In times of great personal loss, emotional upheavals and uncertainty, we, including the most pious amongst us, sometimes tread on the blasphemous path.
COMMENT
Four years ago, I had lost my mother to cancer. During the months from her diagnosis to her demise, I saw her withering like a flower. Not a day had passed then that I did not turn to God, pleading with him to spare her life. But as time passed, she slipped further and further into the jaws of death.
And when she had breathed her last, I became enraged with God and cursed Him for turning a deaf ear to my prayers. Overwhelmed with resentment, I shut the door of the altar at home and extinguished Him from my heart. Both the door and my heart had remained closed for more than a year.
But time, as it always does, healed the wound.
When the anger had subsided, I opened the door of the altar once again and sought forgiveness for all the harsh words uttered to Him. As I reflected on those who were unfortunate to have lost their loved ones at a tender age, I thanked Him for blessing me with my mother’s presence for three decades.
But just like Hamza Kashgari, till this day, there are certain things about Him that I love, certain things about Him that I despise and certain things about Him that I do not understand.
In times of great personal loss, emotional upheavals and uncertainty, we, including the most pious amongst us, sometimes tread on the blasphemous path, questioning our beliefs and the existence of a compassionate and omnipresent divinity. Faith, after all, is a personal bond beween an individual and his maker.
How many times had we gone to a place of worship and threw our hands up in exasperation and contempt demanding answers whenever fate struck us with a cruel blow?
Religious scriptures reveal that great masters and prophets had also been assailed by the arrows of doubt during their spiritual endeavours. Even Jesus had looked up to the heavens during the crucifixion and questioned his Father why he had been abandoned. What more mere mortals like us?
Death for a poet?
Now, there is a possibility that the 23-year-old poet and newspaper columnist from Saudi Arabia could be put to death for questioning his faith or to be more precise, the infallibility of Prophet Muhammad.
Fearing for his life, he chose to flee his country, hoping to seek refuge in New Zealand. But a transit at Kuala Lumpur proved to be disastrous. Under pressure from the oil-rich kingdom, Malaysia acted swiftly to deport him despite objections from human rights organisations and before a court here could rule on an application filed against the move, with Home Minister Hishammuddin Hussein brushing aside concerns for his life as ridiculous.
Commenting on this, a Muslim opposition leader had criticised the deportation, noting that Malaysia did not possess a commendable record with regard to human rights and this would taint it further.
PKR’s Badrul Hisham Saharin also questioned Malaysia’s seriousness regarding such issues and claimed that Dr Mahathir Mohamad, during his tenure as prime minister, had also insulted the prophet but never apologised for it.
On the same note, even Mahathir appeared to disagree with the repatriation, saying that a proper study of the case should have been conducted first as it might involve the loss of a life.
However, there is little doubt that Kashgari should have known better.
He should have realised that his remarks would stoke up tempers in a nation that is deeply religious and sensitive about its faith. And now the issue had taken a political twist, becoming a battle between the liberal and conservative forces within and outside the kingdom.
Kashgari himself had said that he was being made into a scapegoat of a larger conflict.
The controversy also ignited a worldwide debate over the the right to the freedom of expression, with numerous quarters calling on the Saudi government to respect critical viewpoints regardless of how bitter a pill it might be to swallow.
But perhaps Kashgiri was just a young man embroiled in some form of personal turmoil, and who like most of us, became angered and confused by the trials and tribulations of life. His actions were perhaps unwarranted of such an uproar.
Perhaps, his free-spirited nature grew frustrated with a regime that stifled freedom and chose to voice out against it, which most of us do in silence or in safe confines. Perhaps his only fault was to air his thoughts on a public forum in a country high on religious fervour and low on tolerance.
According to one news report, Kashgari, who had drawn the ire of Muslims for stating that there were certain aspects about Prophet Muhammad which he loved and others which he loathed, was described by a former colleague as being a loner and a dreamer.
“He had a broken look in his eyes and I think that was a sign of sadness or depression. He’s a poet and had a lot of philosophical ideas,” the newspaper editor had remarked.
The mind of a poet is a dangerous thing, for it refuses to conform and is often enticed by the romanticism surrounding the spirit of rebellion. But it is this, a mind that cannot be shackled by the chains of authority albeit even divine sanctioned ones, which is the creative catalyst behind all great poetic works, including that of Muslim poets.
To err is human
Kashgari later confessed that his offensive tweets were posted during a difficult psychological state and he had since repented and apologised.
“I declare my repentance and I distance myself fully from all the misleading ideas that affected me and made me write expressions that I do not support. I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of God. I shall live and die firmly believing in it… I strongly adhere to the testimonies that there is no deity but Allah and that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah,” he had wrote.
Only God knows if Kashgari had truly seen the light or if his repentance was a desperate attempt to escape the executioner’s blade.
Nevertheless an apology had been tendered and the “sinner” had expressed remorse. And for those who choose to continue baying for his blood, do remember that to err is human and to forgive is divine.
As one learned Muslim friend remarked, “God is compassion, and the prophet is the personification of that compassion. I am certain that the prophet would have forgiven him.”
COMMENT
Four years ago, I had lost my mother to cancer. During the months from her diagnosis to her demise, I saw her withering like a flower. Not a day had passed then that I did not turn to God, pleading with him to spare her life. But as time passed, she slipped further and further into the jaws of death.And when she had breathed her last, I became enraged with God and cursed Him for turning a deaf ear to my prayers. Overwhelmed with resentment, I shut the door of the altar at home and extinguished Him from my heart. Both the door and my heart had remained closed for more than a year.
But time, as it always does, healed the wound.
When the anger had subsided, I opened the door of the altar once again and sought forgiveness for all the harsh words uttered to Him. As I reflected on those who were unfortunate to have lost their loved ones at a tender age, I thanked Him for blessing me with my mother’s presence for three decades.
But just like Hamza Kashgari, till this day, there are certain things about Him that I love, certain things about Him that I despise and certain things about Him that I do not understand.
In times of great personal loss, emotional upheavals and uncertainty, we, including the most pious amongst us, sometimes tread on the blasphemous path, questioning our beliefs and the existence of a compassionate and omnipresent divinity. Faith, after all, is a personal bond beween an individual and his maker.
How many times had we gone to a place of worship and threw our hands up in exasperation and contempt demanding answers whenever fate struck us with a cruel blow?
Religious scriptures reveal that great masters and prophets had also been assailed by the arrows of doubt during their spiritual endeavours. Even Jesus had looked up to the heavens during the crucifixion and questioned his Father why he had been abandoned. What more mere mortals like us?
Death for a poet?
Now, there is a possibility that the 23-year-old poet and newspaper columnist from Saudi Arabia could be put to death for questioning his faith or to be more precise, the infallibility of Prophet Muhammad.
Fearing for his life, he chose to flee his country, hoping to seek refuge in New Zealand. But a transit at Kuala Lumpur proved to be disastrous. Under pressure from the oil-rich kingdom, Malaysia acted swiftly to deport him despite objections from human rights organisations and before a court here could rule on an application filed against the move, with Home Minister Hishammuddin Hussein brushing aside concerns for his life as ridiculous.
Commenting on this, a Muslim opposition leader had criticised the deportation, noting that Malaysia did not possess a commendable record with regard to human rights and this would taint it further.
PKR’s Badrul Hisham Saharin also questioned Malaysia’s seriousness regarding such issues and claimed that Dr Mahathir Mohamad, during his tenure as prime minister, had also insulted the prophet but never apologised for it.
On the same note, even Mahathir appeared to disagree with the repatriation, saying that a proper study of the case should have been conducted first as it might involve the loss of a life.
However, there is little doubt that Kashgari should have known better.
He should have realised that his remarks would stoke up tempers in a nation that is deeply religious and sensitive about its faith. And now the issue had taken a political twist, becoming a battle between the liberal and conservative forces within and outside the kingdom.
Kashgari himself had said that he was being made into a scapegoat of a larger conflict.
The controversy also ignited a worldwide debate over the the right to the freedom of expression, with numerous quarters calling on the Saudi government to respect critical viewpoints regardless of how bitter a pill it might be to swallow.
But perhaps Kashgiri was just a young man embroiled in some form of personal turmoil, and who like most of us, became angered and confused by the trials and tribulations of life. His actions were perhaps unwarranted of such an uproar.
Perhaps, his free-spirited nature grew frustrated with a regime that stifled freedom and chose to voice out against it, which most of us do in silence or in safe confines. Perhaps his only fault was to air his thoughts on a public forum in a country high on religious fervour and low on tolerance.
According to one news report, Kashgari, who had drawn the ire of Muslims for stating that there were certain aspects about Prophet Muhammad which he loved and others which he loathed, was described by a former colleague as being a loner and a dreamer.
“He had a broken look in his eyes and I think that was a sign of sadness or depression. He’s a poet and had a lot of philosophical ideas,” the newspaper editor had remarked.
The mind of a poet is a dangerous thing, for it refuses to conform and is often enticed by the romanticism surrounding the spirit of rebellion. But it is this, a mind that cannot be shackled by the chains of authority albeit even divine sanctioned ones, which is the creative catalyst behind all great poetic works, including that of Muslim poets.
To err is human
Kashgari later confessed that his offensive tweets were posted during a difficult psychological state and he had since repented and apologised.
“I declare my repentance and I distance myself fully from all the misleading ideas that affected me and made me write expressions that I do not support. I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of God. I shall live and die firmly believing in it… I strongly adhere to the testimonies that there is no deity but Allah and that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah,” he had wrote.
Only God knows if Kashgari had truly seen the light or if his repentance was a desperate attempt to escape the executioner’s blade.
Nevertheless an apology had been tendered and the “sinner” had expressed remorse. And for those who choose to continue baying for his blood, do remember that to err is human and to forgive is divine.
As one learned Muslim friend remarked, “God is compassion, and the prophet is the personification of that compassion. I am certain that the prophet would have forgiven him.”
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