I stared blankly at my phone screen as I walked out of Monsignor Michael Heintz’s Theological Traditions I class.  Just a moment ago, I might have embarrassed myself when I showed him a photo I took of a huge mural painting I saw in the Boston Public Library. I thought the woman in the picture was the devil.  Msgr. Heintz told me it was the Blessed Virgin Mary.

I was unsatisfied with this answer, so I went back to my room and started researching the painting.  I discovered the artist was John Singer Sargent, and sure enough, it was Mary.

I still could not let it go so I asked my roommate if she had ever seen the work before.  I pointed out how each of her eyes look in different directions, and she looks more scary than sad with Jesus’s limp arms on her lap.  My roommate had not seen it, but she recognized it was Mary the moment she saw the blue veil.  With that simple justification, I finally rested my case.

There are very few reasons as to why one could confuse the blue-veiled Blessed Mary with the devil.  For me, that reason is that I am a Muslim who only started learning about Christianity two years ago in Foundations of Theology.  To make matters a little more complicated, I am not an American; in fact, I come from a developing Muslim country where Muslims are barely exposed to Christianity.

The question is, of course, how did I get here?

My short answer is: by God’s fate.  A longer one is that I have a scholarship in engineering, and it was my sponsor who decided I would go to Notre Dame—it was the best decision that I never had to make.  As proof, I have tweeted, “I love thee, Notre Dame” seven times to date, and I meant it each time.

I realize that the increasing number of Muslims in Catholic universities is becoming a bit of a clichéd topic.  I imagine no one really cares so much anymore, which is a characteristic of Americans that I have grown to love.  My roommate, however, constantly tells me that people still have not lost interest in how I practice Islam at Notre Dame.  Every morning, the words of my freshman year RA ring in my head: “It is nice to have you in our section, Liyana, because for many of us, this is actually the first time we get to see how a Muslim lives her life.”  That’s quite a pressure.

Being an “ambassador of Islam” on campus is an honor, and I do not mind it, but I really hope people recognize that there are variations in how Muslims practice Islam.  Yes, I pray five times a day, I wear my hijab when there are guys around, and I read the Quran in my room.  I know not all Muslims practice all these, but I can say with some confidence that many Muslims do.

Likewise, there are still generalizations about the Islamic faith.  When, for example, “the girl who wears hijab” did not come to class (just once in a blue moon, by the way!), that does not mean Muslims always sleep in!  It simply means I am an engineer who stayed up late last night to finish my assignment.

Practicing Islam on campus has never been a big challenge for me, and I am very grateful for that, but the best part of being a Muslim on a Catholic campus is that I am reminded of God all the time.  Everywhere I turn, I see Jesus on the cross as a constant reminder of the value of sacrifice.

It invites me to pray that God will accept my leaving my motherland Malaysia to study here—where I am pushed very far out of my comfort zone—also as a sacrifice.  Of course, I, like most Muslims, do not believe that Jesus was crucified and died, but that does not mean I cannot appreciate the theology of Jesus’ crucifixion.  It is the beauty of Christian theology that draws me to pursue theology as a minor.

My journey at Notre Dame and as a theology minor has been nothing less than amazing.  Few sentiments are truer than St. Anselm’s words about theology as “faith seeking understanding.”  Not only has my understanding of Christianity changed, but studying theology also encourages me to seek a deeper understanding of my own religion.

I did not realize God was watching and taking notes when I curiously opened a Bible I found in a hotel room’s drawer for the first time.  Six years later, minoring in theology is my way of acknowledging that God has fated me to attend Notre Dame for a reason.

I see a different kind of Christianity here than what I saw in Malaysia, and so I am determined to go back after I graduate and share my experiences with everyone.  I want to start an interfaith movement and remind people of the Quranic verse that many of us know by heart: “O mankind! We have created you from a male and a female and made you into races and tribes so that you may know one another” (49:13).

 

Liyana Syahirah Muhamad Yusof is a junior chemical engineering major with a minor in theology.  Contact her at lmuhamad@nd.edu.