’t make it easier for him to make more friends. If he was open to the role of cause-and-effect, he would eventually identify the causes of his difficulty making friends and work to better his situation. 

Challenging the narrative is the first step to not surrendering yourself to the victim mentality. When you realize that you have the power to change the way your life has been going, you will find the energy and motivation to seek the knowledge and skills you need to live the life you desire. 

2. Create a silver lining. 

Though I am asking you to actively work to change your situation, I realize there are the rare instances in life where things are outside your control. Maybe you live in a place in the middle of nowhere so you can’t actually meet people to become friends with. Or maybe your family is struggling with difficulties of a certain kind that will make it hard for them to give you the love and attention you need. In these situations, as a last resort after actively trying to change things, you must create a silver lining. 

When they taught us about silver linings they tricked us into thinking we would find them if we looked hard enough. We learned the hard way that some clouds are big enough to completely hide the sun. Yet, lucky for us, we can lead perfectly good lives if we appreciate the unique positive potentials in our situations and use them to create a uniquely positive life. Each case is different, but here are some silver linings, if you will, to any life that is riddled with misfortune: 

*Genuine empathy for those who are suffering.

A person who’s lived their own struggles is often much better at helping those who suffer because their motivations are much more concrete. So long as your struggles aren’t excessively focused inward to the point that they consume you,  they can be directed outward toward helping others (not so fun fact: billions of people in the world still don’t have their basic needs met). 

You, my friend, have the fuel to change the world. 

*An expectation that things aren’t to be handed to you on a silver plate. 

Although a sense of entitlement affects the fortunate and misfortune, it is often the ones who have grown through difficult circumstances that end up acquiring the best tools for survival. This story has been repeated many times through history: those who find themselves at the bottom can work their way up. And when they do, they find they can swim better than anyone else and go on to reach new heights (I should stop with the metaphors now I think). 

If your experience rids you of a sense of entitlement, it would have been a beautiful gift.     

When causes are unknown to us, it seems a little like luck. Or maybe even magic. It’s easy to then think it’s all from God -that it’s some test we must be strong enough to withstand. My experiences have taught me that the world is governed by cause-and-effect. This doesn’t mean that God isn’t in control, it’s just that God put in effect certain laws for the universe and for our lives. Those who learn and act accordingly will succeed and those who do not know will fail until they learn the laws. This is perhaps why knowledge is sacred. 

My experiences have also taught me that there is no greater comfort than the Divine presence for those who believe. Maybe you’re not currently at a place to find that comfort because you are still angry. That’s okay. When you start to feel a little better, work on replacing anger with gratitude. It’s hard to be mad at the Divine as you count the ways your life has been blessed with some good. And as you move into a place of gratitude, finding comfort in the Divine will come naturally to you. 

I pray this message finds you well, my friend. Please let me know if I can be of greater assistance and, as always, don’t hesitate to reach out. 

Yours, 

Dear Aaliah. I am struggling with my hijab. I understand why we wear it, but I am not convinced. I wear it only because I fear what my parents would feel if I take it off. I have struggled with this for years. I have prayed and pleaded to Allah to give me strength, but I only want to take it off even more. I hate it so much it makes me resent my religion sometimes; because I can be a good person without covering my hair. I am not wearing it for Allah anymore, I can't lie to myself anymore.

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Dearest Anonymous,

I’m so sorry for the delay in responding to your letter. Things got a bit busy around Eid time and with family visiting. 

I also kept rereading your letter and remembering when I seriously struggled with hijab a few years ago. Our struggles with it are likely for very different reasons. Yours seems to be related to the concept of hijab itself. Mine was a struggle with religion and hijab was just one of the many things I had to reevaluate as a consequence. Our struggles stemmed from different reasons but led us to the same point: feeling like the only thing connecting us to the hijab is a fear of hurting our parents. And that feeling alone, the realization that the way we represent ourselves to the world everyday is driven by something outside our control, can cause so much resentment. It sucks. It sucks in the present and it’s hard to imagine a future when it won’t suck. 

I won’t try to write you convincing you of hijab since that’s not why you are writing me. I do, however, want to bring your attention to a few points that you brought up in your letter that are opportunities for you to find a solution out of this dilemma:

1. We don’t all wear the hijab for the same reason.

     Growing up, there were popular explanations we heard about why Muslim women wear hijiab. They were mostly about modesty and the woman’s body and how covered lollipops are more valuable than uncovered lollipops and something about pearls but I forget. These explanations are probably the most popular and known ones in the Muslim world, but that doesn’t make them the true ones. The reasons we wear hijab have two components: our interpretations of scripture and our personal intentions/motivations. And both are not limited to one or two possible reasons. For example, some of us believe that hijab is about covering beauty from the male gaze but others believe hijab is about identifying one’s self publicly as a Muslim. Others might not even have a reason other than to follow the scripture or its interpretation. The reasons are many. The intentions are many. This is your first opportunity for a change of perspective.

2. Understanding resentment.

    Wearing hijab is difficult, even for those who believe in it. There is so much beauty in a woman’s body that the hijab covers -curves and curls and collarbones. Wearing hijab in America is especially difficult. It’s simultaneously alienating and synonymizing and often times exhausting. Alienating because many people who meet you feel like you are foreign to them and their experiences. Synonymizing because many others assume things about you because they have a hijabi friend or because they think all “good Muslim women” must act a certain way. Exhausting because you are fighting other battles, navigating other identity issues, learning what it’s like to be a hijabi, all while finding yourself unable to afford the status quo of assumptions others have about you and having to go out of your way to accurately represent yourself. It’s difficult, and for that reason, it is only natural to question it. We human beings are motivated to reduce sources of pain. So this battle you are fighting is you against your strongest survival instincts that are telling you that the hijab is causing you pain and costing you potential “mates,” social group connections, and a sense of belonging with the good people around you. This can all lead to resentment, but it doesn’t have to. Resentment is often what you feel when you believe you have no choice. Empowerment is what you feel when you choose to carry something out despite the difficulty. So it seems that maybe you are viewing your hijab as something you are forced to do. But are you?

3. Doing things for our parents is a choice, and choices shouldn’t lead to resentment. 

    I once thought myself in the same position you are in. Thinking I would hurt my parents deeply if I took off my hijab, I felt like they gave me no choice but to wear it. This felt like being forced and I developed a lot of resentment toward my parents. The only way out was to have a conversation with them about it. I never thought I could talk to them about it because it felt so obvious to me at the time that it would upset them and I didn’t want to make them sad. But this whole experience had left me feeling like their love for me was very conditional, which was hurtful. The worst thing in this situation is to leave it as is. The only way out is to have a conversation with them where you explain to them that you feel like you are wearing it for them and that it’s taking a toll on your spirituality. When I had this conversation with my parents, it was the most difficult talk I had ever had. I cried and I was so scared that they would say something that would hurt me even more, but what they said to me that day was completely something I didn’t expect. They were supportive. They affirmed their love. They said they hated to see me upset or our relationship suffer. Your parents deserve the chance to be able to affirm the same to you. That being said, there is no guarantee that they will respond the way you want them to. There could be fears they have that would lead them to insist that they would never be happy with you if you took it off. There could be a hundred different things going on. Every family is unique in its own way. If you need more personal advice, please feel free to message me privately and tell me more about your situation. I would be happy to give whatever advice I know. Or write anonymously with more detail, that is always an option if you feel more comfortable that way. 

Either way, if you decide to wear hijab for your parents, that is a choice. You owe no one anything in this world. There is no rule you need to follow about what are good enough reasons to wear hijab. It doesn’t matter if other people think it’s stupid. People do things for the ones they love all the time. It’s the most instinctual act of love we know: to protect those we love from being hurt. Give yourself the permission to act according to your own moral compass. But most important of all, let your actions be your choice and be empowered by those choices. If you decide to continue wearing it out of love, feel proud of yourself for choosing this act of love.  

4. Hijab isn’t tasked with making us good people.

    There are no EZ passes or shortcuts to being a good person. No one ever promised us that. We were told and we have found and we are discovering that the path to be good and to experience the Divine is a never-ending one. We must struggle and fall only get back up again and keep trying. Wearing the hijab, for those who struggle with it, is about reminding themselves of the sacrifices they choose to make. Because that is Allahu Akbar in action. That, is worship. We were only promised that the struggle would deliver us to a deeper connection with the Divine and to discovering our own capacity for greatness. And for that, we must keep struggling. 

I don’t want this letter to be excessively long, so I will end with this: take some more time to reflect on hijab. Try to prepare yourself for a conversation with your parents. Rid yourself of resentment. Feel empowered by whatever choice you make, whether it is out of faith or out or love. Embrace the struggle. And even if you fall, gather the strength to stand again.

I wish you strength and I send you love. Please feel free to reach out again or continue the conversation privately if that is easier for you <3. 

Yours,

Dear Aaliah, 

I can't even will myself to pray and with fasting I just go through the motions. I'm so lost, how do I even begin to get back on track? How did you break out of this? I'm spiritually dead and it all started when I got my heart broken by player after player who I was stupid enough to give my heart to. But even after they all left and I moved on with life, I'm still spiraling downward. Help. 

-Spiritually Dead

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Dearest Spiritually Dead,

I don’t actually think you’re spiritually dead. If you were, you wouldn’t recognize the need for spiritual renewal. Your faith has definitely taken a dip, but I have no doubt in my mind that those who genuinely seek to improve ultimately find a way. 

Not very long ago, I felt very similar to how you feel right now. My journey of spiritual decline wasn’t initiated by heart break of the romantic sense, but it began by seeing loved ones get hurt and feeling a sense of injustice about the matters of the world. Sometimes pain, caused directly by our own suffering or indirectly through the suffering of those we love, is the worst blow to our spirituality. I guess that kind of makes sense if you think about how both spirituality and emotional pain are matters of the heart. So, in a sense, they are competing for the same space. The turmoil of pain and the serenity of spirituality have a hard time coexisting, and the stronger one often ends up winning. 

We let go of our spirituality sometimes slowly and sometimes all at once. You, spiraling downward, seem you like you still have what you’ve been holding on to -like fasting, perhaps, or various tenets of your religion. You’re holding on but you’re not really sure why because you don’t feel any attachment toward the Divine, so it feels empty. 

I think what you’re going through now is what I felt after I decided that the existence of a Creator made most sense to me yet somehow I still felt very disconnected. My faith became a declaration backed by intellect but devoid of emotion. During those days, prayer was still hard and I found myself missing it sometimes intentionally and others times on accident. From what you wrote me, it seems like this is similar to your struggle: how do you feel connected when your heart feels dead even though you know you believe?

The answer, I’ve found, is falling in love. 

Having our prayers and fasts feel more than just motions means we need to attach meaning to them. With fasting, a lot of Muslims find it meaningful even if they’re not religious or practicing Muslims usually because the experience of fasting can be an exercise of empathy toward those who are less fortunate or a practice of self-discipline that feels rewarding. Prayer is different. Our five prayers are a meditation on our state of affairs and a way for us to connect with God. But if we aren’t in love with the Divine then this act of connection feels, for lack of a better word, awkward. It could even feel uncomfortable and bring about feelings of hypocrisy that lead to other problems. In any case, it isn’t enjoyable. In worse cases, it could lead to thoughts about how organized religion is too obsessed with rituals that aren’t meaningful or relevant to our modern lives. The solution to this spiritual affliction, if one already believes in God, is to fall in love.

So how do we fall in love with God? I’m sure there a thousand ways and more, but the way I know for ever falling in love is this: 

Look for beauty.

See how it is sacred.

There are a million ways and more that we can find the touches of the Divine around us. We can trace the Divine attributes by noticing the wonders of nature or the kindness of strangers or the way universe holds our twirling planet as it balances delicately in space. 

Picture the way we are so tiny. You and me, all of us, this entire universe. And contrast that with the way God speaks about us in the Holy Books. That is one epitome of God’s divinity. There is nothing like that. That, is sacred.

We love people because we notice the beauty in them. We fall in love with someone when we consider their beauty sacred to us. We stay in love with that someone when we learn to work to maintain that love. 

Falling in love is only the beginning of any relationship. The rest is working to maintain it and learning to value it even when love isn’t the strongest emotion we feel. 

This is how I broke out of it: I kept showing up. I prayed even when I didn’t feel anything. Even when it was inconvenient for me. I prayed and I asked God to make it easier. I opened my mind to be receptive of Divinity, and slowly I began noticing the beauty again. 

Allow yourself to free fall in love with the Divine, but from all else protect your heart. Those we choose to love come to have so much power over us. They influence our identities and our actions and they take up so much space in our most precious domain. I can write forever about this one idea, but this letter is already getting long so I will end it here.

I hope my words were relevant and addressed the points you were asking about. If you feel like I missed the point or focused on issues that were of lesser importance to you, please let me know. I am happy to continue this conversation with you, Spiritually Dead. 

Yours,

To my once best friend,

I remember meeting you on a Thursday, the sun burning the asphalt to a thousand degrees. The air conditioning wasn't working and we were stuck in a classroom, waiting for the day to be over. We sat next to each other and spoke; a simple hello culminated in an hour of conversation. We knew that there was something special. Why did it take us so long to embrace it?

A year later and we are inseparable. We have shared our entire lives with each other, including our doubt in our respective faiths. Your Catholic upbringing robbed you of so much you wished you had. My Muslim upbringing left me questioning the Divine, as I was stuck in an endless battle of whether culture equated religion. When you decided to leave your faith, I decided to fight for mine.

As you walked further and further away from the belief in higher existence, I took the road that I hoped would lead me to Him. While I respected your decision, I don't think you respected mine. I wished for you to change, but all that did was change me instead. The burning question was not why I changed, but the question always remained in "why haven't you?".

It took me a few years, but I finally figured it out. When I bow in front of my Lord, I feel complete. When you take another drink from the bottle, you feel like you've done the best you could. We found faith in two very different things, two things that made us feel complete, but two things that pushed us to opposite ends. I wanted you to feel the way I felt, but maybe you did. Your internal struggle was too hard to bear, so you found a way to drown it out.

Another year goes by and little has changed. There are no more classrooms or late night talks. We don't watch Parks and Recreation or play Mario Kart anymore. When I heard the news about the death of our friend, I found solace in faith. When you heard the news about the death of our friend, you found solace in a bottle.

You gave me one thing that I am forever grateful for: faith. I struggled with my faith, but not as much as I struggled with you. My belief in God didn’t waver, but my faith in you has dwindled. While I sat around waiting for you, God found me instead. I guess I owe you a thank you, but I’ll settle instead for an Alhamdullilah.

Hi Aaliah. This is the first year that I've fasted for more than seven days or so and I'm your age. I've never considered myself to be religious even though my parents are the most pious people you'll ever meet. I believe in Allah and I believe in his main foundations, however, I struggle to follow what he asks of us. I want to stop drinking and doing things that God would not approve of and in a sense become religious but I'm not sure where to draw the line. I do feel like I'm very lost

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Hi Anonymous,

Thanks for taking the time to write me and trusting me enough to share your thoughts on this blog <3. 

 It’s very difficult to feel lost in the matters of faith. What you’re going through, this perceived discrepancy between your beliefs and actions, is no easy matter; in the field of psychology, it’s called cognitive dissonance. It’s often very confusing to reconcile one’s beliefs with one’s behaviors when they don’t seem to match. In your case, it’s knowing that you believe in God and the religion you choose but then finding yourself engaging in behaviors you believe God wants you to stay away from. Initially, I can imagine this conflict being very painful, but as humans we have built-in cognitive mechanisms that help us reduce all kinds of pain. Some people in your situation end up rejecting a belief in God altogether and, therefore, eliminating their guilt and their confusion. Others try to make an argument that their behaviors, say drinking, is not actually a sin in religion (despite the clear evidence that it is). You, my friend, have chosen a more humble approach. From what I can see, you seem to reconcile your discrepancy by identifying yourself as a non-religious person and someone who is lost. You’ve perhaps changed your self-image to accommodate your behaviors with your beliefs. And that works for a while until it begins to take a toll on you. 

I think it would be very helpful to spend some more time exploring some of the reasons you don’t find yourself motivated to adhere to what you believe are God’s teachings. There could be other factors at play, such as doubts about the existence of God, stereotypes about people who are religious, or fears about the ways your life would change if you begin to practice religion. If it helps, try writing in a journal or on a blank word document then saving or deleting it. If you have a friend you feel comfortable talking to about matters of faith (they’re very hard to find),  that might be helpful, too. And of course, you can always write me a letter. I am delighted at the possibility of continuing this conversation with you. 

If I may, I want to share a few suggestions with you:

1. Consider the role your family plays in drawing you away from religion. It may seem counter-intuitive at first that religious parenting can lead to less-religious children, but it’s actually pretty common. Sometimes, this is because we all crave unique identities -to believe that we are the way we are because we choose to and not because we are merely following the rules of our parents. During our teenage years, this desire to have our own identities can cause us to make decisions that divorce us from our families’ identities. We sometimes do the things that our parents would hate the most. Other times, we just do what’s being done by our peers and those we hope to stay friends with. There could be so many other reasons, too, so thinking about this could be really enlightening.   

2. Examine your social settings that make the behaviors you want to stop (e.g. drinking) difficult to resist. There has been a ton of evidence in psychology research (beginning with the Stanford Prison Experiment) about the power of situations in influencing our behaviors and attitudes. Without a doubt, changing the kind of environment we find ourselves in on a daily basis is tremendously difficult. I can only imagine how the people around you might react if you suddenly can’t drink or smoke with them anymore. It’s going to be difficult, but it might be more difficult to keep doing things you don’t believe are good for you just because others would be disappointed if you stopped. I hope your friends accept you as you change and value your presence nonetheless.

3. Give yourself credit for continuing the fight. You fasted more days this year than you have before. That is something to be proud of, even if by other people’s definition it’s not good enough. More than anything, what matters is the direction you’re headed. And you, my friend, are on your way to make things right for yourself.  This reminds me of the story of the man who hadn’t done a single good deed in his life yet his soul was given to the care of the angels of mercy when he died only because he was on his way to a new beginning. Nothing you do can’t be forgiven, so don’t let yourself be discouraged by the things you’ve done in the past. 

4. For now, draw the line where the major sins are. Don’t burden yourself with anything other than the basics. Avoid what are considered major sins in Islam (assuming you are Muslim from your post), so intoxicants, stealing, sex outside of marriage, etc. Do only the basics or the five pillars, so praying, fasting, and zakah if you qualify for it. You don’t have to flip your life around in one night, but one step a time. And if all you ever do is basics for the rest of your life, that is still something to be proud of. Your battle could be more difficult than anyone else’s. The basics for you could feel like climbing a mountain alone and with a broken foot. The Divine is most merciful and omniscient. 

Stay seeking the Light, my friend.

Yours,

Dear Aaliah, 

Why are there so many rituals involved in Islam? I feel like it detracts from the main point of doing good things. How can I help all his people when I need to constantly be praying, washing, fasting, and reading Quran? Does Allah just want me to have a minimal impact on the world? Just help a few people and that's enough? I thought I need to do as much good as possible but why is everyone stressed on the rituals. Praying helps me. But it doesn't help me help others. Right?

Anonymous

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Dearest Anonymous,

I’m not sure if I know you in real life, but I recognize your passion for helping others. There are very few people so driven at a very core level of their being to exist so selflessly. Something tells me you are one of them. 

Rituals are a tricky matter because so often they have been taught to us growing up as an end in and of themselves rather than means of connecting with God. We are frequently reminded of the sanctity of prayer and fasting and we celebrate them in our communities. It’s so easy to forget that rituals are but a method of reaching God. My understanding is that the main point of our existence as a human race is neither to do good on Earth nor to simply perform acts of worship because both are ultimately meaningless endeavors. Why would God create us in a destroyed world and require us to fix it when God could have easily created a world without suffering anyway? Alleviating suffering of others is absolutely divine, but it doesn’t make sense to me that it is the reason why we are here on Earth. But carrying out rituals just so we can make it to “paradise” also seems incredibly self-centered and not worthy as a purpose for our lives. 

So what then is the main point? That is a question worthy of contemplation. Your reflection on this matter will deepen both your understanding of your life and your spirituality. 

My experiences and contemplations have led me to believe that God created us so we can experience Divinity, and this divinity can be lived through many different paths. Some of us will find God through prayer and others, perhaps like you, will find the Divine through the service and love of others. But these different paths aren’t mutually exclusive ones. The art and the challenge is in finding our balance. If we chose prayer and fasting we shouldn’t neglect the service of others. And if we feel at most peace when serving others we should also pray and fast if we accept Islam as our religion. And the reason for that, I believe, is because these rituals have a meaningful function to play in our lives. Prayer, for example, is not about going through a set of yoga-like motions to earn some “good points” with God. Prayer, which in Arabic is Salaah and comes from the root word of Sillah which means connection, is a practical means for us to maintain our connection with God; it’s a meditation and an opportunity for us to step back from the world and be reminded that there are greater purposes behind our actions. Fasting, as another example, is to cultivate our God-consciousness -to build our discipline and increase our empathy and be reminded of all the ways that we are blessed and all the ways faith can carry us through physically trying times. There is so much wisdom in the path God has prescribed, and the Quran is where Muslims search for that wisdom. Sometimes the wisdom of God will be unknown to us. And this is where we have the opportunity to experience faith -to learn to let go of our desire to be in control and have all-encompassing knowledge. Not knowing can be frustrating and difficult, but it can be such a sweet reminder to remain humble and continue to seek knowledge. 

My dearest Anonymous, I believe Allah or God or the Divine wants you to have the most impact in your time on Earth. Be the best you can be, but try to remember that you are helping others not because you are a superhero whose mission on Earth is to save others, but that you are part divine and that you recognize the divinity in others and are seeking even higher levels of divinity. 

God tells us in the Quran that he breathed his Soul into humanity. The divine is already in you. The main point is to be transformed by it. 

Yours,

Aaliah