On keeping faith: Everybody hurts

Featured image: A view of the Great Smoky Mountains. Pix by Michael Wifall.

I was 21 years old when I found Islam. I was a stranger in a small town called Athens in southeastern United States where I went to college. Named after the ancient city of Greece, the cradle of Western civilisation, this little Athens is barely known outside the realm of American college football and dedicated fans of the rock band R.E.M. that originated from the town.

Signs that my experience in the small town would be life changing appeared the moment I landed at the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport in Georgia. My father and I were about to board the van that would take us to Athens when tiny snow flakes started falling from the sky. I had never seen snow until then. “Pa … It’s snowing!” I whispered excitedly to my father, showing him the tiny specs of ice on our jackets. He smiled.

Our flight was among the last to arrive in Atlanta that day. Within minutes into our journey on the road we entered a snowstorm. The driver, a local, said he had not seen a storm like that for many years; since the year I was born. “You came all the way from Malaysia and brought the snow with you,” he said. I did not expect to see any snow in this part of the United States and there I was, caught in a storm.

Little did I know a far greater storm would stir in my heart in the months to come.

My father left me in Athens before the snow melted. He warned me before he left that I might return to Malaysia feeling displaced, maybe even unwelcomed. That happened to him when he returned from his studies in Australia as a young man, and well into his retirement. He cried on my shoulder as he hugged me goodbye.

He was right, though I had no idea what he meant then.

I accepted the offer to study at the University of Georgia with hope I would be accepted into the Henry W. Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communication, one of the top Communication schools in the United States. I wanted to major in Journalism.

But something happened the day I registered for classes. My academic advisor, an elderly African-American gentleman who played the trumpet, presented me with a list of subjects I could take to fulfill my academic requirements in the Humanities.

Something caught my attention, something that eventually derailed me from my original intention of being there in Georgia: Religion.

The education system and culture at home ensured that I was sheltered from learning about any other religion except from the one I was born into. In my case, Islam. And then suddenly I was presented with the opportunity to learn about the many great religions of the world. I seized the opportunity with much excitement and shocked I was when I learnt the customs at the college’s Department of Religion. You must leave your own religion at the door and learn about religion from the perspective of each congregation. One is forced to confront one’s own bias.

It was an interesting time to be in the United States. I was there less than six months after ‘September 11’ and the whole country was curious about religion, particularly Islam. There was great interest in interfaith understanding and world civilisations. The demand for knowledge was high and discussions were colourful. The learning experience was overwhelming and challenging at so many levels. The world suddenly became so big and complex and I was but an innocent and ignorant young girl. With clear acceptance that my time there was limited I soaked in as much as I could with all my senses.

I remember making a phone call to my father at the end of my second semester seeking his permission to change my major. Events and circumstances in my life unfolded in a way that led me to this decision. “Religion? Ah, so! It is unconventional, but if there is where your heart lies then you have my blessings,” my father said. What would I do with a degree in Religion? Cross one bridge at a time, my father would say.

I spent the remaining time in college buried in literature on Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism … I did not realise until then how ignorant I was about that great “thing” that was so close to the human heart: Faith and religion. The theological, historical and sociological aspects that form religion, and faith. There was not one day in my life in Georgia I felt lonely, except in my entire journey there learning about this.

I studied in a missionary school in Malaysia and some of my closest friends were church-going girls, yet I knew so little about Christianity. I never knew I was even allowed to discover Judaism (a word I’d only come across in the few films I saw about the Jewish Holocaust), and yet there I was spending time after classes in deep discussions over hot chocolate with my Jewish teaching assistant. But what affected me most profoundly was how much I did not know about my own religion despite being born and raised a Muslim, with more than 11 years of formal education in Islam in a Muslim-majority country where Islam is given special privileges.

This realisation made me very sad but extremely grateful to my parents for sacrificing their resources and giving me the freedom (and trust) to learn, far away from their own watchful eyes.

There was a moment late one night when I was doing my assignments that I paused and looked at the books spread across my table. Concentrating on the Abrahamic religions, I had by then owned a Torah, several versions of the Christian Bible, various exegeses of Qur’anic surahs … With all that knowledge, exposure and freedom, I could have been anything I wanted to be; subscribed to any religion I felt inclined. And noone would know. In my cultural context, this was a big deal.

I was 9,867 miles away from home, alone. It was that night, for the first time in my life, I realised I was Muslim by choice and not by birth. It hurt to think it took all my life up until then, far away in a small town in the Bible South, for me to consciously acknowledge Islam as my heart and soul. Was this simply a matter of path or was there something about the society I grew up in that deprived me of this illumination? I dreaded the thought of it.

I took a couple of courses on Islam in my final semester. One of the class exercises was to study surah Al-Fatihah line by line, word by word. The beauty of the text, as well as the exercise, was profoundly humbling. Even more humbling was the realisation that I was exposed to so much information about Islamic tradition in secondary school and even mastered (Read: Memorised) the entire procedure and verses in a Muslim burial. And yet, I only just learnt in that Georgian classroom the deep meaning behind that short surah in the Qur’an that all Muslims recite every single time they bow to the Almighty.

By the end of the semester we were tested on our recitation of Al-Fatihah. It was a surah I had memorised as a child and so I waited for my turn with ease. One by one, I saw Christians of various denominations, Zoroastrians and even atheists walk up to the professor to recite the surah. It gripped my heart knowing this education would be unacceptable in my own country.

When my turn came I read the surah fluently. When I finished my professor said, “Alhamdullillah“.  It hit me then that he said “Praise be to the Lord” to every student who recited the surah, regardless of their religious beliefs. He asked if I were Muslim, since I was familiar with the surah. I nodded, and he said again, “Alhamdullillah“. Two semesters in his class and he had no knowledge or interest in my religious background, until then. His only interest, and duty, was to teach Islam as best he could to all his students.

On the weekend of my graduation I rented a car and took the longest drive I had ever taken alone. I drove into South and North Carolina, and up the Great Smoky Mountains. I perched by the roadside and spent hours absorbing the magnificence of the mountains. The thought of returning to Malaysia scared me. I knew exactly what I was returning to. A materialistic suburban-city lifestyle, and where faith is governed by politics of the state.

I was utterly depressed and fearful. I looked at the vastness of the sky and mountains beyond me and thought, surely there is something far greater in this life than all that we are obsessed with at home. Will the strength of my faith survive it? I drove down the mountains through the state of Tennessee praying for Guidance.

My father was right. I have returned home to become a displaced person in my own society. Today my countrymen are quarrelling about the ownership of the word “Allah”. Noone is really interested to know about each other’s religion, except to defend one’s own from The Other. The discourse on Islam is reduced to two main themes: Palestine and the hijab. And of late, homosexuality.

I know many young Muslims out there are struggling to make sense of the immense pressures and invasion of their faith; the dumbing down of something as great as spirituality. Every day we are being judged and the walls are closing in on us, forcing a uniformity that is supposedly for our own good. Worldly punishments are promised to us in the name of God, with renewed enthusiasm day by day. Many in fact have quietly lost faith.

However, there are many more who are still surviving. But this does not mean they are not hurting. To them I say, hold on. Let us not let the force of man erode our faith no matter how bad it gets here at home. InsyaAllah, one bridge at a time …

Comments 24

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    Zip: *hugs*

    The truth is a bitter pill: Knowledge is one thing, and a never-ending journey too. And then there’s the fear of ‘the other’, whatever that fear may be, which I believe can only be addressed with constant and direct engagement. Books and lectures alone cannot cure that.

    I’m afraid I don’t subscribe to the Malay = Muslim concept. That is a political construct of which we need to free ourselves because it excludes many other Muslims in Malaysia. It also fuels society’s prejudices against Muslims and Malays when the two are used interchangeably.

    mj: Theology was part of the course. But because religion is a human experience that evolves with time, we also covered some history and sociology to understand context. The Abrahamic religions go back between 1400-4000 years so whatever I learnt in University certainly did not cover everything. But it was enough to wake me up, and to give some basic knowledge for future readings.

    Thought I’d share something I heard in a discussion with Mustafa Davis, an American Muslim filmmaker — He prefers the term “convert” as opposed to “revert”. To “revert” assumes a return to an original or familiar state (like “relapse”), whereas “conversion” recognises some form of struggle or rising above conflict and seeking complete change. He said many converts go through serious struggle before/when they embrace Islam, the most common being in their relationship with their families. As a convert himself, he said it is more empowering to be identified as a “convert” as opposed to a “revert”. I thought this was interesting and certainly something to think about.

  3. So, by saying that u took a course on religion, does that equate to theology?
    I’ve always been interested in learning about other religions because that way, you’ll understand yourself and your religion better.
    Most of us are born into Islam and we take things for granted. I’ve came across reverts who understand Islam much better those who are born into it.
    I remember questioning about other religions only to be told that…’You don’t have sufficient knowledge and faith to protect yourself while learning about other religion’

    Needless to say, I was demotivated.
    So, thank you for this article.

  4. Dear Juana
    Sadly the religious bigots themselves have destroyed everything with their bias ness and ignorance .
    Correct me if I am wrong in Islam stated in the Holy book Muslims are encourage to constantly seek KNOWLEDGE .?

    It saddens me when these people come across another Malay Muslim who is aware and knows regarding other things such as religion , culture , race …….other than their own they are branded this strange label which I have never heard of in my life ever ” OMBM ” Orang Melayu Bukan Melayu !

    Huh ?? I really don’t get it ,what does one mean by a Malay not a Malay ? It doesn’t make any sense !
    So when one encounters anything that they can’t understand we label it ?
    It’s sad state of affairs when this disunity and name calling is present ..then when are going to progress ..intellectually ?

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    Young commenter from Singapore, thank you so much for that note. I was a pretty sheltered teenager and I’m still a massive work-in-progress. I hope you are stronger and wiser.

    Thanx to all for reading this post. And to those who’ve had the privilege (in our cultural context, I’d say it’s a privilege for sure) to learn about other religions, I think we need to talk about it more. A lot of the hostility and aggression we see today stem out of religious insecurity, I believe.

  6. Nice post. I wished Malaysia had more people like you. It’s disgusting how religion becomes mired in politics and the self-righteous. Keep it up!

  7. Salam Juana. After reading your article I find myself …not alone. I was brought up in Manchester at the age of 7 and came back to Malaysia just in time for my SRP. During my childhood years there; one of the subjects that all of us in class had to take was ‘Religious Studies’. It was a class about theology at a very early age of my life. However; only on a superficial level. I was just 11 at the time. There I studied Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, Sikhism, Buddhaism and last but not least Islam. So there I was at that very early age in my life learning to understand and most of all taught to respect other religion. It was daunting at first considering that I came from a muslim family. It made me question why I was a muslim. Was it because I believed in it or was it because I took it for granted since i was born in a muslim family. Nonetheless it had a great impact in questioning where I stood. Hence I started reading books from other religion such as the various version of the bible, the torah and the vedas among others; even till today. The result was quite startling. It made me understood why I wanted to be a muslim and not just be called a muslim because i was born from a muslim family. After coming back to Malaysia, I was like you; alienated by the strict culture where you are only allowed to study your own religion and not others. My schoolmates called me a murtad. Why? Because they knew I have read all those books and that i seem to know a lot about them. I thought that silly at the time but what bothered me the most was not their label towards me but rather their thoughts of being judgmental on issues that they were totally unaware off. Even the ‘Ustaz’ in my class questioned my faith and why i read the bible and other non-islamic books. I could go on talking about this topic and how its related to other world current issues in the world and in Malaysia but I’m afraid that it may bore you to death since it is a lengthy subject. All I would like to say is keep up with the good work and be daring enough to write and express the truth without being biased and without prejudice. Salam.

  8. Hi Juana,

    I love this, and I had a similar experience before.I decided to take one course on religion (the other option was Methods of Da’wah, and I thought it would be hypocritical of me to take it). Making the decision to study other religions was one of the best decision I’ve made and I’ll quote my lecturer on this “The objective of the course is not to equip you to attack other religion, and to prove who is right, but to understand God created every man differently, and we should celebrate and love each other”

  9. assalam ukthi! masyaAllah i find this such a moving article! although i’m just a teen and i’m from singapore, i feel rather sad and sorry to say pretty disgusted at certain parties who use the banner of islam as a means for satisfying their own self-interest and to attack others. these “know-it-alls” (for a lack of a better word) end up ridiculing themselves, islam and the bangsa. and as they are afterall as the name suggests “know-it-alls”, usually in my opinion, don’t know much about islam themselves and end up missing the whole point and the message of islam. and as thankful as i am that i still have faith (and may it be this way till my last breath insyaAllah) its pretty sad and alarming that many are converting to other religions or atheism naudzubillah. and i guess it boils down to the fact that since young they’ve been educated on the theory of islam and some practical but they have never been taught the spirituality and the essence/core of islam itself.

    but insyaAllah one day, someday all these would change for the better. i pray for our faith and the faith of all others to increase and remain rock solid till our end, and that all of us may lead islamic lives and not just be muslims by IC only. and i pray that may malaysia truly prosper one day amen.

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    My sincere thanx for your time and comments. Thank you …

    Cuds: I’d love to chat with you about the book one day!

    wizwahid: I am indeed privileged to have been given the opportunity for such exposure. And I’m really grateful to my parents for it.

  11. You are indeed priviledged to have studied other religions and accumulate better understandings on all of them. By doing so, I think it strenghtens your faith in your own religion. Thanks for sharing your experience Juana.

  12. Beautifully written because it comes the heart and what more it is the realisation of the true meaning of understanding religion. I have been called a sympathiser of ‘kaffirs’ for trying to understand other religion. True, Islam seems to centre around hijab and anti Jews nowadays….Am reading the History of God to better understand humanity.

  13. Juana,
    You know I love this….beautifully written indeed. I studied the sociology of religion in uni and understand fully on the above. May we all get hurt, learn, change and become better….insyaAllah. *love n hugs*

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  15. wow Juana.. a great piece. Indeed we must Hold On and not allow “man” to erode this faith..inshaAllah one step at a time, with clarity of thought.

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  17. “…Everybody hurt sometimes, everybody cries…” this few words says it all… Beautifully written as always. *HUGS*

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