by Umm Zakiyyah
Jacob nodded thoughtfully. “So what is it about Jasmine that makes you doubtful?”
Larry pursed his lips as if carefully considering the question. “She’s not always forthcoming.”
“In what way?”
Larry huffed. “In any way.”
Jacob didn’t know what to say.
“You know how some people have this deep, spiritual conscience?” Larry asked reflectively. “Jazzy never had that.” He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “She’s more opportunistic than anything. So if she’s doing something, there’s always a carefully thought out reason why.” He shook his head as his eyes grew distant. “And man, I don’t even know what the reason is half the time.”
***
Jasmine looked different from how Aliyah remembered her at the mall. Her face was framed by an off-white khimaar that was carefully wrapped about her head and secured in place by a scarf pin, and she wore a knee-length button-up blouse (or maybe it was a dress?) that fell over a wide floral skirt.
“MashaAllah,” Aliyah said, a smile forming on her face after she exchanged the salaams with Jasmine in the lobby of the masjid. “You look…”
“Muslim,” Jasmine finished, a proud grin spreading on her face as she extended her arms, as if inviting Aliyah to admire her attire more closely.
Aliyah’s previous misgivings about Jasmine faded as she realized how much care Jasmine had taken before coming to the masjid. Though Aliyah wouldn’t think less of any Muslim woman based on her appearance, especially a new Muslim, Aliyah couldn’t deny that it was admirable that Jasmine had taken the time to not only research proper hijab but to also learn how to wear it as well—and for her first trip to the masjid.
“So what do you think?” Jasmine said, glancing down at her outfit and pulling at the sides of her skirt so that it flared. She twisted her torso to the right and left before letting go of the skirt.
“I love it, mashaAllah,” Aliyah said sincerely. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had been Muslim at least a year.”
“Good,” Jasmine said. “I don’t like making a fool of myself, so I did my research.”
“Where did you study everything?” Aliyah said as she walked toward the musallaa, Jasmine falling in step next to her.
Jasmine shrugged. “Books, blogs, YouTube,” she said, “wherever I could.”
“So do you need any help?” Aliyah said jokingly as she opened the door to the prayer area and gestured for Jasmine to enter before her.
Jasmine chuckled as she stepped inside. “I need a lot of help,” she said, lowering her voice as she glanced over her shoulder at Aliyah.
Aliyah took off her shoes as the door to the musallaa closed behind her, and she immediately looked toward the men’s section and spotted Ibrahim still talking to the brothers. She smiled inwardly, pleased that he was comfortable in the masjid. Jasmine took off her shoes too as Aliyah kneeled to pick up hers and place them on the shoe shelf.
“Do you know about wudhoo’?” Aliyah asked in a lowered voice after Jasmine too had placed her shoes on the shelf.
“Is that the ritual washing before you pray?” Jasmine asked.
“Yes,” Aliyah said. “Do you know how to do it?”
“I’ve watched some YouTube clips about it,” Jasmine said tentatively.
“Maybe we can start with that,” Aliyah said.
“But I did the ritual bath before I came,” Jasmine said. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Ghusl?” Aliyah asked as she walked across the soft carpet.
Jasmine hesitated. “I guess…” she said. “I read I should do it before coming to the masjid.”
Aliyah shrugged. “That’s fine then,” she said. “But it’s not obligatory unless there’s a reason.”
“A reason?” Jasmine repeated, confused.
Aliyah sat down near the partition and motioned for Jasmine to do the same. She made sure to sit where she could see Ibrahim while Jasmine could be behind the partition if she wanted. “Ghusl is obligatory after you finish your menses and after having relations with your husband.”
“Relations?” Jasmine looked perplexed as she sat next to the divider.
“Sex,” Aliyah said, an uncomfortable smile on her face.
Amusement glistened in Jasmine’s eyes. “That sounds like fun,” she joked.
Aliyah cast her eyes to the side, the shadow of a smile still on her face. She found Jasmine’s joking unsettling, but she didn’t want to discourage the relaxed mood. “MashaAllah,” Aliyah muttered.
“So Muslims don’t have to remain celibate for life or anything like that?” Jasmine asked, humor in her tone.
Aliyah couldn’t tell whether Jasmine was asking in earnest or jokingly. “No, alhamdulillah,” Aliyah said, erring on the side of clarity and truthfulness.
“Whew,” Jasmine said as if relieved, humor still in her voice. “Then it’ll be just like old times when Larry and I get married, huh?”
Aliyah shifted uncomfortably and glanced toward where Ibrahim was sitting and saw that more brothers had entered and were reading Qur’an and praying. “Have you studied anything about Tawheed?” Aliyah said, intentionally changing the subject. She refused to entertain inappropriate joking in the prayer area, even if it was from a new Muslim.
“So I take it, talking about sex isn’t allowed in a Muslim place of worship?” Jasmine said, a smirk on her face.
“Look, Jasmine,” Aliyah said, exhaustion in her tone. “If we’re going to—”
“A’oodhu billaahi me-nash-Shaytaanir-rajeem,” a youthful voice reverberated from the masjid speakers.
Instinctively, Aliyah looked to the front of the musallaa and saw a boy who appeared to be about ten years old standing at the mimbar reciting into the microphone. Everyone in the prayer area had grown quiet and was facing the front, their attention on the thin boy in the white thawb and skullcap.
“Bismillaahir-rahmaanir-raheem,” the boy continued, enunciating every syllable in a measured tone. “Edhash-shamsu kuwwerat…”
Aliyah immediately recognized the beginning of Surah Al-Takweer, a chapter of the Qur’an she had memorized some time ago. She bowed her head humbly and listened to the beautiful, captivating recitation. As the boy finished, she glanced toward the entrance to the prayer area and saw Juwayriah standing at the door, smiling proudly, as if she had come only to hear the recitation before returning to her duties. Aliyah was confused momentarily when Juwayriah spread her arms wide. But a second later, Aliyah saw that the boy had walked toward Juwayriah and was met with an embrace. Juwayriah kissed the boy on the top of his kufi before releasing him and disappearing behind the door while the boy returned to the prayer area and sat down with the rest of the brothers.
“JazaakAllaahukhairan to our young brother, Bilal,” a deep male voice said into the microphone.
“Are you okay?” Aliyah heard a soft voice say in a hushed tone. She turned and saw Jasmine looking at her with a concerned expression on her face.
Embarrassed that she had been unable to hide her feelings, Aliyah nodded quickly and averted her gaze, her face aflame in shock and shame. “I’m fine,” she mumbled as she pulled her purse onto her lap and opened it absently. But she had no idea what she was looking for.
“He’s one of our top hifdh school students,” the male voice continued, “and he just finished the Qur’an last week.”
“Takbir!” one of the men called out.
“Allaahu’akbar!” the crowd shouted in unison, exclaiming the greatness of God for the blessings He had bestowed on Bilal.
“I asked him to open up this Ta’aleem session for us,” the man continued, “and I’m honored that he agreed.”
Aliyah glanced up and saw that the man who was speaking was the masjid imam. “But why can’t we marry for our nafs?” Aliyah had asked the imam so many years ago, when she had been indecisive about marrying Matt. “My nafs has to live in the marriage. I don’t see what’s wrong with wanting something for myself,” she h
ad said to the imam. “If you truly believe in Allah and the Hereafter,” the imam had replied, “a good Muslim brother is all you’d want in a marriage.”
Aliyah thought of Jacob and was overcome with sadness. He was right, she said to herself as she reflected on the marriage advice that the imam had given her. It was just that she had been too disconnected from reality to understand that getting religious advice came with the implicit understanding that the weightiest responsibility rested on the shoulders of the one seeking it.
The imam hadn’t been incorrect in asserting that ultimately marrying a good Muslim brother was what was most essential in a marriage. It was just that the definition of “good” was much more complex than Aliyah had initially assumed. In the context of marriage, the concept of good encompassed more than superficial—or even genuine—Islamic traits. It further included compatibility, mutual physical attraction, and the actual desire to spend your life with the other person. If any of those factors were missing, then the man (or woman) was not a “good Muslim” for marriage.
No, the imam was not completely blameless in the ambiguous advice he had given, Aliyah thought to herself. But ultimately, the person seeking the advice understood his or her situation best—and that person was the only one who had to live with the consequences of the decision.
Perhaps when Aliyah had mentioned to the imam marrying for her nafs, he had misunderstood her to mean marrying only for her desires. What if her mentioning marrying for her nafs had inspired in the imam a similar discomfort and concern that Jasmine’s joking about sex had inspired in Aliyah? Naturally, he would want to point Aliyah in a more spiritually healthy direction.
“…and in this Surah,” the imam continued, and Aliyah realized she had missed what he had just said, “Allah, subhaana wa ta’aalaa, is evoking for us a vivid image of the Day of Judgment, and He begins by mentioning when the sun kuwwerat. And this term indicates that the sun is effectively folded or wound up.”
Am I ready for this Day? Aliyah wondered to herself.
“Then He goes on to mention how the stars will fall and lose their luster,” the imam said, “and how the mountains will vanish like a mirage, and how the pregnant she-camels will be neglected, and how the wild beasts will be gathered together…”
As she listened to his words, Aliyah reflected on her life thus far. How much time and energy had she wasted stressing over the wrongs others had done to her? Or worrying about what others would think of her?
“…And Allah goes on to say, ‘And when the scrolls of deeds [good and bad] are laid open. When the sky is torn away. When the Blazing Fire is kindled to fierce heat. And when the Garden is brought near, [then] shall each soul know what it has put forward…’”
Instinctively, Aliyah glanced in the direction of Juwayriah’s son, Bilal, and she felt a pang of guilt in her heart. Whatever faults Juwayriah had—and they were many, no doubt, Aliyah thought grimly—she hadn’t sacrificed her priorities or those of her children in the face of them. And in that respect, she was better than Aliyah, mashaAllah. Perhaps Juwayriah had as many (if not more) gripes with the community as Aliyah had, but she still came to the masjid and benefited from her fellow believers. She had enrolled her son in a Qur’anic memorization program, and she volunteered to help new Muslims.
But what are you doing? Aliyah asked herself in self-rebuke. And how much Qur’an does your son know?
How was it that Aliyah could go to work every day and work alongside people who disbelieved in Allah, alongside a supervisor who scoffed at religion and openly plotted against her and her Muslim brother, and alongside a colleague who was known for sexual harassment—all for the sake of a paycheck? Yet she avoided the House of Allah and her Muslim brothers and sisters—and for what? Yes, she had to pay her bills, but she also had to save her soul and the soul of her son from the Hellfire.
“…Verily, this [Qur’an] is the word of a most honorable Messenger,” the imam continued translating the Qur’an, “endued with power, with rank before the Lord of the Throne, with authority there [and] faithful to his trust…”
We put too much pressure on our imams and scholars, Aliyah realized in regret. No soul can bear the burden of another, the Qur’an taught. Then why was it that Muslims expected so much from each other? She would stand in front of Allah alone on the Day of Judgment, so she should start taking that solemn reality more seriously.
“Astaghfirullah,” Aliyah muttered in a low whisper, invoking Allah’s forgiveness.
“Fa’ayna tadh-haboon,” the imam recited in a slow, measured tone. “In other words,” he said, “Allah is saying… ‘Then where are you going?’”
***
Reem was quiet as she stared out the passenger side window from where she sat next to Sayed, who was listening to a Qur’an CD as he drove. The truth was, despite all of her ostensible firmness in supporting Mashael’s decision to be with Sheldon, Reem was terrified that she was making a horrible mistake. What if Sheldon turned out to be a child molester or serial killer? Yes, he had seemed like a respectable young man when Sayed and Reem met him the other day, but that didn’t mean much, did it? To all outside accounts, Reem’s half brother Fahad was an upstanding Arab Muslim man.
“What’s this gathering about anyway?” Reem said, turning her head to Sayed as she looked at him through the opening in her niqaab.
“Benjamin just wanted to have a barbeque before the end of summer,” Sayed said.
“You sure it’s okay that we invited Sheldon?” Reem said doubtfully. “You don’t think Benjamin will mind?”
“He said I could bring a friend if I wanted,” Sayed said.
“And they have accommodations for children?” Reem glanced to the backseat where Hana and Muhammad were sitting looking out their windows.
Sayed chuckled. “Accommodations?” he said.
“You know what I mean,” Reem grumbled.
“Well, I’m sure children are welcome,” Sayed said.
“Did you ask?”
“No, but with Americans, that’s pretty much a given.”
Reem frowned, unsure as she glanced at her children again.
“Most of them don’t have live-in help or family that babysits for every occasion.”
“I know that,” Reem said, slight offense in her tone.
Sayed smiled as he looked at his wife. “You’re welcome to sit with the children if that makes you feel any better.”
Reem didn’t respond and instead resumed looking out the window. She knew why Sayed felt the need to reassure her, and it was difficult to accept that she actually needed the reassurance. Dr. Goldstein had told Reem that it was natural to have trust issues after what she had gone through, so Reem reminded herself that her anxiety was natural. Reem had always told herself that the reason she allowed Hana and Muhammad to be cared for by only her mom was that she wanted them to preserve their Arabic dialect. But now Reem knew it was more than that. She didn’t want her son and daughter to be exposed to anyone who could harm them. Reem doubted she would feel comfortable leaving her children with her own father, but since her father worked a lot and was rarely home (not to mention that he wasn’t exactly fond of children), she was able to leave Hana and Muhammad with her mother without being weighed down by too much distress.
“Is Mashael coming too?” Sayed asked.
“She didn’t say,” Reem said, still looking out the window.
“Well, I’m sure Sheldon probably told her he’s coming.”
Reem cringed at the mention of Sheldon possibly speaking to Mashael without her family’s knowledge, especially in front of Hana and Muhammad. But it wasn’t like they hadn’t heard their aunt mention Sheldon herself. Mashael wasn’t one to hide her views.
Reem sighed. Why couldn’t Mashael have picked an Arab boy to fall in love with? she wondered. Their parents would still be furious, but at least then, it would make a whole lot more sense than the confusing mess they were getting into now. Their parents were right. There really was no way
to know if Sheldon’s interest in Islam was sincere. And what if it wasn’t?
“Mumken…” Reem said. Possibly.
“Hopefully, meeting some American Muslims will convince him to go ahead and accept Islam,” Sayed said.
Reem groaned and rolled her eyes. She didn’t like the idea of a religion becoming more appealing just because people who shared your nationality were part of it. “Hopefully, realizing Islam is true will convince him to go ahead and accept Islam,” Reem retorted.
Reem felt her husband looking at her briefly, but she refused to meet his gaze. In her peripheral vision, she could tell he was grinning at her, and she didn’t feel like amusing him right then. I love you too much, she heard his voice in her head. And despite her grumpy mood, she felt the tiniest hint of a smile find its way to her lips.
***
Aliyah left the masjid later than she had planned because she had stayed for the entire Ta’aleem session then introduced Jasmine to Juwayriah so that Jasmine could attend the new Muslim class from then on. Fortunately, Jasmine and Juwayriah seemed to like each other right away, so Aliyah imagined she wouldn’t be asked to be Jasmine’s personal teacher anymore. She doubted she would be a good teacher anyway. Mathematics and computer science were her forte in the teaching field, but she had absolutely no idea where and how to begin helping someone learn the basics of Islam.
But Aliyah was glad that she had agreed to meet Jasmine at the masjid. It had been a cathartic experience. Had she not met Jasmine that morning, Aliyah had no idea when she would have gone to the masjid. She still felt plaintive about “the Facebook drama,” as Juwayriah called it, but the saga didn’t bother her so much anymore. Aliyah had no idea if she was ready to forgive Juwayriah for the part she played in inciting gossip and slander about her, but Aliyah couldn’t deny that, after today, there was a soft spot in her heart for Juwayriah. How could she not feel softened after hearing the beautiful recitation by Juwayriah’s son, Bilal, mashaAllah? Aliyah thought to herself.
