Authors: Vincent J. Cornell
In recognition of this, classical interpreters of the Qur’an have considered the soul in intimate harmony with the body it animates to be ‘‘a pair of mates.’’ Sufi thinkers have reflected very deeply about the nature of the soul and how God interacts with the human being, and Ibn ‘Arabi (d. 1240
CE
), for example, has explained how the ‘‘mating’’ of masculine and feminine
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forces in the cosmos and in the human personality drives the perpetual creation and re-creation of the world. His exposition reinforces the ideal that God creates humanity and the universe out of love, and shows how our own innate sexuality leads us through erotic experiences that can be refined into spiritual refl even if it does reify conventional notions of male and female.
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We can follow Ibn ‘Arabi’s spiritual guidance to explain how all the levels of the human personality described above (
fi ra, tabi‘a, shakila,
and
sura
) are formed by a union of forces that come together as mates. By picturing these in Figure 7.1, we can understand how sexuality is woven deeply into our nature, regulating the union of self-and-other which shapes us at each level. Figure 7.1 may be abstract, but it tries to picture the com- plexity of our human nature and how its levels are interwoven by sexuality. I developed this fi in light of the Qur’an and commentaries upon it in Islamic ethics developed by Sufi and integrated into it insights by Western psychologists.
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One should read Figure 7.1 from top to bottom to understand the different dimensions of the human personality. Each dimension appears as two halves of a sphere, representing self and other which come together into a whole. The intimate interaction between self and other at each level is conditioned by the sphere above. For clarity, each sphere is represented as distinct, emerging one from another in a series: starting with the human spirit’s confrontation with God as the ‘‘primal other’’ at the level of
fi a,
extending from that into the soul’s integration with the body as the ‘‘material other’’ at the level of
tabi‘a,
progressing to the psyche’s experience of family and environment as the ‘‘social other’’ at the level of
shakila,
and leading to the more everyday dimension of the ego’s negotiation with particular relationships, like with a sexual partner or spouse as the ‘‘community other’’ at the level of
sura
at the bottom of Figure 7.1.
While this depiction suggests a hierarchy, in reality all dimensions are in constant interaction. The top-to-bottom depiction of different levels suggests growth.
Fitra
arises from our engagement with God at a time extending from before creation (the day of the primordial covenant) until beyond eternity (the day of reckoning and its consequences), as stated in Qur’an 7:172.
Tabi‘a
takes form from our soul’s integration with the material body, beginning with conception and progressing through anima- tion, birth and rearing.
Shakila
develops from our experience with our envi- ronment, physical, linguistic, social, and emotional, especially in childhood but continuing throughout maturation, as our inward disposition takes shape from biological, material and genetic forces, influenced by our parents’ and their social world.
Sura
is the outward appearance of these invisible forces and developmental processes, and we come into its fullness through adoles- cence and young adulthood; then we reach sexual maturity, assert some mea- sure of independence from parental control, and develop a personal sense of
Figure 7.1
Depiction of Four Layers of Human Personality
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responsibility for our actions. This is why Islamic law considers youngsters legally responsible for their acts only after puberty.
SEXUAL ETHICS
Sura
describes our outward manifestation, not just in looks but also in deeds. Through our outward manifestation, we interact with others in rituals of worship, contracts of business, social engagements of all kinds, and sexual intercourse with a partner. All these acts are outwardly manifested deeds but are deeply rooted in the multiple layers of our personalities, involving what is observable (like the deed itself), what is sbtle (like the emotion and intention that motivates any deed), what is microscopic (like the genetic pattern that allows us to act) and what is invisible to observation (like the sincerity behind the deed and its spiritual worth). Our outward manifestation, in
sura
and in acts, is not separable from other layers of our personality. Any religious dis- course that judges matters of sex and sexuality without considering these complexities commits injustice (
zulm
) in the name of moral order.
Many of my fellow Muslims will take alarmed exception to the statement above. They might see it as leading to an erasure of moral guidance right in the heart of the family, where norms of gender and limits on sexual expres- sion are learned and enforced. However, I do not make the statement in order for it to be taken to an extreme of moral nihilism. Rather, it should be seen as a moderate plea for cautious moral relativism, rational scrutiny, and ethical self-restraint. It should be placed in the context of developing a ‘‘progressive Islam’’ that embraces contemporary scientific and sociological facts, while questioning the self-righteousness of much of what passes for Islamic ‘‘orthodoxy’’ today. I am not calling for moral absolutes to be abandoned, but for their definition to be adjusted to the lived realities of diverse and pluralistic communities and for their application in discrete cases to be tempered by ethical sensitivity. A call for this change is well within the boundaries of the Islamic tradition, as upheld by the best of Islamic law.
One can see this quality at work in the treatment of theft. Although the Qur’an is very clear that the punishment for theft is severing the hand of the thief, Muslim jurists consistently applied rational scrutiny, sociological context, and ethical restraint in passing judgments about theft, in direct proportion to the severity of punishment. This means that ‘‘theft’’ is defined by the situation of the act, rather than by moralistic indignation or populist legislation about what constitutes theft.
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For instance, a thief who steals because her family is impoverished would not be punished as severely as if she had stolen out of greed. Judges were more interested in promoting social welfare and preserving human reason than in reifying moral absolutism.
It is this ethical spirit that used to animate Islamic law that we Muslims seem to have lost in contemporary times. Assessing the ambiguity of
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Voices of Change
individual cases and granting leeway to diverse situations was not seen as an affront to the Shari‘a, but was its very purpose as an ethical framework rather than a code of rules.
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Jurists never ‘‘defended the Shari‘a’’ by meting out violence upon individuals, especially those who were vulnerable or whose social standing was ambiguous. How different this classical spirit of Islamic law is from its contemporary analogues! The revolutionary regime in Iran, the cultic Salafi of the Taliban, and the Wahhabi monarchy in Arabia pride themselves in meting out capital punishment for homosexuals, as if the blood of scapegoats washed away their many highly immoral policies. The vulnerability of homosexuals to the political expediency of immoral regimes is evident even in states where Islamic law is not applied as national law, as in recent persecutions of gay men in Egypt as the government of Hosni Mubarak tries to deflect attention away from corruption and economic reforms that hurt the poor while trying to defuse fundamentalists’ critiques of their legitimacy. Accusations of homosexuality are also common ways for the powerful to eliminate political opposition, as with the Malaysian politician, Anwar Ibrahim. Such examples of power abuse should spark the ire of moderately conscientious and progressively engaged Muslims. It should fuel their resolve to reform how homosexuals are treated within Muslim communities, both at home and in the wider
Umma.
A moratorium on capital punishment within the Shari‘a, as advocated by Tariq Ramadan, is a good first step; it must be reinforced by an ethical consensus that Muslims will not kill or injure other Muslims, whether due to sectarian politics, dogmatic chauvinism (
takfir
), or moral policing.
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This must, of course, be coupled with a renewal of an ethic of care that upholds the dignity of each human being and protects the rights of each, whether Muslim or not, whether male or not, whether straight or not, whether married or not.
So far I have argued that sexuality should not be used to victimize Muslims, whether it is women accused of adultery or lesbians and gays accused of immorality. Such ethical abuses of sexuality should be seen in continuity with rape, sex used as torture or punishment, sexual abuse within the family, or sexual coercion within marriage. Muslim communities need to break the silence of shame around these abuses, for silence only allows the victims’ wounds to fester and the perpetrator’s injustice to continue. Reexamining attitudes toward sexuality is also acutely necessary for Muslim minority communities living in Western democratic states, where they are legally and moral bound as citizens to uphold the constitution, which often grants rights and protection to women, lesbians and gays, and transgendered persons in ways not found in traditional Shari‘a. For Muslim minorities in these conditions there are two choices: either the Shari‘a needs deep reform to bring its practices into congruence with constitutional democracy or consensus must develop that the Shari‘a is applicable only to explicitly ritual matters (
‘ibadat
), leaving civic matters (
mu‘amalat
) to be governed by the laws and mores of the nation in which they live. If minority Muslims in
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Western states cannot reconcile their sense of religious conscience with their civic obligations under a constitution, they are morally bound to emigrate to a place where they feel a Muslim majority is upholding the Shari‘a in the way they think necessary.
What about sexual ethics in a more positive sense? Can Muslim commun- ities accommodate lesbian and gay members who are also Muslims? Can the Shari‘a be adapted to a more pluralistic ethic that celebrates sexuality and embraces sexual diversity? If so, what would ‘‘Islamic’’ gay and lesbian life be like? These are not utopian questions but are rather intensely practical, and are actually being worked out, slowly and tentatively, by gay and lesbian Muslim support groups. Fortunately, the Qur’an offers amazing resources for this project, if Muslims gather the courage to engage in
ijtihad.
The Qur’an challenges each person to find a suitable mate or partner. The term for partner,
zawj,
is ambiguously gendered: it is a masculine noun grammatically even when describing female persons. Homosexual pairs could also, within this wide and varied framework, be considered mates as the Qur’anic language is suitably abstract. ‘‘One of God’s signs is that [God] created for you mates from amongst yourselves that you might fi repose in them, and generated between you love and compassion, for surely in this are clear signs for those who ponder!’’ (Qur’an 30:21). We must keep in mind that this level of abstraction traces the general and universal pattern, while the story of Adam and Eve as the primordial mates is a specific instance of it: ‘‘It is God who created you all from a single self and made of it a mate, that one might take repose in the other’’ (Qur’an 7:189). In this specific case as in many other places, the Qur’an talks of male and female being a pair, but not in a prescriptive way, for the Qur’an also talks of night and day being a pair, or light and dark, or the soul and body. God creates for each person a mate or mates ‘‘of it’’ or of the same pattern and suitable for the two to join together, in love and compassion, to reach a greater emotional and ethical completion. The purpose is for each of us to overcome our self-centered pride and through loving one another to realize that God created us all, all of humanity,
from a single self.
Sexual intercourse and intimacy is part of this ethical training and spiritual refinement. Islam is challenging in that it does not condemn sexual pleasure in favor of ascetic renunciation and does not limit sexuality to procreation.
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In this way, Islam is unique among world religions, though Muslim com- munities have not always lived up to this challenge! However, the Qur’an is clear that sexual pleasure and satisfaction, while good in themselves, should be pursued within ethical limits. Partners should establish between them- selves a contract or agreement, through which they acknowledge their legal, fi ancial, and ethical obligations to each other: obligations which include comfort and care, keeping of secrets, upholding the other’s public dignity, and safeguarding the other’s health, both physical and psychological. Inter- actions with others outside the purview of a contract should be conducted