Conference of the Books

Another Saturday night and I'm at work on the overnight shift. It's not as bad as it may seem (after all, look what I'm doing...).

I've been reading Conference of the Books: The Search for Beauty in Islam Khaled M. Abou Fadl. It is a remarkable book. One of the things that drew me to Islam originally was...

I suppose I should digress for a moment. Islam? What does that have to do with anything? Let me backtrack.

In 1996 I was baptized in a Pentecostal Church, the speaking in tongues thing, water baptism, Jesus' name, King James only, the works. How, you might ask? Me, Mr. Noncommittal, don't wish to join anything, don't believe anything, don't participate in anything? I'd say a woman but that isn't the whole picture. It was a woman (now my wife) who I was with that got me to attend church. I was drawn not so much to the beliefs but the commitment to the beliefs. So over the course of many months I found myself fascinated, drawn in originally by the choir and charismatic worship (a far cry from the staid tradition of my Presbyterian upbringing). I wanted to know just what it was that made them sing like that.

I was also drawn to the intellectual spirit of the pastor of the church. I had always figured you had to leave your intellect at the door of the church in order to be a Christian. He helped me to realize that this wasn't so. I got interested in the Bible, picked up a Strong's Concordance and began searching the scriptures.

Acts 2:38 is perhaps the pivotal text in any church that believes in baptism in Jesus' name. This church was no different. So, one Saturday evening, while my girlfriend at the time was not in the picture, I was with a friend and realized I had no Bible to my name. I asked to borrow hers. Upon entering my apartment that evening I flipped it open, as is my ritual, and pointed to Acts 2:38.

So the next morning, in church, by myself, with no support around, what was the text for the message? Acts 2:38. I decided right then and there to be baptized. That was it. No deeper thought than that. So at altar call I rushed forward (apparently before the message was actually over). After some questioning of, I suppose, my sincerity, I was led to the back where I changed into baptism clothes and was ushered into the baptismal pool. After the confession/profession of faith, I was dunked, full immersion, and came out of the water mumbling. Witnesses say I spoke in tongues. It sounded like babble to me. I was now a member (had I not spoke in tongues my membership probably would have been questionable).

So here I was. My girlfriend and her family (a long line of ministers) were thrilled. I was freaked out. What had I done? The trials really began. I began searching the scriptures more and more in depth and realized, over time, that I did not agree with what was being taught. So I began to question. And question. And question. The party was over.

Since no one I knew would have been willing or able to discuss my deep seeded questions, I found an online community at edepot.com. It seems to be primarily a Daoism page now, and a pretty decent one at that, but in 1996 it had a debate forum that was jumping. I still have the printouts from some of these discussions.

I came in with an attitude, like a know-it-all who had it all figured out and was trying to prop myself up as someone who would get deep. Didn't take long for me to realize I was shallow and knew little. Within a week or so I encountered a challenge I was unprepared for. Having harbored doubts about the doctrine I was being taught (Oneness Pentecostalism) I tried to show off my intellectual acumen in breaking down the truth. With one question I was brought to my knees and the doubts I harbored were exposed. One question.

Luke 10:25. The words of Jesus. Eternal life? Love God, love neighbor. Period. That was it plain and simple.

My doubts surfaced. The Oneness doctrine preached from the pulpit frequently referenced the shortcomings of the Trinity doctrine. I discovered that the Oneness doctrine was lacking. I now believed neither one. And I had no intention of becoming a Unitarian or any other label for that matter. All the denominations annoy the mess out of me, reminders of the schismatic nature of any organization.

It turned out that the individual who had been questioning me was a Christian who had converted to Islam. Islam? For as much as I had dabbled in other religions, I knew nothing about Islam. The more I spoke about how I viewed Christian doctrine, the more she said I sounded like a Muslim.

I reasoned and argued and debated and tried all kinds of sophistry but the reality of the matter was that my belief was not Trinitarian, not "Christian", but is really that there is One God (much of this has to do with my epiphany at Yosemite Falls about the oneness of being, Wahdat-ul-Wujud). Not three-in-one, not three manifestations of one essence, etc., all those things Christians argued about for hundreds of years (and still argue about).

The more she questioned and challenged, the more I realized I was in trouble. And so began my inquiry into Islam. Within a few months I would be performing salat in a mosque in Washington D.C., a transformative moment in not only my spiritual path but in my life as a whole.