A Christian Minister's Conversion to Islam
Playing Intellectual Word Games
"I was a Christian, or so I said. After all,
I had been born into a Christian family, had been given a Christian
upbringing, had attended church and Sunday school every Sunday as a child,
had graduated from a prestigious seminary, and was an ordained minister in a
large Protestant denomination. However, I was also a Christian: who didn’t
believe in a triune godhead or in the divinity of Jesus, peace be upon him;
who knew quite well how the Bible had been corrupted; who had said the
Islamic testimony of faith in my own carefully parsed words ... If asked if
I were a Muslim, I could and did do a five-minute monologue detailing the
above, and basically leaving the question unanswered. I was playing
intellectual word games, and succeeding at them quite nicely."
It was now March of 1993, and my wife and I were
enjoying a five-week vacation in the Middle East. It was also the Islamic month of
Ramadan, when Muslims fast from day break until sunset. Because we were so
often staying with or being escorted around by family members of our Muslim friends
back in the States, my wife and I had decided that we also would fast, if for no
other reason than common courtesy. During this time, I had also started to perform
the five daily prayers of Islam with my newfound, Middle Eastern, Muslim friends.
After all, there was nothing in those prayers with which I could disagree.
I was a Christian, or so I said. After all, I had been born into a Christian
family, had been given a Christian upbringing, had attended church and Sunday school
every Sunday as a child, had graduated from a prestigious seminary, and was an
ordained minister in a large Protestant denomination. However, I was also a
Christian: who didn’t believe in a triune godhead or in the divinity of Jesus,
peace be upon him; who knew quite well how the Bible had been corrupted; who had
said the Islamic testimony of faith in my own carefully parsed words; who had
fasted during Ramadan; who was saying Islamic prayers five times a day; and who
was deeply impressed by the behavioral examples I had witnessed in the Muslim
community, both in America and in the Middle East. (Time and space do not permit
me the luxury of documenting in detail all of the examples of personal morality
and ethics I encountered in the Middle East.) If asked if I were a Muslim, I
could and did do a five-minute monologue detailing the above, and basically
leaving the question unanswered. I was playing intellectual word games, and
succeeding at them quite nicely.
It was now late in our Middle Eastern trip. An elderly friend who spoke no English
and I were walking down a winding, little road, somewhere in one of the economically
disadvantaged areas of greater ‘Amman, Jordan. As we walked, an elderly man
approached us from the opposite direction, said, “Salam
‘Alaykum”, i.e., “peace be
upon you”, and offered to shake hands. We were the only three people there. I
didn’t speak Arabic, and neither my friend nor the stranger spoke English. Looking
at me, the stranger asked, “Muslim?”
At that precise moment in time, I was fully and completely trapped. There were no
intellectual word games to be played, because I could only communicate in English,
and they could only communicate in Arabic. There was no translator present to bail
me out of this situation, and to allow me to hide behind my carefully prepared
English monologue. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t understand the question, because it
was all too obvious that I had. My choices were suddenly, unpredictably, and
inexplicably reduced to just two: I could say “N’am”, i.e., “yes”; or I could say
“La”, i.e., “no”. The choice was mine, and I had no other. I had to choose, and I
had to choose now; it was just that simple. Praise be to Allah, I answered,
“N’am”.
With saying that one word, all the intellectual word games were now behind me. With
the intellectual word games behind me, the psychological games regarding my
religious identity were also behind me. I wasn’t some strange, atypical Christian.
I was a Muslim. Praise be to Allah, my wife of 33 years also became a Muslim about
that same time.
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"I was a Christian, or so I said. After all,
I had been born into a Christian family, had been given a Christian
upbringing, had attended church and Sunday school every Sunday as a child,
had graduated from a prestigious seminary, and was an ordained minister in a
large Protestant denomination. However, I was also a Christian: who didn’t
believe in a triune godhead or in the divinity of Jesus, peace be upon him;
who knew quite well how the Bible had been corrupted; who had said the
Islamic testimony of faith in my own carefully parsed words ... If asked if
I were a Muslim, I could and did do a five-minute monologue detailing the
above, and basically leaving the question unanswered. I was playing
intellectual word games, and succeeding at them quite nicely."