Today I met a man who went on and on about the perfection of Allah.
How he is the Highest, the Immutable, the Unattainable.
He waxed poetic in his descriptions,
rapturously describing something beyond conception, something untouchable.
I don’t know who this man is in love with,
but it certainly doesn’t sound like Allah to me.
The Allah I know is not elevated beyond this earth,
but bunched up in the clods I kick on the way to work.
The Allah I love is not perfect,
but a stubborn, difficult, argumentative pain the ass.
The Allah that kisses my lips as I kneel in prayer,
is not unattainable, but threatens to crush me with His embrace.
Immutable? I don’t even know what that means.
I’m going to guess it means unemotional,
but my Love is so passionate that I have to push Him away
for fear He will smother me with his kisses every time I turn toward Mecca.
Najat says: Don’t speak to me about the “perfection of Allah.”
Worshipping deities that you dream up yourself is called “idolatry.”
If you want to know Allah, be prepared for the mess He leaves in His wake.
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