Questions Aren't Haram. But Answers Aren't, Either
A deceptively simple question makes me rewrite my curriculum. Plus NatGeo read my mind (Malcolm X--in context!) and an amazing opportunity for college students
We’ve got three great resources this week. We’ll start with the high school halaqa. Then I share thoughts on a fantastic new series, MLK/X, about two of America’s most famous civil rights icons. And third, something new to Sunday Schooled: a remarkable opportunity for promising young leaders this summer at the University of Chicago.
I HAVE ONLY MYSELF TO BLAME
This fall, our high school halaqa read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. This spring—but maybe for longer—we’re going farther back. We’ll read the kind of book high schoolers might otherwise never be exposed to, sadly. We’re reading Imam al-Ghazali’s Faith in Divine Unity & Trust in Divine Providence, so we can learn how to read closely and carefully, think about the implications of our beliefs for our lives, and begin to test whether our lives reflect what we believe they’re for.
Here’s one way of doing it: Does the way we use our time reflect our values? More questions: Are we morally and intellectually consistent? If we’re at least conscious of the need to work on ourselves, we give ourselves spiritual direction—and these days, it seems, our ambitions rarely include what’s most fundamental about us. Going back to that first question: How much time do we spend doing what we were actually made to do—namely, worship God?
And do you think it’s any coincidence we suffer so much dissatisfaction and distress?
Of course, introducing medieval theology to high schoolers anywhere and anywhen is unlikely to be cheered. But there are ways to bring the material to life without reducing the challenge of the text to a sideshow—the challenge is part of the point. Maybe I’ll eat my words but I want them to struggle, to be bored, to feel overwhelmed, to know that reflection is not something we indulge briefly, but something we commit to, even and especially when it’s hard. Because it’s always hard.
This is how I began the first class—
See, we all claim to be monotheists. Islam, of course, preaches an uncompromising, unitarian monotheism, also known as tawhid. Al-Ghazali makes the argument that tawakkul, or deep reliance on God, only follows but also follows naturally from tawhid. If we don’t have tawakkul, we don’t have tawhid. One of the most beautiful qualities of Muslims historically and presently was the calmness and coolness with which so many of us faced hardship. “It’s what God wills.”
But does that intense equanimity seem likely to survive the onslaught of a distracted world, bereft of anchors?
It’s one thing to say you believe something. It’s another to really unpack what that means—and then ask the incredibly hard questions that pop up when we grasp the distance between who we really are and think we are. Let alone covering the distance. You can’t understand philosophy without learning how to think philosophically. Before we got into Imam al-Ghazali’s life, or his teachings, or their lessons for now, I asked my students three questions. The first two are easy. The third, less so.
“Can God do anything He wants?”
Yeah, they all assented.
“Can God change His mind?”
Yeah, of course, they said, though some hesitated—unsure, all the same, why they were hesitating.
“So how do we know,” I mused, “God won’t change His mind and overrule the Qur’an, or switch out a reward for a punishment on the Day of Judgment, or send another revelation?”
Mostly silence.
A lot of my students grappled with this for a long time, with dramatically different outcomes. (In a future post, I’ll share their answers with you—and why this apparently weird, if not misleading and superficially problematic third question, is actually so incredibly important. I have 22 high school students this spring, and only three immediately hit on the answer, while a few more circled close to it.) After asking the question, I introduced interrogating the question.
To ask questions about what I was asking. For example, what does change mean? Is an inability to do something a sign of weakness?
If God changed His mind, could He decide He no longer wanted us to follow the Qur’an—which made the Qur’an feel far less of a foundation than it should be or claimed to be. Why, I wanted to know, would you orient your life around something you can’t even be sure is solid? If you think this doesn’t matter, here’s a preview of why it does: If right and wrong can change, then religion can change with the whims of our times, and what we might think is hard and fast becomes loose and unreliable.
Based on how the students responded and wrestled with the material, I learned a few deeper lessons from this first exercise.
First, learning to unpack questions—and answers—and even text itself in such slow, grueling, methodical ways, isn’t something they’re being taught. Or getting enough practice at. But isn’t that what tafsir is? How can they deeply read and painstakingly engage texts if nobody is pushing them to do the slow, hard, uncomfortable work—if slow, hard, uncomfortable work is something we flee from?
And if this seems tangential, hardly. The ability to think critically and deeply is vital to almost any pursuit worth anything, to say nothing of building a rich religious life.
Second, there’s a lot of history without which they can’t make sense of what Imam al-Ghazali teaches. Why did Islam develop as it did after the passing of the blessed Prophet (S)? What directions did Sunni and Shia Muslims move in? What is a religious authority, who determines that, and what does that mean for our day-to-day life?
The problem with a culture that discourages hard work, that penalizes attention, and that rewards distraction is that it makes us less capable. Less able to struggle with difficulty, to endure boredom, apparent emptiness, and blank time. Part of the reason we have so much anxiety in our world is because we have insufficient tawakkul. And a lack of tawakkul goes back to an absence of tawhid.
When we cannot rely on ourselves, in other words, we suffer. Just like a Qur’an that feels flimsy would hardly hold us up, we too need roots.
Last week, Shaykh Yasir Qadhi came to our local masjid; among the many things he said, one in particular struck me: If Allah tests you with a thing, it means you have the ability to handle it. That you could be able to address it. You have to believe that, though. And then act on it. Part of the journey from believing to acting is understanding why there’s a disparity at all.
And that’s the broader lesson behind choosing Imam al-Ghazali’s book.
Not just abstractly embracing belief, but internalizing it, and then living it. If I really believe God is all-Powerful, do I live my life trusting Him, or—and how’s this for the moment—gripped by fear? Can I face the hardest chapters of my life and proclaim, in any and every circumstance, to God I belong, and to God I’m returning? That’s certainly not easy. But easy has never been the point. “Be sure We shall test you…”
We are asked to do the right thing, and only that.
KNOW YOUR HISTORY (SO YOU CAN HAVE A FUTURE)
A few weeks ago, the algorithm on Shaykh Instagram recommended a new National Geographic series to me—a whole season of Genius, devoted to the ways in which the remarkable lives of Martin Luther King, Jr., and Malcolm X came together at a decisive moment in our history. Despite their dramatically different childhoods, they were animated by deep faith, a burning desire to realize justice, and a willingness to confront the boundaries that had been cruelly set all around them at any cost.
I reached out to the producers, and they generously gave me advance access to the series, which debuts on February 1st on National Geographic. (The following day, Feb. 2, you’ll be able to stream on Disney+ and Hulu. Two episodes will drop each week, for a total of eight episodes, about an hour long each.) Given that we just spent almost five months with The Autobiography of Malcolm X, you can understand why I wanted to watch: Is this something I’d assign?
The answer is yes, but…
The show has quite the team, quite the resources, and quite the effort behind it; from Ron Howard—of Apollo 13 fame—to Malcolm X’s eldest daughter, Ambassador Attallah Shabazz, serving as consulting producer. It’s obviously well-made, deeply researched, and thoughtfully told. We see how unique and how similar these two men were. Though I’m not yet through the whole series, I’ve really liked what I’ve seen so far, and my wife, too, who couldn’t help but be pulled in.
So what’s the “yes, but” for?
The next time we read Malcolm X, I’d love to include this series. I can’t tell you how meaningful it is for our kids to see that these great Muslim heroes were also great people writ large—that, as American Muslims, our pioneers didn’t just impact our communities, but the country and the wider world, and that faith isn’t a limitation from engagement, from making commitments and trying to uplift everyone, but is itself universal. After all, didn’t Malcolm X journey from a narrow, limited frame to an expansive, cosmic vision through a deeper connection to his faith?
And I’d love them to see that MLK and Malcolm X weren’t two people who had nothing to do with each other, either. So, yes, I’m really strongly consider assigning this for the next time we explore this history. But not just that. I’m going to ask parents to watch this, too. Lots of parents don’t know this history, either. Sadly, too many in our community institutions, parents yes but educators too, are left searching on their own for great resources not just for those they’re teaching, but for their own learning, and National Geographic’s MLK/X is what we need.
If we want more of it, we’d do well to start by enjoying, appreciating, teaching from, and amplifying that’s out there. It’s not often we get the story of American Muslims told with effort and care. A series that previously shared the lives of Albert Einstein, Pablo Picasso, and Aretha Franklin went to Islam in 1960s America and its connections to Christianity in 1960s America, journeys that changed the country for all of us, and the world for all of us, too. We should do everything we can to embrace and advance it, God willing.
A SERIOUS OPPORTUNITY FOR SERIOUS STUDENTS ONLY
Through The Point, a magazine worth paying attention to, I learned about The Point Program for Public Thinking, a summer program promoting “a more thoughtful, humane and pluralistic public conversation.” Developed in partnership with the Parrhesia Program at the University of Chicago, this is a really special opportunity for a select group of undergraduates to learn in intense and profound ways.
Yes, I was a philosophy major, so I’m partial to all this (within limits), but my motivation is more than personal. For a minority community like our own, I can’t stress how important it is to learn how to engage different ideas and perspectives. We all have different takes on religion, but I’m concerned by an approach that promotes the idea that the world out there cannot be meaningfully and responsibly engaged.
Well-equipped young Muslims should instead be encouraged to contribute to public conversations—and to see how these conversations unfold, bringing creative, thoughtful, and fresh perspectives back to our communities. That’s aspirational. It’s also urgent. As we approach the possibility of a second Trump term, too, we should definitely invest in “treating opposing opinions with humility rather than hostility,” in “reading generously rather than suspiciously,” in the incredible diversity of America.
That approach isn’t just true to what our democracy needs, or the incredible history of our faith—why I’m assigning Malcolm X and Imam al-Ghazali after all—but it’s furthermore vital preparation for navigating the world that’s coming. There’s a lot we can’t be sure about. A lot of uncertainty, in other words, now and sure to come. Our kids need to know how to develop the right kinds of commitments—and how to maturely deal with complexity, confusion, and ambiguity, too. So if you know college students looking for a unique, inspiring summer program, consider this.
The Point and Parrhesia at the University of Chicago will host the second iteration of The Personal and the Political this summer 2024. They’re accepting applications now through March 5th.
You can learn more about this fully-funded program on their website.
Thanks, as always, for reading Sunday Schooled, a free community for parents, educators, and community leaders invested in teaching our faith, empowering our youth, and advancing our institutions. Please consider joining—share your questions, your thoughts, and of course any resources or ideas you’ve come across!