My (earnest, irate) thoughts

Like any office, occasionally my co-workers get together outside of work. But even if my life were the opposite of what it is, I wouldn’t want to go. Truth is, I hate forced social gatherings, where people stare at each other awkwardly, or greet each other with false cheer, pretending they wouldn’t rather be somewhere else. But because these gatherings always involve alcohol, I’ve excused myself from attending.

I would never have made a thing out of the Islamic prohibition on intoxicants with my colleagues if they hadn’t harangued me repeatedly to come to the Christmas party at the publisher’s house, which would have an open bar and a “Vegas” theme (the invitation literally had a picture of a martini and a set of dice). At first, I tried to be funny about it. “Hmm…alcohol and gambling. That’s not exactly, like, my scene.” They just laughed and begged me to come. One, a Christian, said, “Just come, and don’t drink.”

Remember how Jesus said he came to fulfill the (Musan) law? How he took away its cold legality by explaining that wrong intentions led to wrong actions — looking at a woman with lust was like committing adultery in one’s heart, holding a grudge was like committing murder, etc. and that a true follower of God doesn’t just avoid sin, but even the ways that lead to sin? The idea of a non-drinker going to a drinking party reminded me of that. I would be setting myself up for failure. I’m a person, not a saint. And even if I weren’t tempted to actually drink, what exactly would be the appeal in watching, sober, as my co-workers let go of their inhibitions, and thus, their character?

Finally, I got annoyed and responded by e-mail to my boss. “My religion doesn’t permit me to attend gatherings where there will be alcohol or gambling. Thank you for the invitation, but my husband and I really, really cannot come.” Which sounded very stuffy. I was embarrassed to play the part of the scandalized Victorian, but I couldn’t seem to make them drop it. Then of course she felt as if I were judging her, which I really wasn’t — how could I? — and I heard later that the powers-that-be were talking amongst themselves: “Well, I wish she could come, but honestly, when we get together, we drink. How can we not?” Which made me sadder than ever. People see alcohol as a social lubricant, a “medicine” for shyness or uptightness.

“They ask you (Muhammad) concerning alcoholic drink and gambling. Say: ‘In them is a great sin, and (some) benefit for men, but the sin of them is greater than their benefit.’” Qur’an 2:219

Various hadith, or sayings of the Prophet Muhammad, further indicate that alcohol is actually a disease, not a cure.

Though I accepted fairly immediately the logic behind alcohol being forbidden in Islam, it took a long time for me to submit to it on an emotional level. In Christianity, different sects take different views — alcohol actually being part of the religious rites in Roman Catholicism, to alcohol being strongly discouraged in the Southern Baptist view. Since I grew up non-denominational, I had been permitted to make up my own mind.

When I was a teenager, I would have proudly marched in a temperance parade. It was not a choice stemming from my religion or culture, rather it was personal. My own biological father had, when drunk, insulted his older brother. He died three days later, before Dad ever got a chance to apologize. Tortured by grief, my then 15-year-old father began a 15-year descent into the madness of alcoholism. He quit drinking soon after my birth, but it was almost as if he’d been in an emotional coma for 15 years. I caught up to him in maturity by the time I turned 12.

By the time I was 21, my pride had deluded me into thinking I was far too self-disciplined to end up like him. And I got lucky, mostly. I turned out to be someone who could take it or leave it. Though for the most part I took it, because of a lifelong tendency to overdo things. By the time I was 26, I was a lost — though still searching — soul. My worst memories of that time involve alcohol. Three in the morning, maudlin and alone, and wondering what could possibly be the point of this unjust, terrifying universe.

This was when I met Yusuf, and began my path to Islam.

A prohibition on all intoxicants seemed very harsh to me, a product of the 21st century West. I had to admit, there were countless horrors that result from the use of alcohol: broken families, abusive parents, rape, unwanted pregnancies, birth defects, painful diseases, car wrecks… and yet, I wanted to tell myself it was mostly harmless. I thought of myself as “moderate” in my consumption. How many alcoholics begin that way, I wonder. And how many social drinkers — even if they never cross the line into drunkenness once in their whole lives, which is doubtful — can say that alcohol has some benefit that can’t be found any other way?

When I told one friend, a nurse, that my new husband did not want me to drink even though I was still a Christian, she said, “But a glass of red wine is good for you.” So I looked into it. I don’t know who started this rumor, but it’s a lie. To gain any benefit from the antioxidants in red wine, one would have to drink several quarts. At which point, the harms obviously outweigh that benefit. The antioxidants in blueberries are healthier to obtain. Reflecting upon her statement further, I realized I had met one or two people in my entire life who literally limited themselves to one occasional drink. The vast majority of people are highly susceptible to that little whisper, “have one more” — thus, why the Islamically acceptable limit is zero. The trouble with intoxicants is they take away your ability to reason, and they quiet or even silence your conscience; the removal of inhibitions is the chipping away at one’s own moral compass. Drinking begets more drinking. How many times have I heard people say, “I couldn’t help it, I was drunk.” And that excuse works; people accept it. Because people know how not yourself you are when you’ve been drinking.

How many women find themselves in embarrassing or even dangerous situations because of the impaired judgment alcohol brings, even in small doses? How many men say and do ugly things they would normally never do? Of the tiny (nonexistent?) group of people who have never felt any negative effects from the use of alcohol — whether it’s their own or someone else’s — who can honestly say that the fun is worth the risk?

Muslims do not have wills of steel or hearts of stone; we are very much human, flawed and susceptible to harmful or useless things. I am grateful my husband never succumbed to the temptation to drink alcohol. He is one of those rare folks who has no real desire to leave consciousness, or even alter his state of mind. Prayer and zakir (remembering God’s attributes) are his preferred methods of escaping from material reality. Mashallah, can you imagine it? God has made such wonderful things.