Cultural Liturgies goes to a madrasah: What can Christians learn from how Muslims educate children?

Madrasah education

In their detailed ethnographic study of Muslim childhood, Scourfield et al. explain that facilities for after-school religious education of Muslim children are ‘relatively numerous and well established’ (Scourfield et al., 2013: 103). Evening classes are normally run on weekdays during school term time, running for up to 2 h. Attendees are predominantly primary school age children, although those aspiring to memorize the whole Qur’an, and attain the honorary title of hafiz, will continue into secondary school. According to an IPPR report, there are approximately 2000 madrasahs in the UK, educating 250,000 children (IPPR, 2011: 3). ² These figures have probably increased in the intervening years, but are broadly accurate. The focus of this article is on madrasahs as out-of-school educational settings for children; although the same term is sometimes used of more full-time institutions aimed at older students (Lewis and Hamid, 2018: 47–90), that is not the focus of this article. The UK Government has concerns about out-of-school education generally, although many suspect their focus is actually solely on madrasahs (CMF, 2017; DfE, 2018; MHCLG, 2019; Mogra, 2018). The fear is that madrasahs are hotbeds of radicalization, which is only relevant in a tiny minority of cases (Evans, 2006: 9–10; Gent, 2018; IPPR, 2011: 30–41). Madrasahs provide children with increased social skills and confidence (IPPR, 2011: 18); they educate for citizenship (such as the ICE project ³ ), providing Muslim young people with a framework with which to engage with the world, developing character as well as transferable skills such as abilities at memorization (Berglund and Gent, 2019; Suleiman, 2009: 56–57, 75–76). There have been attempts by Muslim groups to provide structure and regulation for madrasahs, but these have had only limited success (Lewis and Hamid, 2018: 198).

Scourfield et al.’s (2013) study found four main themes that were important to the families in Cardiff whom they consulted about Muslim education. First, teachers were expected to be not just able to transmit knowledge about Islam, but also to embody Islam in their own conduct. Many parents, and children, also looked for teachers who were pedagogically skilled and able to make the classes fun for the children, as well as those who spoke the mother tongue of the child, were fluent in English and able to translate appropriate terminology from Arabic into English. Many parents also noted the importance of appropriate background checks. Second, some children noted that friendships established at school were reinforced at the madrasah. Parents echoed this, appreciating the extension of friendship networks beyond school or family, especially if there was ethnic and racial diversity in the madrasah. Not all children were well behaved, and misbehaviour was a source of concern for some parents and their children. Third, while many madrasahs maintain a very traditional approach, with children sitting on the floor and taking it in turns to recite memorized portions of text to their teacher, others were more innovative. Parents were more appreciative of this latter category, preferring those madrasahs that integrated Islamic learning with other activities, teaching children both how to pray and, more importantly, why. Fourth, the learning environment also impacted. The study notes that the pattern of attendance at madrasahs is shaped as much by convenience for parents’ daily routines as it is by theological considerations. Other considerations, especially accessibility for women and the degree of seriousness with which adult education is taken, were also of great significance to parents (Scourfield et al., 2013: 107–120).

In summary, a madrasah is a place where Muslims invest time in imparting information about their faith, where a Muslim community is created and where the development of a ‘Muslim’ worldview is promoted and encouraged, enabling children to learn how to live out the ‘Muslim’ story. The precise nature of that community and worldview will vary from institution to institution, as there are many expressions of Islam in the UK (Gilliat-Ray, 2010).

Cultural Liturgies

In the first volume of his Cultural Liturgies series, Smith argues that all knowledge is embodied, and so as human beings we live out of what we desire. He further contends that while we may forget the information imparted, the education we receive shapes us as people, informing our dispositions and instincts. His argument is that people are ‘first and foremost loving, desiring, affective, liturgical animals’ whose hearts are more powerful than their heads, whose intuitive, learned, automatic behaviours shape who they really are (Smith, 2009: 34). In this context, Smith argues that Christian worship functions as a counter-formation to the mis-formation of secular liturgies into which we are thrown from an early age (Smith, 2009: 88). His point is that it is insufficient to impart information; we must shape how we think about and engage with the world.

Smith expands his argument in his second volume, arguing that Christian formation is a conversion of the imagination brought about by the Spirit. The Spirit works from our core desires, re-shaping and re-orientating them, ‘inviting us narrative animals into a story that seeps into our bones and becomes the orienting background of our being-in-the-world’ (Smith, 2013: 14–15). Thus, his contention is that we live out the stories we have absorbed, that ‘much of our action is acting out a kind of script that has unconsciously captured our imaginations’ (Smith, 2013: 32). Building on Bourdieu’s theory of habitus, Smith argues that Christians should construct a nexus of Christian dispositions that predispose us to unconsciously live out a Christian story whilst also consciously telling Christian stories as a way of reinforcing this practice. Smith develops the concept of ‘re-storying’ the world, arguing that, ‘If the church is a centrifuge, sending out image-bearers to take up their commission in God’s good-but-broken world, it must also be a community of practice that centripetally gathers for dispositional reformation’ (Smith, 2013: 157). We cannot simply convince our intellects, Smith suggests; we must also capture our imaginations. Worship, he proposes, is what achieves this dispositional reformation, a point he expands in his argument that you are what you love (Smith, 2016).

The third volume of Cultural Liturgies focuses particularly on political action, pointing out that to be a resident alien (1 Pet 2:11) means to be resident where we are alien, and thus to engage in the common life of the community of which we are part (Smith, 2017: 54). Building particularly on the political theology of Oliver O’Donovan, Smith argues that the church should be a ‘re-centering community of practice’ or an ‘imagination station’ that enables us to think, see and act as Christians, discerning where the ‘meteors of the gospel’ have left craters in society (Smith, 2017: 96).

This present study takes Smith’s metaphors of a ‘re-centering community of practice’ and an ‘imagination station’ and dialogues with a particular madrasah’s practices, seeking challenge and enrichment for Christians interested in bringing up children to believe. I have written at length elsewhere about the metaphor of translation as a means of understanding how faith is lived out in contemporary society (Wilson, 2015), and I am not alone in using the metaphor in this way (Hauerwas, 2011; Moosa, 2006). This article can be understood as an exercise in comparing translation strategies; even a skilled practitioner recognizes there is always more to learn about how to render the concepts of one language into another. In a similar way, Christians can learn from the way Muslims translate their faith into a language that their children can speak. The article does this by outlining the function of madrasahs and contrasting this with the vision of Cultural Liturgies before continuing the dialogue, focusing on the content taught in Midlands Madrasah. The final main section discusses pedagogy, primarily through analysis of conversations with madrasah staff before reiterating the three main recommendations of the article, namely that Christians invest time, create community and live out the story of our faith.

The function of a madrasah

Education is central to Islam in a way that is not true of many other faiths. ⁴ Muslims in the UK have worked long and hard to set up Muslim schools (Berglund, 2015: 36–37; McCreery et al., 2007), but even before there were Muslim ethos schools, they focused on madrasahs as a place to bring up children to believe. Islam is a book-based religion which requires the majority of its adherents to master the classical version of a language they do not speak as natives but learn as children or adults, depending on when and how they come to faith. The example of the Prophet, as well as pious people in every generation, is used to encourage Muslim children to be studious and serious in their study of their faith (Kadi, 2007: 6). Transmission of religious knowledge has always been at the heart of Islam, since Muslims regard religious study as a form of worship (Hefner, 2007: 4).

Halstead (2004, 2007) argues that there are three main functions of Islamic education: aiding individual development; increasing understanding of society and its social and moral rules; and transmission of knowledge. He also explains that the purpose of Islamic education is to ‘produce good Muslims’ with a clear understanding of a received mode of Islamic life and thought. Thus, madrasah education focuses on receiving, internalizing and living out revealed religion, not on developing a personal, autonomous expression of faith (Halstead, 2004: 519–525; see also Ali and Bagley, 2015; Niyoz and Pluim, 2009). Madrasah teachers therefore aim to both embody faith and infuse Qur’anic teaching in all they do (Gent, 2018: 115–121).

Motivation shapes function, and Ramadan argues that much of Islamic education focuses on protecting students from the perceived negative influence of the West (Ramadan, 2004: 130–133). Berglund and Gent’s study of Muslim students in Britain and Sweden who attended madrasah and mainstream education found some participants regarded the madrasah as a place of character formation and mainstream school as a place of factual instruction. When pressed, the British students said they would like their children to attend a madrasah, as well as mainstream school, when they grew up, presumably to attain both these benefits (Berglund and Gent, 2019: 5–7).

The function of a madrasah is therefore inculcation of a Muslim worldview, according to the particular tradition and understanding of Islam that the madrasah operates within. This can be understood primarily in a negative sense, either as inoculation against the potential disease of wider society, or in a more positive sense of enabling identity formation in dialogue with other worldviews. Ramadan advocates this latter approach, proposing a three-strand approach that enables education of the heart, the mind and for personal growth (Ramadan, 2004: 128–138). Midlands Madrasah takes this positive view.

Contrasting Cultural Liturgies and the madrasah

There are clear parallels between the function of a madrasah as outlined above, and the function of the church that Smith argues for in Cultural Liturgies (Smith, 2009, 2013, 2017). Although the precise language used differs, the idea of being part of, yet distinct from, wider society is found both in Smith’s concept of a resident alien who develops a distinctively Christian imagination, and in the understanding of a madrasah as a place of religious learning that shapes character and equips for engagement with wider society. Christians and Muslims could adopt a primarily negative view of wider society, prioritizing inoculation from over engagement with different worldviews. Both Smith and Ramadan advocate a positive approach, which emphasizes formation in a particular school of thought but at the same time is more open to the wider world. Ramadan argues that Islam has resources that speak into contemporary debates, whether about the environment, the role of women in religious leadership, concerns about globalization or other issues (Ramadan, 2009), proposing that the life of the Prophet provides an appropriate paradigm for Muslims to base their ethical decision making on (Ramadan, 2007). If his recommendations were followed, madrasah education would therefore be a process of learning from history in order to shape how one lives out the present. Smith, in a not dissimilar way, proposes that Christians must be politically engaged, active citizens who shape the society of which they are part. They desire the kingdom of God to be fully realized on earth, and as they await the coming king, they prepare his kingdom as best they can (Smith, 2009, 2013, 2017).

Fiqh

Fiqh is, as Ramadan explains, Islamic law and jurisprudence, that is, knowledge of Islamic law as applied to human actions, which is derived primarily from the Qur’an, but also from the sunnah, the traditions of the life of the Prophet (Ramadan, 2009: 44). The textbooks of fiqh and Islamic teachings used by Midlands Madrasah are based on the Hanafi School of Islamic jurisprudence.

This article applies Smith’s Cultural Liturgies project as a Christian lens with which to read these texts. One of Smith’s underlying assumptions is that human beings are desiring, affective, liturgical animals, who look for structure and shape to orientate our longings. Smith develops Bourdieu’s notion of habitus, discussing the importance of intentional actions, which come not from rational deliberation but from one’s practical sense, ‘the know-how that resides in the body,’ which informs and shapes decisions without the need for conscious thought (Smith, 2013: 85). Smith cites Bourdieu’s explanation that habitus is ‘like a feel for the game,’ an instinctive knowledge of what the right next move is (Smith, 2013: 87). This knowledge is honed over time, developed by countless hours of repetitive practice until reactions become automatic. Thus, Smith comments elsewhere that if Christian worship is to have a formative effect, it has to be repetitive (Smith, 2013: 185). Midlands Madrasah’s focus on fiqh, instruction on the core doctrines of Islam and the actions that flow from them exemplifies the creation of a Muslim habitus through a similar focus on repetitive learning.

Thus, children experience a ‘gradual socialization into particular ways of thinking and doing’ whereby Muslim practices become embodied over time (Scourfield et al., 2013: 93). In focus groups, both Muslim fathers (Khan, 2006) and Muslim mothers (Din, 2017) stress the importance of their children understanding and embodying the minutiae of Islamic practice. Thus, fathers emphasized that the greater the information or experience of faith, the more secure children would be in their identity (Khan, 2006: 16), and the role of the mother is seen within Islam as being to ensure children grow up to believe and practice faith (Din, 2017: 19–23). A brief overview of what is taught in Midlands Madrasah illustrates the point.

The series on fiqh teaches the five pillars ⁵ and the seven core beliefs of Islam, ⁶ setting out also types of religious action, such as wudu (ritual washing before prayer), and detailing different levels of compulsion and prohibition as the faith is practised in daily life. Teaching on these core doctrines is repeated over the series, with increasing sophistication as befits the increasing age of the student. Some of the points covered may surprise Christians. The first four books all have a section that discusses tahaarah, cleanliness. This is taken as applying both to personal hygiene and also to pupils’ homes, madrasah and the streets in which they live. There are even specific instructions about going to the toilet, including what du’aa (prayer) to recite, how to enter and leave the toilet as well as prohibitions against standing and urinating, speaking in the toilet, reading or otherwise ‘wasting time’ in the toilet, using it while facing Mecca (or with one’s back to Mecca) or urinating in public. Taking a second example, vol. 7 contains details on the obligation to perform hajj, the conditions under which it is to be performed and details of what happens on each day. The nature of qurbaani (sacrifice) is also explained, including the prescribed method of slaughter. Instructions are given relating to the birth of a child: the azaan (call to prayer) is to be recited in the right ear and aqeeqah, a sacrifice for a newborn, should be made. Specific du’aa for the birth of a male and a female child are also included. The final section discusses the importance, authenticity and compilation of the Qur’an.

Fiqh consists in detailed instructions for daily living. As Lewis and Hamid explain, the focus of madrasahs is on continuity, because bid’a (innovation) is to be avoided. The student’s task is becoming the latest link in the authorized, unbroken chain (isnad) of interpretation (Lewis and Hamid, 2018: 51–63). Sidat adds that transmission of religious knowledge is a highly personal process, as teachers are somehow responsible for the moral conduct of their students (Sidat, 2018: 9), a point echoed by Gent, who recounts the life-long impact a madrasah teacher has on pupils (Gent, 2018: 60). Thus, for Midlands Madrasah it is important not only to have a suitable curriculum, but also to have staff who practice the minutiae of that curriculum in a manner that students can imitate.

This specification of precise prohibitions and prescribed actions is perhaps the greatest contrast with the proposal found in Cultural Liturgies. Smith concentrates on cultivating habitus, a ‘feel for the game,’ while Midlands Madrasah’s curriculum gives detailed instructions for particular situations. There is a focus within Islam on orthodoxy manifesting in orthopraxy: belief in God resulting in praying in a set way at set times, fasting in a particular pattern at particular times, and so forth. Although there is, of course, some variation between traditions of Islam, these are relatively minor when contrasted with the fact that there is no precise Christian equivalent. That is, Christians do not have a single set way of praying, fasting, giving charity or going on pilgrimage. This is not to detract from the importance of passing on the core teachings of the faith, but it does raise the question of precisely what is to be taught and how. That is, how do we cultivate a Christian habitus?

Islamic history

The Islamic history curriculum of Midlands Madrasah teaches the history of Islam from the birth of the Prophet to the death of the fourth Caliph, Ali, as well as the lives of a number of prophets who came before Muhammad. They are primarily factual, drawing basic moral lessons from the history presented.

Smith argues that human beings are teleological creatures, ‘whose love is aimed at different ends or goals’ (Smith, 2009: 52). He proposes that we orientate ourselves towards a picture of human flourishing that resonates; moreover, although cognitive or propositional information has some resonance, it is stories, legends, myths, poems and pictures that truly inspire action. One of Smith’s core arguments is of the importance of ‘re-storying’ the world, expecting Christians to be caught up in the story of God’s action in the world and so becoming part of living out that story in their day-to-day lives (Smith, 2013: 151–191). He argues that the Christian story should become ‘the air we breathe and the water in which we swim’ (Smith, 2013: 174), and that worship is the formative action that enables this transformation to take place.

For devout Muslims, knowledge of Islamic history is a significant component of faith. As Sikand explains, the Prophet taught that ‘the ink of the scholar is more holy than the blood of the martyr’ (Sikand, 2005: 4). Scholars teach the received interpretation of the Prophet’s life and the lives of the other prophets referred to in the Qur’an (Ramadan, 2007). Sahin argues that Islamic education is dominated by a descriptive, historical approach. There is, he contends, a lack of critical and comparative historical study and a lack of empirical research, which results in a weakened Islamic pedagogy that focuses only on transmission of received teaching (Sahin, 2013: 27). This claim is illustrated in the Islamic history curriculum of Midlands Madrasah, which draws out morals that can be learnt from the life of the Prophet, focusing on transmission of information to students who are expected to unquestioningly absorb it and reproduce it in their own lives. To give six examples: first, to be obedient and well behaved, a point stressed from the Prophet’s early childhood; second, to be trustworthy, always keeping your promises; third, to show love and mercy – the text stresses the need to be kind and merciful to one’s friends and to animals, to show mercy to young ones and respect to elders; fourth, the lesson of patience, perseverance and courage is drawn from the experience of the early years of Islam when opposition was strong and numbers were small; fifth, the value of sacrifice, living a simple life and refusing to accept lavish gifts; and sixth, the value of forgiveness. The Prophet never took revenge against anyone and forgave those who were cruel to him. He would not harm prisoners and even freed them after battles, which encouraged them to embrace Islam.

Subsequent books also draw lessons from the lives of Prophets and the caliphs. To give three examples: Yusuf’s (Joseph’s) life teaches the need to be patient, forgiving and generous, to be truthful and honest whatever responsibility we are given. Daawud’s (David’s) life, especially his killing Goliath, teaches the lesson of complete faith in Allah, whatever we hope to achieve. Isaa’s (Jesus’) life demonstrates the importance of true faith in Allah. The text stresses the difference between Muslim and Christian beliefs about Jesus, noting the former do not believe in Jesus as Son of God nor in the idea that he was crucified. This is typical of how the lives of Prophets are used to provide a paradigm for believers, as their stories are given a specifically Islamic interpretation (Reynolds, 2010; Tottoli, 2002; Wheeler, 2002). History is taught to be imitated.

Responding through the lens of Cultural Liturgies, the first point that could be made is the level of historical detail that young children are expected to master. This may in part be because the Qur’an does not recount history as the Bible does. While Christian children may learn the story of the people of God and life of Jesus by engaging with the Bible, Muslim children cannot learn the life of Mohammed from the Qur’an, but only through studying traditions of his life (although see Abdolah, 2016a, 2016b for an innovative response to this challenge). Both faiths, in their different ways, emphasize the need to learn history in order to live out faith in the present.

This begs the question of how Christians achieve this goal. Returning to the three key recommendations of this article, the allocated time has a significant impact. The historical scope of the madrasah curriculum is broader than that covered in a typical Sunday school, primarily because of the amount of time allotted. Taking three examples, the Table Talk curriculum produced by the Good Book Company is a 12-volume biblical overview, designed primarily for use at home (Mitchell, n.d.). It presumes each session will last approximately 5 minutes. Each book contains 65 sessions, so it would take approximately 2 years and 2 months to complete it all, giving only 5 minutes a day. Second, the Scripture Union Light Live curriculum is designed for flexible use within a church setting, with options for teachers to both design their own curriculum and also follow sessions in line with the Revised Common Lectionary. ⁷ These sessions are aimed for a typical Sunday school session, of 30 to 45 minutes. Third, the New City Catechism includes a youth version, ⁸ aimed at children aged 4 to 12 years. With 52 questions and answers, the expectation is of a few minutes each day devoted to learning core Christian doctrines.

Although the amount of time spent may be considerably smaller, that does not mean the second and third recommendations of this article are not met. All three resources (and many others like them) have a clear intention to create Christian community. They also aim to teach the story of the Bible, and core Christian doctrines and practices. It is rare for a Sunday school to teach more than biblical history, but nevertheless if the whole of the biblical story is grasped, this provides a similar sense of belonging to a people and a story. The New Testament scholar NT Wright is well known for proposing the Christian faith be understood as a six-act play: Acts 1 to 4 are creation, fall, Israel and the life of Jesus; act 5 is the church on earth, and act 6 the consummation of history and the new creation. Wright’s point is that we know all the details of acts 1 to 4, we know much of what has happened in act 5 so far, and we have a general idea of the outline of act 6 (Jesus will return as judge, creation will be restored and so forth). This gives us enough knowledge to improvise our own role within act 5. A good improv actor has studied and mastered a range of techniques; she does not simply make stuff up, but rather acts on the basis of a wealth of knowledge and experience (Wright, 2013).

Tahdhib (Islamic manners)

Learning Islamic history would enable students to develop their ability to practise Islamic manners, especially as the Prophet provides the paradigm for perfect Islamic behaviour. The study of tahdhib thus flows from the study of history. Smith develops the notion of a ‘romantic theology’ that recognizes we are desiring creatures and works to refocus that desire towards God. He expands his argument by distinguishing between ‘thin’ and ‘thick’ practices. The former are mundane, like brushing our teeth, whereas the latter are more meaningful, such as daily prayer, playing a significant role in shaping identity. No practice is neutral, although thick practices have more impact. The question Smith proposes we must ask is ‘what kind of person is this habit or practice trying to produce, and to what end is such a practice aimed?’ (Smith, 2009: 75–83). Thus, the stories we tell and the practices we follow shape us as people. The goal of Midlands Madrasah in regular, repetitive storying of Islamic history, coupled with embodied teaching on fiqh and tahdhib, is precisely this type of formation.

Each of the seven books introduces and then discusses different examples of Islamic manners, focusing both on habits to cultivate and those to avoid. In book 1 these are knowledge, honesty, respect and being on time. Book 2 includes being just and fair, patience, jealousy, greed, sincerity and kindness to people. Book 3 covers honesty, respect, forgiveness and gratitude. Book 4 is divided into five sections: knowledge, pride, mockery, backbiting and cursing. Book 5 tackles suspicion, spying, companionship, Allah consciousness and attitude. Book 6 has four sections: social etiquettes, intention and action, festivals and anger. Book 7 also has four sections: jihaad, modesty, vices and adolescence. Utilizing a combination of stories from the Prophet’s life with modern examples, the textbooks advocate ‘thick practices’ that socialize pupils into a particular Islamic way of living.

The teaching on tahdhib thus gives explicit teaching for children on a diverse range of topics. Take the section on social etiquette as an example. It discusses appropriate forms of greeting, how to shake hands, how to speak on the telephone, and how to behave in the mosque, amongst other topics. This is illustrative of the three foci for Islamic education that Halstead identifies, namely individual development, social and moral education, and acquisition of knowledge. As noted above, he argues that a fundamental aim of Islamic education is providing positive guidance that enables children to grow into good adults and model citizens – an aim that is evident in the topics listed above (Halstead, 2004: 519–525).

This focus on becoming a good citizen is well within the scope of Cultural Liturgies, which begs the question, when and how would Christians teach on these topics? Smith advocates undertaking a ‘practices audit,’ examining one’s practices to interrogate how Christian they really are (Smith, 2009: 84), and expanding on the importance of worship as the means of developing Christian manners (Smith, 2009: 155–214; cf. Bass, 2010; Foster, 1989).

Although Christians may differ in the nuances of their interpretation and understanding of these different terms, there is little of substance to disagree with. One area of complexity is the discussion of festivals. The textbook is clear that Muslim festivals are to be celebrated but other festivals are not: Christmas, Easter, Diwali, Raksha Bandan and New Year festivities are all condemned. On one level this is understandable; why should Muslims celebrate Easter, as they do not believe in the atoning death of Jesus? The teaching would only become problematic if it presumed that Christians could not celebrate the festival either. Smith discusses pluralism at some length, arguing for both strong religious faith but also for freedom for disagreement, where different perspectives are given space to flourish (Smith, 2017: 130–150). Kaemingk builds on Smith’s arguments to argue for a simultaneous unwavering commitment to the lordship of Christ whilst also holding an equally unwavering commitment to love and care for those who do not recognize that lordship (Kaemingk, 2018: 16).

Jihaad, the topic most likely to provoke challenge from a Christian audience, is handled sensitively. Seven types of jihaad (struggle) are listed: first, the struggle to control one’s personal desires; second, the struggle for knowledge, especially Islamic knowledge; third, the struggle to control the tongue, speaking the truth even if it results in hardship and to spread Islam; fourth, the struggle of the pen (that is, of writing), again to spread Islam; fifth, the struggle to use wealth for Allah’s pleasure; sixth, the struggle to use time for Allah’s pleasure; and seventh, the struggle of war, fighting in defence of Islam. According to this understanding, all forms of jihaad are therefore defensive of Islam, ensuring the integrity and continuity of the faith. Ramadan argues that jihaad be understood as a constant and balanced effort towards the path of faithful obedience to God (Ramadan, 2004: 113–115). Although the pacifist Christian tradition would reject the seventh, war-focused, understanding, the other six could easily be adapted to a Christian frame. Indeed, they could be understood as forms of practice that enable a ‘re-storying’ of the world.

Smith discusses Michael Hanby’s conception of the ‘military-entertainment-complex,’ which he describes as ‘a powerful cultural machine that generates stories, images and paeans to bravery, sacrifice, and devotion to the national cause’ (Smith, 2009: 104). This more negative take is held in tension with the just war tradition, which has a long heritage within Christianity (O’Donovan, 1996: 53–56; 2005: 224–227). Thus, the question raised by a Christian concern over Muslim notions of jihaad is to question ourselves about how we answer it, whether that is through Christ-like self-sacrificial love (Qureshi, 2016) or the ‘dethroning of imperial Christianity that still resides in our hearts’ (Gaston, 2017: x).

Hifz (memorization)

Hifz is the process of memorization of religious texts, mainly short surahs of the Qur’an, and du’aas that are used in daily life. The series of seven books therefore provides the student with the necessary foundational texts to memorize in order to live a devout Muslim life. Cultural Liturgies does not detail texts to be memorized, nor indeed does it advocate memorization explicitly. The argument for embodied practice, for ‘re-storying’ the world, does, however, presume sufficient knowledge of the story. Smith’s regular focus on liturgy, especially his extended exposition of how the elements of a church service can reshape the social imagination (Smith, 2009: 155–214), can be taken as supportive of internalizing the story in order to live it out.

The curriculum of Midlands Madrasah builds core Islamic knowledge over seven years. Students are expected to memorize relevant surahs (chapters) of the Qur’an, as well as learning du’aas (prayers) for daily situations, including on waking, before and after eating, and on going to sleep, on visiting someone who is ill, on travelling and much more. The first four books cover short, basic texts to memorize, whereas the last three are more sophisticated. A few further examples will illustrate the content covered. Book 5, for a student aged 11 or 12 years, covers the proper prayers to be said for someone who has died, including what should be said at a burial. Book 6 concentrates on memorization of appropriate surahs to be said after the whole Qur’an has been recited. Book 7 includes the full text of Surah Yaseen, the 36th chapter of the Qur’an, regarded by many Muslims as the ‘heart of the Qur’an,’ a common text to memorize. This focus on memorization over against critical reflection is typical of madrasah education (Scott-Baumann and Cheruvallil-Contractor, 2017: 39–40).

As Gilliat-Ray notes, earning the title of hafiz upon memorization of the whole Qur’an brings with it considerable social capital, as well as developing academic skills that transfer to mainstream education (Gilliat-Ray, 2010: 154); indeed, you become an ‘embodiment of the Qur’an’ (Gent, 2018: 79–80). However, becoming hafiz has a cost. Gent details the sacrifice entailed in becoming hafiz, noting that of the two key qualities of will and memory, it is the former that is most important, and that once one has become hafiz, one must always behave like a hafiz (Gent, 2018: 91–93).

Reading these through the lens of Cultural Liturgies I would expect to find guidance on what to internalize in order to live a Muslim life, an aim that is achieved. As an aside, I note one striking element is the detailed instructions given for preparation for a funeral. It is unlikely that a Christian Sunday school group would include teaching on funeral prayers, but here it is included as a normal part of Muslim education. This is a particular challenge to Christian audiences. We may believe and teach that death has been defeated, but that does not mean death has no impact on those who are bereaved. There are many Christian texts aimed at adults, both preparing for death (Ashton, 2010) or on the experience of bereavement (Griffiths, 2003; Lewis, 1961). There are even texts aimed at helping children come to terms with bereavement (Stickney, 1982), but I am unaware of teaching resources aimed at preparing children for participating in Christian funerals.

Returning to the main point of internalization of texts to direct daily living, Smith argues that there are many liturgies for daily life; thus, the liturgy of the mall shapes our consumption as much as, if not more than, any Christian thoughts we may have (Smith, 2009: 24–26). The central contention of the Cultural Liturgies series is that we must internalize and live out a distinct, Christian story. Smith and Smith (2011) contains a series of reflections of how this can be done in an educational context. Although the details may not apply to the process of bringing up children to believe, nevertheless the main point, of cultivating consciously Christian habits, is relevant. The focus on memorization of texts, as seen for example in the Topical Memory System, ⁹ advocated by the Christian group Navigators, is perhaps the closest to the practice of hifz that is discussed here.