Josh Hasan, Ex-Jew, USA
- Categories: Da'wah to Non-Muslims -
I did not have to be a Muslim. Maybe. I could have been a Hindu,
worshipping 14,321 gods and goddesses, such as a goddess for my
neighbor's dog, another for the moon, and yet another for Evander
Holyfield's lost ear. I would be worshiping all these counterfeit
"gods," and I would be sick. Sick in the heart and blind to the
logic of obeying a pink elephant with six arms, which can be found
on the walls of some Hindu-influenced, Indian restaurants. Yes,
they worship elephants, which are habitually afraid of mice.
Or perhaps I could be a Christian, worshipping Jesus Christ. But
why should I worship a prophet, indeed, who never called himself
divine? Wouldn't he know? He does know, and so do I. Jesus is not
God and God is not Jesus.
I could have gone to Buddhism, but which sect is correct? Who
knows? And would I have wanted to listen to the Dalai Lama telling
me how to enjoy life-in his words, "taking three hookers and
traveling to Las Vegas."
I did not become any of the above, nor will I. I turned in the
direction of Islam when I knew almost nothing of it. One year
later, I took Shahada. I only wish I had taken it much earlier.
This is my story of becoming a Muslim. It began when I was
10.
One God:
When I was 10, my parents enrolled me at the local Conservative
Synagogue, in the densely Jewish town of Brookline, Massachusetts.
I was sent there supposedly to learn Hebrew and be taught Judaism.
I was adequately taught neither. The teachers were mainly Israeli.
It is hard for me to remember now, but they actually taught
[reformed] Judaism very well. At 10, I sincerely believed in God,
read the stories from the Torah and Old Testament, and was more
pious than my much older parents. I tried to pray and be steadfast,
even though my family and friends, as I remember, did not think of
it as even the least important. Why didn't they care? Nevertheless,
I kept up my inner Jew. During this time of Judaica, I took peeks
at Christianity, wondering how so many of my friends followed this
great man, whose name so many people used in vain when they dropped
their papers or tripped. Shouldn't Jesus Christ, I thought, be
shown more respect? Moreover, could he be the son of God?
Then one day, still 10, as I went through my readings on the Jews
and Israel, I came across a new religion. First, I saw a crescent
and star; I read further. I was profoundly moved when I found out
that another billion people in the world worshipped the same God as
I did. As I think about it now, it was truly remarkable. These
followers of Islam, of Allah (swt) [Editor's note: (swt) is an
abbreviation for Subhanahu wa Taala, used by Muslims, meaning
Almighty], read the Qur'an, as it was spelled, and went on a
pilgrimage. Interesting.
Unfortunately, further learning at that time was hindered by the
affinity for Israel. I was brainwashed about the Muslim terrorists
who blew up Jews like dynamite. The Jews were good; the Arabs were
bad. That's what my friends told me, that's what my teachers seemed
to imply, and I would seldom hear of Islam again until 1999.
Meanwhile, 1994 turned into 1995. My family switched synagogues,
and sects. From conservative, we now called ourselves "reform
Jews." We became very liberal. Our "Rabbi" was not kosher. He was
hardly what I consider a spiritual leader, a man who leads Jews as
followers of God. One night, as we sat in the "congregation," our
Rabbi tried to keep us awake. He referred to his pleasure of
looking lustfully at Boston College "coeds" from his nearby home.
He incited only a handful of laughs. Today, as I look back, I
remember how he spoke of the "haram" in front of his wife, before
the Torah, and in the presence of God. My discontent with Judaism
grew, and I knew that a religious move to the right wing was
inevitable. Only it wouldn't be Orthodox Judaism.
The Other People of the
Book:
I was impressed at the time with the Christians' spiritually
because it seemed powerful. Judaism, I knew, was a corrupt
religion, but I still believed in God. The Christians believe in
God, do they not?
I went to mass, I spoke to priests, but I had the world's most
difficult time believing that Jesus could be divine. So I forced
myself. I would pray to the "son," and what a mess. I tried very
hard, but I knew there was no answer. I didn't understand, but I
continued studying the Catechism and saying the Lord's Prayer. I
wasn't baptized, so I wasn't Catholic. In fact, to become Catholic,
you needed to study for nine months. What if I died before I became
a Catholic because the priests wouldn't let me become Christian?
Then what? I continued to notice flaws in Christian doctrine. The
priests seemed to notice them, but they nevertheless continued
preaching. I didn't.
Around January 26, 1999, I quit the confirmation class. I quit
Christianity, although I was not even Christian. I was not "saved,"
but I did not care. I pleased my parents immensely by leaving the
Catholic Church. But, I still knew there was only one God. To this
day, I am surprised at how instantly it happened. Not one week
after I left the church for good, I was ready to learn about the
final religion of God.
The Horrendous
Procrastination:
My father was overjoyed to learn of my fading interest in
Catholicism and he welcomed Islam with open arms. Unfortunately, he
took me to the library. There, I was presented with Encyclopedia
Britannica. I read about Muhammad, [may the mercy and blessing of
God be upon him]. The article claimed he slaughtered all the Jewish
men of their tribe. Having read this, I was deeply saddened, and I
was angry and confused at the same time. I was indignant at having
learned that this prophet from Islam had slaughtered Jews, and I
was confused about what to do now. I thought I had ruled out Islam,
but I still believed in God. Then what? Indeed, I could not go more
than a couple of weeks before returning. I knew Judaism was
corrupt, I knew Christianity was corrupt. Now I got it:
Encyclopedia Britannica is also corrupt.
So began my search for a local Mosque. In fact, I found a nearby
Mosque by accident. I looked on the Internet relentlessly. As soon
as I saw the word Boston, I clicked the mouse, awaiting the
information that would bring me to worship God in the right way. I
waited, patient with a slow and unfeeling modem, and finally, the
site had loaded.
At the tap of a mouse button, I was greeted with Assalamu Alaikum.
I took down the address, and planned the journey. So special was it
to have found a mosque in Boston; I was thrilled that I wouldn't
have to travel to Egypt or Jordan or Yemen.
It was around February 28, 1999. I walked down Prospect Street, and
I saw the Mosque. I walked to the front, I reached to open the
door, and noticed a sign: Women's Entrance. Women's entrance? I
didn't know what that meant, so I walked around the mosque, hoping
they would let men in somewhere. Suddenly, I felt nervous as I
found the men's entrance. I had never met a religious Muslim, and I
had no idea what the Muslims' reaction would be upon meeting me. I
wondered if I should hide my Jewish identity. I took a breath and
entered the door.
"Excuse me," I said to the first man I saw. "I am here to learn
about Islam." I waited for his reaction. I waited for an education
or to be sent out. Would they really send me out? I had hung up my
shoes. The man opened his mouth to speak: "Sorry, I don't speak
English," and he went inside the main room. I followed him in. I
wasn't sure if he had left me to wander. I looked around, at the
faithful prostrating in submission to Allah (swt). I was moved, but
I wasn't sure what to do next. Then, I noticed the man returned
with what seemed like a horde of faithful others. I sat down. There
was one of me and what seemed like 50 of them. They all spoke to me
at the same time. It was overwhelming, but it felt great. It showed
how important Islam was to Muslims then and there. I was given "A
Brief Illustrated Guide to Islam," and within minutes, I had the
Shahada before my eyes. There it was: La Ilaha Illa Allah,
Muhammadun Rassoolu Allah. I was ready to say it. Here and now.
Nine months to become a Catholic, probably more to be a Jew. In a
matter of moments, I could embrace Islam.
"Are you sure? You don't have to do this," came the advice of a
friendly but cautious brother. I was surprised: was it such a big
thing that I would have to think about it? Should I not become a
Muslim now?
That day, I did not become a Muslim. But it was a wonderful
Saturday. I met brothers from all over the world. And yet, as
diverse as the people appeared, they all shared a common objective,
which was clear: the utmost submission to Allah (swt).
It would be over a year before I would become a Muslim. During that
year, I had been at the site of an alleged shooting in the Bronx,
passing through in my family's car. In fact, the bullet shattered
the rear window, just a few feet away from my head. I survived
without a scratch, and soon forgot about the whole incident.
On May 6, 2000, I took the same train I had always taken to the
Masjid in Cambridge. This time, I brought with me a book on Arabic,
as I thought it would be appropriate to learn the language. That
was my philosophy back then. Study Islam comprehensively. By the
time you take Shahada, you'll be a genius. I ran into a Muslim I
hadn't seen in months. He asked me if I had become a Muslim yet.
Then, we had a short conversation. He talked about how if I went
out in the street and got in a car accident, I would die a
non-Muslim. This very well could mean hellfire. He told me this
exact story back in December 1999, but I had dismissed it, even in
the wake of the Bronx shooting. This time, putting off Islam would
not last.
At the Masjid that same afternoon, I sat down, and watched as the
Muslims lined up for Dhuhr, the second prayer of the day. I stared
as they prostrated, an act Shaitan had refused. And I couldn't take
it any longer. I wondered what it would be like to become a Muslim
now, but my thoughts were all one-sided. I told the brother right
after the prayer that I wanted to become a Muslim today. As I write
this, three months later, I know that taking Shahada was the best
thing I could ever have done. I only wish I could have done it
earlier.
By Josh Hasan
The Religion of Islam