By Our Islam is a religion of peace, and those who submit to its teachings are said to find peace through that submission. And yet, statistics show that depression and anxiety in Muslim-majority countries are on par with the average levels found in the rest of the world. Why is it that we do not seem to derive that necessary peace from our Islamic teachings?
It took me a long time to bring myself to ask this question, for two reasons. Firstly, the issue of faith is central to every Muslim’s life. For many Muslims, it is the foundation that holds the pieces of life together. It is the basis for meaning. It is the constant in an unpredictable life.
To question faith is to accept that there is a chance that all may come crashing down, that you may have to rebuild the very foundation of your life over again. And no one wants to start over again — not when they have come so far and invested so much in a narrative that provides purpose to an otherwise meaningless existence. Secondly, ours is a community that does not like to face any feelings of doubt towards Islamic teachings. Such notions are discouraged and dismissed as weakness. And no one wants to be seen as being weak, especially weak in faith.
But the thing about pain is that you have only two options when confronted with it. You can either rise to the challenge of change that it brings, or you can kneel before it, forever held captive by it. This choice is presented to you every day, with each pang of pain, at each and every moment, the tides of life smash against you, pulling you backwards. I chose, eventually, to stand on my feet and raise my head towards the sky and ask myself: Why had my faith let me down? Where was the peace it promised?
For many Muslims, Islam is who they are. The lines that mark where Islam begins and the Muslim ends are blurred into each other. And so my quest for inner peace through Islamic philosophy meant that I was also asking deep questions of myself. Who am I? What have I been doing with my life?
The journey has been tiresome. Facing yourself is a fight like none other. For a while, I had to contend with the shock that I have not been living in the way I’d assumed I was, that I was not who I thought I was. The truth often feels like a blow to the gut and for a long time, the punches came hard and fast. I felt like I had been thrown into the middle of a desert where the sun never rose and there was constant darkness.
But with every moment dedicated to the re-learning of my belief system, I have found that the sun rises a little more, and peace settles further into my heart.
If we want a chance at finding inner peace, then we must find ways of remembering God in as many moments of our lives as possible — more moments than 2% of our lives.
One of the first things I did in my quest for inner peace was, question my relationship with God. As Muslims, we are told that we must submit to God in order for peace to be realised. At face value, submission to God comes in the form of the practice of the five daily prayers and perhaps the extra prayers, as well as the reading of the Quran. I was doing all of that, yet I still found myself engulfed in negative emotions, in a constant search for peace. And so, I reflected more on these criteria for submission, and I found that I spent only about thirty-five minutes each day in fulfillment of them. Thirty-five minutes out of twenty-four hours! That was just 2% of my day! I realised that dedicating 2% of my life to anything can’t be regarded as true submission.
For many of us, the harsh reality is that we are ‘Muslims’ only in theory, in general thought. But in practice, God is absent from a lot of the moments of our lives. We are mostly secular in practice. God is at the periphery of our lives. And perhaps this is why we find little comfort in a philosophy that has God at its centre.
God has called us ‘Insan’, the Arabic for ‘human’, the meaning of which is ‘those who forget’. We must then constantly find ways to try to remember.
Something is lacking in our current understanding of submission. In my own journey, I’ve found that the remembrance of God is integral to achieving inner peace and wellbeing. Without it, man cannot be in a state of submission or find meaningful peace.
If we want a chance at finding inner peace, then we must find ways of remembering God in as many moments of our lives as possible — more moments than 2% of our lives.
It is in our nature to forget the truth of God, the truth of our existence. We must then recognize that our dedication to God is a moment-by-moment commitment, one that requires a conscious effort. God has called us ‘Insan’, the Arabic for ‘human’, the meaning of which is ‘those who forget’. We must then constantly find ways to try to remember. I recently bought myself a ‘remembrance’ bracelet; something that acts as a reminder to think of God each time I see it on my wrist.
We must remember God as we get out of bed; we must thank Him for the new day, for another chance at setting things right. We must thank Him for the water that flows from the tap as we wash our faces. We must thank Him for our teeth when we brush them. We must thank Him for our eyesight and our hearing as we walk to work. We must praise Him for the sun and the rain. We must ask forgiveness for our forgetfulness.
We must find the courage to face the realities of our shortcomings and re-establish our connection with God, so that we may find peace and spread peace in a world that is in much need of peace.