http://www.milligazette.com/Archives/2004/01-15Sep04-Print-Edition/011509200461.htm
ISLAMIC PERSPECTIVES
Reversion through architecture
By Karima Burns
I sat in the Alhambra Mosque in Granada, Spain staring at the script
that bordered the walls. It was the most beautiful language I had ever
seen. "What language is that?" I said a Spanish tourist. "Arabic," they
answered. The next day, when the tour attendant asked which language I
wanted my tour book in, I answered, "Arabic."
"Arabic?" she said, surprised. "Do you speak Arabic?"
"No," I replied. "Can you give me one in English too?"
By the end of my trip I had a bag full of Arabic tour guides to all the
sites I had visited in Spain. In fact, my bag was so full that at one
point I had to give away some of my clothes so I could make everything
fit. But, I hung on to my Arabic tour books as if they were made of
gold. I would open them every night and look at the letters of the
language as they flowed across the page. I imagined being able to write
such beautiful script and I thought to myself that there must be
something worth knowing about a culture that had such an artistic
language. I vowed that I would study this language when I started
college in the fall.
Only two months before, I had left my family in Iowa to take a trip
through Europe, alone. I was only 16 years old and due to enter
Northwestern University in the fall and I had wanted to "see the world"
first. At least, that is what I told my friends and family. In reality I
was searching for answers. I had left the church only a few months
before and did not know where to turn. I knew that I was not comfortable
with what I was being taught, but I did not know of any alternatives.
Where I grew up, in the Midwest, there was no room for confusion - you
were either part of the church or you were not. So, I had no idea there
was something else. When I set off for Europe I hoped that there was.
In my church we were not allowed to pray to God, we could only pray to
Jesus and hope that he would relay the message to God. I had intuitively
felt that there was something wrong with that and so, without telling
anyone, I secretly prayed to "God." I sincerely believed that there was
only one entity to pray to. But, I felt guilty because this was not what
I had been taught. Then, there was the confusing matter of what to do
during one's "daily life."
"I dutifully went to church every Sunday and was very serious about what
I learned regarding honesty, kindness and compassion. So, it confused me
when I saw people from church acting so differently during the week.
Were there no rules during the week? Did they only apply on Sundays? I
looked for some guidance…but found none. There were the Ten Commandments
that covered the obvious things like killing, stealing and lying, but
other than that, I had no guidelines for how to act when I wasn't in
church. All I knew was: perhaps there was something wrong with wearing
mini-skirts to church and only going to Sunday School because of cute
guys that attended.
One day, I went to a teacher's house and saw a shelf lined with Bibles.
I asked what they were. "Different versions of the Bible," my teacher
replied. It did not seem to bother him at all that there were so many
different versions. But, it bothered me. Some of them were really
different and some chapters were even missing from the version I had. I
was very confused.
I returned to college that fall disappointed that I had not found the
answers I was hoping for in Europe, but with a passion for a language I
had only just learned about - Arabic. Ironically, I had stared right at
the answers I was searching for, on the walls of the Alhambra. But, it
took me two more years to realize that.
The first thing I did when I reached the campus was…enroll in Arabic
classes. I was one of only three people in the highly unpopular class. I
immersed myself in my Arabic studies with such a passion that my teacher
was confused. I did my homework with a calligraphy pen and I went into
the Arab areas of Chicago just to track down a Coca Cola bottle written
in the language. I begged him to lend me books in Arabic just so I could
look at the script. By the time my second year of college came around, I
decided I should consider a major in Middle Eastern Studies. So, I
enrolled in some classes focusing on the region. In one class we studied
the Qur'an.
I opened the Qur'an one night to "do my homework" and could not stop
reading it. It was like I had picked up a good novel. I thought to
myself, "Wow. This is great. This is what I have always believed. This
answers all my questions about how to act during the week and it even
states very clearly that there is only one God."
It just all made so much sense. I was amazed that there was this book
written about everything I believed in and had been searching for. I
went to class the next day to ask about the author of the book so I
could read more books by them. In the copy I had been given, there was a
name. I thought it was the author of the book, akin to the Gospels
written by St. Luke or the other religions I had studied…that all
attributed their writings to some person who was inspired enough to
write it down.
My professor informed me that it was not the author but the translator
because "according to the Muslims no one had written the book." The
Qur'an was, according to THEM (referring to Muslims, he was Christian)
the word of God and had not been changed since it was inspired, recited
and then transcribed. Needless to say, I was fascinated. After that, I
became passionate, not only about my studies of Arabic, but about
studying Islam and about going to the Middle East.
My senior year in college I finally went to Egypt to continue my
studies. My favorite place to go became "Islamic Cairo," where the
mosques always gave me a sense of comfort and awe. I felt that by being
in them, one could really feel the beauty, power and awe of Allah. And,
as always I enjoyed staring at the elegant calligraphy on the walls.
One day a friend asked me why I didn't convert to Islam if I liked it so
much. "But I am already Muslim." My answer surprised me. But then, I
realized that it was a simple matter of logic and common sense. Islam
made sense. It inspired me. I knew it was right. Why did I then have to
convert? My friend informed me that in order to "be official," I needed
to actually go to the mosque and state my intention in front of two
witnesses. So, I did. But, when they gave the certificate to me, I just
filed it in my file cabinet with my "other" medical and personal
records…because to me, I had always been Muslim. I didn't need to hang a
piece of paper on my wall to tell me that. I had known it the minute I
picked up the Qur'an. The minute I opened it, I felt like I had found my
long lost family. I hung a picture of the Alhambra Mosque on my wall
instead.
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http://www.milligazette.com/Archives/2004/01-15Sep04-Print-Edition/011509200461.htm