Glamour is only skin deep. Beauty is timeless. It is a sublimity that radiates from within, from behind, from under the surface.
Yet in our post-modern condition we continue to be fixated with surfaces. While our concern for magnification and granular focus on the micro-scale has reached nano proportions, it remains epidermal; extending no deeper than the integumentary level.
In our rejection of a “grand narrative” and the possibility of a centre, we are left with no canopy or core. As such, we remain condemned to wander the desolate wilderness of the surface, exposed to the elements, no compass, no meaning.
We are fixated on the moment, the here and now. We rave about one-hit wonders and flashes in pans; the glitz, the glam, the savoir-faire that belies the emptiness of presentism.
But apples have core, and oceans have depth; and trees grow from seeds, or do they? Real injaz (accomplishment/delivery) is fruit, nataj in Arabic; from the same root as natijah (results). But fruit comes from trees, and trees take a long time to grow. But why wait for trees to grow when you could just get implants? No use crying over uprooted olive trees; or so the saying goes.
We tend to blame Muslim leaders for being shallow, not getting at the issues, and generally dumbing down the discourse. But are they alone to blame when our public wants it simple and wants to avoid the issues (the underlying issues that is). And dumb is the new intelligent. Learning becomes education, education becomes edu-tainment, edu-tainment becomes entertainment, and entertainment becomes escapism. Escape from the frying pan and into the abyss, lost boys in the land of the lost. With both eyes lost we are susceptible to the first one-eyed Pied Piper who happens along the valley. My that sheep’s clothing is plush, must be Prada.
But we do it to ourselves. We know that fizzy drinks have no nutritional value, yet we reach for them anyway. And we want our outlook on life and our “information contacts” to be the same way. If a big label was mandated for pseudo-intelligent discourse that said, “This product is bad for your health. May cause cancer or death,” we would still puff away. Some like strawberry, some like mango, some like their entertainment “intellectual flavoured”. But when it reaches the point that I can’t tell the difference between fruit juice and fruit drink, why worry about flu’s with animal names.
The Quran is eternal, limitless. It is a resonation across time and space. In it we are told to be “people of core” (ulu albab). To have core is to have a centre, to be a person of substance. To have substance is to have a well nourished “person” with strong faculties and constitution. Your “person” is the sum of your faculties of body, mind, and soul.
The Muslim (a person who submits to the organic order of things) has been compared to a good tree. What makes for a good tree is the same thing that makes for a good Muslim. Its roots are deep, which enables its branches to extend ever skyward. Although it may sway with the wind, it bears fruit in all seasons.
The roots of the feeble tree, however, do not extend beyond the surface. Although its waxy veneer gives off a shine of newness, it is sickly and malnourished with the slightest wind it is uprooted and blown away.
*Published by the UAE-based THE NATIONAL on Nov. 7, 2009. Jihad Hashim Brown is director of research at the Tabah Foundation. He delivers the Friday sermon at the Maryam bint Sultan Mosque in Abu Dhabi