The mere mention of Islam and Muslims became a source of potential misunderstanding and rancor, while the “Middle East” was fast becoming the very symbol of volatility and global threat. After completing a Master’s degree in Biblical Studies, I decided to “test” my growing inclination to dive into Islamic Studies by combining the study of Arabic with a chance to visit biblical sites in the “Holy Land.” With no reasonable future in Islamic Studies if I didn’t like Arabic, I enrolled in a ten-week, intensive introductory Arabic course at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, with time on weekends for the biblical connection. I loved Arabic and made many friends among Palestinian Arabs, both Christian and Muslim, and that was all the evidence I needed to pursue what has become a challenging and satisfying profession.
Many Muslims have asked me whether I have ever considered becoming a Muslim as a result of my professional commitment; and Christians have wondered whether, as a Roman Catholic, I wasn’t perhaps putting my religious convictions in jeopardy. The short response to the first query is that I have never been moved to consider converting. That is not because I do not find Islam an attractive tradition, but because I regard my faith and my membership in the worldwide community of Roman Catholics as a gift to be cherished and nurtured. As a result, my answer to the second is simply that although I find the study of Islam immensely rewarding and even spiritually engaging and enriching, the study of Islam has never subverted my Christian beliefs or commitments. On the contrary, that study has encouraged me to dig more deeply into my own traditions. Neither, on the other hand, have I ever suggested to any student that he or she might consider becoming Muslim, or to any of my Muslim friends and acquaintances that they would be better off as Christians. First and foremost, the study of Islam is much more than a dry academic exercise for me. Islam is, for me, one of God’s “signs” to believers of all perspectives. Islam is a challenge, a source of encouragement, and a call to take a bigger view of what life on this planet is about.
But surely my own religious convictions bias my study of the Islamic tradition, people wonder? Do I really think I can offer anything like an accurate, balanced assessment? True “objectivity” is indeed almost by definition impossible for any human being, but aiming at both accuracy and balance is of the utmost importance. My goal here is a good-faith attempt to present a faith tradition other than my own in a way that a significant percentage of members of that faith will find acceptable. Islam is a huge reality, and, like their counterparts in other faith traditions, Muslims also represent a vast spectrum of views about Islam.
And what sort of “larger perspective” do I see in my own faith traditions? Jesus challenged the people of his time not to be complacent about being the “chosen” people; he challenged them to read the signs of the times. The question for me is, how large am I prepared to allow God to be? How inclusive is God’s love? If my religious affiliation comes between me and God’s other children, it may very well come between me and God, too. Risk often goes hand in hand with challenge. Jesus says to the Samaritan woman in the Gospel of John: “The hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father.… The hour is coming, and it is now, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for such the Father seeks to worship Him” (Jn. 4:21, 23). I believe the study of Islam has been part of my call, not to a diminished personal commitment to my faith, but to the risk of living in the uncharted territory “between” Gerizim and Jerusalem.
My experience as a student of Islam has been one of hope, encouragement, and often of profound spiritual consolation. I have found the beauty of the scripture and the literary and visual expression of the tradition’s religious values deeply moving and uplifting. The increasingly evident fact of religious pluralism in our world convinces me more daily of the need to seek a more adequate understanding of what motivates Muslims, as well as members of other faith communities. Instead of being discouraged that the vast majority of people are not Christian and are not likely to become Christian, I am encouraged that so vast a multitude who call themselves Muslims seek God with a sincere heart.
Finally, the very fact of Islam calls me to a conversion more radical than any transfer of confessional allegiance. It is a call to expanded awareness. Islam is part of my world, a world about which, over fifty years ago, the Second Vatican Council called for a new vision: “Over the centuries many quarrels and dissensions have arisen between Christians and Muslims. The sacred Council now pleads with all to forget the past and urges that a sincere effort be made to achieve mutual understanding; for the benefit of all, … let them together preserve and promote peace, liberty, social justice and moral values.” Isaiah calls to mind God’s global vision as well: “I will say to the north, Give them up; and to the south, Do not hold back. Bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the ends of the earth, everyone who is named as mine, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made” (Is. 43: 6–7).
In more recent years, many people have asked whether I recall what I was doing when I heard the tragic news of “9/11” and whether my study of Islam has offered any insight into those and subsequent related events. For most Americans, it was September 11, 2001. For me, it was the year 970, as I visited with Abu Talib al-Makki. Drifting back into tenth-century Mecca, I was engaged in my jihad of the lexicon, striving to translate the large chapter on Knowledge of God in Abu Talib’s amazing but dauntingly difficult Arabic work, The Sustenance of Hearts. Into my sometime-medieval study, my wife, Mary Pat, stepped in as she returned from errands with a look of utter disbelief on her face. “Have you listened to any news yet?” she asked. And she described the shocking events as we tuned in for the latest grim tidings. We talked for a while and then tried to get back to work, I to reconnect with Abu Talib. Needless to say I was seriously distracted, but I thought about what Abu Talib might say about that sad day.
Abu Talib was a shrewd observer of the human condition. He minced no words as he talked about people who abused religion for their own purposes. Yes, he knew plenty of them. Abu Talib was particularly hard on hypocrites, people who feign authority only to be seen as important while they care only about the trappings that they hope will deceive others into following them. He talked often of Hudhayfa ibn al-Yaman, a Companion of Muhammad whom the Prophet had noticed because of his unique insight into the evils of hypocrisy. Muhammad even informally designated Hudhayfa as the young Muslim community’s “expert” on hypocrisy. One day a Muslim approached Hudhayfa with a personal concern related to Hudhayfa’s specialty. He said, “I fear I am becoming a hypocrite.” “Nothing to worry about,” said Hudhayfa, “hypocrites are not afraid of hypocrisy.” Hudhayfa could pick a hypocrite out of any crowd.
If Abu Talib were here today, he would tell a lot of Hudhayfa stories. If Hudhayfa were here today, he would not hesitate to call a hypocrite a hypocrite, and would describe all forms of bigotry—religious and otherwise—as arising from hypocrisy. He would characterize our world as suffering a crisis of knowledge: the greatest tribulation of all is to be presented with good and evil and not know which one to choose. In just such a time, when moral ambiguity abounds, those whose hypocritical design involves distorting religious values mold those starved for genuine learning like putty in their hands. It is time for us all to use the “H-word” to make it crystal clear to all those with terror on their minds, hatred in their hearts, and blood on their hands that they do not speak for any of the faith traditions that any of us treasure.
What is “Islam”?
An Abrahamic monotheistic faith tradition that sees itself