Before you go to hajj, you’re supposed to complete your will. It is just one of those get your “life” in order things before you die to this life and are born in to the post-hajj, clean-slate life, at the other side. Of course people also die at Hajj. I have one friend who went with her husband and although he was not without a few medical problems, no one expected him to get sick and succumb to whatever it was and die there. I hear tell that some elderly people would LIKE to die on hajj, sort of make their beginning of the after-death with the sweetness of a clean slate. Sometimes, the sweetness of life is over and yet the person is still alive. I do consider that an amazing thing.
I’ve always had a will, but did indeed update it recently and added the living will with the medical stuff. I don’t want to be on life support, or in some plugged-in comatose state beyond 72 hours. I’ve already told my kids this, but you know how your kids are: they’d don’t want to think too hard about that kind of stuff. I just think if I say what needs to be said now and say it to the right offspring, it will be done; especially if I can no longer speak for myself. I’m not one of those hold-on-to-life-for-everything-a-machine-can-make-it type of person.
That’s partially because I think dying would be easy. Although, I have literally tried in some very dark moods in my past to just will myself to death only to find, as is obvious, that I am still here. But besides the bad moods, I am just not afraid of, or even worried about, dying. No. It’s living that is the real challenge. Especially living well: that is, meaningfully for yourself and others.
I am also not a literalist about some of the stories about after-death or what is typically called the Hereafter or afterlife. These stories come from the Qur’an or from Muslim imagination, commentary, lore, and literature. However, for the sake of painting a clearer picture since I have already discussed cosmology, I need to discuss its twin half: eschatology, all the post-life stuff. For one thing, the Qur’an is emphatically gender neutral or inclusive.
“Every soul shall have its taste of death.” Now that verse sends up quite an image. I think many people just want to fall asleep and never wake up. But the way I read this it says, well, you might fall asleep on this end, but on the other end, your soul will “know” when you pass from just sleep into the more permanent state. The idea is that the angel takes your soul at death. Now there are other details to go with this idea, like those souls who are pulled out gently versus those souls which are wrenched out.
If you’ve ever read the Egyptian or Tibetan books of the dead, you’d know there really is something to this transition. Apparently, the best response is one of surrender. Well, then again, I guess some people would rather go kicking and screaming, trying to resist. Anyway, as I said, my point is about gender and death in the Qur’an. Death is an equal-opportunity supervisor, so every soul will taste it. No special taste on the basis of gender. Thank you very much.
We know from the Qur’an that there are two angels of the grave, Nakir and Munkar. The lore and literature get a lot more elaborate about these details. The grave is some intermediate state: you’re not alive, you’re not yet at the judgment, and you’re not yet in one of those final abodes—heaven or hell. But apparently you are aware at some level, enough to “know” when people walk away, you’re at your gravesite and enough to experience a glimpse of your permanent place of abode. That is, if you’ve led a good life, done the rights things, tried you best, etc., you’ll get heaven. If not, well; you know what happens then. Now stories about Nakir and Munkar get interesting. So much so that some will even tell you the “questions” that they will ask and what answers are correct! I think that is a stretch, but again, for my purposes here, this is all gender-neutral or gender-inclusive, even in the lore and literature, imagine that!
We also have the notion of resurrection but not just in spirit, but in body too. In fact, the Qur’an says, even if you take the dead and throw pieces hither and yon, the pieces will all come back together to face the Judgment. But again, every one will be brought to final Judgment, no gender distinction. Now, you’d think it would be like passing an algebra test, but it’s not. Because there are things that weigh in here, unlike you would imagine. All your body parts will give testimony. And when it’s all over, you will either get your book: the record of your deeds, in your right hand or in your left hand (or the worst: behind your back!). Those who get their books in the right hand will be the most prosperous having good deeds out weighing not so good deeds.
The thing is; it is not so black and white simple here either. The Prophet said, “None will enter into Paradise except with the mercy of Allah.” I sort of see that as a different kind of weigh-in: one in your favor. I mean, you make your effort in this life, you do good deeds, you also do not-so-good deeds, things you want to be forgiven for, and then actually sometimes you just out and out did no good. Then you go to the Judgment and all of this is laid bare before you.
The Qur’an says, “Whoever has done an atom’s weight of good, shall see it; and whoever has done an atom’s weight of sin, shall see it.” But, and this is a big but, what secures success according to the Prophet is not just deeds, but also grace: the mercy of Allah. I think this lends itself toward a posture of humility. In fact, one of my favorite lessons in a book called al-Riyhad al-Salihin. A man (yes it was a man, but then this is the lore and literature remember), a man earns a lot and gives in charity; another learns a lot and teaches, a third fights in battle. When they come to the Judgment it was said, the man who had earned and gave did so, so that people would say he was generous, and they did, so that was his reward. The man who learned a lot and taught did so so that others would call him learned—and they had, so that was his reward. The man who fought a lot did so so that others would call him brave—and they had, so that was his reward. The bottom line: we have to do things with correct intention. And that intention is for the sake of Allah alone.
Now this story really had a great effect on me. It made me conscious that one must perform even good acts with integrity and intention. Still it is really perplexing. I mean, since Allah is not only unknown but also unknowable, then how do we know how pure our intentions are? What ends up happening too often is that some person gets to decide what it means to do things for the sake of Allah alone. But I then think about Rabi’ah al-Adawiyyah, the most famous female sufi or mystic, she took it one step further:
She said, Lord, if I worship You for fear of hell, burn me in hell. If I worship You because I seek heaven, deny it to me. But if I worship You for Yourself alone, do not keep me from Your Divine Presence…” Well, that’s a pretty tall order too. But honestly I admire her and sufis in general. I like to think of them as presenting ideals, though. Something we ordinary mortals strive toward, but still remains beyond us—just as the Ultimate, the Sacred, is unknown and totally unknowable. Instead, I go back to the previous blog about measurement of deeds. Doing good deeds for Allah alone is like doing good deeds with no thought of its benefit to ourselves—even if we do benefit.
For me, I don’t think it is like an algebra test, and in fact, I don’t think our “lips” get to speak at all. For every question asked is not asked where we humans have had the tendency to be the most deceitful—and that is with words in the first place.
In fact, there is an interesting thing about words and about gender regarding these post-life states. As I said, it is either male and female, or there is no specification. Then, we get statements like this: “Whoever do good deeds, whether male or female, and (he) is a believer, all such shall be rewarded.” This is where I find the Qur’an is up against the adequacy of the Arabic language to fully utter divine meaning: to disclose the absolute nature of God. When what is being expressed is ineffable, so no language will suffice.
Starting with the gender-neutral in Arabic “whoever”; then, we get the gender inclusive: “male or female”; then we revert to the male, but in this case it is clearly the generic, “believer,” because finally, we get plural, as in “all such” will be rewarded. The struggle to make this gender-inclusive while still concise in language tells me a lot about Qur’anic logic and guidance, but that deserves a whole different blog, yet to come.
I still have said little about heaven and hell. And I won’t, except to say that the Qur’an says a lot. Sometimes it seems like over-much, to me, but then I think of its primary audience ate the time of revelation: a desert Arab people. People did not give credence to anything beyond this world. So the emphasis, the language, and the imagery are appropriate to that audience. For example, one of the descriptions of heaven is with “rivers flowing underneath.” I lived in two desert countries before I got to the tropics, the rainforest, where literally monsoon drains flow under the city to prevent street floods. And I thought, well, that makes sense now. It must have really been enticing for desert folks to think of this much water. Would the same imagery suffice if the revelation was in that rainforest region?
I use the same type of analysis for the notion of huris in Paradise. I did my research on the genesis of this. It harks back to very specific ideas about femininity: ideas about race (they have white skin, as in untouched by the harsh desert sun); ideas about beauty (large black eyes); and ideas about subservience (they are passive, if not out and out silent). Not only do they specify a certain macho mindset, but then even the Qur’an stops using such metaphor for enticement when the Prophet moves to Madinah. By then, the main audience had also changed.
But more importantly, I am no longer a literalist about heaven or hell. I honestly believe the reward for good is good. I also take more literally what the Qur’an says about how humans “wrong their own souls.” I think sin is doing something that harms others and the earth—eventually this comes around to harm our own selves. I think the metaphors of heaven and hell work for a more immature state of human reasoning, when some people need a boost.
But I am clear of this because of the Qur’an itself. I also believe it when it says: “Everything will disappear, illa wajh-Allah except the countenance God. To this, I add, what every Muslim says when some one dies, also from the Qur’an: Innaa li-Lahi wa innaa ilayHi raaji’un.”
To God we all belong and to God is our return.
(In prayer for my friend Sara who watches over her mom in her last days. May she go in peace.)
