Friendships Found in the Path to God
Reflecting on Faith, Reason, and Experience
Those who submit to God strive to know him, and knowing God compels us to worship him the way he wants to be worshiped. At different points in my life, I’ve been exposed to different ways to address the latter part of that equation. Like most, my early religious practices were largely a product of custom. But that could only take me so far. At some point, I had to seek the guidance of our intellectual tradition. It was there I discovered that the rational faculty can justify anything it wants; therefore, I could not put all my faith in a “good” argument.
Now, at thirty-one, I’ve started to trust my internal spiritual compass by following the path to God that feels right. This modus operandi is a choice, born out of the realization that God guides the hearts that come looking for him. And because the Prophet advised us to hold tight and not be divided, there is benefit in traversing that path together.
From what I have encountered, I found this to not only be a helpful component in the search for epistemic truths, but a necessary one. There is only so much we can possibly explore in our own lives; we must rely on collective wisdom to lead the way. And in so doing, the well-trodden path is a sign of success; the kind referred to in our daily call to prayer.
Reliance on others, however, introduces its own challenges. For one, external authorities cannot easily inform internal realities. The highest form of faith, ihsan, is emphatically a matter of personal experience. And to the extent that others have found success in its pursuit, there are limits to how much direction they can offer.
Take for example two travelers crossing the same road. Try as they might, they will never traverse the same exact steps. The path may change with the times, and the directions may have to adapt to the traveler’s capacity. What guides one may be too much for another to bear. Or worse yet! Can lead to misguidance. For we are all uniquely situated, and it is impossible to walk a path that exists in a time and place different than our own.
At once, this understanding expands and contracts the possible bounds of our journey. Every path before us becomes both accessible and uncharted. If properly appreciated, this insight ought to inspire a sense of humility in one’s charted course. Definitive guideposts give way to maybe and it depends. Certain truths we took for granted — certain positions we believed to be universal — become, like most else, contingent.
For those who find comfort in continuity, this can be incredibly destabilizing. Particularly as it relates to metaphysical realities. One of the most oft repeated refrains in the Quran reflects this impulse: “What are we to make of those who came before us?” (e.g., 2:170; 7:70; 29:25). In response, God commanded us to do more than just follow what feels right; He ordered us to think, ponder, and reflect on his signs (e.g., 2:164; 3:191; 30:8).
And in so doing — and as we yearn to understand God — we must be willing to accept that we are all susceptible to being “misguided.” Why else do we seek refuge from God to keep us on the rightly guided path over fifteen times a day? Who are we to assume the path we currently walk is sufficient, complete, and perfect?
If I am equivocating now between the emphasis on experience and understanding, it is because I am. I won’t claim to know the perfect balance between the two. But I think I am beginning to understand that siloing the religious experience into either domain is an exercise in futility, to the detriment of our souls. Therefore, I am trying to find a path in which my mind and experience both align towards God.
It was during this search that I found myself in the presence of beautiful company in Medellín. There are things words can only try to convey, and above all, my time in this city was an experiential one. But I will try to capture what it felt like.
I was in a gathering of people whose hearts were aligned in servitude of God, such that my faith was elevated just being present. By striving to know God, they became grateful, and in gratefulness, their hearts filled with a contagious light. This condition manifested in kindness and mercy towards one another, and a commitment to spread this mercy through acts of service to the broader community.
I learned on the first night of my trip that a people who preserve adab (“good character”) are a blessed people, regardless of their faith, and that one of the ways God enters a community is through adab. Consequently, spreading good habits of character becomes akin to spreading God’s word. I witnessed these values manifested in practice, and I continue to reflect on the lesson.
I won’t say this is the first time I’ve been blessed to be in such a gathering, any more than I would be willing to say that a single path is the only one that leads to God. But as I get older, it has become harder for my increasingly skeptical mind to find wells of spiritual rejuvenation. And when I do, I’ve found it more fleeting. However, something about this gathering felt more enduring than anything I had previously experienced. Having filled my cup, I felt I was only beginning to tap into its reserves; within which, there appeared to be something capable of sustaining a lifetime of growth. Only later did I realize, with a smile, that this feeling occurred in the literal city of eternal spring.
Conceptually, it was enough to learn that no claim was made that the reservoir we were drinking from was either necessary or sufficient to reach God. I know enough of history to be weary of such claims. It doesn’t have to work for everyone; the question is, would it work for me? Experientially, it was enough to answer in the affirmative: there is no doubt that in this gathering, I found inspiration to get closer to God and the energy to serve God’s creation. Though in some ways, it diverges from the the path I was on, I must have strength in my convictions, and faith in my inner experience. Each of us, after all, has different needs, reflected by our own contingent time and place.
Any reservations I had were quelled by a simple answer to a question I asked Sh. Muslema: “How should I explain this to my family?” She responded: “By being a better person.”
What more should there be in the path towards the creator.
