June 30, 2025
When I learned that Muslims are supposed to pray five times a day, I couldn’t believe it. “Ridiculous!” I said. “That’s too much praying!” I wondered whether any of them actually did it. Then, I learned about wudu, the ritualized rinsing with water, followed by prescribed Arabic words and verses from the Qur’an that must be said during the formal prayer. I was convinced that most Muslims could not and/or did not adhere to such a strict schedule. I kept close watch on my Muslim colleagues in the hospital laboratory. Our staff included at least five Muslims in those early years. During our workday, at least two prayers fell due– zohr, asr, and sometimes maghrib. The Muslims actually did excuse themselves at the predetermined times, and did not return for at least half an hour.
Then I found out that the first prayer–fajr– falls due just before sunrise, and I was doubly convinced that Muslims would never be able to get up that early, every day, even on weekends, just to pray. Only the fifth prayer– isha –fell due at sunset, and could be delayed all the way until the next day’s fajr. That prayer seemed reasonable. It resonated with my Christian teaching of praying before bedtime.
Before I went to Riyadh at the age of thirty-six, I had never travelled outside the United States, and I knew nothing of religions other than the branches of Christianity common in the US. The only real requirement for being a Christian was to believe that Jesus was the Son of God, sent down in human form to suffer on the cross for the redemption of all the sins of all mankind. Just belief in this story was enough to guarantee entrance into Heaven, and I was fine with that. I took the story for granted, not challenging its unlikely veracity as an ultimate truth. It was convenient and easy. All the grown-ups believed it and taught us kids to believe it, too. We were smart enough to know that we were lucky, and not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Muslims had it very hard, having to do all those actions five times daily, not to mention paying zakat, going to Hajj at least once, and fasting the entire month of Ramadan. Fasting meant total abstinence of food, drink, and bodily pleasures such as sexual intercourse and cigarette smoking, and the fasting days–twenty-nine, sometimes thirty of them– lasted from sunup to sundown! In summer, the fasting day could last fourteen hours, and that was in Saudi Arabia. Imagine fasting in the United States, in Wisconsin where my family lived, where summer days can last eighteen hours!
In addition to the basic requirements, mainly time-related, the prohibitions are in effect twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month, etc., putting the observant US residing Muslim in a behavioral straight jacket bombarded by presentations of pork, alcohol, and sexual temptation, either on display or inherent within an innocent encounter, all woven seamlessly into the American way of life. How does a Muslim live as a Muslim in the United States?
At thirty-six years of age, I’d never, ever seen a Muslim in any United States city I’d visited, even my own city, and if they were actually praying five times daily, I’d have noticed, either at school, work, library, other public places, or the homes of friends, neighbors, or even on TV.
I did not intend to convert to Islam, but I fell in love with Arabs, their language and their culture. I wanted an Arab husband– a Christian. Arab. Christians are in the minority, but they do exist, and I had hoped to find one with whom to fall in love. Had I realized that ambition, I would have remained a Christian. Probability against me, however, I could not resist falling in love with three Arab men over the next two years, all Muslims, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Thirty-five years later, still a Muslim, albeit peripherally, I still bristle at the requirements of the Islamic way of life, and way of life it is, because it dominates every action, every thought, and every activity one performs, day or night. That is as it should be, and Islam is not shy to assert its “way of life” intent, so do I regret converting? Am I tempted to revert or declare myself a Buddhist? I like Buddhism, and Christianity is familiar and easy. I could explore Judaism, but my answer to all of them is no, never, not ever.
My mentor, Anis Matthews, once asked me, “Would you prefer to be a perfect follower of an inferior religion, or an imperfect follower of a superior religion?” Well, I no longer subscribe to the notion that religions evolved along a hierarchy, but I have evolved as a Muslim. My identity as a Muslim has solidified over the years. Ironically, I feel more of a Muslim now, when my practice has dipped to an abysmal state of non-obervance, than I did during my Riyadh years, when I was surrounded by Muslims, prayer calls, and Arabic, where praying was easier than not praying, and mosques were as numerous as grocery stores.
I never did achieve the habit of doing all those prayers consistently, even while living in Riyadh. I always knew that if I could not adhere to the prayer schedule in Riyadh, then I would never be able to adhere to it anywhere else, and I was correct. Most Muslims would accuse me of laziness, lack of faith, lack of commitment, ignorance, and who knows what all else, other vice, or defect of personality. They would be correct, from within their Islamic framework, but I prefer to dare…I dare myself to approach religion in general, and Islam in particular, from an entirely independent perspective, one that I dare not discuss out loud, but one that begs me to write about it, explore it, put it into form and function, or discard it altogether. I don’t yet know, but I have a general idea of where I am going with this.
Marahm 