Ten years ago, I went to Eqypt with a girlfriend who was born in Egypt, of Coptic parents, and raised here. While there, I met and fell in love with my husband, Ragab. He and I were married here, in L.A., 14 months later. After I had met him in Cairo, and right after I realized that I loved him and wanted to marry him, I had a dream. In the dream, a golden lion with wings descended upon me in an embrace that was light and full of deep spiritual love. When I told the dream to Ragab, he said he felt that someday I would become a Muslim. Somewhere inside me I thought that he was right, but I did not allow myself to take it seriously.
Over the 10 years that we have been married and had our 2 children, I have gone through periods of time when I was full of curiosity about Islam and was very drawn to it. I read voraciously; at first, academic texts, many of which I realized carry their own bias (such as "proving" that the Quran was "written" by Mohammed, etc.) I moved on to academic works on Islam and feminism, Muslim women's issues, etc. Periodically, I would come back to the translation of the Quran itself, which Ragab had bought for me in Cairo.
I was always struck by the beginning of the Quran, which addresses the hypocrites. I was always afraid, and I did not want to be one of those people. Over the last 2 years, I felt closer and closer to becoming a Muslim. I made lists of the issues I would need to resolve, lists of the internal obstacles I faced in accepting Islam. From the very beginning, I had no problem with the first part of the shahada, "la ilaha il Allah," because I had always believed in one God. But I was not certain about the second part, "wa Muhammed rasul Allah." To admit that, I would have to admit that a REGULAR person was actually spoken to by an ANGEL from GOD. This, in the environment in which I grew up, would be considered just plain superstitious, silly and irrational. ANGELS???
Then, in the last couple of months, my internal battle began coming to a head. I would be driving in my car to and from work, and would have these realizations. Once, stuck in traffic, I realized that what I really wanted was a geniune sense of family, a like-minded community, and that there is so much friction within the Ummah that even if I did convert, there is no "perfect" family there. And right on the heels of that came the realization that, indeed, there IS no family like that ANYWHERE (without friction, etc.) and in fact, when I am in front of God, all that "warm and fuzzy" family feeling will earn me nothing. That even if i did have my ideal community around me, that ultimately I am still alone with God and my own soul. I sat there and cried, stuck in traffic.
The next week, (again in my car, on my way home for lunch), I realized that one of the biggest obstacles for me is a lack of trust. I didn't trust myself. I know my weaknesses; I know how I get obsessed with something and want to learn all about it and then later, get bored and drop it. And I had always been very certain that this was NOT how I would approach religion. I couldn't tell God I was committed to something and then say, "Oh, it was just a phase!" So I didn't trust myself to maintain my committment. (All of this is going through my head as fast as lightening.) And suddenly I realized that I do not have to trust myself, indeed I CANNOT trust myself in that sense, because I am human and fallible and I know that I will have days where I feel committed and days on wh ich I really don't care. So I am fallible. But all I can trust is God. All of this in a flash inside my awareness. The realization that I am not perfect, that that is OK, that God knows and understands my weakness, and that what I have to do is trust the Creator. I went home and my husband was home too. He saw me crying and thought something was wrong. I tried to explain all of this awareness that I had just been struck with. We talked for 2 hours (I got back late to work!) and I told him all about my doubts about the angels talking to the Prophet, and how in conflict I felt because when I read the words themselves, they "felt" true to me and I believe they are real. But I just couldn't accept the explanation of how the words got there.
Finally I realized that is was just the only explanation. If the words are true (to me in my heart), then I have to accept that they are from God, and if they came from God through Mohammed and he said he heard them from an angel...well...then...I have to accept that that is real, too. I just "gave up!" I felt as if I just couldn't battle the truth anymore! Ragab kept on trying to explain a point he was making and I said, "Honey, I got it! I got it! I'm ready to do it!" and he didn't realize what had just happened, that I had just in that moment accepted Islam in my heart. And he kept talking and I said again, "I got it! You can stop explaining!" And the next evening we went to the mosque here in downtown L.A. and I took the shahada.
And the most amazing thing to me is that I finally TRULY understand what the word Islam means, in REAL terms to me. Submission to the will of God. Giving up having to "prove" that I'm in "control" of my life. Giving up my lack of trust in myself. Accepting that I'm not perfect, will never be perfect, and that I still deserve God, I still deserve Heaven, I still deserve to be committed all my life to the struggle of constant spiritual growth. I deserve to declare the reality that I have felt for so long in my heart. The word "submission" always carried a negative connotation to me; an implication that someone's boot was on your neck. But I experienced it as an incredible relief, a letting go into trusting God. I felt so peaceful and happy. I later realized that accepting Islam was the most loving act I have ever done for myself.
As-salaam alaikum
Lyla
