Why disconnect between Quran and Muslims of today? (II)

If that was their story why is it that ours is acutely inferior to them? Why is it that our hearts appear hardened and impervious to the wonders inherent in this wonderful and magnificent revelation even as we were born and raised in Muslim families? Why disconnect between our lives as Muslims and the positive […]

If that was their story why is it that ours is acutely inferior to them? Why is it that our hearts appear hardened and impervious to the wonders inherent in this wonderful and magnificent revelation even as we were born and raised in Muslim families? Why disconnect between our lives as Muslims and the positive markers and labels of the Muslims we read about in the Quran?

Answering the above questions cannot but be difficult. Thus I chose not to. Rather I formulate newer questions for our contemplation. I opt for the logical argument that sometimes the solution lies in the problem, the effect sometimes inheres in the cause. I ask:  could it be because in-between what we read and what we know there is a huge gap which is as deep and wide as the gap between the blue and red seas? In fact, the Quran itself has counseled that it is a book for men and women of gumption and intellection; men and women of reflection- those who ponder what they read and act upon them. The Muslim who read the Quran without knowledge of what he reads is like, in the Quranic parlance, the donkey which carries loads and loads of burden. Brother! Of what benefit are the former to the latter?

Or could the disconnect between our real world and the “world” of the Quran a function of the way we relate with the book? Yes. Not a few Muslims treat the Quran the way we treat Panadol or paracetamol? We go to the Quran whenever we have earthly challenges. We establish relationships with the Quran on seasonal basis; during the month of Ramadan. We remember the powers inherent in the glorious book only when we have challenges of life. We treat the Quran like our medicine!

Perhaps that is not the problem after all. The disconnect between us and the Quran might be a function of our posture to know more than the Prophet (s.a.w). Yes. Today some Muslims believe they know more than the Almighty. They want to practice Islam more than the Prophet; they posture as if they know the Din more than him in whose cause the Tanzil was revealed. This trend is common nowadays amongst a section of our youth, who have given themselves new names and identities unknown to the Quran – Salafiyyun, Quraniyyun, La jamaat (no groups or groupings), that is how they differentiate themselves. But each time I open the glorious book, not for once have I discovered a page in which Muslims are referred to by names other than Muslims or Muminun (believers).

The point at issue is this: the day we begin to label ourselves with markers that are unknown to the Quran, then the fractures in our reality can only become more pertinent. The day we call ourselves by names other than those with which we are called by our Creator is the day we parted ways with the Quran.   

Contemplated more closely, it would be discovered that some of the youths who engage in these divisive tendencies are often referred to as “Shaykhs”. These are elements with slippery knowledge and expertise in the grammar of Islamic law and lore; these are subjects whose horizon is shallow in regard to Islamic culture and civilization. But the problem is this: once they read some texts in Arabic or others badly translated into English, they begin to pontificate on matters of Islam. They become “Popes” even in their illusion. They begin to desecrate the sacred; they indulge in division. They jettison wisdom in D’awah; they destroy in the assumption that they are building.

Perhaps that is not the main issue. Perhaps the reason we are disconnected from the Quran is our refusal to not let go our tribal and ethnic identities. An ordinary Muslim in Nigeria would likely see himself first of all an Hausa, a Yoruba, Fulani, Igbo before affirming his religious or national identities. Thus even within Muslim circles, we promote the discourse of exclusion; we patronize the narrative of division; we employ the register of hatred. What happens in the local is sometimes seen in the global. In other words, I often see tribal politics at the local being replicated at the global level. Thus even while on Hajj, in the sacred house in Kaaba, you are sometimes reminded of your tribe, of your colour, of the “accident” of your birth, of the choices you ought to have made while in the womb of your mother.  

Again perhaps the above is only the effect, the cause being our low-level state of God consciousness; our souls are dis-eased.  Once the engine is weak, the vehicle cannot move even if the seat inside it is beautiful, even if it comes in the best of brands. Once the soul is dis-eased, al-Ghazaali would argue in Ihya Ulum al-Din, then nothing good can be expected of the body.   

I close with Abdullah bn Masud (r.a) who is reported to have said that “it is important for the custodian of the Quran to be distinguished at night when people are deep in sleep, and in the day by his fasting when people are merry, by his asceticism when people are indulgent, by his humility when people are garrulous and pompous, by his pathos when people are unnecessarily happy, by his tears when people are laughing and by his silence when people are chattering”.