Life in an American Madrasa

I’ve just finished my first year as a student in an Islamic school — Al-Maqasid — in the United States. And it’s been quite an experience. I initially had some misgivings about jumping into such a ‘total’ environment after having recently spent much of my time in an Eastern Christian monastic environment. And looking back, some of my misgivings were justified. As Frithjof Schuon once said: “changing religion is not like changing a country — it is like changing a planet.”

In a way, I’ve felt like a stranger in a strange land.

I think this can be true even for a Catholic becoming Orthodox. Or vice versa. Or an Orthodox becoming Baptist. Or any Christian becoming, say, a Theravada Buddhist or a what have you. But a Christian becoming Muslim is a bit different. Christ is there. The Virgin Mary is there. Moses is there. Abraham is there. The Bible is there. All these things which were once so familiar are there… but they are seen in a very different light. A very different practice. A very different lens. A very different worldview. A very different language.

It’s one thing to read these things in books, and it’s another thing to practice it.

It’s not that I’m denigrating the school in any way. Truth be told, I’ve really never been in a place that has been as spiritually healthy as Al-Maqasid. None of these people are monastics. None of these people are priests — who, in the Christian tradition, are the pinnacle of authority and spiritual guidance, in many ways. Rather, it is my own coming into a new tradition that has been challenging.

I’ve met children and teenagers at Al-Maqasid that had more adeb, that is more spiritual and social maturity, than many priests and monks that I’ve known. This, indeed, is a testament to the ‘programme’ of Islam. The emphasis on prayer, purity, good temperament, good character… After all, it is widely said in Islam that “The most complete of the believers in faith are those with the most excellent character.”

Even so, the move from total Christianity (via the monastery) to total Islam (via the madrasa) has been in some sense jarring.

I think some of it just takes time. Within apostolic Christianity, one ‘plugs into Christ’ via the liturgy and the Church. The faith and the tradition is something that flows down and envelops you. The hymns. The chants. The sacraments. The Eucharist. All you must do is purify yourself, with God’s help, to enter into the tradition. And it’s an ongoing process. You are never ‘worthy’, but you enter in, anyway — as best as you can — with the majesty of the Church and the Liturgy picking up the slack.

In the Islamic tradition, that mediator is gone. You are presented bare before the majesty of the Lord. Which is a reality which is day to day, hour to hour, morning and evening.

Though the Church is absent, you are there with your brothers in the ummah — the ‘mystical’ body of the believers, if you will. Like I have written before, you are shoulder-to-shoulder with your brothers in the faith — men and women, even, who love you, who look out for you, who look after you, and who want the best for you. (At least this has been my experience.)

And I can honestly say that I really have not met men in my life of the high caliber of men that I’ve met at Al-Maqasid. With all of the sometimes stringent demands of purity of body and soul that Islam requires (“Have you made wudu? Is your posture correct? Did you pronounce the prayer properly?” etc.), there is a gentleness in the guidance and correction which is mutually distributed which comes not from a sense of authority or superiority, but which comes from a true sense of love that I haven’t seen anywhere else. Not once have I seen a harsh correction or tone here — even when I was brutally struggling through pronunciation of Arabic or learning the proper way of prayer. The goal is that we are all led to Allah — to God. And as I had said in my previous article, “nobody is saved alone — we are all saved together.” This is what I saw at Al-Maqasid.

We have scholars at Al-Maqasid who are taught by the best of the best in the Islamic world. Many of us are converts. But just as many of us are born and raised Muslims. But that doesn’t matter. We’re all struggling together to be the righteous of God. We all see each other as brothers and sisters in this struggle and in this goal. And as the Desert Father, Anthony the Great, said in his desert abode: “If we gain our brother, then we gain God.”

I still have much to learn in Islam. I still have quite a ways to go in my study of Arabic. And like Schuon said, I still have much getting used to in this ‘new world’ as a Muslim. But I can honestly say that I’ve never met more loving, forgiving, and gentle people as I’ve met in this, my first sojourn in the Muslim world as I have at Al-Maqasid.

I feel that there is a lot of common ground between Christians and Muslims. Dogmatically, there are significant differences. Yet on a deeper level, we are both seeking to follow the Lord while, at the same time, we seek to become that person who the Lord created us to be.

Christ, in his Gospel, said: “By this all will know that you are my disciples — that you love one another.” Many times, Christians fall short of this. And many times, as lovers of the Prophet Isa, Muslims fall short of this as well. Any knowledge of the ummah online will bear this out. But when you find a community which exemplifies this to the best of our ‘fallen’ ability… then you know that it really means something.

The greatness of a Muslim is not really how well he (or she) knows Arabic. Or if they can pass a test on fiqh — as much as these things help. The greatness of a Muslim is in their character, in their love for their brother and sister, and in their ability to recognize in themselves the nature of Allah, the Ar-Rahmaan and Ar-Raheem — the all-beneficent and the all-merciful. All of these things — prayer, fiqh, Arabic, and Divine Knowledge lead to this point. Or rather, they are supposed to. The only thing that gets in the way of this mandate from Allah are our own egos — which is the greatest of shirk — placing our egos before God.

So where am I right now? It’s hard to say. I still have a long ways to go learning both Arabic and the Islamic sciences of the heart. It’s not for lack of instruction or from lack of trying. It’s simply the case that something of such a great magnitude of importance takes a lifetime to learn, really. And I’m only a neophyte in my study.

But I can say, truly, that I’ve never seen nor experienced such a loving and sincere group of men and women at Al-Maqasid who seek, above all, to help all who come to them to enter onto the Right Path.

Right here in the heart of Pennsylvania.

This past year has been a difficult one. We’ve all watched in anguish the bloodbath in Gaza. We’ve felt the encroaching Islamophobia reminiscent of 2003. We’ve all braced ourselves during the growing global belligerence and insecurity. But when we align ourselves with the will of God, and when we find true security in the prayers and brotherhood of our ummah, then you realize that a man of faith, despite his personal shortcomings, is truly indestructible — thanks to the will and power of our Lord.

And this article doesn’t even begin to touch upon the grace and miracles that I’ve experienced in my trip to Mecca and Medina during Ramadan. I only wish to touch upon the more normative experiences as a Muslim at this point.

I will continue on in my second year at Al-Maqasid, God willing. While the struggles are certainly real, the spiritual and personal ‘openings’ are real as well, and the environment is more than ripe to provide continued growth with the help of God. There are many places to learn about Islam in books and online, but there are not many places like Al-Maqasid. Faith is a beating heart. And it is in places like Al-Maqasid that the heart of Islam beats — teaching future generations to go out an propagate the faith in a spirit of love, holiness, charity, and piety.

May God call us to Himself through love of our brother — and glory to God for all things.

If you like this content, please consider a small donation via PayPal or Venmo. I am currently studying Islam and Arabic full-time with no income, and any donation — however small! — will greatly help me to continue my studies and my work. Please feel free to reach me at saidheagy@gmail.com.

Thank you, and may God reward you! Glory to God for all things!