A man applies cosmetic kohl on another man’s eyelid during the holy month of Ramadan in the grand mosque in the old city of Sanaa, Yemen, on June 23, 2016. Kohl is used in the Middle East as protection against eye ailments (Hani Mohammed)
Hi friends,
Dhul-Hijjah is the 12th and last month of the Islamic year, it is one of the more important holy months alongside Muharram, Shawwal, Rabbi Al-Awwal, and Ramadan. Muslims follow a lunar calendar — with the beginning of the calendar marked by the Prophet’s ﷺ first expedition to Madinah.
This month is particularly unique because Muslims commemorate the all-binding tale of Prophet Ebrahim (Abraham), father of the three faiths, and Isma’il (Ishmael). Abraham is the one collective trait that brings together the Ahlul-Kitab (the People of the book). From an Islamic point of view, Abraham is recognized for his multifaceted role within the belief systems of the other two monotheistic religions. The Quran and the Prophet ﷺ emphasized the connection between Islamic revelation and its older Biblical and Judaic relatives in the domain of Abrahamic faith. Islam was established upon the concept that it was a continuation of what the likes of Jesus, Moses, and Abraham had left off—meaning that Abraham’s role as an early prophet who defied polytheism serves as a precursor to the arrival of the ultimate and final monotheist and the seal of prophethood, Muhammad ﷺ. Within this larger Abrahamic analogy that Islam produces, there is the often diminished concept of pluralism that is clearly laced within Islam’s foundational principles—the Quran only spoke about the People of the Book with a tone of familiarity, kinship, tolerance, and compassion. In the Quranic chapter ‘Family of Imran,’ Imran being the father of Maryam (Mary) who is well-known as Joachim or the husband of Saint-Anne—God calls on the People of the Book from a Muslim’s perspective with deep and urgent concern (3:64). He says “O People of the Scripture, come to a word that is equitable between us and you [يَا أَهْلَ الْكِتَابِ تَعَالَوْاْ إِلَى كَلَمَةٍ سَوَاء بَيْنَنَا وَبَيْنَكُمْ],” some translations suggest that [تَعَالَوْاْ إِلَى كَلَمَةٍ] means “lets come to a formula,” insinuating that Islam already receives certain components from the Ahlul-Kitab as its own and that its sole purpose for emergence is to harmonize that which has been distorted. After this verse, Allah says, “If they turn away say, Witness our devotion to Him” (3:64), and then “Abraham was neither a Jew nor a Christian, but he was one inclining toward truth” (3:67).
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My parents made me begin studying Quran at age four, Arabic is the first language I learned to read and write, and as a result, Ebrahim’s story was the first to be etched in my memory bank. My Quran teacher taught us the endeavors of Ebrahim from a book titled “Allah’s Bestfriend”— it’s a genius way to market Prophet Ebrahim to children, really. I remember being shocked? How could a man be God’s best friend? I then learned that Ebrahim became God’s best friend because he was given wisdom beyond his years, beyond his era, and beyond his environment.
Dhul-Hijjah marks the time that God tested Ebrahim to sacrifice that which he loved most dearly, his son, Isma’il. Ebrahim had faced his fair share of tribulations before that, such as when the polytheists threw him in the fire, and he made the supplication to God “Sufficient for us is Allah, and [He is] the best Disposer of affairs.” I remember my amazement upon hearing that as he was being burned at the stake by his own people, and he still invoked that “Sufficient for us is Allah,” this testament of faith never failed to surprise me. I think that now more than ever, Ebrahim’s tale is a timeless one, one that we can retract points from as we face periods of heightened injustice and suppression all over the world.
Dhul-Hijjah also reminds me of motherhood. Ebrahim’s wife and the mother of Isma’il, Hajjar (Hagar), was left stranded in the dry and barren deserts of Arabia with an empty waterskin and an infant. She then ran between the mountainous hills of Safa and Marwah in search of a sign of water, an act that Muslims will commemorate this month as they perform their Hajj pilgrimages. Millions of Muslims make their annual journey to the holy city in order to emulate the courage of Hajjar, a woman, and a mother (and according to many accounts Hajjar was a black Egyptian woman). During the season of Dhul-Hijjah, many people glaze over the fact that if it weren’t for Hajjar’s unwavering bravery, Ebrahim’s story would have never been completed. In her most dire moments of despair, she submitted entirely to God, trusting that He would never neglect his creation. She called upon Him, and the earth began to spring water between the feet of Isma’il.
This also tells us something about the natural provisions God had provided to mankind; what is their status now? How has humanity depreciated the environment and destroyed its intended capabilities? In the Quran, God eludes to mankind’s destructive nature; He says “We presented the trust to the heavens and the earth and the mountains, but they declined to bear it out of grief for its consequences, but man took it upon himself, for he is unjust and ignorant” (33:72). This ‘trust’ which God speaks of can have many metaphorical meanings, but it generally refers to the sacred obligation of man to spread justice and serve humanity, or to be an accountable viceregent of His on earth. I am also interpreting it in the literal sense, though the heavens, earth, and mountains are used to stress the depth of obligations by mentioning the most crucial natural miracles), meaning that mankind was obligated to protect the earth from harm; but because mankind is deviant in nature, they shall also abandon this divine duty of being equitable to all that God has created— including the environment. What did man do after being entrusted with the heavens, earth, and mountains? He drilled for oil, and he cleared forests, he mined.
So, during this sacred month, implore yourself to enter a state of total submission; such as fasting from the things that disrupt the wellbeing of your soul. Do you remember when we were young and we were taught about the concept of blackened hearts? In Islam, there is a popular narration of the Prophet ﷺ where he says that each time a person sins, a black dot appears on their heart, and the continuous normalization and eventual numbness of sinning results in the total blackening of the heart. The heart becomes shielded from light entering it if it continues on the path of sinning without recognizing the power of redemption or the mercy of God. The heart is an organ that is redeemable, through repentance and reflection, the heart can be polished. The heart is considered the most important vessel of the human body in Islam and is mentioned 132 times in the Quran.
During this day of Arafat and the month of Dhul-Hijjah, I am thinking about how the normalization of many forms of harm/cruelty is exacerbated in our age of hyperconsumerism, capitalism, and individualism. I am thinking about how many of us are actively indulging in fast fashion, something that not only hurts the environment but also relies on the oppression of thousands of people around the world. The fashion industry is responsible for more annual carbon emissions than all international flights and maritime shipping combined. When we begin to fall into hyperconsumerist patterns which are (often) triggered by social media, we contribute to the increasing demand of fast fashion production which also contributes to the 62 million metric tons of apparel that is consumed globally— or the 57% of discarded clothing that has been left in landfills. In response to a verse in the Quran (57:7) where God says “and spend of that whereof He hath made you trustees…”, Imam Ali Ibn Talib clarified the verse and said, “partake of it gladly so long as you are the benefactor, not despoiler; a cultivator, not destroyer…man’s abuse of any resource is prohibited”. A society built upon true Islamic principles from top to bottom is one that does not over-consume, one that doesn’t encourage wastefulness and consumes in moderation, and more importantly— one that doesn’t utilize exploitive labor for its basic means of economy. I think it’s important to think about how we can celebrate Eid in an environmentally conscious way because there is a more recent paradigm of displaying luxury as a necessary part of celebrations, which is not only a missrepresenation of the holy days we are observing but also against our basic ideals of moderation. Qurbani is a great example of an Islamic tradition that is actually a form of resource distribution to vulnerable communities, it’s something that also promotes sustainable consumption in a way that avoids gluttonous behavior.
Anyways, I hope you all have a blessed, sustainable, and eco-conscious Eid celebration— take refuge in Allah’s mercy on this day even if there is only an atom’s weight of faith within you.
Love,
Iman
One of the world’s most famous scenes is of hundreds of thousands of pilgrims circling the Ka’bah – the cube-shaped place of worship that is the direction of prayer for Muslims anywhere on Earth. But the picture above is not of that swirling scene in Mecca, but of a bar magnet surrounded by iron filings. While familiar to anyone who has studied magnetism at school, the picture also reminds us of the metaphorical magnetic essence of the pilgrimage. This idea of being pulled in. Of letting one's heart revolve around God. Circumambulation (or tawāf) is an essentially cosmic movement — it's what the planets and the stars do, it's what the sun and the moon does, it's what electrons do, what the earth does, it's what everything in the universe is doing.
Source: @/themusingmuslim via Tumblr
The month of Dhul-Hijjah & Abrahamic spirituality
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