As salamu alaikum wa rahmatulahi wa barakatu,
InshAllah this finds you well and the best of health and iman. After some time and self-reflection I am returning to this blog. Inshallah I am to be a vessel or tool for Allah in these troubling times to shed light on issues in the ummah and to share knowledge.
In a world where black lives matter is no longer just a
mantra you repeat to yourself in the mirror before facing the reality of a
not-so-post-racial world, Muharram returns. Every Muharram since 2009, when I
was blessed to walk the dusty streets of Karbala, Iraq, I return to my thoughts
about what real Islam teaches us about the value of human lives. I emphasize real Islam as the media is bombarding the word with ISIS-laced
perversions of Islam everyday. There is
no more palpable reminder of the value of life than death and nowhere in
history do we find a tragic depiction of the complete disregard for the value
of life and adil (Allah’s divine
justice) than in the story of Husayn, grandson of Prophet Muhammad, and the
slaughtering of him and 72 of his companions and relatives; the youngest of
which was his six-month old son, Ali Asghar.
I am reminded of meeting Media and Religious studies professor Stewart
Hoover who commented, “I wonder why more African Americans don’t become Shia
Muslims, as it is truly a religion for the oppressed.” Since that day, I have posited many
explanations, most often defaulting to the devastating consequences of limited
English resources or the uncomfortable lack of diversity in immigrant-led Shia
communities. But I digress.
Outsiders, whose knowledge of Shia Islam typically constitutes
whatever propaganda Google box, mainstream media, or misinformed or
ill-intentioned compatriots have shared often pose the question of why Shia’s
mourn in Muharram? I counter, why aren’t all Muslims mourning? The grandson of
the Holy Prophet of Islam was brutally murdered and decapitated on the hot
desert sands of Karbala after watching his family and companions deprived of
water and killed either in front of him or in his arms.
When I think of the battle at Karbala, I remember how before
even reaching the city limits my throat tightened with an unimaginable thirst, my
nose was filled with the bittersweet smell of pre-storm summer air and my
bloodshot eyes welled with tears. I think of the countless reasons why I
remember.
Why are the events of Karbala retold every year, because of
the lessons that they contain for all humanity.
When I look at my African American children I am reminded of how blessed
I am that although I dare to strive in the way of Allah I am not under direct
threat of losing them by the piercing arrows of the army of Yazid, but instead
reminded that I can not let my guard down because the Yazids of this world
still threaten the haqq (truth) of
Allah. When I pin my hijab tightly
around my face before stepping out into the world, the battle of Karbala
reminds me of the sacrifices of the family of Prophet Muhammad whose women were
mistreated and stripped of their hijabs and paraded around the hot desert. I
think to myself about how blessed I am that Husayn’s sister Zainab endured this
horrible treatment and spoke out about her oppressors and reminded us all to
not stand silent in the face of oppression.
Not to stand silent in the face of oppression. As Muslims who
fast in the month of Ramadhan we know something of thirst, but the battle of Karbala
reminds me of what torture and unimaginable thirst the family of Prophet
Muhammad and their companions endured as a result of being cut off from all
water. The efforts of Abbas ibn Ali at
Karbala remind me of what real familial devotion is as he earnestly and
repeatedly risked his life, and ultimately brutally lost it, in order to attempt
to secure drinking water for the women and children in his family and camp crying
out for water. I think of Hurr, the Umayyad general who was responsible for
holding Husayn, his family and companions captive and how even after the horrible
atrocities that occurred as a result of his leadership, he was able to reflect,
repent and join Husayn in fighting the tyrant Yazid. Instead of ending the life of his enemy,
Husayn instead welcomed Hurr like a brother and even discouraged him from going
into battle. It is reported that Husayn
said, “The most merciful person is the one who forgives when he is able to take
revenge.” Husayn bravely faced adversity to protect Islam as Allah had
established it through his grandfather Muhammad. Husayn faced down 30,000
soldiers to stand up for truth and justice.
When I make salah five times a day, I remember how Husayn observed his
prayers on time on the battlefield at Karbala. When modern life is full of so
many non-life threatening distractions Husayn serves to remind us all of what
true obedience to Allah really means.
There are so many more lessons from the battle of Karbala
that I think about not just in the first 10 days of Muharram as they are
historically memorialized. Beyond, Ashura I think about what my Karbala is
in 2015. How can I embody the lessons of
Husayn and the battle of Karbala in my daily life in the face of mounting
oppression? How can any one live in the
way of Allah without preparing to die in the way of Allah. It is for this reason that I commit to
remember Husayn in his own words, “When the truth becomes alone, alone and
sad”. Condolences on the loss of Allah's precious servants and our beloved Imam (a.s.).
If you are unfamiliar with the events at Karbala I highly
encourage you to seek knowledge from legitimate sources and learn for yourself
why the battle of Karbala and the first ten days of Muharram are somberly
remembered every year.
Some links of interest:
