When we talk about endings, it is sometimes a comfort to say they go hand-in-hand with beginnings. “Every ending is a beginning.” Right now, we’re experiencing a beginning in the midst of a heavy continuation. The school year is starting, many of us are setting foot on campus for the first time, and we are meeting new people in one way or a another. We are in the middle of a pandemic, and all of this can still be true.
This is probably not the fall term you anticipated when applying to Carleton. You know this. It’s not the same Carleton you applied to, whether that was three years ago or just this past year, and we don’t know when it will be again. There are a lot of people trying to make this work, doing their best at trying to keep going while keeping everyone safe, and that is super important to remember. And, at the same time, if you want to complain at all, that is also very valid.
We talk a lot about patience in Islam. Patience and gratitude are two cornerstones of life and practice that can get us through a lot. When you’re going through a hard time, being patient until its over and grateful for what we do have can help us keeping going. They can be really good for mental health, they can combat against being perpetually bitter, and they’re also rewarded in Islam. And, at the same time, according to the scholar Ibn Qayyim, complaining to God doesn’t diminish or invalidate anyone’s patience. It doesn’t make you a bad Muslim.
There are so many examples of very important people in the Qur’an and life of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) complaining. When Maryam (ASA) was giving birth, it is said in the Qur’an, “And the pains of childbirth drove her to the trunk of a palm tree. She said, ‘Oh, I wish I had died before this and was in oblivion, forgotten.’” (Surah Maryam 23). Yes, she was giving birth to Isa (ASA), yes it was important for the history of humankind, yes childbirth is a beautiful magical thing, but that doesn’t change the fact that she was in intense pain. The same goes for Yaqub (ASA) when he believed he lost his son Yusuf (ASA) and cried until he went blind: “He said, ‘I only complain of my suffering and my grief to Allah, and I know from Allah that which you do not know’” (12:86). He was a prophet himself, and still, when he thought his child had died, of course he was distraught. He was a prophet, but he wasn’t a robot. These were deeply pious, deeply believing people, and they still complained to God.
If that’s what you need, if you have those moments where you just need to say, “I’m over it, what is this nonsense,” go for it. A good complain to God doesn’t mean constant bitterness. It’s possible to balance complaint with patience and gratitude, to pour all our grievances into God’s ear and then go out into the world and feel a little lighter, and more capable of doing what we each can to try and alleviate our concerns whether that’s wearing a mask, voting this fall, or reaching out to a someone on campus for a socially-distanced hang.
Iman Jafri
Associate Chaplain for Muslim and Interfaith Life