Reference: Islam
Reference: The World’s Religions by Huston Smith
[NOTE: In color are Vinaire’s comments.]
Judaism restricted monotheism to the people of Israel. Christians compromised their monotheism by deifying Christ. Muslims see monotheism as Islam’s contribution not simply to the Arabs but to religion in its entirety.
With a few striking exceptions, which will be noted, the basic theological concepts of Islam are virtually identical with those of Judaism and Christianity, its forerunners. We shall confine our attention in this section to four that are the most important: God, Creation, the Human Self, and the Day of Judgment.
The concepts of God, Creation, the Human Self, and the Day of Judgment in Islam are virtually identical with those of Judaism and Christianity.
As in the other historical religions, everything in Islam centers on its religious Ultimate, God. God is immaterial and therefore invisible. For the Arabs this cast no doubt on his reality, for they never succumbed to the temptation—sorely reinforced by modern materialistic attitudes—to regard only the visible as the real; one of the tributes the Koran pays to Muhammad is that “he did not begrudge the Unseen.” As desert dwellers, the notion of invisible hands that drove the blasts that swept the desert and formed the deceptive mirages that lured the traveler to his destruction was always with them.
To Muslims God is immaterial and, therefore, invisible; but this cast no doubt on his reality.
Thus the Koran did not introduce the Arab to the unseen world of spirit, nor even to monotheism, since certain sensitive souls known as hanifs had already moved to that position before Muhammad. Its innovation was to remove idols from the religious scene and focus the divine in a single invisible God for everyone. It is in this sense that the indelible contribution of Islam to Arabic religion was monotheism.
Arabs were already introduced to monotheism before Koran appeared on the scene. Its innovation was to remove idols from the religious scene and focus the divine in a single invisible God for everyone.
We must immediately add that Muslims see monotheism as Islam’s contribution not simply to the Arabs but to religion in its entirety. Hinduism’s prolific images are taken as proof that it never arrived at the worship of the single God. Judaism was correctly instructed through its Shema—“Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One”—but its teachings were confined to the people of Israel. Christians, for their part, compromised their monotheism by deifying Christ. Islam honors Jesus as a prophet and accepts his virgin birth; Adam’s and Jesus’ souls are the only two that God created directly. The Koran draws the line at the doctrine of the Incarnation and the Trinity, however, seeing these as inventions that blur the Divine/human distinction. In the words of the Koran: “They say the God of mercy has begotten a son. Now have you uttered a grievous thing…. It is not proper for God to have children” (3:78, 19:93). Muslims are not fond of parental images for God, even when employed metaphorically. To speak of human beings as “God’s children” casts God in too human a mode. It is anthropomorphic.
Judaism restricted monotheism to the people of Israel. Christians compromised their monotheism by deifying Christ. Muslims see monotheism as Islam’s contribution not simply to the Arabs but to religion in its entirety.
Turning to the koranic depiction of God’s nature, the first thing that strikes us is its awesomeness, its fear-inspiring power. Verse 7:143 contains the koranic account of Moses’ request to see God. When God showed himself instead to a neighboring mountain, thereby “sending it crashing down, Moses fell down senseless.”
Turning to the koranic depiction of God’s nature, the first thing that strikes us is its awesomeness, its fear-inspiring power.
Power of this order—it is infinite, for God is omnipotent—inspires fear, and it is fair to say that Muslims fear Allah. This, however, is not cringing fear in the face of a capricious tyrant. Rather, Muslims argue, it is the only appropriate emotion—any other involves denial in the technical, psychological sense of the word—when human beings face up to the magnitude of the consequences that follow from being on the right or wrong side of an uncompromisingly moral universe; one, moreover, in which beliefs and convictions are decisive because they generate actions. If nihilism is the dissipation of difference, a kind of moral leveling-out through entropy, Allah’s universe is its exact opposite. Good and evil matter. Choices have consequences, and to disregard them would be as disastrous as climbing a mountain blindfolded. Belief in the Koran occupies the decisive place it does because it is the analogue to a mountaineer’s assessment of Mount Everest: Its majesty is evident, but so are the dangers it presents. Mistakes could be disastrous. Koranic images of heaven and hell are pressed into full service here; but once we come to terms with the fear that life’s inbuilt precariousness inspires, other lesser fears subside. The second, supporting root of the word islam is peace.
In Allah’s universe good and evil matter. Beliefs and convictions are decisive because they generate actions. Choices have consequences, and to disregard them would be as disastrous as climbing a mountain blindfolded.
It is important to remember this last point, because the holy dread that Allah inspires led early Western students of the Koran to think that it outstrips God’s mercy. Allah was seen to be a stern and wrathful judge, domineering and ruthless. This is a clear misreading; God’s compassion and mercy are cited 192 times in the Koran, as against 17 references to his wrath and vengeance. He who is Lord of the worlds is also
the Holy, the Peaceful, the Faithful, the Guardian over His servants, the Shelterer of the orphan, the Guide of the erring, the Deliverer from every affliction, the Friend of the bereaved, the Consoler of the afflicted; in His hand is good, and He is the generous Lord, the gracious, the Hearer, the Near-at-Hand, the Compassionate, the Merciful, the Very-forgiving, whose love for man is more tender than that of the mother-bird for her young.
Allah was seen to be a stern and wrathful judge, domineering and ruthless. This is a clear misreading; God’s compassion and mercy are cited 192 times in the Koran, as against 17 references to his wrath and vengeance.
Thanks to Allah’s mercy, the world of the Koran is finally a world of joy. There is air, and sun, and confidence—not only in ultimate justice but also in help along the way and pardon for the contrite.
By the noonday brightness, and by the night when it darkens, your Lord has not forsaken you, neither has He been displeased. Surely the Hereafter shall be better for you than the past; and in the end He will be bounteous to you, and you will be satisfied. Did He not find you an orphan, and give you a home; erring, and guided you; needy, and enriched you? (93:1–8)
Thanks to Allah’s mercy, the world of the Koran is finally a world of joy. There is air, and sun, and confidence—not only in ultimate justice but also in help along the way and pardon for the contrite.
Standing beneath God’s gracious skies, the Muslim can at any moment lift heart and soul directly into the divine presence, there to receive both strength and guidance for life’s troubled course. The access is open because, though the human and the divine are infinitely different, no barrier separates them.
Is He not closer than the vein of your neck? You need not raise your voice, for he knows the secret whisper, and what is yet more hidden…. He knows what is in the land and in the sea; no leaf falls but He knows it; nor is there a grain in the darkness under the earth, nor a thing, green or sere, but it is recorded. (6:12, 59)
The access to divine presence is open because, though the human and the divine are infinitely different, no barrier separates them.
From God we can turn to Creation as our second theological concept. The Koran abounds in lyrical descriptions of the natural world. Here, though, the point is that that world is not presented as emerging from the divine by some process of inbuilt emanation, as Hindu texts suggest. It was created by a deliberate act of Allah’s will: “He has created the heavens and the earth” (16:3). This fact carries two important consequences. First, the world of matter is both real and important. Herein lies one of the sources of Islamic science, which during Europe’s Dark Ages flourished as nowhere else on earth. Second, being the handiwork of Allah, who is perfect in both goodness and power, the material world must likewise be good. “You do not see in the creation of the All-merciful any imperfection. Return your gaze…. It comes back to you dazzled” (67:4). Here we meet a confidence in the material aspects of life and existence that we will find shared by the other two Semitically originated religions, Judaism and Christianity.
The natural world is created by a deliberate act of Allah’s will. The world of matter is both real and important. Like Allah, it is perfect.
Foremost among God’s creations is the human self, whose nature, koranically defined, is our third doctrinal subject. “He has created man,” we read in Surah 16:3, and the first thing that we note about this creation is its sound constitution. This could have been inferred, given its Maker, but the Koran states it explicitly: “Surely We have created humanity of the best stature” (95:4). The koranic word for human nature in its God-established original is fitra, and it has been stained by no catastrophic fall. The closest Islam comes to the Christian doctrine of original sin is in its concept of ghaflah, or forgetting. People do forget their divine origin, and this mistake needs repeatedly to be corrected. But their fundamental nature is unalterably good, so they are entitled to self-respect and a healthy self-image.
Foremost among God’s creations is the human self. It is of the state of purity and innocence. No catastrophic fall has stained it (no original sin). It does forget its divine origin and this mistake needs repeatedly to be corrected.
With life acknowledged as a gift from its Creator, we can turn to its obligations, which are two. The first of these is gratitude for the life that has been received. The Arabic word “infidel” is actually shaded more toward “one who lacks thankfulness” than one who disbelieves. The more gratitude one feels, the more natural it feels to let the bounty that has entered flow through one’s life and on to others, for to hoard it would be as unnatural as trying to dam a waterfall. The ingrate, the Koran tells us, “covers” or “hides” God’s blessings and thereby fails to enjoy the link with the Creator that every moment provides.
With life acknowledged as a gift from its Creator, we can turn to its obligations, which are two. The first of these is gratitude for the life that has been received. The Arabic word “infidel” is actually shaded more toward “one who lacks thankfulness” than one who disbelieves.
The second standing human obligation recalls us to the name of this religion. The opening paragraphs of this chapter informed us that islam means surrender, but we now need to probe this attribute more deeply.
Thoughts of surrender are so freighted with military connotations that it requires conscious effort to notice that surrender can mean a wholehearted giving of oneself—to a cause, or in friendship and love. William James shows how central surrender is to all religion.
When all is said and done, we are in the end absolutely dependent on the universe; and into sacrifices and surrenders of some sort, deliberately looked at and accepted, we are drawn and pressed as into our only permanent positions of repose. Now in those states of mind which fall short of religion, the surrender is submitted to as an imposition of necessity, and the sacrifice is undergone at the very best without complaint. In the religious life, on the contrary, surrender and sacrifice are positively espoused: even unnecessary givings-up are added in order that the happiness may increase. Religion thus makes easy and felicitous what in any case is necessary.
“Islam” means surrender. But, the thoughts of surrender are so freighted with military connotations that it requires conscious effort to notice that surrender can mean a wholehearted giving of oneself—to a cause, or in friendship and love.
To this account of surrender’s virtues we can add in Islamic parlance that to be a slave to Allah is to be freed from other forms of slavery—ones that are degrading, such as slavery to greed, or to anxiety, or to the desire for personal status. It also helps here if we alternate the word “surrender” with “commitment”; for in addition to being exempt from military associations, commitment suggests moving toward rather than giving up. In this reading Islam emerges as a religion that aims at total commitment; commitment in which nothing is withheld from the Divine. This explains why Abraham is by far the most important figure in the Koran, for he passed the ultimate test of willingness to sacrifice his own son if that was required.
Islam emerges as a religion that aims at total commitment; commitment in which nothing is withheld from the Divine.
Two final features of the human self provide a fitting transition to our final theological doctrine, the Day of Judgment, for it is there that they come into sharpest relief. The two are the soul’s individuality and its freedom.
My view: The soul’s individuality is its system of postulates. The soul’s freedom is its ability to postulate.
To begin with the first of these: Coming to Islam (as we do in this book) from the “no self” of Buddhism and the social self of Confucianism, we are struck by the stress the Koran places on the self’s individuality: its uniqueness and the responsibility that devolves on it alone. In India the all-pervading cosmic spirit comes close to swallowing the individual self, and in China the self is so ecological that where it begins and ends is hard to determine. Islam and its Semitic allies reverse this drift, regarding individuality as not only real but good in principle. Value, virtue, and spiritual fulfillment come through realizing the potentialities that are uniquely one’s own; in ways that are not inconsequential, those possibilities differ from those of every other soul that ever has lived, or ever will live in the future. As an important Muslim philosopher has written, “This inexplicable finite centre of experience is the fundamental fact of the universe. All life is individual; there is no such thing as universal life. God Himself is an individual; He is the most unique individual.”
Buddha’s stand was “no permanent self”. India’s all-pervading cosmic spirit (God) is the ultimate system of postulates that is flexible but consistent. The individual self is a unique system of postulates. The individual self can approach God only by realizing that its own system of postulates can be flexible and consistent. So, there is no inconsistency among the major religions.
The individuality of the human soul is everlasting, for once it is created it never dies. Never, though, is its distinctness more acutely sensed than on the Day of Judgment. “O son of Adam, you will die alone, and enter the tomb alone, and be resurrected alone, and it is with you alone that the reckoning will be made” (Hasan al-Basri). This reckoning and its correlate, responsibility, lead directly to the issue of the soul’s freedom, and it must be admitted that in Islam human freedom stands in tension with God’s omnipotence, which points toward predestination. Islamic theology has wrestled interminably with this tension without rationally resolving it. It concludes that the workings of the Divine Decree remain a mystery to humans, who nevertheless are granted sufficient freedom and responsibility to make genuine moral and spiritual decisions. “Whoever gets to himself a sin, gets it solely on his own responsibility…. Whoever goes astray, he himself bears the whole responsibility of wandering” (4:111, 10:103).
Individuality of the human soul depends neither on the body, nor on the personality, mind or the system of postulates it holds. The individuality of the human soul depends on the ability to postulate that it shares with God. In God, however, this ability is infinitely flexible and consistent. This is freedom, the opposite of which is predestination.
As for the issue of judgment itself, Muslims consider it to be one of the illusions of modernity that we can, as it were, slip quietly away and not be noticed so long as we live (according to our own opinion) decent and harmless lives and do not draw attention to ourselves. It is the tearing away of all such illusions of security that characterizes the doctrine of the Last Judgment and its anticipation in the Koran. “When the sun shall be folded up, and the stars shall fall, and when the mountains shall be set in motion…and the seas shall boil…. Then shall every soul know what it has done” (81, passim). It is against this background that the Koran presents life as a brief but immensely precious opportunity, offering a once-and-for-all choice. Herein lies the urgency that informs the entire book. The chance to return to life for even a single day to make good use of their opportunities is something “the losers,” facing their Reckoning, would treasure beyond anything they desired while they were still alive (14:14).
The doctrine of Last Judgement is basically your “karma” (the things you have done) catching up with you. Life is a a brief but immensely precious opportunity, offering a once-and-for-all choice to set things right.
Depending on how it fares in its Reckoning, the soul will repair to either the heavens or the hells, which in the Koran are described in vivid, concrete, and sensual imagery. The masses of the faithful consider them to be actual places, which is perhaps the inevitable consequence of such depiction. In the heavens we are treated to fountains, cool shades, and chaste houris in gardens beneath which rivers flow; to carpets, cushions, goblets of gold, and sumptuous food and drink. In the hells there are burning garments, molten drinks, maces of iron, and fire that splits rocks into fragments. To say that these are nothing but symbols of the posthumous worlds—more rightly regarded as posthumous conditions of experience—is not to explain them away; but the object of the book is to present the hereafter in images of such vividness “that the hearts of those who do not believe in the Hereafter may incline to it” (6:113). The sharpness of the contrast between heaven and hell is intended to pull the hearer/reader of the Koran out of the spiritual lethargy that ghaflah, forgetfulness, induces.
In Islam, the sharpness of the contrast drawn between heaven and hell is intended to pull the hearer/reader of the Koran out of the spiritual lethargy that ghaflah, forgetfulness, induces.
The device works in periods of spiritual awareness and rebirth. In modern times it may be less effective for worldly-minded Muslims. In defense of allegorical interpretations of the images, liberal Muslims quote the Koran itself: “Some of the signs are firm—these are the basis of the book—and others are figurative” (3:5). Also supporting less materialistic views of paradise is Muhammad’s statement that for the favored, “to see God’s face night and morning [is] a felicity which will surpass all the pleasures of the body, as the ocean surpasses a drop of sweat.” Underlying the differences of interpretation, the belief that unites all Muslims concerning the afterlife is that each soul will be held accountable for its actions on earth with its future thereafter dependent upon how well it has observed God’s commands. “We have hung every man’s actions around his neck, and on the last day a wide-open book will be laid before him” (17:13).
Underlying the differences of interpretation, the belief that unites all Muslims concerning the afterlife is that each soul will be held accountable for its actions on earth with its future thereafter dependent upon how well it has observed God’s commands.
As a final point: If all this talk of judgment still seems to cast God too much in the role of punisher, we can resort to verses in the Koran that remove Allah from direct involvement altogether. There souls judge themselves. What death burns away is self-serving defenses, forcing one to see with total objectivity how one has lived one’s life. In the uncompromising light of that vision, where no dark and hidden corners are allowed, it is one’s own actions that rise up to accuse or confirm. Once the self is extracted from the realm of lies, the falsities by which it armored itself become like flames, and the life it there led like a shirt of Nessus.
What death burns away is self-serving defenses, forcing one to see with total objectivity how one has lived one’s life. In the uncompromising light of that vision it is one’s own actions that rise up to accuse or confirm.
God, Creation, the Human Self, and the Day of Judgment—these are the chief theological pegs on which the Koran’s teachings hang. In spite of their importance, however, the Koran is “a book which emphasizes deed rather than idea” (Muhammad Iqbal). It is to these deeds that we turn in the next two sections.
God, Creation, the Human Self, and the Day of Judgment—these are the chief theological pegs on which the Koran’s teachings hang.
.
