Pray Basketball
Sunday Schooled graduates and leaves home, but not before downloading a prayer times app.
Yesterday, my father-in-law informed me there was a substantial package by the front door. I stepped outside to find a giant box, much larger than anything I was aware I’d ordered. I brought this unexpected cardboard beast into the kitchen and sliced through the tape to reveal... perfectly stacked, deliciously glossy copies of my book. My book! Right there, with my name on it, and a picture too, fortunately also mine.
These are my advance copies.
I still remember when How to be a Muslim: An American Story (Beacon 2017) appeared outside my door (in a box, of course). Five years back. And also just prior to Ramadan. I’ll never forget the feelings. The joy. The relief. The elation. The trepidation. Worrying about how it’d sell. About how it’d be received. And reviewed. Stressing about book tours, appearances, readings, travelings.
But all that comes later. I loved the cover of that last book—a whole lot. I love this cover even more. The online images and .jpegs just didn’t do it justice. To see a full five years of work, all the reflections, sheer exhaustions, deep disagreements, not to mention the many big, sometimes painful, but also often awesome life events, embodied before you, translated so beautifully, it’s hard to properly describe.
Except maybe this way: It hasn’t gotten old yet. That this one comes out in hardcover first is even more delightful. Of course, the physical, Kindle and digital, as well as audiobook versions—the latter narrated by yours truly—are formally released on April 12, 2022, which is a good occasion (Ramadan) to think about religion (Islam). There’s still ample time to order, and so you should.
As an Eid gift. As an Eid gift for yourself.
You deserve it.
I’ll have more details on upcoming readings and related talks on this Substack, as well as at my new website. If you’re interested in organizing an event in your area, in-person or virtual, start by filling out this form — and I’ll be in touch.
But not until after this weekend.
Eat, Pray, Basketball
Starting today (Friday, March 19th) and through the weekend, the Islamic Center of Greater Cincinnati is reviving an exceptional annual event, a wonderful occasion Ohioans and Indianans talk glowingly about, a big basketball tournament that features boys and girls teams from mosques and Islamic schools across both states, beginning with little kids and up to high school seniors. It’s supposed to be something really special, actually fun, and genuinely competitive.
There’s also—get this vaguely nutritious goodness—halal hot dogs, halal wings, halal burgers, halal samosas, and halal chai. Because what better way to recharge before a game than with steaming hot desi tea? (Note: Do not actually do this.) I’m so excited. I want to watch F (15) and R (10) play their hearts out. I want them to do fun + Muslim stuff. I want to do fun + Muslim stuff. I want to yell and cheer and celebrate. I want to put COVID in the rearview mirror. I want to go back to the way life was before.
For however long we can and however much we can.
And, if you’re in the area and interested, here’s some more information. (Here’s ICGC’s website: The program begins there on Friday night and then moves to Franklin, Ohio, over the weekend.) Up to 1,000 people are expected to attend. These are the kinds of experiences I missed out on having moved here during a pandemic. These are the kinds of occasions people who move away from southwest Ohio actually come back for, which is really sweet.
But it wouldn’t be Sunday Schooled if I just ended here, would it?
Grow Through What You Go Through
With Ramadan about two weeks away now—I know: I can’t believe it either—I’m thinking a lot about how I want to make the most of the sacred month—for me personally and also for us as a family. If there are traditions that mean a lot to you, or new practices you’re aiming to try, please share them here. I’d like Sunday Schooled to become a kind of community for like-minded people of faith navigating the world.
Because I’m also dwelling a lot on what Sunday Schooled was supposed to be as against what I hope it could and can be.
Sunday Schooled started when I wanted to share the curriculum I was teaching the kids, communicating the ideas and lessons about Islam I felt most relevant. But in the last few months, I’ve come to see that there’s so much more. Not that the former aren’t vital—and I need to make more time for them, I know—but that there’s just so many more things we should also be talking about.
In short, I want Sunday Schooled to grow. To do more. To reach higher. To dig deeper. That means moving in several different directions.
For example, in the coming weeks and months, I’ll start to include regular conversations with writers, educators, scholars, poets, and others with insights into faith, family, the world within and likewise beyond us, whose knowledge, experience, and grace can help us raise kids of faith—who’ll want to raise kids of faith. I’m already lining up the first of these and hope to have them published soon.
But that’s not all. I’m also exploring the idea of guest writers—and even a podcast.
Sunday Schooled will be a platform for parents, caretakers, educators—for anyone who’s invested in communities and continuities of faith. While the focus will of course be on Muslims, I’ll be frequently sharing voices from other perspectives because, as the blessed Prophet taught us, “wisdom is the lost item of the believer”—we have a right and a responsibility to educate and empower ourselves.
With all that is good.
In fact, that’s such a big part of what it is I’m trying to do—not just raising generically, superficially, or nominally Muslim people, but future adults with a strong Muslim compass and meaningful Muslim practice. But how can I do that if I’m not actively and seriously investing in my own belief and practice too, if I’m not surveying and interrogating my own shortcomings and failures?
There’s lots of types of Muslims—and that’s okay. In the circles I’m most interested in being a part of, and that I feel most connected to, we take our faith seriously—and we take the world seriously. We struggle to pay our debts to God and to pursue our personal ambitions, our professional aspirations, our family obligations, and our civic commitments, on a daily basis.
Because—and here’s a problem, which Sunday Schooled hopes to address, in creative, compelling, and accessible ways—the Muslim demand far exceeds the Muslim supply. There are far more Muslims who are serious about Islam and the world than there are resources for these Muslims, whether those are physical institutions, educational materials, or great works of art and culture.
For years, I grew up hearing about global ummahs. International solidarities. That’s nice in theory, but totally confusing in practice. The future of Islam is local. Organic. And, more importantly, autonomous and ambitious. Because that’s the genius and beauty of Islam. Portability. Simplicity. Immediacy. Was there any major world faith founded by people so mobile, who thought nothing of journeys of a thousand miles?
And is there anything more apt for our present moment?
Take your prayer rug and wander the world. Download a prayer times app and explore the Earth. It is, after all, not just any mosque.
It’s your mosque, too.
So excited to receive my copy of this extraordinary new book. Diving in this weekend! Congratulations Haroon!!!! And thank you.