rel="nofollow" href="#litres_trial_promo">262, 264, 280, 287, 288, 292, 294, 299, 304, 306, 314, 316, 318, 319, 321, 324, 338, 353, 381.
Eric Stoltz: p. 10
Acquired by Henry Walters: p. 188.
Xxedcxx: p. 166.
Public domain: 35, 79, 90, 162, 163, 195, 232, 255, 284, 296, 344, 348, 361, 373, 376, 378.
Winston Churchill once described Soviet Russia as “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.” Many “Westerners” these days might be inclined to consider Churchill’s comment equally applicable to the global religious tradition of Islam. For some, sadly, the characterization does not go nearly far enough—mere “inscrutability” hardly accounts for the threat of “evil” with which they associate Islam and Muslims. When Sir Winston added hopefully, “But perhaps there is a key,” he had in mind a way of countering Stalin’s geo-political designs.
Is there also a “key” for people who find Islam impossibly opaque, or perhaps simply intolerable? Actually, there are two: one too-seldom provided, the other too-often overlooked. The first is the need for reliable information about Islam and Muslims; the second has to do with the simple consideration of the shared humanity that joins Muslims and non-Muslims far more deeply than cultural or religious differences separate them. It is my hope that readers will find both in some measure in this volume’s twelve chapters. Let me begin by responding to several large, general background questions I have been asked often over the forty-five years or so since I began turning toward the academic study of Islam.
How and why did I get seriously interested in Islamic religious studies? As a result of teaching high school and college-level courses on comparative religion during the late 1960’s, I found myself increasingly intrigued by “other” faith traditions as a potential professional focus. Buddhism and Hinduism were especially interesting, colorful, and exotic. But mention of these major traditions raised few alarms, perhaps because Americans generally thought of them as “somewhere else,” and thus unthreatening, if not simply irrelevant. Islam, however, was another matter altogether. This second-largest religious tradition began breaking into “western” awareness more concretely when the so-called “Six Day War” of 1967 thrust the Israel–Palestinian conflict into the news. A few years later, the “Arab Oil Embargo” had Americans lining up for blocks at gas stations and fuming at whoever they imagined was inconveniencing them so annoyingly.
The mere mention of Islam and Muslims became a source of potential misunderstanding and rancor, while the “Middle East” was fast becoming the very symbol of volatility and global threat. After completing a Master’s degree in Biblical Studies, I decided to “test” my growing inclination to dive into Islamic Studies by combining the study of Arabic with a chance to visit biblical sites in the “Holy Land.” With no reasonable future in Islamic Studies if I didn’t like Arabic, I enrolled in a ten-week, intensive introductory Arabic course at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, with time on weekends for the biblical connection. I loved Arabic and made many friends among Palestinian Arabs, both Christian and Muslim, and that was all the evidence I needed to pursue what has become a challenging and satisfying profession.
Many Muslims have asked me whether I have ever considered becoming a Muslim as a result of my professional commitment; and Christians have wondered whether, as a Roman Catholic, I wasn’t perhaps putting my religious convictions in jeopardy. The short response to the first query is that I have never been moved to consider converting. That is not because I do not find Islam an attractive tradition, but because I regard my faith and my membership in the worldwide community of Roman Catholics as a gift to be cherished and nurtured. As a result, my answer to the second is simply that although I find the study of Islam immensely rewarding and even spiritually engaging and enriching, the study of Islam has never subverted my Christian beliefs or commitments. On the contrary, that study has encouraged me to dig more deeply into my own traditions. Neither, on the other hand, have I ever suggested to any student that he or she might consider becoming Muslim, or to any of my Muslim friends and acquaintances that they would be better off as Christians. First and foremost, the study of Islam is much more than a dry academic exercise for me. Islam is, for me, one of God’s “signs” to believers of all perspectives. Islam is a challenge, a source of encouragement, and a call to take a bigger view of what life on this planet is about.
But surely my own religious convictions bias my study of the Islamic tradition, people wonder? Do I really think I can offer anything like an accurate, balanced assessment? True “objectivity” is indeed almost by definition impossible for any human being, but aiming at both accuracy and balance is of the utmost importance. My goal here is a good-faith attempt to present a faith tradition other than my own in a way that a significant percentage of members of that faith will find acceptable. Islam is a huge reality, and, like their counterparts in other faith traditions, Muslims also represent a vast spectrum of views about Islam.
And what sort of “larger perspective” do I see in my own faith traditions? Jesus challenged the people of his time not to be complacent about being the “chosen” people; he challenged them to read the signs of the times. The question for me is, how large am I prepared to allow God to be? How inclusive is God’s love? If my religious affiliation comes between me and God’s other children, it may very well come between me and God, too. Risk often goes hand in hand with challenge. Jesus says to the Samaritan woman in the Gospel of John: “The hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father.… The hour is coming, and it is now, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for such the Father seeks to worship Him” (Jn. 4:21, 23). I believe the study of Islam has been part of my call, not to a diminished personal commitment to my faith, but to the risk of living in the uncharted territory “between” Gerizim and Jerusalem.
My experience as a student of Islam
