A True Talib ul-’Ilm [Student of Sacred Knowledge]

A story from the book “Safahaat min Sabr al-Ulama” [Glimpses of the Perseverance of the Scholars] by Sh. Abdul Fattah Abu Ghuddah:

…And here [we will mention] another account from among the most extraordinary of narratives, which occurred with an Andalusian scholar when he traveled from al-Andalus to the East. He traveled this great distance walking on his two legs [without the help of a horse or camel on which to ride] in order to meet with an imam from among the [great] imams and to acquire knowledge from him. When he arrived there he found that the imam had been put under house arrest and banned from teaching the people. In spite of this, by utilizing some secretive and artful means, the Andalusian scholar was able to learn from him… And history is replete with such strange and interesting occurrences…

….His name was Abu Abd ar-Rahman Baqiyy bin Makhlad Al-Andalusi al-Hafidh. He was born in the year 201 [after the Hijra] and passed away in the year 276, may Allah have mercy on him. He traveled to Baghdad by foot when he was about twenty years of age, and his deepest and most heart-felt desire was to meet with Imam Ahmad bin Hanbal and to study with him.

It is reported that he said:

“When I came close to Baghdad, the news reached me of the difficult trials that had encircled Ahmad bin Hanbal, and that meeting and communicating with him had been made prohibited. I was greatly grieved by this news. I lodged where I was, and the first thing I did after renting out a room for myself was go to the great masjid [of Baghdad]. I wanted to sit in the lessons there and hear what was being studied therein.

I came across a noble gathering for knowledge [at the masjid], in which a man was teaching about narrators of the hadith, elucidating upon the weaknesses of some narrators and the strength of others. I asked someone sitting next to me, ‘Who is that?’ and he replied, ‘That is Yahya bin Ma’een.’

I saw that a place had opened up [in the gathering] close to the teacher, so I moved to fill it and said to him, ‘Ya Aba Zakariyya, may Allah have mercy on you. [I am a] stranger [among you], whose home is in a far distant place. I have some questions, so do not disdain me.’ He said to me, ‘Speak.’ So I asked him about some of the narrators of ahadith I had met, and he praised some of them for their excellence, and warned about the weaknesses in others. I asked him a question about Hisham bin Ammar, and I had asked and gained a lot of knowledge from him [...] when the people of the gathering called out, ‘That’s enough for you, may Allah have mercy on you! Others have questions too!’

Finally, as I was standing up [to leave], I said, “Can you inform me about one other person: What about Ahmad bin Hanbal?”

Yahya ibn Ma’een looked at me astounded, and said, ‘Can such as us judge a person like Ahmad bin Hanbal! He is the Imam of the Muslims, the best among them and the most honorable of them.”

I left the masjid and asked to be directed to the home of Imam Ahmad. I knocked on his door, and he answered it. I said, “Ya Aba Abdillah, I am a stranger from a far distant place, and this is my first time entering upon this land. I am a student of hadith and one who is bound to the Sunnah. I made this journey only to meet you.”

He said, “Enter from the alleyway to the side, and let no eye fall upon you.”

He then said to me, “Where is your home?” I said, “The distant west.” He asked, “Africa?’ I said, “Further than that. I would have to travel across the sea to get from my home to Africa. It is al-Andalus.”

He said, “Your home is indeed a great distance from here. And there is nothing more beloved to me than to help someone like you attain what you are seeking, but for that I am being tried with this difficulty, which you may already be aware of…”

I replied, “Indeed the reached me as I was approaching the city and coming towards you… Ya Aba Abdillah, this is my first time in this land, and I am unknown to its people. If you allow me, I will come to you each day in the garb of a beggar, and I will speak the way that they speak, and you can come to the door. If you narrate to me only one hadith each day [in this way], it would suffice me.”

He agreed, on the condition that I did not attend the gatherings of knowledge and did not meet with the [local] scholars of hadith [so that I would remain unknown among the people].

So I would carry a walking stick in my hand and wrap an old rag around my head, and I would hide my papers and writing instruments in my sleeve, and I would go to his door and call out, “[Give in charity] for the reward of Allah, may Allah have mercy on you!” as the other beggars there used to do. He would come out and close the door behind him, and narrate to me two ahadith or three or sometimes more, until I had collected about three hundred ahadith in this way.

I remained constant in doing this until the ruler who was trying Imam Ahmad died, and in his place came someone who adhered to the madhab of the Sunnah. Imam Ahmad then returned to his teaching and his name became renowned, and he became honored and loved among the people. His rank was elevated, and many people flocked to him to study.

He would always remember my perseverance in seeking to learn from him. When I would attend his lessons he would make room for me to sit close to him, and he would say to the other students, ‘This is someone who has earned the title of Talib ul-’Ilm!’ and he would tell them my story. He would narrate hadith to me, and I would recite them to him.

One day I became ill, and I was absent from his classes for some time. He asked [the other students] about me and when he heard that I was ill he rose immediately to visit me, and the students followed. I was laying down in the room which I rented, a [cheap] woolen blanket beneath me, a thin cloth covering me, my books near my head [so that I could study laying down].

The lodging literally shook with the sound of many people [entering], and I heard them say ‘That’s him over there…’ [...] The lodge-keeper rushed to me, saying ‘Ya Abd ar-Rahman, Abu Abdullah Ahmad bin Hanbal, Imam of the Muslims, has come to visit you!’

The Imam entered my room and sat at my bedside, and the lodging filled up with his students. It wasn’t large enough to fit all of them and a group of them had to remain standing, all of them with pens in hand. Imam Ahmad said to me, “Ya Abd ar-Rahman, have glad tidings of reward from Allah. In days of health we often fail to reflect upon illness, and in days of illness we don’t remember our health. I ask that Allah raise you to good health and wellbeing, and may He touch you with His right hand in healing.” And I saw every pen in the room moving to write down his words.

He left. The workers of my lodge were very kind to me after that, and were constantly in my service, one of them bringing me a mat to lay on, another bringing a good blanket and wholesome food for me to eat. They treated me better than family because such a righteous person came to visit me…”

He passed away in the year 276 [after Hijra] in al-Andalus. May Allah have mercy on him.

[...] His student Abu Abdul Malik Ahmad bin Muhammad al-Qurtubi said of him: ‘Baqiyy bin Makhlad was tall, strong, and had tough endurance in walking. I never saw him on a ride, ever. He was humble and unpretentious, and would always attend the funeral prayer.’

How excellent was his patience and his passion for sacred knowledge, and how beautiful his struggle to attain and collect it!

Ramadan Mubarak

as salaamu alaykum wa rahmatullah,

A Persian poet relates the story of a young man who was devoted to worship and who sincerely loved the Prophet (salAllahu alayhi wa salam). This young man wished to see the Prophet (salAllahu alayhi wa salam) in his dreams. But, night after night, even though he prayed and hoped for it, he was not blessed with this vision. He decided to visit a wise shaykh he had heard mention of who lived on the far reaches of town and seek his advice.

He made his way to his home one evening, and the shaykh invited him in for discussion and tea. After explaining his situation to him, the shaykh nodded sagely and said, “Be my guest for tonight, and tomorrow morning I will give you some advice.”

That night, the shaykh served the young man dinner. Everything in the simple meal was covered with salt or was dry. Salty fish, dry, hard bread… and not a drop to drink. The young man craved water, but was offered none. His parched throat made him yearn to ask the shaykh for something to drink, but his manners kept him quiet. He ate the food without complaint, his thirst increasing with each bite.

After the Isha prayers the shaykh unfolded a mat, offered it to the young man for his night’s rest, and bade him good night.

That night, the young man dreamed of nothing but water. Cascading fountains, gushing rivers and streams, oceans full of pure, delicious, thirst-quenching water. He dreamed of it until he felt he was swimming in it, drinking huge gulps, until it filled his every pore. He woke before daybreak, one word croaking from his lips: ‘Water….’

The next morning the shaykh asked him if he rested well. The young man then told him about his thirst and his dreams.

The shaykh smiled. He said, “When you begin to have thirst and desire for the Prophet, salAllahu alayhi wa salam, the way you had thirst for water last night, then you will be blessed with his vision.”

—

I pray to Allah (swt) that in this blessed month our minds and hearts are filled with thirst and desire for closeness to Him, for softer and purer hearts, for nufus that are effaced in love for Him and His obedience… and that being sincere and true, these desires are quenched and achieved.

Ramadan means wide open doors of forgiveness, mercy, opportunity, Paradise…. I pray to Allah (swt) that we are of the people that walk through them.

In another text the Prophet salAllahu alayhi wa salam is reported to have said, ‘Every day in the month of Ramadan an angel calls out: O seeker of good, step forward, come forward with ease, and receive the glad tidings of this month!’

My advice to you all and to myself: Ramadan is what you make of it… Be of the people that step up and step forward, that seek out goodness and spiritual betterment and the blessedness of these days… don’t let this opportunity slip away.

May Allah grant you a happy, blessed and beautiful Ramadan.

Sincerely and with love,

please pray for me and my family.

your sister.

ties that bind

I know of a bond that connects soul to soul, in a way much deeper than familiarity or blood.

Forged by Divine decree. Duly registered as apportioned Rizq.

The Teacher and the Student meet somewhere before time, and they are eternally connected.

A teacher of religion opens whole worlds to his pupil: the secrets of this life, the spiritual realm, the Divine and the self. Perfection and imperfection.

He is visionary, he is powerful. He is the guide, and you are the lost traveler.

If he is true, he will lead you to Paradise, step by careful step.

‘Empty your cup.’

Come blank, empty, open, so that you can receive.

You must take humility as your cloak.

But what of ties that strangle?

You believe that if you submit to him and his Way, you are guided.

You will no longer be lost.

The path to Allah is clear.  It is at his feet.

He will take you by the hand to safe shores.

His love for you is overwhelming. So he will shape you, mind and soul, and purge you of your evils.

Soul, did you not think, when you laid your whole being in his gentle hands: What if he missteps?

Is he not formed by his experiences, by the ties that bind him?

This deen is wide. Why do you narrow it?

You must craft your cup from the firm clay of knowledge, and bake it to solidity in the heat of courage, deep thinking, and dependence on Allah alone.

And engrave on its side, in a delicate script, the following words:

Beauty lies in intelligent, mindful devotion.

Every love has an adab.

Even dervishes must have ijaaza before they spin.

I am no feather in the wind, nor an unmoulded being.

I am an empty cup, with a solid base and a structured rim,

Firm against passion. Shaped for sacred words.

I fill with good, whatever its source, and pour out wrong.

—

Sidi Ahmed Zarruq (of the 9th century Hijri) said: There are no more perfect teachers. We benefit from the good in people, and we leave the rest.

—

Al-Qahira (Cairo) in Pictures

Lamps at Masjid Sultan Hassan

The masjid is more than six hundred and fifty years old, and once housed a hospital and a school.

I love the low hanging lamps on loooooong cords… they draw your eyes heavenwards.

 

Sh. Ali Jumaa

The Grand Mufti of Egypt Sh. Ali Jumaa (or Gumaa, if you’re Egyptian :)) giving a talk on Tafseer at Masjid Sultan Hassan.

 

Sunlight through a Crafted Window

at the adjacent masjid, Masjid ar-Rifa’i.

 

A shop in the Khan al-Khalili Souq

 

Masjid in Ottoman design built by Muhammad Ali, a former ruler of Egypt.

 

Inside the masjid of Muhammad Ali.

A group of school-girls on a field trip listen to their teacher underneath the enormous chandelier.

 

Prayer in an ancient masjid.

 

Al-Azhar Park

A cute couple take a walk through the gorgeous park.

That’s Masjid Muhammad Ali in the distance.

 

 

The courtyard of the ancient Masjid al-Azhar.

There were hundreds of students sitting inside and reclining on its exterior walls, studying or memorizing Quran.

 

Outside the Maqam of Imam Shafa’ii, rahimahullah.

I love this picture because it shows a lot of the elements that make up the traditional lifestyle of cities like Cairo and Damascus: Fresh fruit sold on street corners, single-storey buildings and homes, cafes with tables and chairs right on the sidewalk, where old men drink coffee. The little girl in the blue jalabiyya is getting water from a type of fountain that’s common on many streets in ancient Muslim cities. For centuries it was a Muslim tradition for the wealthy to make awqaaf (endowments) of water fountains or spouts on the street, so that fresh, clean water could be made available for any thirsty passersby, as a type of continual charity.

 

 

The Pyramids.

A conversation I had in Cairo:

Me: You know Damascus is the oldest city in the world…

A Sis living in Cairo: Really? I think it has got to be Cairo… we have the Pyramids! The age of the Pharoahs!

Me: Well there’s a mountain in Damascus called Qasiyoun… and they say that on this mountain Cain killed Abel…

Sis: ………… Okay, you guys win.

hehe

some nice articles

as salaamu alaykum,

In the last few days I’ve had the opportunity to surf the net and read a number of Muslim blogs in a more thorough way than I’ve ever done before. There must be a million blogs out there, and after some time online, surfing from one to the next, reading here and there, I just felt tired and overwhelmed, like you do when you’ve spent too long in the mall jostled by too many people. It’s just an ocean of voices, ideas, experiences…

They seem to be an overwhelming mixture of many things, including what seems to be simple cathartic venting and opinionated ranting on various issues. My concern when reading these things are two fold; one, the development of a sort of intense self-focus that veils a person from seeing their life and their opinions in a wider context, which would help them put things in perspective; and secondly, the trend towards everyone in our community being content with their own reading and understanding of Islam, even if that understanding is formed without any reference point or basis in knowledge.

Alhamdulillah, however in the mix I also found some excellent creative writing, thoughtful reflection, insightful commentary and sharing of knowledge.

Here are some nice things I’ve read recently:

– Imam Suhaib Webb’s answer to the heat wave

– A beautiful response to the question, “How do I improve my Quranic recitation?” by Sidi Faraz Rabbani.

– Some good (and funny) tips on learning Arabic on the Islamic Law Etc. Blog.

 – A thought provoking piece on knowledge.  (It gives a new shade of meaning to the Prophet’s (salAllahu alayhi wa salam) duaa, Allahumma innee a’udhubika min ‘ilmin la yanfa’ “O Allah, I seek refuge in You from knowledge that does not benefit.)

happy reading

wasalaamu alaykum wa rahmatullah.

Sh. Habib on Women and Scholarship

I watched an excellent program the other day with Sh. Habib Ali Jifri on the important role women have to play in Islamic scholarship, and the great need we have today for women to study and become teachers, scholars, writers, to give fatawa, etc.

One thing that I find very beautiful in our tradition, but something that is often overlooked, is the critical role women have played in developing our scholarship from the very beginning and for centuries thereafter. It was only when the Muslim world began to degenerate in many different areas, politically, economically, as well as intellectually that we find a disengagement of women from the scholarly arena. (Interestingly enough, some historians cite the influence of Christian thought on the Muslim world as one of the reasons for this reversal of roles for women.)

Here are some points the shaykh said on the program (hafidhahu Allah) that I found very interesting:

– We have Sayyidah ‘Aisha (radhi Allah anhaa), as one of the first examples of a Muslim woman who was a scholar and a faqih, a woman who gave fatawa (religious rulings) and basically had her own madhhab (school of law). Many of the Ummahaat al-Mu’mineen and others of the sahabiyaat (women from the generation of the Prophet (salAllahu alayhi wasalam) were teachers and narrated hadith, and in the following generations we find many, many women scholars. Some of the greatest male scholars that we know of had women teachers. Imam Shafa’ii for example, had a woman as one of his primary teachers, Sayyidah Nafeesa bint al-Hasan. Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani, the Ameer al-Mu’mineen in Hadith, had among his teachers sixteen or seventeen women, all of whom had reached the level of Muhadith. There was a woman scholar (didn’t catch her name which was mentioned on the program) who resided in Damascus, and it is reported that students from many different countries would flock to her to study, crowding outside her door on Mount Qasiyoun. There were women who had majalis of ‘ilm at Jamia’ Umawiyy (the Omayyad Mosque) here in Damascus, and men and women would gather to attend and reap the benefits of their knowledge. He gave many, many examples, but unfortunately I did not take notes during the program so I don’t remember all the names and exact details. (sorry)

– Women especially shined in the field of Hadith in Islamic history, and he had a print-out of some women that related hadith, the number of hadith that they related and the number of their students. A number of these women were from the Ummahaat al-Mu’mineen, such as ‘Aisha, Juwayriyyah and Umm Salamah (radhi Allahu anhunn). He made the point that these women, being mothers of the believers, had some restrictions (relating to the ayaat in the Quran that talk about speaking from ‘waraa’ al-hijaab’ and so forth) and yet we still find them contributing to the knowledge. His point was basically that if there were any women who would have stepped back from studying and teaching because of the restrictions of hijab or aadaab, it would be these women, and yet we find them playing such a vibrant role in teaching.

– The interviewer asked Sh. Habib about women teaching men, something that may be considered odd or even wrong in the Muslim world today. Sh. Habib said that there needs to be a conveyance of knowledge taking place and we should not confine men and women from benefiting from each other, as long as it is based on a relationship of proper adab between teacher and student. When it comes to more basic and fundamental things, which can be taught by a number of different people, the norm should be that women teach women and men teach men. However, he said especially when we are talking about a higher level of knowledge a person should not be prevented from learning from someone because of their gender.

– On the print-out we saw a listing of some women narrators of hadith and the numbers of their students. Consistently, all of the women had more male students than female, and some even had only male students. Sh. Habib said that many people ask the question ‘why do the number of male scholars in our history outnumber that of women?’ He said that the answer can be seen from that chart. Its clear that women had the opportunity to teach and that they were esteemed for their knowledge (which is why they had students from both genders); however the number of women who stepped forward to learn were less than those of men.

And here Sh. Habib made a critical point: Women need to step forward and study. Yes, Muslim societies and male scholars and teachers need to encourage women to take on these roles, and there are many things in the Muslim community that need to be remedied in this regard, but YOU as a woman are not incapable… you are strong and you need not wait for someone to tell you that this is what you should be doing. You need to step forward, just as those women did before us.

He mentioned a modern day example from Syria, that a group of women approached Sh. Nur ad-Din ‘Itr and requested that he teach them, and this really started a movement of women in Syria who are studying and memorizing hadith. There are something like ten women now who have memorized the Six Sound Books in their entirety, with all of their isnaad! He said that he hadn’t even heard of this before, among men or women in our time. Also in Syria tens of women have memorized Bukhari, hundred have memorized Riyadh as-Saliheen…. Sh. Habib said that memorization is not necessarily the focus, but that this is a beautiful example of what can happen when women are passionate and are energized to study and take it upon themselves to seek out knowledge.

I was really moved by the shaykh’s talk, may Allah ennoble and bless him.

I hope that women out there really take this message to heart. Sometimes we are told in subtle or overt ways that in order to use our intellects in a meaningful way we need to ‘reinterpret’ Islam and have a more ‘progressive’ understanding of what our deen is about (read: change it), as if it is something intrisically oppressive of women; and on the other hand we may be told in different ways that our role is confined entirely to domestic tasks.

While the truth is something else, and we just need to go back to the roots of our religion to find it. We are the inheritors of a tradition of women poets, scholars, teachers… who were ennobled and empowered by this deen to share sacred knowledge with others. I ask Allah to make us people who walk in their footsteps, treading a road shaded by angels’ wings and that easens the one to Paradise. May Allah make us people who reflect and study and learn, and who are beautified with knowledge, and share it with others in the best of ways.

wAllahu a’lam. This is what I remember and understood in summary from the interview, and they are not the exact words of the shaykh.

wasalaamu alaykum wa rahmatullah.

PS: Here is an interesting article from the NY Times about a brother’s research into the large number of female Muslim scholars in history: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/25/magazine/25wwlnEssay.t.html?ex=1329973200&en=618404334b10ecf0&ei=5124&partner=digg&exprod=digg

sad article from the NY Times

I recently read an article about Iraqi refugees in Syria turning to prostitution to alleviate their poverty.

Some thoughts that came to my mind when I read this article:

1. I’ve heard a lot of Syrians complain about the Iraqi refugees, and they seem to blame them for many things, including increasing levels of traffic, the jump in housing costs, and a proliferation of crime and places of indecency. It really has a lot to do with the sheer number of people that have come into Syria in such a short time period (which I’ve heard is closer to 2 or 2 and a half million than the number mentioned in the article), and the lack of any sort of infrastructure that would help them transition into a healthy life here, such as viable working alternatives or assisted housing, etc. I think this is a clear example of how an unjust war inevitably breeds more and more harm, including the breakdown of family structure and a negative impact on neighboring countries.

2. I cannot imagine the desperation that would lead a believing Muslim woman, who prayed and practiced (like it’s mentioned in the article) go so far, and I can only attribute it to a state of real trauma, a hopelessness, that is beyond our understanding.

We really have no idea how big a fitna (challenge or test) poverty is for so many people in this world and how it can lead to a real shaking of faith. There are so many texts in which the Prophet, salAllahu alayhi wa salam, would seek refuge from ‘al-kufr wal-faqr’ (unbelief and poverty), as if there’s a direct connection between the two.

And wealth is an equally disastrous fitna, as can be seen by its misuse in the hands of the men who visit these places. The Prophet salAllahu alayhi wa salam would also pray, “O Lord, I seek Thy refuge from [...]the evil of the challenge of wealth and the evil of the challenge of poverty…” (Bukhari and Muslim).

3. It makes me really appreciate how appealing and dignified the quality of hayaa’ (modesty, chastity) is, especially in men, and how low, base and weak a man seems without it.

There’s a story of a righteous young man from the time of the tabi’i tabi’een (the third generation after the prophet salAllahu alayhi wa salam) who was once traveling. While he was alone in his tent in the desert, in the darkness of the night, a beautiful woman approached him and presented herself to him. Hearing her offer his eyes filled with tears. She asked him why he had begun to cry and he said, “Out of a feeling of lowliness before God, that He would test me in this way.” And he asked her, “Do you not fear God, that you might die at this very moment?” The woman left, weeping in repentance.

A few months later he had a dream in which the Prophet Yusuf (alayhis salaam) came to him. The man said to Yusuf (alayhis salaam), “I was amazed by your story in the Quran, and your honor and steadfastness before the wife of Azeez.” The Prophet Yusuf (alayhis salaam) said to him in return, “and I am amazed at your story, when a woman approached you in a tent in the depths of night, and you remained steadfast.”

4. It also makes me think: Isn’t this a perfect example of when polygamy would be a healthy option in a society? These same rich Gulf Arab men who frequent these places… how much better would the situation be if they married some of these women, and honored them with the full rights, material and spiritual, that a wife deserves, instead of using them in this way, which only harms everyone involved: it hurts the men’s own souls and hurts the well-being of their marriages and their families, and it harms these women in such a horrible way, putting them at risk to disease, affecting their psychology and feelings of self-worth, damaging them spiritually… There really is so much wisdom in the Shari’ah, and its goal truly is ‘to bring about benefit and good and to avoid and push away harm’ in all of its rulings.

5. When I read things like this I really think about what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. There are so many people in this world whose life struggle is simply to survive. What about me and you… what’s our struggle? What are we supposed to be doing, seeing as we’ve been blessed with so many things, not the least of which is well-being, safety and wealth?

May Allah protect us from the harms of poverty and the tests of wealth and make us people of courage, uprightness, honor and ‘iffah. May Allah make things easy for our brothers and sisters suffering in this world, and take us collectively from darkness into light, ameen.

Study Experience 3: Mahad at-Ta’heeli (at Abu Nour)

Abu Nour has two programs for foreigners: the Dawraat classes, which focus on the Arabic language (see my previous post); and Mahad at-Ta’heeli, a three year program that’s a combination of Arabic and Islamic studies, and that takes a person from the “alif ba taa’s” of Arabic to being fully prepared to enter an Arabic college of Shari’ah.

After I finished the Dawraat I took a placement test for Ta’heeli and was placed in their third year, which was what I was hoping. I knew a little bit about the program and had heard that the third year was excellent, and that the books they covered were really beneficial.

Mahad at-Ta’heeli is a whole other world compared to the Dawraat. First of all, it starts at 7:30am. SEVEN THIRTY AM! If you, like me, are someone who loved registering for afternoon and evening classes in college, and kept up a regular stay-up-til-fajr-crash-til-noon regiment through out your student days, you would not be happy about having to wake up at 7:30 in the morning every day. But, I thought to myself, this is a new phase in my life, in which I would be a “student of deen”, and I was really committed to taking my studies seriously, so I was sure that I would never be late.

Of course, I was always late. Alhamdulillah I lived about two blocks from Abu Nour, which helped me so much on those days when I would wake up and gawk at the clock for a few minutes, trying to figure out if it really was 7:15am like it said, and not 6:15am like I was hoping it said. The problem was, one, Mahad at-Ta’heeli is on the fourth floor of the building, so I think I lost a lot of calories climbing stairs two at once to make it to the top on time. Problem number two with Ta’heeli: they lock the doors once class begins. So, if you were late, you ended up having to knock on the doors and hope someone from the idara (principal’s office) would have mercy on you, and try your best ‘puppy locked out in the rain’ face to get in without getting yelled at.

And man, did we get yelled at. Somehow the mudeera (principal) of the program made all of us, most of us in our 20s, married, and some with a number of children, feel like we were school kids again, and about to get detention if we didn’t get our acts together. With time I got to see that the mudeera was actually pretty nice, but she liked to come across as tough, probably because of all the excuses she had to hear from students who were not serious about their studies.

One day in the beginning of the year I was really tired, and during our break time I wanted to get a soda from one of the small shops next to the masjid. I went to the exit door and saw that it was locked. Not thinking twice about it, I went to the mudeera’s office and asked her to open the door. “Open the door?” she said. “For what?”

I was really confused at this point. Wasn’t it our break time? It began to dawn on me that the door wasn’t locked by accident… I explained to her I wanted to get a pepsi, which she found pretty amusing. She poured me a cup of tea from the kettle on the table next to her desk, and sent me back to class. Translation: Being locked out in the mornings also means that you’re locked in during the day. For six hours.

Did I mention that the school day was about six hours long? From 7:30am until 1:15pm. There were times, especially in the beginning, when I would stare longingly out the windows at the sidewalk below, the busy street, and try to feel the sun and the breeze and think occasionally of jumping and making a break for it : ) I don’t think it would have been so bad if it weren’t for our desks. I don’t know where Abu Nour got these stiff wooden benches from, which would have been perfect for a class full of stick people. But for human beings, and for sitting for about five and a half hours a day, they are a bit tough on the back and other body parts, and some sisters would actually bring in sofa cushions to sit on.

Seriously though, you get used to a lot of these things, and they really are minor compared to the benefit that you can attain if you just embrace them. And compared to what the ulema of our past went through to gain just a small amount of knowledge, they are nothing.

The diversity of the students was one of the coolest things about the program. In my class there were students from Malaysia, Somalia, Burkina Faso, Romania, Russia, Turkey, Singapore, Daghistan, Indonesia, Norway, the U.S. (just me), the Philippines, China, and there were other girls in the program from Mauritius, Italy, South Africa, Canada and other places that I never even heard of before! The sisters from Singapore and Malaysia blew me away with their incredible recitation of Quran and their tajweed, the Turkish sisters with their amazing memories, and the Somali sisters with their sharp-wittedness. I met many sisters who really inspired and humbled me. There was one sister who was expecting, but she still came to class consistently up until and even during the week of her due-date, and she sat on those same uncomfortable benches I’ve been talking about without any complaint… and just a few weeks after her delivery she was back, carrying her baby in a little bassinet, and would sit in the back of the class, sometimes nursing her baby on one arm and following along in the book with the other. These are the kind of *strong* women that remind me of my mother’s generation, women of fortitude, resolve, and passion. I want to be like them when I grow up

Seeing as I didn’t have an ethnic group of my own, I tended to chill with the Somali sisters. I don’t know why, maybe because I could blend in with them a little : ) Through them I came to know that there’s a huge minority population of Somalis living in Damascus, and most of them live in Masakin Barzeh which is like a “little Mogadishu” as one sister put it.

Occasionally Sh. Salah (the general director of Abu Nour) would come in with some diplomatic guests, and show them around the institute, and they would like to show the diversity of the student body so I would frequently be pointed out as the ‘American’. I never felt any hostility from students or teachers for being from the U.S., but everyone pretty much shared the same feelings which one sister expressed to me quite frankly: “America must be a beautiful country, but we don’t like what it’s doing to the rest of the world.”

There were times in class when I felt that a teacher’s statements were too broad, stereotyping all Westerners or Western culture in a certain light, but I felt that in some way it was understandable. Most of the images the Western media pumps out show a culture in which sexuality and violence are glorified, and so people assume that that is our culture. If we want to change our image in the eyes of the world, to be considered a moral people who value and respect others, then our media and our foreign policy have to change drastically.

The vast majority of the students in the program are from poorer countries and are really living the simple student life while they’re here. I remember once casually mentioning to some girls how much we paid for rent for our apt. and saw some jaws drop. When asked where they live a lot of the girls simply say ‘fawq’ (literally, ‘up’ or ‘above’) meaning on the mountain, where the houses are the cheapest and are the most difficult to get to, with no real roads and with tons of stairs. Visiting some of their homes made me feel ashamed for thinking that I was ‘roughing it’. In a lot of these houses the most expensive thing in the place is their collection of books on the deen.

An entire year of studies in the Ta’heeli program costs $250, and in the past it was free. I remember one day the mudeera requested that all of the married students come into her office. When we came in she gave each of us a bag of rice. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t need it and that she should give it to someone more deserving, but at the same time I didn’t want to make anyone who may have really needed it feel embarrassed. Another time she gave everyone a small cash gift, twenty dollars or so, as a type of assistance. I feel that this is one of the best things about Abu Nour… that they seek to make a good quality Islamic education accessible for people who don’t have a lot of money. If anyone out there is looking for a good cause for sadaqa (charity), helping to support these kinds of students of knowledge is definitely one of them.

The Ta’heeli program itself is excellent, as are the majority of the teachers. They come regularly, speak excellent fusha and rarely slip into ‘amiya, and they know the material and how to teach it well. Some of the books that we covered in the program are the following:

– Qatr an-Nada (in Grammar)

– at-Tahleel as-Sarfi (in Morphology)

– al-Balagha al-Waadiha (Rhetoric)

– Al-Arba’een an-Nawawiyyah (Imam Nawawi’s Book of 40 Hadith) with commentary by Dr. al-Bugha

– al-Mandhuma al-Bayquniyyah (in Hadith terminology) with commentary by Sh. Abdullah Sirajudin

– the last two volumes of al-Fiqh al-Manhaji (in Shaf’ii Fiqh)

– An excellent small booklet in Usul al-Fiqh (Principles of Islamic Law), and another in ad-Dirasaat al-Adabiyya (Intro to Arabic Literature).

– We also had classes in Seerah (History of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him), Tazkiya (Spirituality), Khitabah (Speech), Fara’idh (Inheritence), Aqeedah (Theology), Quran (memorization and recitation), ‘Urudh (Poetry), Tafseer of Juz’ Tabarak (Exegesis), and Ulum al-Quran (Sciences of the Quran).

The best teachers in my opinion were: Aanisa Huda (the same teacher who made the grammar booklets for the Dawraat) who teaches Nahu, Sarf, and Dirasaat; Aanisa Muna who makes Balagha seem easy!; Aanisa Rufaydha who teaches Seerah from the heart; and Aanisa Zaynab for Fiqh and Usul al-Fiqh.

May Allah increase us in devotion and make us true students and seekers of sacred knowledge,

wasalaamu alaykum.

Study Experience 2: Abu Nour (The Dawraat)

pt 1. About Abu Nour

Abu Nour is a center for religious learning for Syrians and for foreigners. The entire neighborhood surrounding it, called Rukn ad-Deen, is filled with students from every part of the world. Abu Nour is a masjid at heart, but it is also a highschool and a Shari’ah college, and it offers a number of prepatory programs for foreigners who wish to master Arabic and study the Islamic sciences. They also run an orphanage and programs for the poor, widows, etc. and they have over a thousand workers in their various programs and branches.

Abu Nour is the product of the late grand mufti of Syria named Shaykh Ahmad Kuftaro, who was himself the son of a shaykh. The fact that he was able to establish Abu Nour at a time when the Syrian government was so suppressive of religious expression (under the regime of Hafez al-Asad) is a feat in itself; and there are people who take issue with the fact that Sh. Kuftaro chose to work *with* the government, instead of using his non-involvement as a statement of disapproval, which most of the ulema in Syria did during that same era. Even until today, the administration of Abu Nour is always trying to balance between good relations with the government and its goals as a religious institution.

This and the fact that the late shaykh met with the Pope (John Paul II) in 2001 are the two most controversial things about the shaykh’s life. (Why meeting the pope and taking him around Damascus would be a big deal I still don’t quite understand… in light of the present pope’s stance towards Muslims I think it was a positive thing… but perhaps it was considered a compromising stance by those in the Mid-east.)

Abu Nour is actually very big on inter-faith and dialogue, both religiously and politically, and this was one of the foundational teachings of the shaykh’s life. You’ll often find Abu Nour hosting guests, representatives of different countries or from different religious institutions, Christian, Jewish, Shia, etc. and giving them a platform to speak to the people. The Jum’uah khutbahs are often focused on the idea that as Muslims “all of us are in the same trench” and that we need to move beyond labels and work together, and that we need to develop relationships with others to become strong. The message is good, but it can actually get a bit repetitive and frustrating if you are looking for something more substantial or scholarly.

Sh. Kuftaro was and is loved by the Syrians. His janaza was prayed over by hundreds of thousands of people (he passed away just a few years ago) and he is presently buried on the ground floor of Abu Nour. His photo is everywhere, in every classroom of the institute, and sold on the steps out front. The teachers are all his former students or people who were greatly inspired by him and his message. He definitely accomplished something great in building Abu Nour. In these days, when the avenues to learning Islam are increasingly being blocked, Syria is one of the few places left for people to study in the Muslim world and this is due in large part to Sh. Kuftaro’s efforts. May Allah accept his life’s work, and that of all the ulema, and forgive them for any mistakes or missteps they may have made, ameen.

pt 2: the Dawraat

After studying at the U. of Damascus I did about four levels in the Dawraat of Abu Nour. The Dawraat are a series of two month courses on the Arabic language; three hours a day, with an hour and a half or grammar and an hour and a half of reading. I think each course is around 7000SP ($140) and the program goes from Level 1 to Level 6 or sometimes 7 or 8, if enough students are interested.

The strength of the Dawraat program is in their excellent grammar (nahu and sarf). Strong grammar is important for someone who wants to understand the Quran or classical texts. They use a series of booklets made by an amazing teacher at Abu Nour, Aanisa Huda, that go from very basic ideas to quite complex (ending with some of the material found at the end of Qatr an-Nada, like tanaazu’ and ishtighaal). The ideas are summarized and presented with simple explanation, examples, and exercises. The grammar teachers in the Dawraat are all very good, but Aanisa Huda is just awesome, and probably the best teacher I’ve had in my time here in Syria. For the reading classes they use al-Kitab al-Asaasiy for the first two levels and then switch to a series from Saudi. The reading classes are good, but not at the same level as the grammar.

They teach in a traditional way with a lot of lecture from the teacher and a lot of emphasis on memorization. When I started in the program I happened to be in a class with a big group of Turkish sisters and it was just crazy how quickly they memorized everything… they could read the assigned story twice and then be able to recite it like it was al-fatiha! You’ll start to see that there’s a big difference in the learning style we grew up with in the West and the rest of the world. This is where your self-initiative has to kick in and you need to use your creativity to make the material more digestible for yourself, by making study guides, charts, etc. Also there is really no emphasis on conversation, so that’s something that you have to get from outside the program, like with a private tutor.

The students are from a range of countries and backgrounds, including large numbers from Turkey, Daghistan, Malaysia, and Somalia along with a handful of Westerners. The vast majority are Muslim, though you may find one or two non-Muslims in the program wanting to get a feel for learning in an Islamic institute. I remember on my first day in the Dawraat an Italian girl in the class decided to take the shahada. The whole class was in an uproar. The teacher and a lot of the girls in the class were crying when they witnessed it… for many of them, who grew up in Muslim countries, it was their first time seeing someone embrace Islam. The teacher sent everyone out to buy some sweets or a small gift for her, and we had an on-the-spot party, which was really nice.

I also remember that I was fasting that day, and when someone offered me some cake, I couldn’t figure out how to say ‘I’m fasting’ in Arabic! Man, I thought to myself, I know how to say parliament in Arabic, but not how to say I’m fasting! I must have been studying in the wrong place…

Another thing about the Dawraat program is that it’s extremely laid back (you can start in the middle of the term, be absent for days, etc), the classes are huge (especially in the beginning levels) and they are slow. It definitely has its imperfections, but like everything else, the best thing to do is just focus on the positives and make the most out of your experience there.

All the teachers and the administrators in the program are really nice, and they’re young, in their 20s and early 30s, so in a lot of ways they were like older sisters to me. They would organize trips for the students to different places, have ‘daff parties’, and other things that helped make it fun and I really felt a sense of sisterhood there. Looking back I can say that I enjoyed my time studying in the program, and I benefited a lot, alhamdulillah.

btw I’m speaking solely from my experience on the sisters side of the program, so I can’t really say much about the teachers or quality of classes on the brother’s side since they are pretty independent of each other. (but they do use the same books and materials).

w’Allahu a’lam.

Study Experience 1: The University of Damascus (Jami’a Dimashq)

The University of Damascus has a number of campuses in different parts of the city, and its program for foreigners seeking to learn Arabic is situated on their Liberal Arts campus in Mezzeh (one of the city’s wealthier areas). They offer a series of eight one-month courses on Arabic for beginners. When I attended the program about a year and a half ago, the fee was 10,000SP a month (about $200), but I believe the price has increased to somewhere between $300-350 (which is extremely expensive according to Syrian standards.) They’ve also recently added ‘Aamiya classes (colloquial Arabic) to their program.

I started attending classes there just a few days after we arrived in Damascus, and I was quite shocked by the Syrians I saw and also by my European classmates. (The majority of the students in the Arabic program were Westerners, on scholarships or their junior year abroad). I thought that we were coming to a traditional, ancient, religious land… but Jami’a Dimashq is not exactly where you see that. The Liberal Arts campus is apparently known for being “modern” and somewhat of a fashion hub in the city. (Some of my friends say it’s very ‘90210′ :)) Many of the girls don’t wear hijab, and of those who did, I’d never seen so many different and fashionable ways of wearing it, some conforming to religious guidelines, and some not. (I think that most of the time in the U.S. if a woman chooses to wear hijab it’s solely with the desire to follow the Islamic ruling on the matter, and there aren’t really any social or cultural factors involved… but in Muslim countries it’s more complex than that and may even relate to fashion, reputation or family status, etc.) It seemed that the new trend at the time I arrived was for girls to wear skirts to the knees, boots that reached mid-calf, and show about six inches of leg in between which I found so strange to see on a hijabi. Lots of makeup and extremely fitted clothing (even for teachers and those working in administration) were also in. (but there were girls who were able to fuse western fashion elements and proper hijab which was cool, like chic monteaus, long denim skirts and jackets, flowy dresses and skirts, etc.)

The young men were not much different with slicked back hair, designer-labeled shirts, and narrow jeans or leather pants (!). Basically it was a typical picture of upper-class Arab youth, their dress and their manners largely guided by the images they saw on satellite, from American films, the Arabic music industry, European fashion, etc.

Having European classmates was also something new for me. The Italians totally fulfilled my pre-conceived stereotypes of wearing beautiful clothes and passionately smoking cigarette after cigarette during the breaks. (Europeans must not have the same “No Smoking” laws we do in the U.S. I don’t know how they would survive, because they all seem to be so addicted.) Along with the Italians there were also students from Germany, Norway, France, the U.K., a handful from the U.S., and a few from other European countries.

You could tell the breakup of the students by our answers to the teacher’s question, “Where do you live?” About 95% of the students would answer, “Bab Tuma” (the traditionally Christian quarter of the city, and where most foreigners live because it’s a more ‘liberal’ part of town) and the rest of us would say “Rukn an-Deen” (the ’students of deen’ area, where the Shariah College Abou Nour is located).

Most of the non-Muslim students were people who were interested in Islam and Muslim culture, and were open-minded, so it was nice if the opportunity arose to answer their questions or talk to them about Islam. (Whenever I met people like that I would always feel guilty about our lack of good quality da’wah programs and projects in the West… there are a lot of good people out there who, if they came to understand Islam, would embrace it or at least have an enlightened, positive opinion about it.) I also met a few Muslims who were studying with the intent of doing some really effectual and meaningful things in the world (changing foreign policy, Middle Eastern-Western relations, etc) which was awesome.

A big positive was that it was a pretty professional program with good, qualified teachers. We would study for four hours a day, grammar and reading, and there was a lot of emphasis on conversation. Their style of teaching was modern, in the sense that the relationship between teacher and student was relaxed, there was a lot of student participation, use of worksheets, and creative approaches to learning etc.

The negatives are: its price, which is at least twice as much as any of the other programs available in Damascus (possibly excluding the French Institute) and is not worth that much in my opinion, when there are other programs available. The program’s quality has declined in the last few years, according to people I’ve spoken to who had attended it back in its “good old days”, when classes were two months long. Since the classes are now monthly there’s a large turn-over rate and often students are not at the same level so there’s repetition of material.

In addition, studying there was a largely non-spiritual experience for me, and I think for most Muslims it would be the same. It’s understandable, I think, when you consider the environment and the objectives of most of the other students (which are usually not related to religion). The administration also seems to pride itself in being a secular institute, without really making any amenities for their Muslim students, like not providing a place to pray (we prayed in an empty classroom) and having mid-term exams the morning after the 27th night of Ramadan. Any religious expression is kept completely to the personal realm, so it’s just like studying in the U.S. in this regard.

These things come together to make the program one that is not really conducive to studying a sacred language for a sacred purpose. Also, much of what is taught is not relevant to someone seeking to learn Arabic to understand the Quran or read classical texts. For example, their vocabulary focuses on modern words related to business and government, and their recently added ‘Aaamiya classes are more beneficial for those studying culture and not classical religious works.

—

I remember one day when I was hanging out outside my classroom, a British girl, who had been studying Arabic at a posh university in England, said to me, “Did you know that there’s another school here in Damascus that all the poor Somalians go to to study Arabic?”

I just stared at her for a minute and tried to keep a blank face. Finally I asked, “Really? Do you mean Abou Nour?”

She said, “Yeah! I heard that it’s really ghetto, but they’re so cheap, so that’s where they all go…”

This was one of the times that I really felt a deeply intrinsic sense of superiority ingrained in some people from the West. It happened sometimes that I overheard conversations among the Westerners in my class about the Syrians and how silly or strange they found their culture and practices to be, which I felt harkened back to an era of paternalism, “Those silly natives, they just need us to teach them how to be civilized…”

I wanted to tell this girl that I had actually decided to study there for the next term; and that it’s not just poor Somalis that go there, but people from all over the Muslim world, admittedly most of them non-White, and most of them poor relative to Western standards… but I just kept quiet. Maybe I’d fit in better with the ‘poor Somalis’ than the ‘rich Westerners’.