Why I Became a Muslim
by Mr Selim Ahmad, B.A.
The Islamic Guardian (UK), January to March 1982 Issue (Vol. 3, No. 1, pp. 21–23)
Note: The author, a London University graduate in Hebrew, who was formerly known as Paul Johnson, formally embraced Islam in July 1980.
When considering how best to answer the question “why did you become a Muslim?” I am acutely conscious of the difficulty of doing full justice to this task. The difficulty lies not simply in any practical problem, such as how long or how detailed an essay or speech should be, but in the very nature of the question.
In the first place, it seems to me that, if I am to try to answer the question in words, then nothing short of a book would suffice to convey everything that I would wish to convey to the best effect. But then, as I ponder the question further, it begins to assume for me something of the nature of a koan — one of the riddles posed to the students of Rinzai Zen Buddhism, which can never be truly answered with anything less than the whole being of the student.
What I would wish to evoke, if at all possible, is the kind of experience, feeling or intuition which has acted upon me since childhood, and has drawn me continually onwards; something which has led me to the profession of Islam. And because I am aware of the qualitative gulf which lies between me and the source of this attraction, I feel that I could scarcely be worthy of such an answer as I seek to give, and find myself daunted by the question.
My original religious education was in evangelical Christianity. This is a form of Protestantism, not confined to any one denomination, which can call forth excellent qualities in those who follow it, but which is spoiled by the negative elements in its fundamental beliefs. It tends to require that one should believe in its doctrine in a literal sense and without question. It teaches that all human beings are born under a divine curse, and can only be saved by firstly believing that God was once born as a man and was sacrificed and raised to life again, and secondly accepting the assumed sacrifice as applying to oneself and sufficient to justify oneself before God.
Inadequacies of Christianity:
I do not propose to deal with these notions in detail here. There is more than one form of criticism which might be applied to them. For example, one could begin by considering the nature of Protestantism itself, which rejects the authority ascribed to the Catholic Church of Constantine (with which the Roman Catholic and Holy Catholic Orthodox Churches have rival claims to continuity), and is obliged to legitimate itself by circular arguments taking the New Testament as prime authority; however, the authority of the New Testament ultimately derives from that of the Constantinian Church, which selected the books of the New Testament out of a wide range of texts then extant, with the aim of fostering, and giving exclusive approval to, one particular interpretation of the Christian religion.
I soon discovered that the dogmatic and literal interpretation by evangelicals of the first two chapters of the Book of Genesis was inconsistent with the views of scientists regarding the age of the earth and the history of life-forms. After studying the evidence my sympathies were with the scientists, but at the same time I could not agree with the refusal or reluctance of scientists to accept the idea of a Supreme Being or of the survival of bodily death. It ought to be possible, I believed, to combine religious and scientific views in one harmonious whole. In addition to religious faith, my rejection of materialism was based upon my belief that alleged paranormal phenomena such as telepathy and communication from the dead did occur, and pointed to the existence of a spiritual or supernatural realm. I became used to hearing about such things from my father, and I trusted his testimony as to their validity. Later on in life I was to make a point of studying the literature of parapsychology for the sake of its philosophical implications.
A further cause for disenchantment with the evangelical outlook was that it was refuted by actual experience. One might be persuaded to believe in alleged historical events of an exceptional nature, and then, after working up a strong sense of guilt (if it were not already present) contrive to convince oneself that he or she was ‘saved’ and would be ‘saved’ for all time. But what did this amount to? If this was spurious salvation then what was the real thing? What I was looking for was the actual transformation of human nature, not mental contortionism. And this might well be the result of a gradual process — something seemingly ruled out by the evangelicals’ doctrine of instant certainty of salvation.
And so it was that in my early adolescence I began to investigate religious and philosophical ideas in earnest, inspired by a passion for truth, and by the sense of a higher presence in the realm of nature and within and beyond the faculties of man.
Towards Islam:
My view of Islam was, to begin with, conditioned by the prejudices of western culture. These include the belief that Islam rules out any idea of communion between God and man except in the case of prophets, or that a person may become open to, and conscious of, the working of God upon the human heart. Since these ideas are basic to Christianity and are strongly emphasised, though in different ways, in the theology of the eastern churches and of various Protestant schools, it becomes an easy matter for Christians to conclude that Islam is not worthy of serious consideration. Moreover, the prejudices of the West are reinforced by the misconceptions of Muslims themselves regarding their religion, and Christian missionaries take advantage of this.
As I learned more about Islam, my respect for it grew, and my misapprehensions were corrected. One day I determined to purchase a copy of the Holy Quran with an English interpretation printed alongside the Arabic text. I intended to further my study of the Arabic language and at the same time to become properly acquainted with the sacred book of Islam. I knew that such bilingual texts existed and requested one at a well-known academic bookshop in London. There were none in stock, and I was directed to a second bookshop where I was soon supplied with a copy of the edition of the Holy Quran with English interpretation and commentary by Maulana Muhammad Ali. I was very favourably impressed by this work. The religious philosophy which is set forth in the introductory notes had important points of agreement with my own. I was delighted to find that some of the obstacles to the approval of Islam by westerners could be shown to be based upon misunderstandings. The language, the imagery and the sentiments of the Holy Quran were incisive and inspiring. I found within it the essence of all the great religions together with something of the individual qualities of each. The Fatihah, the opening passage of the Holy Quran, was a kind of summary of the whole, and I memorised its Arabic text.
It was not until several years later, after much further study of different subjects having some bearing on the fundamental questions of life, that I arrived at a consistent and stable view of things. It was on this basis that, as I reflected upon the nature of Islam, its place in history, and the nobility of spirit which it had fostered, I came to acknowledge that the Holy Prophet Muhammad (peace and the blessings of God be upon him!) had in a very real sense been sent as a mercy to mankind. The Holy Quran I came to see as the gift of Allah — to teach by the pen, to teach man what he knew not.