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A Jewish Man's Story of Finding Islam

Odyssey to Islam
By Dr. Moustafa Mould

After a spiritual journey of almost 40 years, a Boston Jewish linguist finds Islam in Africa.

An odyssey is a long, wandering journey. The word comes from Odysseus (in Latin, Ulysses) a hero of the Homeric epic poem, The Odyssey. His journey home took ten years and was fraught with many mishaps, detours, dangers and adventures. In retrospect, my road to Islam – my journey home- seems like an odyssey. As I look back over my life, from my early childhood up until I finally made shahadah, a journey of almost 40 years, it seems that there were many signs, many turning points, many incidents, some significant, some trivial, that were all preparing me for and pointing the way to Islam.

I grew up in Boston. It was very much a Catholic city, mostly Irish and Italian, with small but significant communities of blacks, Jews, Chinese, Greeks, Armenians and Christians Arabs, and in those days especially, each group had its own neighborhood. There were lots of Greek and Syrian restaurants, and I grew up loving Greek salad, shish kebob, lahm mishwi, kibbi, grape leaves, humus, anything with lamb, etc.

My family were mostly working-class, conservative Jews. My grandparents had fled the anti-Semitism and pogroms of czarist Russia around 1903. They and their families had found work in the sweatshops of the garment district, a few were in craft skills, and they were quite active in their labor unions. I was to become the first in my family to get a university degree. Our home was not strictly kosher, but we would never dream of eating pork. All the holidays and fasts were observed, and for years I went to the synagogue every Saturday and holiday with my father and uncle.

The synagogue we belonged to was conservative, close to orthodox but modernist: it was very traditional, but women were not totally segregated. I began " Madrasah" Hebrew school) at age six. It was 1948, which saw the birth of the state of Israel, and Zionist propaganda filled the atmosphere, as did conversations and sermons about the Nazis and concentration camps, and there were many recent immigrant refugee survivors.

At that time there was still a lot of anti-Semitism in the U.S., especially in the South and the Midwest, but also in Boston. The Greeks, Syrians and Italians were fine, but the Boston Irish were a big problem, dating back to my parents’ generation in WWI and the 1920s. During my childhood I was often chased , spat on, insulted and beaten. They even held me down and pulled my pants down - in addition to the humiliation they wanted to see what a circumcision looked like.

My Hebrew teachers were two Israeli brothers, who were orthodox, and veterans of the 1948 war. From them I learned modern Hebrew and absorbed a lot of Zionist ideology along with the religious teachings. I became more religious and an avid Zionist. I believed that Jews needed their own country in case of another Hitler - those Irish kids were doing nothing to allay my fears and I did not feel "at home" in America. I decided I would go and spend my life on a kibbutz ( communal farm).

My father was a musician and a cantor (prayer leader). He had a beautiful tenor voice, preferred the more traditional, rather oriental, melodies, and chanted the prayers with lots of huzn (sorrow) ( when I learned that word recently I began to wonder if it might be related to Hebrew hazan = ‘cantor’). In our synagogue, the Torah reader used a very oriental sounding tajwid which I loved listening to.
Believe it or not, I recently heard a friend reciting from the Qur’an and it sounded almost identical.

One thing that stands out clearly in my memory, even now during salah, is that in the Jewish prayers there are regular references to prostration (sujud). In fact, it is a custom in the more orthodox synagogues that during Yom Kippur , the holiest fast day and the equivalent of ‘Ashurah’ , the cantor, on behalf of the congregation, actually makes sujud, while still chanting. This is no mean feat, and my father, with his powerful voice, did it extremely well. I remember thinking then that it would be really nice if we all actually did prostrate, instead of just bowing as a symbolic sujud.

Around the age of eight or nine, I chanced to discover a radio station that broadcast programs of the local ethnic communities. I began to listen to the Yiddish, Greek and Armenian ones, and especially to the Arabic Hour. I fell in love with the music and the sound of the language. Using the Hebrew I knew, I tried to understand the news and figure out the sound correspondences; I noticed the differences between hamzah and ‘ayn, kh and h, k and q, distinctions which modern Hebrew has lost. This greatly improved my Hebrew spelling and I won prizes in Hebrew class. I also remember helping my friends cheat during spelling tests by repeating the words under my breath in an "Arabic " accent.

By High School, I had discovered the Boston Public Library and its record section: besides classical, I discovered ethnic folk music from all over the world, but I especially gravitated to the Middle Eastern: Arabic, Turkish, Persian, then Indian-Pakistani. I learned to identify various regional styles, instruments and rhythms. I most loved the ‘oud, and I taught myself to play the dumbeg and accompany the recordings. Once, a group of Yemeni Jews came to Boston from Israel to perform folk songs and dances. I was fascinated by their appearance, costumes and music. They even pronounced Hebrew like me during a spelling test.

I mention all these little things because there is an undeniable cultural component to Islam: the language, the melodies of adhan and Qur’an, social interactions and other features, which are really quite exotic and strange to the average Westerner, including westernized Jews, but which, by the time I encountered them years later in a different context, were already very familiar and pleasant to me, even to the point of nostalgia, and which helped make Islam easier for me to accept and follow. More on that later.

My best friend in high school was also a strong influence on me. He read a lot of philosophy, poetry and religious literature. I didn’t care much for the first two, but I did read some of the religious writings, Hindu, Buddhist, Taoist – and the Qur’an. I noticed that its stories were quite similar to the Bible stories, but I felt it was anti-Jewish. I was quite impressed, though, by its depiction of Jesus as a prophet, not just a rabbi. I accepted that, and that became my answer to my Catholic classmates when they would ask me what I believed about Jesus. They seemed not too displeased by that.

I also attended an advanced "Madrasah", studying Jewish history, Hebrew, Torah, and added Aramaic and Talmud ( Jewish fiqh); the languages, though were still my chief interest. Also around that time, age fifteen, I lost my faith, my belief in God. Earlier, I’d concluded that if God commands us to do certain things, how can I not do them; so I tried to be more orthodox. Then, one day I found myself saying, if God says to do all this I must; but what if there is no God? Do I believe in God? I really don’t know, maybe not, I guess not. And if God doesn’t exist, I don’t need to be doing all this stuff. And I stopped.

You can well imagine how upset my father was. Many people, particularly Roman Catholics and fundamentalist Protestants who grow up in a harsh religious environment, full of the threat of Hellfire and ****ation, beaten by the nuns at school and made to feel guilty about things that are merely a part of fitrah ( nature) – like their bodies - are happy to get out of the religion, become very anti-religion, and feel freed as if from a prison. My feeling was not like that; I felt sad, more like I’d suffered a loss, but there was nothing I could do; I knew it would be comforting to believe, but I couldn’t. Throughout the 60’s and 70’s I occasionally got these gnawing feelings and yearnings.

As Jeffrey Lang said in his book about his conversion to Islam, there is an emptiness and a loneliness that an atheist feels, which people of faith cannot understand. The world is absurd, an accident. Science has, or will have, all the answers, but life has no real meaning or significance. Death is final. You can have influence and an impact on the world through your children; you can do well, be remembered in the history books for hundreds, even thousands of years; when the sun dies mankind may colonize other star systems, maybe even other galaxies.

But ultimately, even if it takes 15 Billion years, the universe itself will die, or collapse into a black hole or whatever, and the end is absolute nothingness, the only thing that is infinite is a void. Life, then, is meaningless and death frightening. Truth and morality can become relative, which may lead to moral confusion, hedonism, and worse. But instead of the contempt for religious people that many atheists claim to feel, I respected them, and often envied them the security, the certainty, the comfort they experienced.

I went overnight from almost orthodox to an atheist, though I still loved Jewish languages, culture, music, food, history. I was an "ethnic " Jew, and still a Zionist. Zionism was still largely a political philosophy, not so much a religious one. In fact, at that time there was still significant opposition to Zionism among many of the orthodox. The current religious, messianic type Zionism really didn’t develop until 1967 – 1973 when Israel seized Jerusalem. I also decided I wanted to be a historical linguist specializing in Semitic languages; but then the universities I chose didn’t accept me, and the one that did didn’t offer Arabic, or even linguistics.

At my university in the early 60’s, I came into contact with a wider variety of people. For the first time I knew a large numbers of Protestants, more blacks, and most of the few foreign students, a couple of were Muslim. I was no longer encountering anti-Semitism, and I was beginning to enjoy and appreciate the diversity of Americans and my exposure to the international students. By the end of my sophomore year I was eating bacon and pork chops; at the same time I helped organize and was the president of the campus chapter of the Student Zionist Organization. I was New England vice president in my senior year.

Many of us were politically left-wing, coming from working class families whose spectrum ranged from liberal democrat to communist. We were pro-labor and the American Civil Liberties Union, anti-McCarty, Nixon, the House Un-American Activities Committee. We revered Franklin D. Roosevelt, Hubert Humphrey and Adlai Stevenson. We were into labor Zionism and the kibbutzim. One thing I want to emphasize, because of the profound effect it had on me years later: at that time most Jews were still socialists or liberal democrats, many were still working class, not quite so successful as now. I clearly remember right-wing Herut party, their expansionist ideology and terrorist activities in the 40’s. We considered them fanatics and lunatics.

I took a seminar on the Middle East. At nineteen I thought I knew everything. My professor was Syrian, and I think a Muslim. I was going to teach him a few things. He was remarkably patient and tolerant with me, considering his obvious anti-Zionist, anti-Israel position. His criticisms of my papers were objective and mild, mainly that they were too one sided. I began to pay more attention to the other side, and I realized how much propaganda I’d absorbed and how much information had been ignored, if not hidden from us. I didn’t get a very good grade, but I learned a great deal. Professor Haddad made much of the rest of my life, secular and religious, possible.

At the same time, I was becoming more and more involved in the civil rights and anti-Vietnam war movements. I joined the Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the NAACP, and participated in sit-ins at lunch counters. I helped found our campus chapter of the then mildly radical Students for a Democratic Society (SDS). I majored in government, taking several courses in constitutional law and international relations. I went to Washington, D.C. in August, 1963, in the March on Washington and was standing about 60 feet from Dr. King when he made that wonderful speech.

I’d lost my faith at 15; by 22 I’d lost Zionism. I still had my ethnic heritage, though I’d begun to feel uncomfortable with the clannishness of many Jews. I felt like a normal American fighting for American causes. I prepared to be a social studies teacher, but the job market was not good. After two years of substituting, and a temporary position at my old high school, I joined the Peace Corps, for the adventure and idealism improved my job prospects later – and to avoid being drafted and sent to Vietnam. I was selected to go to Uganda, East Africa.

I was extremely happy in that beautiful country, living where the Nile flows out of Lake Victoria, teaching students who wanted to learn in a society where teachers were respected. I was learning new languages and cultures. I developed a taste for African and Indian-Pakistani cuisine. Since there wasn’t much else to do in a small, up-country town, I began going to Indian movies. I particularly liked Mohammed Rafi, the famous playback singers, especially his qawalis; he reminded me of my father’s cantorial music. I also enjoyed the Islamic, Omani Arab ambience I found on the coast: Mombassa, Dar es-Salam, Zanzibar.

It was the first time not in a Hollywood (or Bombay) movie that I heard the adhan. Even in the movies its plaintive melodies always sent a thrill through my body. I was learning two African languages, Swahili and Luganda. Swahili was a very easy one for me; over half its vocabulary is from Arabic and practically the same as Hebrew. But Swahili is a Bantu language, and I was fascinated by the similarities and differences between Swahili and Luganda. I made up my mind: here was my (last?) chance to do what I’d always wanted – linguistics – but now with Bantu instead of Semitic languages. I applied to graduate school.

I returned home through the Middle East and Europe – first stop Israel. It was 1969. I was no longer a Zionist, but even so, I was surprised at how disappointed I was. I know that part of it was the culture shock of leaving a small, up-country African town, people and a job that I loved; still, I was surprised by the brusqueness and arrogance of the Israelis I met – much like the American stereotype of the French. From an archaeological and historical perspective it was a good experience, but I couldn’t get over how alienated I felt from the culture and from what were supposed to be my people.

I refused on principle to visit the West Bank – that was before they started building settlements – except for East Jerusalem; I couldn’t resist that. Standing at the wall of Solomon’s temple, the Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa gave me an intense feeling I could not describe at the time. I can describe it now: I was sensing a feeling of holiness; it’s no wonder the Islamic name is Al-Quds. But it upset me a great deal to see first-hand the discrimination and second-class status of the Palestinians, even the citizens. I had grown up in an American subculture where Jews had always been in the forefront of civil rights, labor and civil liberties struggles. To me, what I found in Israel wasn’t Jewish.

The next ten years, ’69 - ’79, I spent in Los Angeles. I had missed 1968, one of the most important and turbulent years in modern American history. Though not surprised, I was very disheartened upon my return to the U.S. Blacks were separating from Whites by choice; SDS had become a bunch of raving Maoists, free speech was degenerating into filthy speech. I couldn’t be political again, except for an occasional anti-war or anti-Nixon demonstration. I was both attracted to and repelled by the hedonism of 70s California. I was tempted to indulge and half-heartedly did so, but - thank God for my fitrah and my good Jewish upbringing – I didn’t go very far; I mostly grew my hair and beard long. I was too absorbed in my studies, getting my doctorate, teaching, getting married then divorced, and looking for a decent academic position.

Two things during that decade are relevant tom this story. Briefly, the Likud government in Israel, the building of settlements and the brutal treatment of the Palestinians, not to mention its alliance with South Africa, revolted and infuriated me, and turned me from a non-Zionist to a vocal anti-Zionist. Even worse to me was the knee-jerk support of the American Jewish community, which I’d though would oppose Likud at least quietly. Didn’t we all agree just a few years before that Begin and his ilk were lunatics?!

Many of the settlers interviewed on the TV news were obviously American Jews. How could they have grown up in this country with these American - and Jewish - values, live through the civil rights revolution, and go do what they were doing there? There was more Jewish opposition in Israel than there was in the U.S. I felt betrayed, ashamed, disgusted. There were, of course - and are - other Jews who felt as I did, mainly those on the left, but only a few spoke out. Notable were I.F. Stone, a radical journalist and one of my heroes, and Noam Chomski, whose political writings on the Vietnam war and Palestine were as revolutionary as his theory of linguistics.

In 1979, recently divorced, unable to land a tenure-track position, and missing Africa, I returned as an assistant professor of linguistics at the University of Nairobi. My father has passed away just a couple of months before I was to leave. I became friends with several faculty members, particularly my department chairman and a history professor, both Muslims from Mombassa, and the Arabic professor, my Sudanese next-door neighbor. I often ate lunch in the faculty dining room with them, and out of respect for them (and embarrassment, because I knew they knew I was a Jew) I never ate pork when I was with them. Before long I stopped eating pork completely. We often discussed the Middle East, Islam and Judaism, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that they could be anti-Israel without being anti-Jewish; they were surprised that I could be a Jew and anti-Israel.

Having more time on my hand than I’d enjoyed in a long time, I decided to catch up on my ever-growing reading list. I re-read the Bible: the Old Testament to clarify some confusion about chronology in ancient history, the New Testament because I never had and I though I ought to.

I re-read the Qur’an. I knew nothing then of the early Islamic history. Sirah or Hadith, but I appreciated it more this time. I got that reaction again, though; why does it have to be so critical of the Jews; but, my memory recently refreshed, I recalled that the Torah itself and the rest of the Old Testament were equally critical, if not more so, than the Qur’an.

But didn’t the Jews finally learn their lesson and truly become the People of the Book when they were expelled from Israel and Jerusalem the second time, and when the rabbis, synagogues and prayers replaced the priests, temple and sacrifices? What was it, then, about the Jews of Madinah; they were clearly reprehensible but they sounded so different from us European Jews, even from the Sephardi Jews of the time of the Caliphs; had they, like the Ethiopian and Chinese Jews, lacked the Talmud? I’m still curious about that. Anyway, that insight was later to prove to be a barrier removed.

Someone wise once said that if your faith is weak, just pretend to have faith, and that will strengthen it. Africans, whether Christian, Muslim or Pagan, are spiritual people. To be an atheist is incomprehensible and ridiculous to them. Knowing this, I never said I was an atheist when questioned - as I constantly was- About my religion. I would reply that of course I believed in God, one God, but not in any particular religion. I was almost true, or at least what I wanted to believe if I could. I cannot say that I had a sudden flash of inspiration, like Paul on the road to Damascus, or a near-death experience ( I did have two, but without religious effect). It seems to me that, just by saying it and pretending it, it gradually came back to me.

I’d become a deist, like another hero of mine, Thomas Jefferson. Maybe I would join the Unitarian Church, a popular group, especially in New England, which accepts Jesus as a prophet, and which includes many socially conscious, formerly Jewish and Trinitarian Christian, liberal intellectuals.

Another contributing factor was my joining at that time the Nairobi symphony orchestra/chorus. It was an amateur group but they were excellent. I’d gone with some friends to their Easter concert to hear them perform the Mozart Requiem – music for a funeral mass. That music, intensely religious, was gorgeous, sublime awe-inspiring and inspirational. It wasn’t only the beauty of the music, though it was a major part, but the message – glorifying God, speaking of death, resurrection, the final Judgment and eternal life – moved me to tears. The next day I went and signed up to sing in the chorus.

For the next three years I sang other masterpieces: masses, requiems, oratorios – Beethoven, Brahms, Bach, Verdi. It is all Christian, and some of it of course makes reference to Jesus as divine, but those words had no effect on m e; I was just helping make beautiful music. But the parts that spoke of God did touch me deeply and helped me gradually regain my faith and belief in Him. Of course today I would not sing such things as " I know that my redeemer liveth," but consider the beauty and power of "The Lord God Omnipotent reigneth, and he shall reign forever and ever. Hallelujah (=’Alhamdulillah’)."

Then I fell in love. She was Somali, intelligent, witty, charming, and a young widow with two handsome young sons. Her English was very limited then, and my Somali was non-existent, but we could communicate quite easily in Swahili. We discussed marriage, but there were a few practical problems.

I knew I could not stay much longer at the university of Nairobi; they were trying to africanize it as quickly a possible, and to them I was just another white foreigner. Before I got much older I needed a new job, probably a new career, maybe with the State Department or a non-profit agency. From her point of view the obstacle was simply I was a not a Muslim. I had mistakenly though that any Muslim could marry one of the People of the Book; she set me straight on that very quickly; men yes, women, no.

She was telling me about Islam, and I'd learned some things from my colleagues and others. I already believed in the One God,. The Creator of the universe and all that is in it; I already believed in the Islamic concepts of tawhid and shirk and avoiding belief or trust in anything like astrology or palmistry; I’d long believed that Jesus was one of the prophets. I believed that I believed that Muhammad (pbuh) was a prophet ands a messenger, and it had long ceased to be relevant to me that Muhammad (pbuh) was not a Jewish prophet.

I’d stopped eating pork; I didn’t gamble, I rarely drank anything besides a glass of wine with an occasional gourmet dinner. I was, since my Peace Corps days, already more comfortable with African and Islamic notions of modesty, child rearing, etc. than with the "sexual revolution", and the me-ism and disintegrating families of the ‘70s and ‘80s America. There didn’t seem to be much to prevent me from becoming a Muslim. I was so close, so what, in 1983, was the problem?

In fact there were two. First, there was the matter of my identity and my heritage. I imagine that it is not so traumatic for a Christian to change from one religion to another. If a German Catholic becomes a Lutheran, or even a Jew or Muslim, he remains a German. I certainly felt like an American first and a Jew second – I could never consider myself Russian. But in America, nation of immigrants, even the most acculturated attach some importance to their families' national or ethnic origins. Even though I had no desire to deal with Jews as Jews or as a community, I was reluctant to lose that identity.

The second obstacle was my family. Though not orthodox, most were strongly traditional, all pro-Israel, some were avid Zionists; many considered Arabs as enemies, and I expected they would also consider Muslims as enemies. I feared they would disown me as crazy, even traitorous. Worst of all, because I still loved them, they would be hurt. First things first: I left that problem up in the air, and when my contract expired I did not renew it, but returned to the States hoping to find another job, preferably back in East Africa.

It was terribly hard. I had no home, no income, not even an interview suit. I invested in a wool suit, three ties and a winter coat – it was my first winter in twenty years – got books on how to write a resume and a SF171, and stayed with a friend in Washington, trying all the government agencies, consulting firms and PVOs that had anything to do with Africa, until my many ran out. I had to return to Boston and stay with my sister, where I had food and shelter, but it was far from where the jobs might be. In addition, I was going through a severe case of culture shock. So there I was: broke in Reaganomic America, in the winter, in culture shock on top of a mid-life crisis, in love – and on anti-depressants.

I can joke now, but the pain and fear were unbearable then. For the first time in my adult life I began to pray. I prayed often and hard. I vowed that, if I could get back to Africa and marry my beloved, I would declare my submission to Allah and become a Muslim.

I got a really awful temporary job in a warehouse that at least paid for food, bus fares and dry cleaning, then a better, but embarrassing one as a receptionist in the counseling office at a local college. I could see that the four yuppie psychologists figured me for some 42-year-old loser, and I pretty much agreed with them. Out of embarrassment I didn’t tell anything about myself, but when the phone wasn’t ringing off the hook with students panicking over mid-terms, I was reading job notices and typing applications letters. I found that a government agency was hiring ESL teachers for Egypt - close enough - and I applied immediately.

A week later another agency I’d applied to six months earlier invited me to D.C. for interviews. As soon as I got to Washington I called about the ESL jobs to see if I could get an interview, "as long as I’m in Town." The jobs were already filled! Can I meet you anyway, in case something comes up later? OK, four o’clock? Great. She apologized – my resume had been misplaced – and would definitely keep me in mind. Thank you , delighted to meet you.

As I was leaving, she said hesitantly, "By the way, there is one position opening soon, but it’s in Somalia."

"Somalia!" I nearly shouted, " That’s wonderful!"

"Is it ?" she asked incredulously.

"Sure, I’d love to go there. I’m already familiar with the culture and the religion," I said aloud, but thinking to myself how it’s only an hour from Mogadishu to Nairobi, and how maybe I’d get to meet my future family in-laws.

I told her my references, all of whom she knew personally. She would call them, and as far as she was concerned if I wanted the job I could probably have it. I finished up my interviews at the other agency. They even showed me the cubicle in windowless office where I would probably be working, and I returned to Boston, elated. I might even have a choice, praise God. But what a choice it was: a one year renewable contract at a hot, dusty – but African – hardship post on the Indian Ocean, or a career civil service job with a pension plan in a windowless office in northern Virginia.

Two weeks later, she called to offer me the job of English program director in Mogadishu, would I take it, I had 48 hours to think it over. Everyone said it was a no-brainer; I should take the career job with pension in Washington, otherwise I’d be back t square one in a year or two. I argued that I was an Africanist, the experience would help me and I’d make good contacts. I accepted the job and starting getting my shots. A couple of weeks later the other agency sent me a brief note, no explanation, informing me I did not get the windowless job.

Alhamdulillah, Allahu ‘alim. I could so easily have ended up with neither, but Allah had guided me to the right decision. I was employed. I was a person. I might even getting married. I gave my notice at the college, and on the last day I typed a letter to the psychologists informing them that I was leaving to take up a position as a project direct at the United States Embassy in Somalia, signed M. Mould, Ph.D. Of course I "had to" stop off in Nairobi for a few days on my way to Mogadishu.

We had a tearful reunion and tried to make some future plans. I’d been hired as a single man, no chance of benefits or housing for a family, and I had no idea what Somalia or my job would be like or how long I would be there. For the time being, I’d remain a single man in Nairobi. Maybe I could visit often, and there was always the phone. Maybe she could come and visit her family, whom she hadn’t seen since childhood.

The job was interesting, a little teaching, but mostly administration and management, and dealing with embassy officials. Most of my own students were senior government officials and a few of them became good friends. Outside of work was a whole different story. The culture and atmosphere in urban Somalia is more Middle Eastern than African. During my seven years in Uganda and Kenya I knew the languages, people were open and friendly, and I never had trouble adjusting or getting around; I’d always felt completely at home.

Mogadishu gave me culture shock. I didn’t know the language, no one knew Swahili, educated Somalis knew Italian, not English. All the signs were in Somali. The worst thing was communications. Home phones were overcrowded, sweltering post office. Only telegraph service was usually efficient. The mail was totally unreliable except for the diplomatic pouch. It was impossible to contact Nairobi.

Don’t get me wrong. I was quite happy there, enjoying the sights and smells, the Italian and Somali food, my views of the ocean, which was within walking distance of my house and my office, discovering a new culture. I was living downtown, in one of the older sections, behind the Italian embassy, and I was awakened early morning by a beautiful adhan from the loudspeaker of a nearby mosque. We worked a Muslim schedule: Sunday – Thursday, 7 – 3. On Fridays I would walk around and often found myself outside a little mosque behind the American Embassy, and while myrrh and frankincense drifted from the doorways in the alleys I would stop and listen to the sounds of Jumu’ah.

The first thing I noticed was the murmuring of many voices as men read from the Qur’an while waiting for the imam to give the khutbah. I was instantly transported back in my mind to my old synagogue and the identical susurrus of old men reading from the Psalms (Zabur) at the start of morning prayers. It gave me a comfortable and comforting feeling of nostalgia. A little while later, walking back the other way, I would hear the imam reciting a surah. It sounded much like the Torah readings I’d enjoyed on Saturday mornings, again comforting and nostalgic. Not that it made me want to return to any synagogue; rather, it made Islam feel more comfortable and familiar to me.

I’m a linguist, and had been a specialist in field research. I found a book on beginning Italian and, there being no grammar in English on Somali, I hired myself a tutor, who was a better friend than a teacher. I quickly learned the greetings, common nouns, and verbs, kinship terms, numbers and telling time. Some of the vocabulary, borrowed from Arabic, was just like Swahili and Hebrew. Somali is also very distantly related to Semitic languages. The grammar was something else, though, really hard to figure out, and as I got busier and more tired at work, our lessons turned more to conversations about culture, politics and religion.

He was knowledgeable enough to distinguish between genuine Islam and some prevalent aspects of indigenous, pre-Islamic culture and superstition that had bothered me.
Before long, he offered to bring a sheikh to my home so that I could make the shahada. Despite my vow I still felt hesitation, thinking of my family. But they were ten thousand miles away, my fiancée a few hundred, and I was living in, being touched by and feeling comfortable with this Muslim society. I had good friends and colleagues, and it was clear to me that much of their goodness was due to Islam.

I asked him to bring the sheikh and he did. He questioned me about my beliefs, and I told him I’d been a Jew, not a Christian ( no problems with the trinity), and that I’d long ago given up pork, alcohol, gambling and zina, and after he was convinced that I understood what I was about to say and knew the five pillars, I declared the shahadah. My fiancée had suggested the name Mustafa, which I liked very much.

After all the hesitation and procrastination I felt enormous relief, and a restored sense of belonging that I’d missed more than I’d realized. All my Somali friends were of course delighted and very supportive.

They began calling me seedi (‘brother-in-law’). As soon as I could get away I bought some gold jewelry and flew to Nairobi. To get married I had to go to the office of the chief qadi and declare the shahadah again, with witnesses, in order to get an official certificate of conversion, there being no such thing in Somalia.

We went to the qadi and made our nikah. A couple of days later I had to fly back to Mogadishu and my work. Less than a year later, at 43, I was overjoyed and blessed by Allah to become the father of a wonderful Muslim baby boy. I flew to Nairobi, and after a brief discussion we agreed on my wife’s suggestion for a name. Now I even had a kunya (nick name); I was Abu Khalid, and he was named after the great Companion, Khalid Ibn Al-Walid.

You are probably wondering if I told my family about my converting to lslam, and the answer is, not for quite some time. Of course I told my family about my marriage and they were neither surprised or upset.

I was a middle-aged man who ought to know what he was doing, and they were mainly happy for the sake of my happiness. When Khalid was born they were positively delighted and were most eager to meet him and his mother. When Khalid was a little over a year old, I went to Boston on my vacation and brought my wife and son with me. The two boys, Ali and Yusuf, were away at a Muslim boarding school in north-eastern Kenya.

The reception was as warm and loving as anyone could wish for and we had a great visit. There's no question that a baby, especially a grandson, has a most salutary and beneficial effect on people. My wife had brought little gifts for my mother, sister and aunts, and they all had little gifts for her. I suppose they all assumed, as I had once done, that Muslim can marry a Jew or Christian. They knew my wife and our sons were Muslims, that Khalid was being raised as a Muslim, and they had no problem with that.

They knew I hadn’t been a practicing Jew for nearly thirty years, and I’d married a non-Jew before. I’d decided that if they asked I wouldn’t lie, and if they didn’t I’d just wait for a more opportune time – some other time. A few years ago they finally asked me and I told them. I cannot say they were pleased, but neither were they surprised, angry or cold to me, and we still have warm, loving relationships.

Another year, another contract went by, and then I lost my job. Like the new Pharaoh "who knew not Joseph", a new director came, who saw no value in the English programs and decided to end them. I kind of saw it coming and had applied for a similar job in Yemen, so I didn't fight it very hard, but in the end the job in San’a fell through, and, as my family had predicted, I was back to square one – well, not quite.

In 1988, leaving my family in Nairobi, I returned to the States alone and jobless. It was again vary tough (winter, too), but this time I had some savings, new skills and a stronger resume, I knew better how to job-hunt; I knew my way around Washington and had a few contacts. I still had the suit. Best of all, I had my faith instead of anti-depressants. I quickly got a couple of part-time teaching jobs and a job in a men’s store. The teaching jobs dried up, so I sold suits full-time for over three years, always looking for a better job, but finally – it took two years – I managed to bring my family over and we did our best, trusting in Allah.

Then, four years ago, a Muslim neighbor told us about a new Islamic institute that had recently opened, where they were looking for an English teacher. I immediately called, made an appointment and met the director. By the grace of Allah I was hired to teach some of the staff and do some editorial work. Ironically, I am now in a cubicle in a windowless office in northern Virginia, but what a difference!

I am in an Islamic environment, surrounded and inspired by good Muslim brothers, many of them excellent scholars and all of whom I love and respect very much, and whom I learn from daily. And what is my job? To read books on Islam, to edit manuscripts on Islam, to write about what I read. In essence, I am being paid to study Qur’an, Hadith, ‘aqidah, Fiqh, Sirah, Islamic history and Arabic. I thank and praise Allah every day for leading me to Islam and for showering me with all these blessings. Alhamdulillah, ash-shukrulillahi Rabbil-‘alamin.

JERUSALEM - Joseph Cohen moved from the United States to Israel as a devout Jew in 1998, but within three years he had converted to Islam and become Yosef Mohammed Khatib, a supporter of the militant Hamas, according to a report broadcast Thursday on Israel TV.

Now he refuses to say the word Israel, choosing instead to call the area "Palestine." His four children study the Quran, the Muslim holy book, instead of the Torah, its Jewish counterpart.

It was while living in the desert town of Netivot that Khatib met a sheik from the United Arab Emirates through an Internet chat about Israel. Khatib said he spent hours corresponding with the sheik, discussing theology. Gradually he began to see Judaism as racist and turned toward Islam after reading the Quran, he told Channel 10 TV. The report did not say where he lived in the United States or give his age.

Last year he told his wife of 10 years, Luna, also a devout Jew from the United States, that he wanted to convert to Islam.

"I said, `Listen, I love you very much ... and I have to be honest with you,'" Khatib said in the TV interview. "I read the Quran and I agree with everything it says in the Quran, and if I continue saying that I'm a religious Jew, I would be a liar."

The family converted together and moved from Netivot to an Arab neighborhood in east Jerusalem. The children went from being top in their classes on Judaism studies to being well-versed in Islam, he said.

Instead of supporting the Israeli Orthodox Jewish political party Shas, Khatib now supports the radical Islamic Hamas and believes an Islamic state should be set up where Israel and the Palestinian areas are now located.

He praised Hamas for setting up social services for Palestinians but dodged questions about the other side of the Islamic group — suicide bombings and other attacks against Israelis. The United States has declared Hamas a terror group.

Khatib differed from most Israelis and Americans in his views about Osama bin Laden, the top suspect in the Sept. 11 terror attacks in New York and Washington.

"I think that he's number one, Muslim number one," Khatib said with a strong New York accent about bin Laden. "But I don't think that he's responsible for the World Trade Center (attacks)."

Wearing the white skullcap and robes of a religious Muslim, Khatib denied his Jewish past, insisting that he is 100 percent Muslim. He made a parody of a blessing that observant Jews say every morning, in which they thank God for not making them gentiles.

"Blessed are Thou, Lord Our God," Khatib began in the traditional Jewish blessing, but ended it with, "for not making me a Jew."

Live Dialogue here: http://www.islamonline.net/livedialo...GuestID=KzI47I

By Sarah de Andrade Siqueira


I have always kept interest in the Muslim world; it passed to me a sense of peace. On the Brazilian Educative TV I watched a documentary about the life in some Muslim country. Those mystery women dressed in those beautiful long clothes and veils raised my curiosity. When a Muslim woman mentioned that it is not a matter of culture only but that her religion was a complete way of life (Deen), I wanted to know more.

The idea of a religion ruling all aspects of humankind’ way of life is not common where I live, not to mention having anything to do with economy, politics and social issues.

I decided to look into Islam. My first question was: How could I do this? No books were available at my University or in the bookshops.

1999 I earned my Bachelors degree in Languages. It was a moment that brought tears in my eyes, because my beloved family always did a lot of efforts to provide me with the best education they could, despite of our humble life. The present my parents chose to give me upon that was a computer. They saved long months to be able to pay for the gift they thought would enable me pursue a career. When I saw those big boxes in my room I felt such gratitude to them.

Now I could access the Internet and be able know more about Islam. I was surfing on the web looking for information when I came across Yusuf Islam’s (formerly Cat Stevens) website. After I read about his journey to Islam and how a famous pop star could give up the great world of music and find his certainty on the straight path. He chose Islam as a way of life based on pure love, charity, humbleness and the submission to the one and only God. When I listened to Yusuf’s lecture named “One God, One Community” my appreciation for Islam became greater than before. Since that day I have been studying Islam with an eager will to learn about the pillars of Islamic faith and way of life as well.

When I had a blessed opportunity to read the Holy Qur’an which narrates with scientific accuracy the development of the baby in mother’s womb, since his first moments of life; I have decided to embrace Islam. Beyond this, I also have to say that the submission to only one God and the complete way of life established by Allah through his last Prophet Muhammad had touched my heart.

During my “web Islamic research” I have met in an Arab chat room some Muslim friends, who helped me a lot in my journey to Islam, Alhamdulilah. The one I met first was a Sudanese Muslim student, who taught me my first words in Arabic language and always was by my side (with the famous web instant messengers), despite our distance, to solve my doubts in respect of Muslim women issues. The other one was a brother from Egypt, who was amazed with my path to Islam and gave me a blessed help shipping to me the Holy Qur’an (a bilingual version in English and Arab), the prayer carpet, books about Islam and even Hijabs, to allow me to practice the beautiful and honored concept of Islamic Modesty. My parents, are Christian, however they never opposed my religious choice-God bless them.

I thought there were no Islamic Centers in my Brazilian city. All websites about Islam I had visited were not Brazilian either and few of those I’ve found in Portuguese refer to Islamic Societies far away from my home. Hence, Allah and my Sudanese sister were my witness that I had embraced Islam.

After sometime, Alhamdulilah I have found an Islamic website developed by a Brazilian sister, who gave me the brilliant information that there was a small, but very serious and lovely Muslim Society in my hometown. She introduced me to The Imam and sisters there. It was a beautiful moment of my life, to get know a part of our Ummah in the city I was born and live in.

My mum is now considering converting to Islam. May Allah show her the right path. The last thing I would like to say from the bottom of my heart is:

“Ash Hadu Anlaa Illa Allah wa Ash Hadu Muhamadan Rasululah”

May Allah bless our Ummah!

Guess what just happened (again)?

Another Catholic priest entered into Islam. I am so happy because this one actually came in by learning from our books, tapes, CDs and the combined efforts of brothers and sisters that we work with in Florida.



Bismillah Rahman Raheem
Salam alaykum to all:

Guess what just happened (again)?

Another Catholic priest entered into Islam. I am so happy because this one actually came in by learning from our books, tapes, CDs and the combined efforts of brothers and sisters that we work with in Florida.

What is really strange is that a brother there in Florida asked me to ship some CDs to him and that he was trying to get a grant and he would pay me later (?) I wondered about that - but I figured, what the heck. I'm not doing this for the money and if even one person comes to Islam from our efforts, then it is all worth it. You know? So we sent him hundres of CDs and materials. He never wrote back. So, I figured, "Oh well."

But now this letter comes in and I want to just sit and cry, remembering how the first priest came to Islam along with me and my wife and father - over 12 years ago. . .

Here is the letter to me (last name is delete and email address removed for privacy):


Dear Yusuf:

My name is Father Daniel, living in Miami, Fl, and studying Special Education at the local university (Florida International University). I always see this Muslim group of students in one of the halls of the Student Center, offering books, Cd's, and time there to whom it may be interested.

One day, as many, I saw them, and only by curiosity I stopped by, and ask for something to read about the whole thing of Islam. I used to be catholic. In fact, more than simply that. I was a catholic priest. I've been a priest for five years in my country (Argentina). But my personal faith slowly decreased after finding out many contradictions in faith and practice within the catholic church. Tired and disappointed, decided to quit and change my life.

Since my sister lives here, in USA, I decided to come, and study what I liked, and re-build my life. So far I was considering myself a simple agnostic.
Until that day... I started to read, and read and read. And a Light has been growing and growing in my heart, more and more. It has started about three months ago.

I don't want to rush, I want to learn more (not only curiosity), I want to get into little by little. I need time to process all this new "thing" that is coming through.... and I still don't know how to deal with it.

To be honest with you, I do believe that in Islam is the Truth... but I need and want time.

Yesterday, those students gave me a CD. It was you teaching about Islam, I think after that terrible 09/11. I was astonished. I enjoyed every single word. I listened the CD in my car all the way to my house. Today I listened it again.

I really appreciate your testimony, may be you can not imagine how much! Well, Allah knows it very well, I believe.

Question: Since I am a student (and no money for now), do you know how to get the Holy Qur'an, I mean, a good one... I would like to read it, but if I go to a book store, I feel lost... What can you recommend?

Thank you for reading this long e-mail.
Respectfully,

Father Daniel (last name deleted)

And another priest.....................................

"Thou wilt find the most vehement of mankind in hostility to those who believe (to be) the Jews and the idolaters. And thou wilt find the nearest of them in affection to those who believe (to be) those who say: Lo! We are Christians. That is because there are among them priests and monks, and because they are not proud. And when they listen to the revelation received by the Messenger, thou wilt see their eyes overflowing with tears, for they recognise the truth: they pray: "Our Lord! we believe; write us down among the witnesses." 005:82-83



Former Arab Priest Accepts Islam

I was born in an Arab city on the 13th of January 1919 and was sent to American Mission schools until I got my secondary education certificate there. In 1942 I got my diploma from an Arab university and then I specialized in religious studies as a prelude to join the Faculty of Theology. It was no easy task to join the faculty, as no candidate could join it unless he got a special recommendation from the church, and also, after he should pass a number of difficult exams. I got a recommendation from a few Churches after passing many tests to know my qualifications to become a man of religion.
My entrance was sanctioned into the Faculty of Theology in 1944 as a boarding student.
I was supposed to be appointed in Jerusalem had it not been for the war that broke out in Palestine that same year, so I was sent elsewhere.
My acquaintance with Islam started in the Faculty of Theology where I studied Islam and all the methods through which we could shake the faith of Muslims and raise misconceptions in their understanding of their own religion.
In 1952 I got my M.A. from Princeton University in U.S.A. and was appointed as a teacher in the Faculty of Theology in an Arab city. I used to teach Islam in the faculty as well as the faulty misconceptions spread by its enemies and the missionaries against it. During that period I decided to enlarge my study of Islam, so that I should not read the missionaries books on it only. I had so much faith in myself that I was confirmed to read the other point of view. Thus I began to read books written by Muslim authors. I also decided to read the Qur’an and understand its meanings. This was helped by my love of knowledge and moved by my desire to add more proofs against Islam. The result was, however, exactly the reverse. My position began to shake and I started to feel a strong internal struggle and I discovered the falsehood of everything I had studied and preached to the people. But I could not face myself bravely and tried instead to overcome this internal crisis and continue my work.
I was sent to an Arab city as secretary general of the German Swiss Mission. That was only my apparent position for my real mission was to preach against Islam in an Arab country especially among Muslims. A missionary conference was held at that time at a hotel there. That day I spoke too much, reiterating all the repeated misconceptions against Islam; and at the end of my speech, the internal crisis came to me again and I started to revise my position.
I began to ask myself: Why should I say and do all these things when I know for sure I am a liar, as this is not the truth? I took my leave before the end of the conference and went out alone to my house. I was completely shaken. As I walked through [a] public garden, I heard a verse of the Qur’an on the radio. It said: (Say: It has been revealed to me that a company of Jinns listened (to the Qur’an). They said: We have really heard a wonderful recital! It gives guidance to the Right, and we have believed therein: We shall not join (in worship) any gods with our Lord.) (Surat Al-Jinn: 1-2), (And as for us, since we have listened to the Guidance, we have accepted it: and any one who believes in His Lord, has no fear of either a short (account) or of any injustice.) (Surat Al-Jinn: 13)


I felt a deep comfort that night and when I returned home I spent the whole night all by myself in my library reading the Qur’an. My wife asked me about the reason of my sitting up all night and I pleaded from her to leave me alone. I stopped for a long time thinking and meditating on the verse; (Had We sent down this Qur’an on a mountain, verily thou wouldst have seen it humble itself and cleave asunder for fear of Allah.) (Surat Al-Hashr: 21) And the verse: (Strongest among men in enmity to the believers wilt thou find the Jews and the Pagans, and nearest among them in love to the believers wilt thou find those who say, “We are Christians”: Because amongst these are men devoted to learning. And men who have renounced the world, and they are not arrogant. And when they listen to the revelation received by the Messenger, thou wilt see their eyes overflowing with tears, for they recognize the truth: They pray: “Our Lord! We believe, write us down among the witnesses. What cause can we have not to believe in Allah and the truth which has come to us, seeing that we long for our Lord to admit us to the company of the righteous?”) (Surat Al-Ma’ida: 82-84)
That same night I took my final decision. In the morning I spoke with my wife from whom I have three sons and one daughter. But no sooner than she felt that I was inclined to embrace Islam than she cried and asked for help from the head of the mission. His name was Monsieur Shavits from Switzerland. He was a very cunning man. When he asked me about my true attitude, I told him frankly what I really wanted and then he said: “Regard yourself out of a job until we discover what has befallen you.” Then I said: “This is my resignation from my job.” He tried to convince me to postpone it, but I insisted. So he spread a rumor among the people that I had gone mad. Thus I suffered a very severe test and oppression until I moved to the capital of the country I was in.
In the capital, I was introduced to a respectable professor who helped me overcome my severe trial and this he did without knowing anything about my story. He treated me as a Muslim for I introduced myself to him as such although until then I did not embrace Islam officially. Dr. Jamal was highly interested in Islamic studies and wanted to make a translation of the Qur’an to be published in America. He asked me to help him because I was fluent in English since I had got my M.A. from an American university. He also knew that I was preparing a comparative study of the Qur’an, the Torah and the Bible. We cooperated in this comparative study and in the translation of the Qur’an.
When the professor knew that I had resigned from my job and that I was then unemployed, he helped me with a job in a company. So I was well established after a short while. I did not tell my wife about my intention to embrace Islam thus she thought that I had forgotten the whole affair and that it was nothing but a transitory crisis that no more existed. But I knew quite well that my official conversion to Islam needed long complicated measures and it was in fact a battle which I preferred to postpone for some time until I became well off and after I completed my comparative study.
In 1955 I did complete my study and my material and living affairs became well established. I resigned from the company and set up a training office for importing stationery and school articles. It was a successful business from which I gained much more money than I needed. Thus I decided to declare my official conversion to Islam. On the 25th of December 1959, I sent a telegram to the head of the American Mission in the country I was in informing him that I had embraced Islam.


My wife left me at that time and took with her all the furniture of our house


When I told my true story to Dr. Jamal he was completely astonished. When I declared my conversion to Islam, new troubles began. Seven of my former colleagues in the mission had tried their best to persuade me to cancel my declaration, but I refused. They threatened to separate me from my wife and I said: “She is free to do as she wishes.” They threatened to kill me. But when they found me to be stubborn they left me alone and sent to me an old friend of mine who was also a colleague of mine in the mission. He wept very much in front of me. So I recited before him the following verses from the Qur’an: (And when they listen to the revelation received by the Messenger, thou wilt see their eyes overflowing with tears, for they recognize the truth: They pray: “Our Lord! We believe, write us down among the witnesses. What cause can we have not to believe in Allah and the truth which has come to us, seeing that we long for our Lord to admit us to the company of the righteous?”) (Qur’an Surat Al-Ma’ida: 84). I said to him, “You should have wept in humiliation to God on hearing the Qur’an and believe in the truth which you know but you refuse.” He stood up and left me as he saw no use. My official conversion to Islam was in January 1960.
My wife left me at that time and took with her all the furniture of our house. But all my children joined me and embraced Islam. The most enthusiastic among them was my eldest son Isaac who changed his name to Osman, then my second son Joseph and my son Samuel whose name is Jamal and daughter Majida who is now called Najwa. Osman is now a professor of philosophy in Sorbonne University in Paris teaching oriental studies and psychology. He also writes in Le Monde magazine.
My wife left the house for six years and agreed to come back in 1966 provided that she keeps her religion. I accepted this because in Islam there is no compulsion in religion. I said to her: “I do not want you to become a Muslim for my sake but only after you are convinced.” She feels now that she believes in Islam but she cannot declare this for fear of her family but we treat her as a Muslim woman and she fasts in Ramadan because all my children pray and fast. My daughter Najwa is a student in the Faculty of Commerce, Joseph is a pharmacologist and Jamal is an engineer.
During this period, that is since 1961 until the present time I have been able to publish a number of books on Islam and the methods of the missionaries and Orientalists against it. I am now preparing a comparative study about women in the three Divine religions with the object of highlighting the status of women in Islam. In 1973 I performed Hajj (pilgrimage to Makkah) and I am doing activities preaching Islam. I hold seminars in the universities and charitable societies. I received an invitation from Sudan in 1974 where I held many seminars. My time is fully used in the service of Islam.
My faith in Islam has been brought about through reading the Qur’an and the biography of Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings of God be upon him. I no longer believed in the misconceptions against Islam and I am especially attracted by the concept of unity of God, which is the most important feature of Islam. God is only One. Nothing is like Him. This belief makes me the servant of God only and of no one else. Oneness of God liberates man from servitude to any human being and that is true freedom.
I also like very much the rule of forgiveness in Islam and the direct relationship between God and His servants.


(Say: “O my servants who have transgressed against their souls! Despair not of the Mercy of Allah: for Allah forgives all sins: for He is Oft-forgiving, Most Merciful. Turn ye to your Lord (in repentance) and submit to Him before the Chastisement comes on you: After that ye shall not be helped.”) (Surat Al-Zumor:53-54).

Dr. Hofmann, who accepted Islam in 1980, was born as a Catholic in Germany in 1931. He graduated from Union College in New York and completed his legal studies at Munich University where he received a doctorate in jurisprudence in 1957. He became a research assistant for the reform of federal civil procedure, and in 1960 received an LL.M. degree from Harvard Law School. He was Director of Information for NATO in Brussels from 1983 to 1987. He was posted as German ambassador to Algeria in 1987 and then to Morocco in 1990 where he served for four years. He performed umrah (Lesser Pilgrimage) in 1982 and Hajj (Pilgrimage) in 1992.

Several key experiences led Dr. Hofmann to Islam. The first of these began in 1961 when he was posted to Algeria as Attaché in the German Embassy and found himself in the middle of the bloody guerilla warfare between French troops and Algerian National Front which was fighting for Algerian independence for the past eight years. There he witnessed the cruelty and massacre that the Algerian population endured. Every day, nearly a dozen people were killed - "close range, execution style" - only for being an Arab or for speaking for the independence. "I witnessed the patience and resilience of the Algerian people in the face of extreme suffering, their overwhelming discipline during Ramadan, their confidence of victory, as well as their humanity amidst misery." He felt it was their religion that made them so, and therefore, he started studying their religious book - the Quran. "I have never stopped reading it, to this very day."

Islamic art was the second experience for Dr. Hofmann in his journey to Islam. From his early life he has been fond of art and beauty and ballet dancing. All of these were overshadowed when he came to know Islamic art which made an intimate appeal to him. Referring to Islamic art, he says: "Its secret seems to lie in the intimate and universal presence of Islam as a religion in all of its artistic manifestations, calligraphy, space filling arabesque ornaments, carpet patterns, mosque and housing architecture, as well as urban planning. I am thinking of the brightness of the mosques which banishes any mysticism, of the democratic spirit of their architectural layout."

"I am also thinking of the introspective quality of the Muslim palaces, their anticipation of paradise in gardens full of shade, fountains, and rivulet; of the intricate socially functional structure of old Islamic urban centers (madinahs), which fosters community spirits and transparency of the market, tempers heat and wind, and assures the integration of the mosque and adjacent welfare center for the poor, schools and hostels into the market and living quarters. What I experienced is so blissfully Islamic in so many places … is the tangible effect which Islamic harmony, the Islamic way of life, and the Islamic treatment of space leave on both heart and mind."

Perhaps more than all of these what made a significant impact on his quest for the truth was his thorough knowledge of Christian history and doctrines. He realized that there was a significant difference between what a faithful Christian believes and what a professor of history teaches at the university. He was particularly troubled by the Church's adoption of the doctrines established by St. Paul in preference to that of historical Jesus. "He, who never met Jesus, with his extreme Christology replaced the original and correct Judeo-Christian view of Jesus."

He found it difficult for him to accept that the mankind is burdened with the "original sin" and that God had to have his own son tortured and murdered on the cross in order to save his own creations. "I began to realize how monstrous, even blasphemous it is to imagine that God could have been fallen short in his creation; that he could have been unable to do anything about the disaster supposedly caused by Adam and Eve without begetting a son, only to have him sacrificed in such a bloody fashion; that God might suffer for mankind, His creation."

He went back to the very basic question of the existence of God. After analyzing works done by philosophers, such as Wittgenstein, Pascal, Swinburn, and Kant, he came to an intellectual conviction of the existence of God. The next logical question he faced was how God communicates to human beings so that they can be guided. This led him to acknowledge the need for revelations. But what contains the truth - Judeo-Christian scriptures or Islam?

He found the answer to this question in his third crucial experience when he came across the following verse of the Quran: "… no bearer of burdens shall bear the burdens of another." (Quran 53:38). This verse opened up his eyes and provided the answer to his dilemma. Clearly and unambiguously for him, it rejected the ideas of the burden of "original sin" and the expectation of "intercession" by the saints. "A Muslim lives in a world without clergy and without religious hierarchy; when he prays he does not pray via Jesus, Mary, or other interceding saints, but directly to God - as a fully emancipated believer - and this is a religion free of mysteries." According to Hofmann, "A Muslim is the emancipated believer par excellence".

"I began to see Islam with its own eyes, as the unadulterated, pristine belief in the one and only, the true God, Who does not beget, and was not begotten, Whom nothing and nobody resembles … In place of the qualified deism of a tribal God and the constructions of a divine Trinity, the Quran showed me the most lucid, most straightforward, the most abstract - thus historically most advanced - and least anthropomorphic concept of God."

"The Quran's ontological statements, as well as its ethical teachings, impressed me as profoundly plausible, "as good as gold," so there was no room for even the slightest doubt about the authenticity of Muhammad's prophetic mission. People who understand human nature cannot fail to appreciate the infinite wisdom of the "Dos and Don'ts" handed down from God to man in the form of the Quran."

For his son's upcoming 18th birthday in 1980, he prepared a 12-page manuscript containing the things that he considered unquestionably true from a philosophical perspective. He asked a Muslim Imam of Cologne named Muhammad Ahmad Rassoul to take a look at the work. After reading it Rassoul remarked that if Dr. Hofmann believed in what he had written, then he was a Muslim. That indeed became the case a few days later when he declared "I bear witness that there is no divinity besides Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad is Allah's messenger." That was September 25, 1980.

Dr. Hofmann continued his professional career as a German diplomat and NATO officer for fifteen years after he became Muslim. "I did not experience any discrimination in my professional life", he said. In 1984, three and half years after his conversion, then German President Dr. Carl Carstens awarded him the Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany. The German government distributed his book "Diary of a German Muslim" to all German foreign missions in the Muslim countries as an analytical tool. Professional duties did not prevent him from practicing his religion.

Once very artistic about red wine, he would now politely refuse offers of alcohol. As a Foreign Service officer, he occasionally had to arrange working lunch for foreign guests. He would be participating in those luncheons with an empty plate in front of him during Ramadan. In 1995, he voluntarily resigned from the Foreign Service to dedicate himself to Islamic causes.

While discussing the evils caused by alcohol in individual and social life, Dr. Hofmann mentioned an incident about his own life caused by alcohol. During his college years in New York in 1951, he was once traveling from Atlanta to Mississippi. When he was in Holy Spring, Mississippi all on a sudden a vehicle, apparently driven by a drunken driver, appeared in front of his car. A serious accident followed, taking away nineteen of his teeth and disfiguring his mouth.

After doing surgery on his chin and lower hip, the hospital surgeon comforted him saying: "Under normal circumstances, no one survives an accident like that. God has something special in mind for you, my friend." As he limped in Holy Spring after release from the hospital with his "arm in a sling, a bandaged knee, an iodine-discolored, stitched-up lower face", he wondered what could be the meaning of the surgeon's remark.

He came to know it one day, but much later. "Finally, thirty years later, on the very day I professed my faith in Islam, the true meaning of my survival became clear to me."



Sunday : 01/02/2004

From ‘Me alone’ to ‘God Alone’


I was born into a family without any particular religious propensity.
This in turn meant that my religious experience was pretty much limited to school time religious education classes, which I always found intriguing, (though playground etiquette demanded I show no external evidence of this).
As I entered my teenage years, spiritual issues went somewhat on the back burner as I focussed on more financial and temporal concerns. Upon leaving school, I started a publishing business which produced a youth focussed magazine. This was to be my pathway to success and riches. Due to my lack of experience in the publishing arena, the business eventually failed and I had the unpleasant duty of laying off the 5 people I employed. This dented my confidence somewhat and I was particularly gutted at letting down my employees.
My early adventures in the publishing world benefited me in as much as it gave me experience which other publishing firms sought to utilise and I found myself gainfully employed and earning a large salary for someone under the age of 20.
The questioning of my life in a spiritual sense really began in this period of my life. I had always expected that upon cementing myself into a lucrative career, I would reap the promised satisfaction and fulfilment inherent. Sure, I had a good life with lots of fun and socialising etc. but as time progressed, I found myself becoming more and more depressed at what I increasingly found to be the futility of my shallow life.
A serious examining of major world faiths ensued, (excepting Islam though, as it seemed so archaic and extreme to me at the time) I spoke to Hare Krshna’s, Buddhist’s and street preaching charismatic Christians, but found myself unable to commit to any particular path, fearing the seemed encroachment on my freedoms.
But still, deep within me, this pain kept growing, I was the loneliest man in the world, an anguished and tormented lover, vaguely sighting the object of my affection but without the strength or courage to reach out and embrace.
I continued in this style until my early Twenties, when a mixture of apathy, weariness and what I can only remember as a complete and total disinterest in life, led me into experimentation with drugs. I very soon found the days and months becoming an accelerating roller-coaster ride of ever harder to attain highs and ever decreasing lows. One evening, I returned home exceptionally drunk, feeling hopeless, despondent, I had physically, mentally and most importantly spiritually reached the end of myself. I had always been self-sufficient and jealously guarded my right to self determination, but I was an exhausted and powerless wreck, the personal freedom I had refused to relinquish had now virtually destroyed me and I fell onto my knees weeping, crying out to God to forgive me, to save me.
At this point, my memory took me back to a conversation I had with a young Christian street preacher I had been mildly mocking, one drunken night out, several years previous. This young lad had said to me, in all sincerity, that if I wanted God in my life all I had to do was invite his son Jesus into my life and he would surely come. As I lay in my bed late that evening, it became profoundly apparent to me that God had always been there waiting for me, but I had been unprepared to release control of my life, it was my property and belonged to me alone. God was never going to impose his will upon me, in time I would discover for myself that I was not in fact the architect of my own destiny. A new reality entered my life, my whole existence is from God and too him, I gave my life, I then prayed as suggested by that young street preacher for Jesus to come into my life. I was a Christian.
To be honest with you, I really did not have much concept at this time of the complicated nature of the Christian faith. All I knew was that I had repented of my past life and accepted Jesus as my saviour and now I needed to find me a church to belong to. As my understanding of the different types of churches was limited, my choice of denomination to attend was pretty much decided by my fear of perma-grinned Jesus people types, I just knew I didn’t want to end up with them. So I chose the United Reformed Church, a haven of tradition and gentility, just the ticket for a burnt out junky.
The church I joined was named St.Columba’s, Columba was an Irish monk who settled a small island off the west coast of Scotland called Iona and established the first Scottish monastic community. Though I enjoyed my time at this church and relished the opportunity to preach and lead groups within it, the protestant tradition seemed unable to guide me in what was most important to me, communicating with God through prayer. I was offered formulaic written scripts for prayer, but I wanted to share my very heart with him, I began to feel disheartened with church life, a simple progression of one administrative meeting to the next, left me feeling spiritually barren.
Explaining my feelings to the Minister of the church, he suggested that I take a trip to the aforementioned monastic island of ’Iona’, as it would be a good place to ’recharge my spiritual batteries’. A couple of weeks later I had arrived on this tiny weather beaten outpost of Christendom and experienced my first taste of early Celtic monasticism.
It was to become a notable milestone on my quest towards the imminence of my creator.
Iona was a revelation to me, although there was no monastic community in existence there anymore, there was a thriving community of laymen and women living in the restored monastic buildings. The Iona community as they are called, consist of folk who come from the world over to dedicate a certain period of time to living and worshipping God in this ancient place. The attitude and ethos of the Iona community is very much grounded in the form of contemplative prayer and life rhythm of the monks who once lived their lives out on this remote island. My time on the island instilled within me a great admiration for the commitment undertaken by the monks, lives given in totality to God, out of pure love for God.
This life of complete abandonment to God began to haunt my every thought. I somewhat naively at the time surmised, that as these men gave everything of themselves to God, he must surely make himself closest to them in response. I couldn’t get it out of my head; I wanted to live totally and completely for God alone.
Upon my return from Iona, I began to make contacts with Roman Catholic monasteries. This communication brought to my attention the vast spiritual writings of the Catholic Church and I devoured them, one after another, feeding on their ancient wisdom and guidance. I soon decided that the path I must follow was to become a monk and therefore a Roman Catholic. I in time decided to join a Benedictine community in Scotland. My routine within the monastic confines was regimented by the ’Rule of St Benedict’ calling me to prayer 6 times a day, the earliest at 6am the latest 9am. The rule also clearly designates periods of study, manual work and refreshment. I found the monastic life incredibly rich and rewarding, the time portioned for silence and prayer helped me to a stillness and point of surrender it is hard to fully describe.
Never having experienced such a vast quantity of silence before, it was impossible to know how one would react in such circumstances. What I would say now is, silence is the most relentless stripper of the many personas we as modern people fabricate to hide our true selves. The initial monastic experience is painful, as God shines the light on you and reveals the ugliness shadowing what you have the potential to become. It does eventually become easier and less painful, but never stops being revelatory. After about 3yrs, it became quite apparent to me that I was not called to monastic life, thoughts of loving a wife and having children filled my thoughts to the point where I had to make the sad decision to leave. I still have contact with the Brothers and in hindsight, feel very much blessed to have been granted the time to grow and develop in that atmosphere.
Another personal and spiritual development I put down to my time in direct prayer with God at the monastery was, a certain distaste for the idolatry inherent within the Catholic Church, I also found it very hard to swallow that I needed to communicate my sins via the medium of a priest in order to receive forgiveness from God. I knew just through personal experience that this was untrue, as I repented of sin everyday to God personally and knew I received forgiveness there and then.
After leaving the monastery, I drifted somewhat spiritually as I attempted to re-adjust to the world outside the monastic compound. In the mid 90’s because of my involvement in the church, I was offered the opportunity to study at Oxford University, which I grasped eagerly (as who wouldn’t). I studied in Social Administration and psychology.
The next step in my journey brought me somewhat back full circle as I moved back to Scotland, left the Catholic Church (as my conscience would no longer allow me to remain) and rejoined the Protestant fold via the Congregational Church. The polity of the Congregational church suited me fine, no huge hierarchical church structure, we made our own decisions for our own community. No idols in the sanctuary and a nice straightforward evangelical theology. I eased back into preaching and was asked to become an elder which was great.
Praying for God’s guidance re my next step, I became of the firm conviction that he was calling me to full time ministry in the church. I put this to my local church, who upon voting agreed that they would nominate me for training at seminary.
Upon arrival in Manchester for my training, I was immediately struck by how ’Liberal’ the theology and lecturers were at the college. Within the first 2 months a death blow was dealt to the doctrine of the Trinity, the validity of vast swathes of the Gospels and Epistles of Paul were shown to be incredibly shaky at best and the Godhead of Jesus himself was given up to our own interpretation. Over the next year or so I was amongst a number of students who left training, after much further research after having my eyes pretty much ripped open theologically speaking by the college, I decided that I in conscience could no longer preach the Christian message, as I no longer believed in the most important parts of it.
During my period in theological training, I had taken the opportunity to read into Islam. This was the first time I had done so, as it had never interested me previously. What I found within the Qu’ran was an answer to my many irritations within the Christian scripture. The Qu’ran confirmed a progression of revelation from Abraham and the many proceeding Jewish prophets including Jesus through to the final and seal of the prophets Muhammad. The irregularities in the Christian scriptures become very much apparent when measured beside the testimony of previous revelation and particularly so when highlighted by God himself in his last scripture, Qu’ran.
Finding myself very much in agreement with Islam at a theological and conscience based level, I took to scouring the internet for information and contacts re reverting and how one should go about it. The response I received from Muslims on the net was always helpful and encouraging, but I myself was beginning to run into what I would call emotional barriers to embracing Islam.
All in all, I spent nearly 3 yrs leading up to my decision to finally embrace Islam publicly. One of the things that prolonged my decision was an imbedded fear that as one who had previously preached the Gospel, my apostasy would make me about as damned as you can get (as per the Christian scriptures). Another fear that kept me from embracing was how my wife would respond, bearing in mind she fell in love with a Christian preacher, I wasn’t sure if she would be able to handle ending up with a Muslim. And, believe it or not, having to give up alcohol felt like a massive bind, not that I’ve ever been the world’s biggest drinker, but the fear of losing the choice to drink made me really uneasy.
On the 25th April 2005 a few days after finding my way onto the ‘Why Islam’ website, I contacted a fellow revert of 2 yrs standing and asked if he would take me to local Masjid. Upon arrival there I said my Shahada and became a muslim. I was greeted into the Deen enthusiastically by all the brothers present (and even got a free meal at a special table!).
I consider myself very fortunate to have been guided through so many varied and enriching experiences by Allah, but his greatest gift he saved till last, he has made me a Muslim by his grace, from ’me alone’ I have been led to submit my life to ’God Alone'.

Only by his Grace and mercy,

Your Brother in Islam

Gavin(Pilgrim)

Alhamdulillah what an inspirational story.


Brother gavin have you heard of Shiek Yusuf Estes, his website is http://www.islamtomorrow.com/ he is a former preacher and priest, his family where preists and preachers before as well as his friend who was a catholic priest before they entered into Islam, inshallah you may find his site of use.