Editor's Note: His conversion to Islam
shocked his friends and floored his parents, but PNS contributor Abdullah
Sundown Hazen has found hope, purpose and community in his new faith. Hazen
([EMAIL PROTECTED]) is a 26-year-old senior at San Jose State University
studying Fine Arts in Digital Media. He writes for Silicon Valley De-Bug, a
project of Pacific News Service, and volunteers with homeless children.
"Bismillah hir Rahmanir Raheem. In the name of Allah, the most gracious, the
most merciful."
After not seeing me for three months, a guy I used to hang out with said,
"Have you gone Taliban?" My recent conversion to Islam has brought many snide
remarks, but for me the transformation is no joking matter.
Religion is not new to me. I was raised in a good Christian home and went to
church every Sunday. To me, life is a spiritual path, an ongoing search for
understanding. As a Christian, it was too easy to be religious for part of one
day and live in sin the rest of the week. But as a Muslim, I renew my connection
with Allah five times a day, keeping me mindful of my convictions.
At San Jose State, there were Muslim students in my social circles and
classes. I did not see them as representatives of Islam; they were just cool
friends I admired. When I learned that they were fasting around Thanksgiving and
Christmas, I became intrigued with their sacrifice. Besides, smiles never seemed
to leave their faces. They were genuinely friendly, and were concerned with our
community. I wanted to be as beautiful as they were.
I began asking them questions about Islam. How did their beliefs affect their
behavior? Who were their influences? That summer, I picked up a copy of the Holy
Qu'ran for the first time. I enjoyed its poetic message of peace, love and
personal responsibility.
As these spiritual seeds were sprouting from the readings and the
relationships I was building, Sept. 11 hit my heart. Many people around me
became fearful of Muslims. I was not. When the media declared that the attacks
were done in the name of Islam, I refuted the claim. Violence can only be used
in self-defense. An entire religion can't be blamed for the actions of a small
percentage of its membership.
My heart was already leading me down an unchangeable path of truth. My desire
for a deeper spirituality continued to grow through the chaos of the weeks after
9/11.
I had discovered the community I had hoped for, and it was called Islam.
Then John Walker Lindh -- "the American Taliban" -- appeared. If your only
familiarity with an American Muslim comes from mass media reports about Lindh, I
encourage you to get to know a Muslim in your community. That is the only way to
learn the truth.
In December I was first invited to Jumuah (Friday) prayer. Everyone was very
welcoming. I continued going to prayers, and I saw Islam in practice.
I have always felt that someday everything would fall into place for me, and
that day came on Jan. 11, 2002. You could say there was something in the air.
After Jumuah prayer, the scholar I had been learning from greeted me. He asked
if I was a Muslim. I fumbled, "Yes." He asked if I was sure, and honestly I
wasn't. So, he asked if I wanted to be a Muslim. Without hesitation, I said I
did. Whatever was in the air became channeled into my heart and soul, as I
repeated the Arabic words confirming my faith. Confidence, reassurance, calmness
and excitement enveloped me.
I told my mom while my aunt and cousin were visiting. They were floored. The
first thing my mom said was, "You're just being political." For the next hour I
sat in the kitchen, patiently listening to my aunt's reaction because my mother
was too disturbed to speak to me. She felt I had been led astray, and said that
Jesus died for my sins, that He was the only way to God.
Teachers and colleagues are supportive and interested in my process and
discoveries. My new appearance shocks them at first. They tell me I look more
humble and spiritual, that my eyes have developed a sense of clarity, and, of
course, that my beard is growing really fast.
Some of my friends say that what I am doing is good, but they don't sound
sincere. I tell them how important Islam is for me to become the man I want to
be: loving, respectful toward women, able to raise children responsibly and able
to abstain from harmful activities by controlling my desires. Frequently I'm
ignored, and some try to convert me back to Christianity. But their arguments
only strengthen my conviction.
It's been three months, and the reality of my decision is settling in. The
honeymoon is over. Becoming a better Muslim is something I have to work toward.
Some changes come quickly; others take time.
Praying five times a day can be challenging, but I take pleasure breaking up
my day with time to talk to my creator and sustainer. Because one must be clean
of body to pray, I also pay more attention to my personal hygiene, and to how my
actions affect others. I avoid alcohol, and only eat halal (purified) meat.
Dating used to mean clubs, hookups and meaningless flings. Now I realize that
successful and beneficial relationships are marriages for the sake of Allah. I
focus on my relationship with Allah and my studies. As I develop personally,
relationships with female friends develop mentally and spiritually.
Recently, my mom has become more open. Last time I talked to her, she said
that I have never been more focused about anything as I am about being a Muslim.
Having a positive relationship with my family is the best blessing. As a bonus,
my family has grown by 1.2 billion brothers and sisters worldwide.
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