By Raya Jalabi
Photo courtesy of The AP.
On a recent evening, 25 students sit on the floor of the Islamic Center at New York University to hear class in Quran taught by Dr. Ali Mermer.
The students, both men and women, are overwhelmingly young. Some have come alone, others with their families. A small group of children play behind the women, who sit separately from the men on one side of the room.
The Islamic Center is housed in the N.Y.U global center for academic and spiritual life, located at the corner of Thompson Street and Washington Square Park. The center is on the fourth floor of the building, which serves as both a masjid and a classroom for N.Y.U students and others interested in learning about Islam. Mermer is the Muslim Chaplain at Queens College and holds a PhD in Islamic Studies.
“Today we shall study chapter 7: Al Maoun, or the Small Kindness,” Mermer says as he opens his MacBook Air to locate today’s class notes. “Do you all know this verse?”
All nod in agreement, a testament to the verse’s renown.
“Let us first begin with a literal translation,” Mermer continues.
Students crack out their iPhones, tablets and laptops to pull up the verse and follow along with Mermer’s reading.
Have You seen the one who denies Deen?
For he is the one who drives away the orphan
And does not encourage the feeding of the poor
So woe to those who pray
But who are heedless of their prayer
Those who make show of their deeds
And withhold simple assistance.”
Mermer goes on to explain that “Deen” in this passage refers to debt. To further illustrate his point, he asks the room:
“Do you have any debts to pay?”
Mermer unfurls his long limbs elegantly, until he is standing in front of the blackboard, ready to write down students’ suggestions. He stands at slightly over six feet, a towering presence amidst the seated mass.
Some nervous laughter emanates from the far right corner of the room. There are a few timid nods, until someone exclaims that she has student debts that are piling up. The room erupts into laughter. But Mermer picks up on this and pushes conversation towards his a notion of societal debts, positing that communal living enjoins people into a social contract in which they are indebted to behave a certain way, to live a certain life, a good and moral one.
Although ultimately he explains that the verse refers to the debt that Muslims owe their Creator, he lets the conversation roam towards the students various responses to his initial question. He is engaging and excited by his students’ curiosity and ideas, asking them to elaborate and relate their thoughts to God and his teachings.
“I love challenging questions!” Mermer says at one point. “If something doesn’t make sense, please please please challenge me! We shouldn’t make things complicated, unlike others who teach Quran.”
And indeed, one student does challenge him.
“You keep speaking of the good, and don’t mention the bad. And it’s bothering me,” says Zainab, an N.Y.U. graduate student. “There is good and bad and hell and heaven and faith and ignorance. Not just one or the other.”
With this challenge, Mermer’s eyes brighten, his smile widens and he goes off into an explanation of the complex theology surrounding Zainab’s query, one that overruns the hour designated to his class and leaves students hanging on his every word, waiting for more.
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