A Story of Pure Fiction (In the spirit of defying convention)
Shelby stared at the document again, for the umpteenth time. And again, for the umpteenth time, she considered her options. She was, indeed, the recipient of a rather large inheritance. She did not need the money. Even though she had, essentially, given up her "career" to support her husband and raise her children, her husband was successful, a good and honest man, and he had adequately provided for her. Never mind the internal battles and sacrifices "giving up her career" had engendered over the years. She did not regret her decisions, or her internal battles.
And yet, would it not be wonderful to have a source of funds all her own, that was not tied to his efforts, that she could spend without discussion and compromise? Shouldn't she keep this money for herself, in case of need, or whim?
But she was also pulled by a sense of responsibility. Inheritance was a gift, a privilege not shared by all. She felt responsible to share this wealth. She felt obliged to share it, as a person of faith, but how? Simply donate it to a charity of her choosing? Which one? Was it more important to aid the refugees of the wars of liberation, or the children living in hunger and poverty in far away countries, or the victims of violence and circumstance closer to home, or help provide medical care to those most in need...? And how could she know that it would really make a difference?
She thought again about her other option. There was, at that very time, a campaign to build a new mosque in her community. The mosque board, all men, had begun a concerted effort to raise the last chunk of money needed to complete the prayer hall. The community, however, was maxed out of giving potential, having raised just enough to get the land and construction started. She considered her other idea. Give the mosque board the entire sum they still needed to raise, but with one stipulation.
Could she make that stipulation? Her heart told her she had the right to do so. But it would buck centuries of tradition. She reviewed the arguments supporting her heart's conviction. Her heroes were the modern commentators: Khaled Abou ElFadl, Lela Bakhtiar, Amina Wadud, Azizah Al-Hibri and Asma Barlas. That the message of Quran is divine and universal, in this she had no doubt. But while some of its passages were universal, others were revealed for a certain community at a certain time, and must be understood for their deeper meaning. The deep meaning of the Quranic passages on women was, first and foremost, that men and women are equal before God. Quran gave women specific rights at a time when they were viewed as property, and even killed in infancy. Some of those specifics today seem unequal and unfair. But Quran did not specify that the project of equal rights should end with the specific prescriptions necessary in 7th century Arabia. The movement toward equality between men and women, as between all human beings was set in motion by the Prophet's revelations, not set in stone. She understood Quran to be a living document, to be read as the living word of God, again and again re-imagined as applied to each new époque.
Shelby made her decision. She asked for a meeting with the mosque board, to discuss a substantial donation to the prayer hall. She decided to wear a headscarf to the meeting, to make them feel more comfortable. "I have received a substantial inheritance." she began. The men's sense of anticipation reflected on their faces, approval in their eyes. "I feel that Allah is guiding me to share this inheritance with my Muslim community, in the form of a significant donation to the prayer hall. But Allah has given me a vision of a prayer hall with absolutely equal access to men and women. My stipulation is that the hall be divided into two spaces, separated by moveable screens, beside one another behind the mimbar. Women are not in the back, or in the balcony, or in the basement. They are on the main floor, equal before the Qibla, equal before God."
At this point I leave it to the reader to imagine the expressions on the faces of the men of the board, and their responses. But I assure the reader that in Shelby's imagination, the equality of the prayer space in the new mosque gave the women an opening to re-value themselves and their importance to their community. The energy this generated led them to create many exciting new projects - projects that addressed the needs of refugees of the wars of liberation, of children living in hunger and poverty in far away countries, of victims of violence and circumstance closer to home, and helped provide medical care to those most in need. The men (most of them anyway) got used to having the women beside them, and watched this energy unfold and, after a time, congratulated themselves on the decision they had made to support their women's rights.
Shelby stared at the document again, for the umpteenth time. And again, for the umpteenth time, she considered her options. She was, indeed, the recipient of a rather large inheritance. She did not need the money. Even though she had, essentially, given up her "career" to support her husband and raise her children, her husband was successful, a good and honest man, and he had adequately provided for her. Never mind the internal battles and sacrifices "giving up her career" had engendered over the years. She did not regret her decisions, or her internal battles.
And yet, would it not be wonderful to have a source of funds all her own, that was not tied to his efforts, that she could spend without discussion and compromise? Shouldn't she keep this money for herself, in case of need, or whim?
But she was also pulled by a sense of responsibility. Inheritance was a gift, a privilege not shared by all. She felt responsible to share this wealth. She felt obliged to share it, as a person of faith, but how? Simply donate it to a charity of her choosing? Which one? Was it more important to aid the refugees of the wars of liberation, or the children living in hunger and poverty in far away countries, or the victims of violence and circumstance closer to home, or help provide medical care to those most in need...? And how could she know that it would really make a difference?
She thought again about her other option. There was, at that very time, a campaign to build a new mosque in her community. The mosque board, all men, had begun a concerted effort to raise the last chunk of money needed to complete the prayer hall. The community, however, was maxed out of giving potential, having raised just enough to get the land and construction started. She considered her other idea. Give the mosque board the entire sum they still needed to raise, but with one stipulation.
Could she make that stipulation? Her heart told her she had the right to do so. But it would buck centuries of tradition. She reviewed the arguments supporting her heart's conviction. Her heroes were the modern commentators: Khaled Abou ElFadl, Lela Bakhtiar, Amina Wadud, Azizah Al-Hibri and Asma Barlas. That the message of Quran is divine and universal, in this she had no doubt. But while some of its passages were universal, others were revealed for a certain community at a certain time, and must be understood for their deeper meaning. The deep meaning of the Quranic passages on women was, first and foremost, that men and women are equal before God. Quran gave women specific rights at a time when they were viewed as property, and even killed in infancy. Some of those specifics today seem unequal and unfair. But Quran did not specify that the project of equal rights should end with the specific prescriptions necessary in 7th century Arabia. The movement toward equality between men and women, as between all human beings was set in motion by the Prophet's revelations, not set in stone. She understood Quran to be a living document, to be read as the living word of God, again and again re-imagined as applied to each new époque.
Shelby made her decision. She asked for a meeting with the mosque board, to discuss a substantial donation to the prayer hall. She decided to wear a headscarf to the meeting, to make them feel more comfortable. "I have received a substantial inheritance." she began. The men's sense of anticipation reflected on their faces, approval in their eyes. "I feel that Allah is guiding me to share this inheritance with my Muslim community, in the form of a significant donation to the prayer hall. But Allah has given me a vision of a prayer hall with absolutely equal access to men and women. My stipulation is that the hall be divided into two spaces, separated by moveable screens, beside one another behind the mimbar. Women are not in the back, or in the balcony, or in the basement. They are on the main floor, equal before the Qibla, equal before God."
At this point I leave it to the reader to imagine the expressions on the faces of the men of the board, and their responses. But I assure the reader that in Shelby's imagination, the equality of the prayer space in the new mosque gave the women an opening to re-value themselves and their importance to their community. The energy this generated led them to create many exciting new projects - projects that addressed the needs of refugees of the wars of liberation, of children living in hunger and poverty in far away countries, of victims of violence and circumstance closer to home, and helped provide medical care to those most in need. The men (most of them anyway) got used to having the women beside them, and watched this energy unfold and, after a time, congratulated themselves on the decision they had made to support their women's rights.
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