What Converts Can Teach Other Muslims
The majority of my articles have addressed common questions and struggles that spiritual seekers new Muslims face. These have covered everything from the basics of our creed to interactions with our parents during the holidays. However, as I have discussed before on this blog, those who are born into Islam contribute a lot to our community at Taleef. This month's article is a piece of brotherly advice intended primarily for this group.
I recently narrated a hadith during a Friday sermon in which Hamza, may God be pleased with him, became drunk at a party, cut the humps off of two of Imam Ali's (ra) camels, and later insulted both Ali and the Prophet ﷺ. My point in telling this story was to display the humanity of the Companions in order to ease a growing anxiety I sense among millennial and Gen Z Muslims about their own inherent worthiness as Muslims. Hamza is the Lion of Allah, the uncle of the Prophet ﷺ, and a martyr of the Battle of Uhud. The Messenger of God ﷺ mourned him profoundly after his passing. And yet he was just as deeply human as you and I. He had flaws, he had rough edges, and, yes, he sinned. We can, and must, hold these two realities together when we remember our role models among the Companions of the Prophet. They were neither perfect nor were they under any illusions that they ought to be perfect. So why do we find so many Muslims living with this assumption today?
My intuition before the sermon was that reactions would be fairly evenly split between converts and those born into Islam. This was entirely accurate. Nearly every person who approached me afterwards who came from a Muslim family had questions on how they should interpret the hadith, what it means for the status of Hamza, or whether the event took place before the prohibition on alcohol (it did). There was a consistent underlying anxiety in their responses because something about their understanding of Islam had been challenged—though a few did express relief. The converts didn't approach me at all because they were unfazed. But when I sought their reactions, they generally amounted to, "Well, who hasn't been there?" They were well-acquainted enough with their own flawed humanity, without the immediate tinge of guilt and self-judgement, to identify with the story and take its lesson—namely, that Hamza, like the other Companions, is beloved to God despite his shortcomings. So where do we get off having low opinions of ourselves as Muslims because of our own flaws and missteps?
Unfortunately, I see these low opinions often and almost exclusively from those born into Islam. Perhaps you've noticed some of these things too: the self-deprecating comments, a certain sheepishness when entering a religious space, and, perhaps most telling, a constant awareness of what other people think. I sense among many of my friends and students the anxiety of accepting someone else's judgement of them—where their interactions with God are no longer a secret between them and their Creator but, rather, open to the interpretation of others. What I see is the assumption that they ought to have been perfect and, because they have not, their Islam is somehow deficient.
What converts can teach other Muslims is this: getting in touch with your own imperfections is actually the beginning of self-esteem as a Muslim. God alone is perfect. Even the Prophet ﷺ, who was blameless, was reprimanded by God in Surah Abasa for an error. So abandon whatever expectations you may have had that you would make it through this life untainted by the world. What makes us worthy as Muslims is acknowledging our need of God's guidance and mercy because we are imperfect. Hope in God's mercy and you will receive it. Your imperfections will not depart; there is no repentance from our humanity. But they will seem insignificant compared to God's vast generosity.
If there was ever a Muslim who approached perfection (aside from the Prophet ﷺ), it was Abu Bakr, may God be pleased with him. It was said that if the faith of Abu Bakr was placed on a scale, and the faith of all the other Muslims on the other side, Abu Bakr's faith would be heavier. Many of the Companions would praise him for his faith. This was Abu Bakr's prayer upon receiving such praise:
“O Allah, You know me better than I know myself, and I know myself better than these people who praise me. Make me better than what they think of me, and forgive those sins of mine of which they have no knowledge, and do not hold me responsible for what they say.”
Even Abu Bakr was aware of his own shortcomings—and he would remind himself of his imperfection in these moments. But the real secret in this prayer is that Abu Bakr wasn't ultimately concerned with himself. His eyes were on God, who knows us better than anyone and whose judgement is what truly matters. Whatever our anxieties or self-perception, true contentedness lies in this shift in perspective. Islam is not about believing ourselves to be good or bad. It is about believing in God--making Him the object of our concern and hope. And God knows best.