The Prayer of the Mind

Muslim spirituality, as we have said, is demanding and, through the Islamic teaching, touches all the dimensions of life. It begins, at the very moment when one becomes aware of one’s human responsibilities before God and among humanity, by finding in oneself “the need of Him” to which we have referred in part I. The return to one’s self gives birth to a feeling of humility that characterizes the human being before God. This humility should spread wide and deep through all the areas of life: at every stage of working on one’s self there will be a struggle against complacency, pride, and the pretentious human desire to succeed alone, using one’s own resources (on the social, professional, political, or intellectual level). This truly spiritual exercise goes beyond the framework of ritual religious practice or rare moments of contemplation, and its effect should be visible in every aspect of life—in the way in which one treats one’s body, manages one’s possessions, carries out one’s professional activities, lives with other people, and interacts with the whole creation: in everything, those who reflect on the signs and are indwelt by “the need of Him” are invited to distance themselves from forgetfulness and arrogance. In the West, practicing Muslims live uncomfortably with the disjuncture they feel between their religious and spiritual practice and the type of public or professional life into which they are drawn. Theoretical discussion about “the comprehensive character” of the message of Islam struggles to come alive in practice; it is here that a rupture takes place, and people almost lead two parallel existences—one their spiritual practice and the other their active life. People do not understand very well how to make their spirituality truly active and effective in everyday areas. The environment these days seems to impose on us this division between private practice and entry into the public arena. The opposition between them seems complete. The beginnings of a response to this are to be found in what we have just described: indwelt by “the need of Him,” strong in that humility in action and at the heart of professional and social life, the Muslim consciousness should build a reciprocity between the state of the heart and the nature of one’s acts. The link, the connection between them must be intimate and personal: it is expressed in the way in which our action is inspired, lived, and undertaken—in the recollection of His presence or in forgetting it, in the sight of God or only of human beings, to please Him or to impress them, to be recognized by His love or only to be recognized by them? This is how active spirituality is expressed, and the division between public and private space in secularized societies does not prevent its being exercised, so that our spirituality is able in all circumstances to inspire our way of being and doing.

To this state of recollection and humility must be added another concrete dimension of spiritual teaching that requires the establishment of a constant link between the demands of conscience and life choices. As we have already intimated in part I, it is a matter of ethical teaching and its application. To ask ourselves, in every situation in life, the three fundamental questions (What is my intention in this action? What are the limits set down by my morality? What will be the consequences of the action?) will inevitably change not only our way of being but also our way of living. Our spirituality must be intelligent and question the ethical nature of all our activities, even those that appear to be the most natural and simple. This active, intelligent spirituality makes us attentive to the apparently “neutral” aspects of our life, which may sometimes have serious ethical consequence. It questions our approach to consumption: the source of the food, the way it was produced, the fairness of the commercial aspect, the way in which animals used for food are treated and killed,12 and the social and economic implications of our consumption. We need to be more and more, and more and more deeply, aware of all these questions: the way in which we answer them transforms spiritual energy, too often shut up in ritual and sometimes imprisoned by a practice that has become mechanical, into a radiant, responsible, active, and intelligent spirituality. If the message of Islam really does have a comprehensive quality, its spiritual message must extend to the horizon where the feeling of humility and the demands of ethics marry in action. The same applies in the exercise of one’s profession: to ask the same three questions means never to consider that any work is ethically “neutral,” however scientific it may appear to be. To work for a multinational that plunders the planet, or in an armaments industry that produces death, or for banks that fuel a murderous economic order is not “to say nothing.” And beyond these basic questions, the way in which one goes about one’s work, and identifies with it and carries out one’s responsibilities to perform the activity and to follow the rules in the best possible way, is an active and consequential spiritual undertaking with which everyone’s conscience must engage. The same can be said of the way we spend our free time and enjoy ourselves. To retain one’s humanity and dignity at times of rest is a sign of a lived and serious spirituality. The Prophet said to his Companion Handhala, who felt himself to be a hypocrite because he was not in a sort of permanent state of prayer, that he should match an hour of prayer with an hour of rest: he was implying that the quality of that rest would necessarily influence the spiritual intensity of his prayer. In the West, more than anywhere else, the use we make of free time and entertainment is a spiritual exercise that helps keep us in harmony. This comprehensive and multidimensional activity is bound to influence relations between human beings. At the heart of the community of faith, the practice of this spirituality should be visible. To foster humility in oneself and to keep one’s ethical awareness alive naturally means being attentive to human relations, even in their smallest details. This life, led with the constant intention to be in dialogue with God and with oneself, should lead us to learn to listen and to be in dialogue with others. The calls to brotherhood, solidarity, and companionship are all facets of the spirituality of daily life. Here again, we have to be spiritually responsible, active, and intelligent in learning to make the fundamental distinction between judging an action and judging an individual, between condemning a gesture and condemning a heart. We must have the clarity to engage in the first but resist the temptation of the second. This way of being among people can be achieved only by working at allowing spiritual and ethical teaching to radiate into all our areas of activity. This would naturally reform the kinds of relations that we too often see at work within Muslim communities—relations based on judgment and rejection of the Other, competition, and power struggles. There is little listening, little dialogue, little affective silence: Muslims know this, as they should know that there are not innumerable remedies.

We should add, to end this chapter, that on a broader plane, the spiritual teaching of Islam makes us open to human universality and by its nature creates bridges with men and women of other faiths, and even with all the humanists, agnostics, and atheists who are concerned about human values, ethics, and respect for the universe. There is no doubt that many people, without being Muslims, will recognize themselves in the preceding lines, and it is on the basis of these fundamental considerations that we should try to engage in dialogue and shared action. At this depth, encounter is possible and fruitful, and our societies show us every day that involvement together is essential.

Far from fashions and temptations to reclusiveness, we have tried here to describe the demanding characteristics of Muslim spirituality. It radiates out from the axis of tawhid and calls human beings, in addition to their religious practice and meditation, to allow the light of the sense of His Presence and His moral precepts to shine on all their areas of activity. This spirituality, which we have called responsible, active, and intelligent, inspires awareness at the heart of life and society and offers itself as an everyday mysticism, an applied Sufism, which leads individuals to learn to manage the direction and content of their actions rather than simply to be acted upon. Humility, which feeds the heart, as well as ethics, which directs the spirit, both make it possible for the mind to be open to another order, a kind of continuous prayer, in which, aware of its limitations, it serves goodness as well as it can—the prayer of the mind.

Many women and men today are leaving the Islamic associations because they reach a point where they feel that something is missing, that there is a real lack of spirituality. This is often the case, and it is by a renewed and constant effort to apply the teachings we have just referred to that things will change. It will not always be a case of deciding to go it alone—all the more given that so many present their humble retreats with such pride and arrogance! On the contrary, Muslim spirituality teaches us fragility, effort, and service: to be with God is to recognize one’s limitations, know them, and serve people, among people.