by Umm Zakiyyah
“I assume you don’t want me to tell her that?” Larry said, slight teasing in his voice.
“Please don’t,” Aliyah said sincerely. “I was just thinking out loud.”
“Got it.”
***
“Are you sure?” Benjamin’s voice said through the receiver as Aliyah held the cordless phone to her ear that evening after Ibrahim had fallen asleep.
Aliyah sighed as she slowly sat on the edge of her bed, letting the mattress receive her weight. “Yes, I’m sure.” But even as she said it, sadness enveloped her, and she wondered if she was doing the right thing.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Benjamin said, sadness in his tone. “I think Jacob would be perfect for you, bi’idhnillaah.”
“You really think so?” Aliyah said in a small voice.
“Absolutely,” Benjamin said. “Like I told you when I first mentioned him, had I known he was open to marrying a second wife, I would have suggested him years ago.”
Aliyah bit her lower lip as she considered what her uncle was saying. “It just doesn’t feel right…”
“For you?” Benjamin asked doubtfully. “Or for how others will think of you?”
Married ladies! Aliyah recalled Juwayriah bint Abdullah’s Facebook status from months ago. Hold on to your husbands. I ain’t one to call a sister out, so… #NuffSaid #YouHaveBeenWarned
“I don’t know…” Aliyah said, crippled by self-doubt. “Maybe a bit of both?” What if she was the home wrecker that Juwayriah accused her of being?
“When he was married, you felt uncomfortable with polygamy,” Benjamin said. “So what’s the problem now?”
“What kind of person marries her best friend’s husband?” Aliyah asked, her voice tight in emotion. “Doesn’t that make me a bad friend?”
“I don’t know,” Benjamin said honestly. “That depends on your definition of a friend.”
“No real friend would take advantage of someone during their most difficult time,” Aliyah said. “I can’t do this to Deanna. No matter what she’s done, she doesn’t deserve this.”
“But Jacob and Deanna aren’t even married anymore.”
“Well, I’m sure Deanna doesn’t see it like that,” Aliyah said.
Benjamin was quiet momentarily. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the story of Zaid bin Haritha and Zaynab bint Jahsh, may Allah be pleased with them?”
Aliyah drew in a deep breath and exhaled, dreading the conversation being turned into an Islamic lesson. “Yes…”
“What do we learn from their story?”
“That an adopted son shouldn’t be treated like a biological son,” she said, speaking in monotone to underscore her disinterest.
“And?”
“Uncle Ben,” Aliyah said after a few seconds, exhaustion in her voice. “I know it’s not haraam to marry Jacob, so that’s not what concerns me.”
“I never thought you were under the impression that it’s forbidden to marry him,” Benjamin said. “I’m mentioning the story to remind you that sometimes you have to make the unpopular choice for the greater good.”
“How can selfishness ever be the greater good?”
“Selfishness is a character flaw,” Benjamin said, “not a marriage choice.”
“But selfishness can be a marriage choice.”
“True…” he said tentatively. “But all marriage choices are selfish on some level.”
“Not the marriages of the Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wa sallam,” Aliyah said. “And he’s our example.”
“Ally,” Benjamin said, reverting to her legal name as he often did, “all I’m trying to tell you is, if you think protecting other people’s feelings is a condition to your own happiness, then you’ll probably be unhappy and single for the rest of your life. So you have to decide who your Lord is. If it’s Allah, then know that He hasn’t put these unnecessary conditions on you. But if it’s people, you’re destined for misery no matter what you choose.”
“It’s not shirk to protect other people’s feelings,” Aliyah said defensively.
“I’m not talking about the type of shirk that takes you outside the fold of Islam,” Benjamin said. “I’m talking about doing things for the sake of people instead of Allah.”
“They’re not always two separate things,” Aliyah said. “Look at the story of Ali and Fatimah, radhiyAllahu’anhumaa.”
“And is that story the exception or the rule?” Benjamin asked challengingly. “Or better yet, is it the only story that exists in our religion with regards to marriage?” he said. “If you want to derive a principle from Islamic history, then it should be based on striving to please Allah, and being compassionate to others while striving for the greater good.”
“Exactly,” Aliyah said. “How am I being compassionate to Deanna by marrying her husband?”
“Her former husband,” Benjamin corrected. “Either way, pleasing Allah must be your starting point,” he said. “And pleasing Allah does not always equal pleasing people. And pleasing people is not the same as compassion. Remember that.”
“I know,” Aliyah muttered.
“Don’t make the same mistake of cultural Muslims,” Benjamin warned.
Aliyah creased her forehead. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I met a Muslim brother who was worried he wouldn’t be able to marry the woman he wanted because in his country, all the elder relatives of the woman and man had to approve the marriage.” Benjamin huffed. “And when I told him that Allah doesn’t stipulate those conditions, he said it’s part of Islam to respect our elders.”
Aliyah rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid.”
“And how many other ‘stupid’ cultural rules have you heard from Muslims?” Benjamin asked rhetorically. “You must marry from a certain tribe,” he said as if enumerating. “The person must have a specific lineage. You can’t marry a divorced woman. The woman must be younger than you.”
Aliyah sighed, recalling the difficult conversation she’d had with Reem about whom Hana and Muhammad could marry. “I know,” Aliyah said sincerely. “And I don’t agree with any of that.”
“I know you don’t,” Benjamin said, his voice soft with empathy. “And I don’t either. But I mentioned cultural Muslims because if your main reason for refusing Jacob is because he used to be married to your best friend, then you’re no different than them.”
“That’s not true,” Aliyah said, unable to quell her offense. “Being sensitive to other people’s feelings isn’t the same as forbidding what Allah has permitted.”
“Have you ever met a cultural Muslim who says outright that it’s haraam to go against their traditions?” Benjamin asked doubtfully. “Chances are, most will at least acknowledge that their customs are not Islamic requirements. But does this knowledge affect their behavior?” he asked. “For many, it only emboldens them because they don’t feel they’re changing the religion. They’re just doing what’s best for their children or trying to avoid problems in the family or marriage, they say.”
“I know in Islam it’s allowed to marry outside your culture,” Aliyah recalled Reem saying, “but it’s not encouraged. It can cause too many problems in your marriage and family.”
“Years ago, thinking about the hypocrisy of cultural Muslims would make me angry,” Benjamin said reflectively. “But today, I realize that we have our own hypocrisy as American Muslims. We all have a lot of work to do.”
There was a thoughtful pause.
“But it’s not the same,” Aliyah said. “Americans are much more open-minded about following true Islam.”
“Not really,” Benjamin said doubtfully. “It’s just that the things we’re close-minded about are widely accepted because of Westernization,” he said. “So no one’s going to call us on it. And even if they did, we wouldn’t listen. Our Western arrogance makes us feel that our cultural adjustments to the religion are based on wisdom. But for others, we claim it’s based on ignorance.”
Aliyah drew her eye
brows together. “I don’t see American Muslims doing that,” she said. “We try hard to follow the Sunnah no matter what our culture says.”
“I’m not denying our sincere efforts,” Benjamin said. “But what we have in common with cultural Muslims is that we have our own un-Islamic traditions, and in the name of wisdom or some greater good, we dismiss Allah’s teachings when it suits us.”
“Like what?” Aliyah said doubtfully.
“Well, our anti-polygamy attitude, for one.”
Aliyah groaned. “But polygamy is breaking the law, Uncle Ben,” she said. “So no one is dismissing Allah’s instructions. It’s obligatory to follow the laws of the land.”
“To follow or to respect?” he said challengingly.
“What’s the difference?” she said, contorting her face defensively.
“One is placing human law above Allah’s, and the other is avoiding breaking the law,” he said. “There’s a difference.”
“Well, not partaking in polygamy is avoiding breaking the law,” Aliyah said monotone, as if reciting the obligatory way to phrase her statement.
“No. Not marrying legally is avoiding breaking the law,” he said. “Legal marriage isn’t obligatory in America. So why do Muslims do it?”
“Because it makes the most sense,” Aliyah said matter-of-factly. “That way, you follow the laws of Islam and your country.”
“Ally,” Benjamin said, “anyone who is sincerely trying to follow the laws of Islam and their country would never get legally married,” he said, “in monogamy or polygamy. But that we do, then use it as an excuse to prohibit polygamy is just further proof of how we dismiss Islam whenever it suits us.”
Aliyah contorted her face, glancing sideways at the cordless phone. “How is it haraam to get legally married?”
“I didn’t say it’s not allowed to get legally married,” Benjamin said. “I said anyone who is sincerely trying to follow the laws of Islam and their country wouldn’t do it. But this is just my opinion, not an Islamic ruling.”
“But why wouldn’t they get legally married? In your opinion?” Aliyah added.
“Because the requirements of a legal marriage contradict those of an Islamic marriage,” Benjamin said. “And any Muslim with basic knowledge of Islam knows it’s not permissible to enter into a contract that has conditions that go against our faith,” he said. “Especially if you have a legal alternative.”
“But I don’t see any contradictions,” Aliyah said. “We might have different conditions on who can marry whom, but whether it’s legal or Islamic, marriage is marriage.”
“But what if you want a divorce?” Benjamin said. “I know dozens of Muslims who have been divorced according to Islam for years, but they still don’t have a legal divorce. And they knew full well before they got married that their legal contract would contradict Islamic laws if the marriage didn’t work out. But they still got a legal marriage,” he said. “Why? Because it never really was about doing what was Islamically required. It was about doing the best they could given that this isn’t an Islamic country. But when it comes to polygamy, we want to claim that other Muslims can’t do the same,” he said. “And some of us even go as far as to claim Islam forbids it because America forbids it.”
Aliyah was silent as she considered what her uncle had said.
“So yes, we have our own cultural traditions that we use to replace Islam,” Benjamin said. “But it’s easy to look at other Muslims and point out their faults,” he said. “While the real challenge is to look in the mirror and be honest about our own.”
“I see what you mean…” Aliyah said thoughtfully.
“And let me ask you something,” Benjamin said. “Did you pray Istikhaarah when you refused Jacob’s initial interest in marrying you?”
Aliyah creased her forehead. “You mean when he was still married to Deanna?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Aliyah said.
“And why not?”
Aliyah didn’t know how to respond.
“Because your dislike for polygamy was so ingrained in your American psyche,” Benjamin said, answering his own question, “that the idea of consulting Allah Himself didn’t even cross your mind. ”
Aliyah started to defend herself when she was reminded of what she had said to Reem. “I get the whole preference thing. But what I don’t understand is why your culture doesn’t allow you to see Allah’s plan as bigger than yours.”
Perhaps American Muslims we’re so different from cultural Muslims, she considered. If she was genuinely convinced that it wasn’t wise to marry Jacob at that time, why hadn’t she consulted Allah before responding to her uncle? Certainly, praying about it would have only confirmed what she already felt. As it would for Reem and her husband regarding whom their children should marry.
“Don’t complicate your faith, Aliyah,” Benjamin said. “If Allah hasn’t forbidden something, there’s a very good reason for that.”
Aliyah bit her lower lip as she listened.
“And as for Jacob’s current proposal,” Benjamin said, “there’s no law against marrying the ex-husband of your friend. In Islam or America,” he added.
“But how do I know I’m making the right decision?” Aliyah said weakly. “I could just be convincing myself I’m trying to please Allah while I’m just following my desires.”
“You’ve said yourself that your biggest regret in marrying Matt was that you didn’t consider what you wanted and needed,” he said. “And if there’s anything in which following your desires can also mean pleasing Allah, it’s in the halaal bond of marriage.”
There was extended silence as Aliyah considered what her uncle had said.
“Ally,” Benjamin said compassionately, “don’t get me wrong. I know this isn’t an easy decision. And I acknowledge that I could be wrong about Jacob being right for you. Perhaps it is best for you to leave it alone. And maybe for all the reasons that make you uncomfortable,” he said. “Allahu’alam. But I don’t want you to say no until you’ve done some honest self-reflection and made du’aa and Istikhaarah.”
She sighed. “Okay.”
“I’ve known you most of your life,” Benjamin said, “and if there’s one thing I worry about, it’s your tendency to overthink things and worry about protecting everyone else.” There was a thoughtful pause. “So do me a favor,” he said. “Think about what I said. Then get advice, and make Istikhaarah. If you still feel the same by this weekend, then I’ll tell Jacob you said no.”
“Okay…”
“Then insha’Allah, I’ll see you this weekend,” Benjamin said.
“Insha’Allah,” Aliyah said.
“As-salaamu’alaikum, Ally.”
“Wa’alaiku mus-salaam wa rahmatullaah, Uncle Ben.”
Chapter 21
Speak To Me
Deanna dreamt that Jacob was in a lush green field walking toward her, a smile on his face. “Thank you, Deanna,” he was saying. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.” She was overcome with tears as she said, “I’m sorry, Jacob. Forgive me for everything.” But he didn’t seem to hear her. He continued to walk toward her, a smile on his face, but with each step, the grassy field expanded and stretched, until he was far from her, out of reach… I don’t want to lose you, her heart cried as she lost sight of him. Then pray, she heard a voice in her head. Pray…
The stiff pillow beneath her cheek was moist from tears when Deanna opened her eyes. She squinted in the darkness, and her chest constricted as her eyes adjusted to reveal that she was not in her comfortable bed at home. The stale stench of the jail cell burned her nostrils, and she became nauseated as she lay in a fetal position. She clenched her teeth as her stomach heaved, and she swallowed to thwart the bile rising to her throat.
“I divorce you.” Anger flared in Deanna’s chest as she recalled Jacob pronouncing the blasphemous words that sealed her fate. If it hadn’t been for him, she wouldn’t be in jail right then. And if it hadn’t
been for him, she would never have fought her mother. What had he been thinking enraging her like that? Why had he threatened to annihilate their relationship? Or was the divorce pronouncement his idea of a cruel joke?
Or maybe Aliyah had put him up to it.
The possibility was so enraging that Deanna sat up in bed, eyes narrowed indignantly. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. It was just like Aliyah to pull a stunt like this. Perhaps Aliyah had even expected Deanna to fight with her mother and end up in jail.
Oh, if only it had been Aliyah and not her mother on the balcony stairs that day. Then Deanna wouldn’t be so racked with guilt about her lying in a coma. It would serve Aliyah right to be rendered practically useless after all of her surreptitious plotting to steal Jacob.
“This is why your life is so messed up. You’re selfish and immature. You have no regard for anyone but yourself. Even God means nothing to you.”
Deanna winced at her mother’s words. For a fleeting moment, she felt a pang of guilt, and she was overcome with shame at her spiteful thoughts. Was it true that even God meant nothing to her?
“Our Lord died for us and gave his blood,” Deanna’s mother had said. “And if you want to go to Heaven, you need to accept his sacrifice.”
Deanna recoiled at the thought of returning to the religion of her parents. Her mother’s words had only been a ruse to guilt Deanna back into joining the church. Ever since Deanna had accepted Islam, her parents had made it their life’s mission to get Deanna to recant her faith. Perhaps Deanna did belong in Hellfire, she considered bitterly. But she would be remiss to fall prey to the trappings of a man and woman who lived only in the peripheral of God’s Word. So how dare they judge Deanna for merely being a reflection of themselves.
