A Muslim intellectual who lives in the USA tells us about his 11th of September. Some, Muslims like him, had carried out a massacre in the name of Islam: but they were not martyrs, rather "murders" that counterfeited Islam "in order to cover the horror of their satanic behavior." Where was God in those days?
New York was in mourning. The suffering darkened the horizons. The pain of the separation and the loss of close relatives, neighbors, citizens, and human beings, was tangible in every corner of the country. That was for me the day of my personal "jihad" (struggle), a jihad with my pride and my Muslim identity. This is the true meaning of jihad: "the struggle against ones' own ego and ones' own false pride." I do not ever remember praying to God so sorrowfully, asking Him to prevent the madness that had been unleashed on New York and Washington and attributed to Muslims. Nor did I feel pain. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I felt a sense of shame at the thought that it very well could have been my companions in faith that committed this monstrous act of terrorism. How could these terrorists invoke the mercy and compassion of God when, with their wicked act, they discredited all the history of this great religion and its culture of tolerance? Was it not therefore Islam which taught us to value the sanctity of human life? Had no one imparted to them, that this God who is called the Merciful One, Allah the Compassionate, the Giver of the Revelation that considers the killing of a single person "like killing the entire humanity?", (Qur'an, 5:33). Had not Mohammed, the founder of Islam, taught that suicide, in any form or for any reason, was absolutely forbidden?
I struggled to understand the meaning of the verse "We will show them our signs on the horizons and in their own souls, until it becomes manifest to them that this is the truth. Is it not enough that God witnesses all things?" (Qur'an, 41:53). I became aware that God was everywhere amidst the ruins, to show His signs. To remind human beings of the satanic forces "within themselves" to which they can succumb, falling prey to the self-induced illusion that they can fulfill the will of the merciful God. In the days following, there was more and more information on the terrorists, including the five page letter left in a suitcase in a car parked near Logan airport in Boston. More than anything else, this was the fanatical mentality of the Muslim extremists, which became obvious when I read, "If God grants to any one of you an occasion to kill, you will have to face it and thereby make a big offering to appease your parents, because you are in debt to them... If you kill, you must rob the people you kill, because this is a sunna (tradition) confirmed by the Prophet." I thought, this is not only an attack against innocent persons, it is also an attack against Islam and the Prophet Mohammed!
The truth is that the Abramic religions teach that God is just, and that the realization of justice is included among the divine purposes for human societies. Muslims in general believe that the sacred law of God, the Sharia, supplies the balance of justice for Muslims collectively. But who are these people who arrogate the right to define the parameters of divine justice, and trigger the destruction of human society in the name of the Sharia? I wonder, how the religion of God can become a source of terror and nonsensical destruction? Did God send human beings to earth to destroy themselves in turn in His name? Or instead has He sent them to live together in peace and harmony?
I continued to try to find the religious sources of terrorism, if there were any, at the disposition of the extremists in the writings or the traditions attributed to the Prophet. While I was searching, I realized that the term "jihad," which is usually used by terrorists to legitimize their crimes, does not appear anywhere with the meaning "holy war against infidels." In fact, terrorism in any form, is never considered anything other than a cowardly act and a demonstration of rejection toward the divine gift of life. Certainly the term "jihad," in the lexicon of these murderers, does not seem like that in an interpretation wantonly falsified to cover the horror of their satanic behavior.
But the use of this tone of false religiosity and the fraudulent appropriation of religious teachings was not limited to these murders. While navigating in cyber space I was deeply disturbed, reading some of the morally bankrupt comments circulating about the tragedy by self-gratifying Muslim preachers and teachers, and in their failure to condemn the terrorism in no uncertain terms. Nearly one Muslim exponent or preacher out of two tried to answer the question: "Why do Muslims hate America." This very question betrays a distorted way of thinking about the Muslim ethic regarding interpersonal relationships. They spared no effort in rationalizing the monstrous act, justifying it both in political terms (like tying the crisis to American foreign politics in the Middle East), and in religious terms (like divine punishment for the arrogance of the Americans).
But were not these same persons arrogant, when they attributed the event to some improbable conspiracy? This defensive reaction in their thinking showed they scarcely perceived their ethical responsibility for the terrorism carried out in the name of Islam. I was astonished by the arrogance of these Muslims, consenting to use the name and memory of God as an instrument for the destruction of human life and goods. "In what type of God do these people believe?", I asked myself, and I continue to ask myself.
I did not doubt, not even for a moment, that God was "witness to everything." I was and I remain deeply pained, while I write my answer to the question "Where was God on the eleventh of September?" At a certain point, the Qur'an reminds me, "No affliction happens without the permission of God. If anyone believes in God, God will guide his heart. For God knows all things" (Qur'an, 64:11). How could I give one reason for this tragedy inflicted by human wickedness? Had God permitted it? How could my heart direct me to accomplish the work of God in this tragedy? I searched inside myself while I stood up to speak to thousands of students at the University of Virginia who had gathered for the candlelight vigil the evening of 11 September. For the first time in the twenty-five years I had spent at that university, I saw that the students seated together on the grass were like a "family." I began to perceive the "tie" that united the community in those days. I received dozens and dozens of telephone calls, emails and cards of solidarity from Christian and Jewish friends, colleagues, students, and the community in general. It was as if we were in mourning, and these were messages of condolence. And indeed I was in mourning, for the destruction of human life and the sudden attack on Islam by the so-called "soldiers of God."
I saw God in the new relationships that were being developed between people. It was the first time that I felt we had become one community at the university, in the city, and in the entire country. I wondered, "Had we become so neglectful one toward the other that God had to remind us by means of this tragedy that life makes sense only when we love the other or care for them?" I searched through all the spiritual wealth of Islam for something that could speak to my anguish and to the realization of my love and care for others. It was in one of the poems of Jalaluddin Rumi that I discovered some verses that spoke to my pain:
"It is pain that prepares you for joy. It roughly cleans and sweeps your house, so that the new joy can enter you. It shakes the yellow leaves from the branches of your heart, so that new verdant leaves can grow in their place. It tears the rotten roots from the ground, so that the new hidden roots further down have space to grow. The pain shook away everything from your heart, so things much better can take their place."
Therefore God is everywhere, among the ruins and in the broken hearts, to remind us of our frailty and the brevity of our stay on this earth. A religious person, of any faith, lives in search of the divine presence. A danger always exists, that I could advance the pretension that the Divine is only found in that which I believe or do, and therefore to despise or take little account of other human beings, as the terrorists of 11 September did. No conscientious Muslim can permit himself to advance this pretension of exclusive truth, without the risk of fomenting the hate and demonization of other human beings. For we live in a world where there are various faiths, but suffering is common to everyone.
Abdulaziz Sachedina