#Sermon in Cape Town: Tradition, #Ethics and #Modernity

I was writing a paper on religious leaders in the city of Cape Town, for which I had chosen a Pentecostal pastor and a Muslim reformist teacher. For both of them I was looking carefully at how they navigated Islamic reformism and Pentecostalism in their lives. I was looking at how their commitment to these groups was developed, adopted and modified. It was a careful study of change and innovation in leaders and teachers who prided themselves on fidelity to the tradition.

I was almost finished with my paper and it was Friday, so I headed to a local mosque to listen to the sermon. I  was hoping that in might give me inspiration to reflect on the paper, and to finish it. It did but it was disturbing as well.

I made sure that I got there early enough so that I could listen to the whole sermon. But as I walked in I heard the preacher condemning Islamic feminists and activists who advocated equal rights for gays and lesbians.  This ad-hominem attack was not completely unexpected as there has been a growing controversy within the Muslim community in the last few weeks around a religious opinion (fatwa) that declared that Sunnis should not get married to Shiítes.  Condemnation of groups was not unusual in mosques.

Was sectarianism raising its head in the city? Was this now another attack, on a different group of people? What was sectarianism? Returning to my thesis, was it new or old?

Listening to this attack on Islamic feminists and gay and lesbian Muslims was disconcerting. But what did he say?

His main thesis was that "these people" wanted to change the rules of Islam. The rules of Islam were fixed and good for eternity, brought to humanity by inspired Prophets and Messengers. This was a complete misrepresentation of Islamic law, which was characterized by diversity and debate. But I continued to listen.

The preacher asserted that these "deviant" groups were rejecting the sayings attributed to the Prophet (hadith). By rejecting the hadith, they rejected the sunnah, he continued. I could not help but recall Fazlur Rahman's argument that there was a difference between sunnah (a norm, the way of the Prophet) and hadith (one of the sources that pointed to the sunnah). Like other modern intellectuals, Rahman had shown how the first Muslim intellectuals assumed and worked with this distinction. It was only the great jurist al-Shafií who collapsed the two. Henceforth, a sunnah  (norm) was indistinguishable from a hadith (a text).  In one stroke, al-Shafií rejected all previous approaches to the sunnah. He also rejected and banished all rational and ethical deliberations in the identification of norms. Max Weber would have said that he played a leading role in the establishment of a tradition, at the expense of flexibility.

Failing to understand the debate raised by feminists and gay activists, the preachers only managed to fan the flames of sectarianism.

I had resigned myself to listen to a misrepresentation, when the preacher took a slightly different turn. He tried to point out that without hadith, Muslims would not know how many prayers there were in a day.  There is no mention at all in the Qurán, he declared, of the times of prayer.  This was another misrepresentation. But I had by now resigned myself to listen to blanket declarations without support. Perhaps, i thought, there were part of the rhetoric of sermons.

But then an innovation came soon. He said that one needs the hadith for the "direct number" to God. God's direct number, he revealed to us, was 2-4-4-3-4. Those who reject the hadith cannot reach God as they will not have this direct number. Don't reach for your mobile phone! He was referring to the particular number of postures (rakát) in the five daily prayers. He likened a connection with God to a telephone call with a friend. But we know what happens to the telephone number of big institutions. You might only be speaking to a call centre!

He concluded his sermon by appealing to the members of his audience to love the Prophet like the fans of Man United. In their love for Man United, fans know all the players, know the clothes they wear and promote, their habits and families.  There was nothing wrong with this, he assured Man United fans in the mosque, but Muslims who claimed to love the Prophet should do something similar. Compared to Man United fans, the fans of the Prophet fall far short.

Muir Street Mosque: Not the Mosque referred to in Article.

The special number to God (2-4-4-3-4) and the fan club were rhetorical strategies employed by the preacher.  They reveal that while he rejected Islamic feminists and gay and lesbian activists for changing the rules of Islam, he was himself deeply immersed in the metaphors of the modern world. He redefined what it meant to have a connection with God and the love of the Prophet. Our connection to God was like telephone call, and our community was a fan club.

Whilst deeply immersed in his modernism, the preacher railed against Islamic feminists and gay and lesbian activists. I think traditionalists appear to be the bedrock of tradition, but they are often unaware of the deep changes that they bring into their tradition. Whilst holding up against some groups identified as those who tarnish or threaten tradition, they are simultaneously making space (mostly unconsciously) for more insidious changes. An innovation that changes the way one connects with God and with the Prophet in Islam needs more careful attention, than an innovation that seeks fairness, justice and an end to inequity.

The Friday sermon in this Cape Town mosque might seem mild. But it is part of a growing sectarianism claimed in the name of tradition, in the city, country and elsewhere. It has embroiled communities and societies into interminable conflict. All the while, it conceals a radical change in the tradition, whilst claiming to be faithful to it.

They are nothing... but also everything in Surah Rahman in the #Quran

Dr. Majidi Bassier emailed me that he would be reciting Surah Rahman at the morning (fajr) prayers today (2 July 2016). Like many others, I have always enjoyed reciting this chapter for the refrain that flows through it to the very end: “Then which of the favours of your Sustainer will you deny?” The favours refer to the creation of nature, and human culture. They include the speech that humans possess to communicate with each other, the fruits and treasures that they find on the earth and in the depths of the oceans, and also the boats and ships that cross rivers and oceans. In sum, the favours cover all aspects of human existence on this earth (nature) and in this world (culture).

Many years ago in my hometown, we wished we had the privilege and honour of reciting this chapter in the night prayer in Ramadan. We knew it well, and knew that everyone listening enjoyed it too. Reciting this chapter would give us a special place in the town for one night. Alas, most of the time, there was a senior Hafiz who denied us this privilege. He sometimes changed the order of reciters so that he could recite Surah Rahman. He was a good reciter, but at the time we resented this high-handedness. But my uncle Mammandkaka and my father always gave me the opportunity to recite the Chapter at family events, and always made a point to say that they loved it when I read it. Listening or reciting it always brings tears to my eyes ... in gratitude for the little favour that they bestowed upon me.

Given the focus on the favours bestowed on humanity, it was surprising to also read “All that dwells upon the earth is perishing, yet still abides the Face of thy Lord, majestic, splendid” (Arberry Translation). On the one hand, the refrain turns attention to the bounties and favours found in human existence. Again and again, it implores human beings to be grateful for life, for the world and everything in it. On the other hand, all this will come to pass. There is no ultimate value in these favours. Only the face of the God would endure.

Listening to it these days caused me to pause. Is this verse not pulling the rug from under the refrain? Is it not ultimately destroying the intuitive message of the refrain? If everything is perishing, then the favours may be denied?

Immediately after this devaluation, however, comes “kulla yamin huwa fi sha’n” (“every day He is upon some labour” - Arberyy). Qurtubi reports that commentators found this to be a verse particularly difficult verse to understand. But they settled on the fact that God is always attending to existence, to the needs of his creation. God creates and destroys provides support and sustains, answers prayers and chastises. And he does it all in the world inhabited by humans. In a way, the verse restores value to the world and its favours. But now, the value includes life and death, and turns around the “labour” of God.

The two verses must then be put together: ““All that dwells upon the earth is perishing” and ““every day He is upon some labour.” The one declares that nothing else is of value except the face of God, and the other that every thing is of value as his “labour” (sha’n). The two together give us a perspective on the earth and the world that helps us to navigate between loss and recovery, appreciation and devaluation. There is a delicate balance between all and nothing in the face and labour of God. The favours of God include loss and recovery, overflowing bounties but also mishaps and obstacles.

#Ethics from the #Quran: They tell each other secretly… and then they blame each other!

A short narrative in the Chapter of the Pen (al-qalam) recalls an affliction that is visited upon the owners of an orchard. One morning, they prepare themselves to harvest their fruit earlier than usual. They “tell each other secretly” that no poor wretch might come upon them, expecting a share. But when they reach the orchard, they are not early enough. A visitor has already been been there, and laid waste the orchard like a parched and dusty field. At first, they think that they are lost (dallun), but then sit back and consider their experience. “They blame each other”, but some also remind them to reconsider their actions and their moral compass.

This is a familiar narrative that evil intentions will sometimes face a lesser punishment, a timely reminder for those who take heed. The greater punishment will leave no respite. But this narrative sometimes conceals hidden nuggets. Familiarity and repetition may become veils to insight.

A closer look at two verbs (yatakhafatun and yatalawamun) is worth a pause. They turn our attention to deep-seated human responses to prosperity and loss. Hoping to keep the full harvest for themselves, the owners of the orchards wished that there were no poor around. They wished that the plentiful harvests were taken from the trees, and stored and hoarded in safe places. “They tell each other secretly.” In one sense, this is an oxymoron. A secret is kept to oneself, and once told to another can no longer be called a secret. But the effect of the verb speaks of a deep or secret desire by the rich and prosperous to maintain a safe distant from the wretched. They should not be accosting one at road intersections. They should not be sullying the portals and corridors of power. Told and untold, the secret runs deep.

Yatalawamun is an equally dominant reaction, this time when an affliction or even minor mishap comes to pass. “They blame each other” as they confront the devastation, looking for a scape-goat to identify and crucify. It is a knee-jerk response, looking to protect the self. Blaming the other happens on the level of the everyday, often in a family, a company, a nation and on the globe. Rene Girard has reminded us that this is probably the origin of human socialibilty. Someone must be blamed so that others can live.

But this narrative concludes with a more hopeful vision for the future. Perhaps, one of them says, our Provider will exchange this for something better.

#Ethics from the #Quran: They might be better than you!

I continued on my journey, listening to Qur’an reciters. Following the advice of Reza Ismail, I also went to the Dorp Street mosque one night. It was extremely good, as he had promised.

Chapter Hujurat is one of the favourites of the early morning prayer at the Azzavia Mosque close to our home. I have heard verse 11 countless times, but saw the full implications thereof as I listened again on Saturday morning (18 June 2016).

The verse cautions believers not to denigrate, insult or think of others less worthy, less pious or less devout: “it might be that they are better than (those who believe).” Do not, the verse continues, use insulting names or use other forms of evil signification towards a people, men or women. Turn away from such behaviour, it concludes.

The commentator Qurtubi lists some examples of such forms of denigration. He recalls a man who arrived late at prayers, and demanded his usual place in the front row, wanting to eject someone he thought was less worthy. He mentions the companions of the Prophet calling the son of his major enemy, “Son of the Pharaoh of this nation.” And he recalls how one wife of the Prophet was called short, and being made fun of for her dress; another being called a Jew! In the latter, the insults were coming from within the household of the Prophet.

The examples are very specific, and show how deeply the potential to insult and denigrate may infect a society. Qurtubi elucidates the practice of insults in a community that Muslims regard very highly. This is an effective way of addressing insults at a fundamental, but also personal, relational manner.

But the verse’s use of qawm and nisa suggests also collective denigration. And this reference can be applied to stereotyping and insulting groups of people in our time. I could not help but relate this to the current climate of racism accusations and counter-accusations in South Africa, or Islamophobia in the West. These two stand out amidst a general inclination to nativism or ethnic, cultural, religious and civilisational arrogance.

The verse does not call for equality or simply a moderation in insulting another person. The other being insulted may actually be better, it remind the reader! This is in contrast with what we usually think about stereotypes. They are inaccurate, or they are based on generalisation of one encounter. They hide or reveal a fundamental inequality as in South Africa between white and black. Racial slurs reveal and hide a history of occupation, theft and dominance of one group over the other.

These cannot be denied. But the verse reminds a reader that the other who is denigrated may be better. Not equal, but better! It does not call for equality, but suggests a thought that would be difficult to contemplate. What does it take to think of the Other as worthy of more value? Denigration, when it is deep and long-standing, has created a wall of assumptions and preconceptions about the other. The other is regarded as barbaric, stupid, animal-like or inherently violent. It is difficult, perhaps impossible, to start thinking that the other is more valuable than oneself!

But the thought forces one to take another look at both self and the other. Perhaps thinking about the other as more virtuous might be a more concrete and effective way of addressing the scourge of racism. Thinking of the other in this way might be an effective way of breaking a prejudice, even a really deep prejudice.

Qurtubi concluded his commentary with a quoted from a great scholar of North Africa: “The one whose faults are hidden by God should not denigrate one whose faults are exposed by God.” This is an equivalence of a kind that is difficult to reject. It might provide a foundation for addressing prejudice, insults and denigration.

#Inter-religious #Ethics in the #Quran: If it was an Angel?

I could not stop hearing verse 7 of chapter 7 of the Qur’an: “Had we sent an angel, then it would have been finished, there would be no respite for you...” Like many others in the 1980s in South Africa, we held on to the humanity of the prophets in general, and the Prophet Muhammad in particular. What would he have done in the face of apartheid, discrimination and racism .... It was and remains an argument for a contextual understanding of religion and law and values....

When we focused our attention on the humanity of the prophets, we had to skip over the alternative, the angelic host. Last night, the reciter stumbled over this verse. Bless him... his slow and haunting recitation is generous for anyone willing to listen and reflect. As is the custom in the night prayer, the next reader returned to this verse, corrected and recited it again. This time, I could not ignore it.

When the angels descend on humankind, then there is no longer any doubt or question about truth, meaning and destiny. That descent would be final, an end time for the game of being human.

What is the game of being human, as seen in the choice between an angelic host and a human messenger?

Full certainty, that which comes with an angelic host, is deferred. It has to be deferred ...

In real human experience, full certainty is elusive. It is just beyond reach.

It is slippery. One moment you think it is there, as you can see it as clear as daylight.And then it slips away between your fingers.

And when you have it, you cannot share it with anyone.... each must acquire certainty for herself.

You can get a hint, or some help from the wise, the Prophets and the saints. You might get more than a hint when someone shows you, witnesses the truth for you....

But you are on your own... even face to face with a human messenger of God.

If the weight of human responsibility is difficult to accept, perhaps even to imagine.. then think of its implication for our diverse and bewildering world.

Absolute certainly is not part of our human communication, about our competing visions of the world. This is not a vision of endless play and deferred truth. It is not a mere celebration of diversity for the sake of diversity. The truth is there ... only the absolute truth is deferred.

Remembering the humanity of the prophet is important, even essential. But that new contextual reading might not be the arrival of the angelic host.... it cannot be.