The Persecuted Professor

By Dr. M. A. Gabriel^* Former Professor of Islamic history at Al-Azhar University, Cairo, Egypt

The Al-Azhar University in Cairo, Egypt, from which I graduated, is the oldest and most prestigious Islamic University in the world. It serves as the spiritual authority for Islam worldwide. I taught there during the week and performed the duties of an Imam at the weekend at a Mosque in the city of Giza, Egypt (where the pyramids are located). Among other responsibilities, I used to preach each Friday from noon to 1pm.

One particular Friday my topic concerned 'Jihad'. I told the two hundred fifty people seated on the ground before me: "Jihad is defending Islam against the attacks of the enemies. Islam is a religion of peace and will only fight against one who fights it. These infidels, heathens, perverts, Christians and Allah's grievers, the Jews, out of envy of peaceful Islam and its prophet, spread the myth that Islam is promulgated by the sword and violence. These infidels, the accusers of Islam, do not acknowledge Allah's words." At this point I quoted from the Qur'an: "And do not kill anyone whom Allah has forbidden, except for a just cause" (Surah 17:33). I preached my sermon on Jihad that day in accordance with the philosophy of the Egyptian government. Al-Azhar University focused us on 'politically correct Islam' and purposely overlooked areas of Islamic teaching that conflicted with its own expedient interpretation.

Outwardly I preached what they taught me, but inside, confusion reigned. I knew that to keep my position at Al-Azhar, I needed to keep my thoughts to myself, only too aware of what happened to people who differed from Al-Azhar's agenda. A dismissal would have rendered me 'unfit' to teach at any University in the nation. Yet I knew that my sermons on Jihad at the Mosque and at Al-Azhar conflicted with the Qur'an, all of which I had memorized by the age of twelve. How could I preach about an Islam of love and forgiveness, while Muslim fundamentalists - the ones claiming to be practising true Islam - were regularly bombing churches and killing Christians?

After an upbringing in a well-established Muslim family, in adulthood I studied Islamic history in depth. Although not personally involved in anything radical, one of my Muslim friends, a chemistry student, belonged to an Islamic group active in slaughtering Christians. One day I asked him, "Why are you killing our neighbours and countrymen with whom we grew up." He was angry and astonished at my challenge. "Out of all Muslims you should know. The Christians do not accept the call of Islam, and they are not willing to pay us the jizyah [tax] to have the right to practise their beliefs. Therefore, the only option they have is the sword of Islamic law."

My conversations with him drove me to pore over the Qur'an and the books of Islamic law, hoping to find something to contradict what he said. I soon realized I had two basic options. I could continue to embrace a 'Christianized' form of Islam - an Islam of peace, love, forgiveness and compassion, tailor-made to fit the Egyptian government, politics and culture - thereby keeping my job and status; or I could become a member of the Islamic movement and embrace the Islam of the Qur'an, based on the teachings of Muhammad.

I had tried to rationalize the kind of Islam to which I held. After all, there are verses in the Qur'an about love, peace, forgiveness and compassion. Conveniently ignoring the parts about Jihad, I sought out interpretations of the Qur'an which would not advocate the killing of non-Muslims, yet I kept finding support of the practice. Islamic scholars agreed that Muslims should enforce Jihad on infidels (those who reject Islam) and renegades (those who leave Islam). These contradictions in the Qur'an presented a real stumbling block to my faith.

I spent four years earning my Bachelor's degree, graduating second out of a class of 6,000. Then another four years for my Master's and three more for my Doctorate - all in Islamic studies. That's why I knew the contradictions in the Qur'an so well. In one place alcohol was forbidden; in another it was allowed (compare Surah 5:90-91 with Surah 47:15). In one place it says Christians are good people who love and worship one God (Surah 2:62, 3:113-114). Then you find other verses that say Christians must convert, pay tax or be killed by the sword (Surah 9:29-30). In one place man is said to have been made from water (Surah 21:30); in another he comes from a blood clot (Surah 96:1-2); in yet another from dust (Surah 3:58). Certainly the scholars had theological 'solutions' to these problems, but I wondered how Allah, almighty and all powerful, could either contradict himself or at least change his mind so much. Even the prophet of Islam, Muhammad, practised his faith in ways that contradicted the Qur'an. The Qur'an said that Muhammad was sent to show the mercy of God to the world. But he became a military dictator, attacking, killing and taking plunder to finance his empire. Then, again, Islam is full of discrimination - against women, against non-Muslims, against Christians and most especially against Jews. Hatred is built in to the religion. The history of Islam, which was my special area of study, could only be described as a river of blood.

Inevitably I reached the point where I questioned Islam and the Qur'an with my students at the University. Some of them, members of terrorist movements, were enraged: "You can't accuse Islam. What has happened to you? You should be teaching us. You must agree with Islam." The university heard about it, and I was called in for a meeting in December 1991. I told them what was in my heart: "I can no longer say that the Qur'an comes directly from heaven or from Allah. It cannot be the revelation of the true God." To them it was nothing short of blasphemy. They spat in my face. One man cursed me; "You blasphemer. You bastard." The University fired me and called the Egyptian secret police.

My whole family lived together in a three-storey house - my parents, my four married brothers with their families, my unmarried brother and myself. Only my married sister lived elsewhere. The house was divided into several comfortable apartments, with my brother and I sharing the ground floor with our parents. At three o'clock in the morning the next day, my father heard knocking at the door of our house. When he opened the door, fifteen to twenty men rushed in carrying assault weapons. They were not wearing uniforms. They ran all through the house, waking people up looking for me. Trapped, I had no time to run. My family was terrified. They wept as I was dragged away. Everybody in the area heard the commotion.

Later that morning my parents frantically tried to figure out what had happened to me. They went to the Police Station and demanded, "Where is our son? " But nobody knew anything about me. The Egyptian secret Police saw to that. They put me in a cell with two radical Muslims accused of committing terrorist acts. One, a Palestinian, the other, an Egyptian. For three days I was denied food and water. The Egyptian constantly asked me, "Why are you here? " I refused to answer, afraid he would kill me if he knew that I harboured questions about Islam. On the third day, I told him I taught at Al-Azhar University and held the position of an Imam in Giza. Immediately he gave me a plastic bottle of water and some falafel and pita that were brought to him by his own visitors, despite the Police warning him not to give me anything. On the fourth day, the interrogation began, the goal of which seemed to be to make me confess my rebellion against Islam.

My interrogator sat behind a large desk. Behind me were two or three police officers. He felt sure that my conversion to Christianity involved someone else. "What pastor did you talk to? " he demanded. "What church have you been visiting? Why have you betrayed Islam? " The questions seemed endless. On one question I hesitated too long before answering. My interrogator nodded to the men behind me. They grabbed my hand and held it down on the desk. My interrogator took a lit cigarette, reached over and extinguished it into the top of my hand. The scar is there to this day. So is the scar on my lip, where I received the same treatment. The pressure increased with time. One officer pressed a red-hot poker into the flesh of my left arm. They wanted me to confess that I had been converted, but I said, "I didn't betray Islam. I just said what I believe. I am an academic person. I am a thinker. I have a right to discuss any subject of Islam. This is part of my job and part of any academic life. I could not even dream of converting from Islam - it is my blood, my culture, my language, my family, my life. But if you accuse me of converting from Islam for what I say to you, then take me out of Islam. I don't mind being out of Islam."

My answer didn't please them. I was taken to a room containing a steel bed. They tied my feet to the foot of the bed and then put heavy stockings on them. An officer with a four foot long whip began lashing my feet. I was beaten unconscious. When I woke up the officer stopped and untied me. "Stand up," he demanded. I could not at first, but he beat my back until I complied with his request. He pointed down a long passageway. "Run," he bellowed. Again, when I could not do it, he whipped my back until I ran down the passageway. When I reached the end, there was another officer waiting for me. He whipped me until I ran back. They made me run back and forth repeatedly. Then I was put in a tank full of ice-cold water. I have low blood sugar, so it wasn't very long before I passed out again. When I awoke I was lying on the steel bed, still in my wet clothes.

Further tortures followed. One evening I was taken behind the building. I saw what looked like a small, concrete room with no windows or doors. The only opening was a skylight in the roof. They made me climb a ladder to the top. "Get in," they ordered. When I sat on the edge and put my feet down in the opening, I felt water. I could also see something swimming on the top of the water. "This is it", I said to myself, "this is where I will die." I slid down into the opening and felt the water rise up my body, but then to my surprise I felt solid ground under my feet. The water came up to my shoulders. Rats started crawling over my head and face. They closed the skylight. Terrified, I remained there all night. The next morning when the skylight opened, hope revived that I might survive.

The interrogation continued. The officers took me to the door of a small room and said, "There is someone in there who loves you very much and wants to meet you." I was hoping it might be a family member or a friend. They opened the door. Inside I saw nothing but a large dog. The door shut behind me. I cried out from my heart to my Creator, "You are my father, my God. Please look after me. Can you leave me in these evil hands? I don't know what these people are trying to do to me, but I know you will be with me and one day I will see you and meet you." I walked to the middle of the room and slowly sat down cross-legged on the floor. The dog came and sat down in front of me. Then it started circling me, as if preparing to eat me. To my relief it simply sat down and stayed by my side. I was so exhausted I fell asleep. When I woke up, the dog was in the corner of the room. When the officers finally opened the door they saw me praying, with the dog sitting next to me. I heard one say, "I can't believe this man is a human being. This man is a devil - he's Satan."

"I don't believe that," the other replied, "There is an unseen power standing behind this man and protecting him."

The first officer concluded; "What power? This man is an infidel. It's got to be Satan because this man is against Allah."

In my absence, my Egyptian cellmate asked the police, "Why are you persecuting this man? " They told him, "Because he is denying Islam." He was furious. When I rejoined him in the cell, he was ready to kill me. But I had only been in there twenty minutes when a police officer came with transfer papers for him and he was taken away. "What is going on here? " I thought to myself, "What power is protecting me? " At that time, I did not know the answer. Shortly thereafter my own transfer papers came through. My destiny? A permanent prison in southern Cairo. All of this for merely 'questioning' Islam. My faith was really shaken.

My first week in Cairo was relatively relaxed. Thankfully my prison guard did not agree with radical Islam. Throughout this whole time my family persisted in trying to find out my whereabouts. They had no success until my mother's brother, who was a high-ranking member of the Egyptian Parliament, returned to the country from travelling overseas. My mother called him, sobbing, "For two weeks we have not known where our son is. He is gone." My uncle had the necessary connections. Fifteen days after I was kidnapped, he came to the prison personally with release papers and took me home.

Later, the police gave a report to my father: "We have received a fax from Al-Azhar University accusing your son of leaving Islam, but after an interrogation of fifteen days, we found no evidence to support it." My father was relieved to hear this. I was the only one in the family who had studied Islam at the University, and he was very proud of me. That I would ever leave Islam was, to my father, unimaginable. He attributed the whole incident to jealousy. "We don't need them," he said, and then asked me to start work immediately as a sales director in his successful clothing manufacturing business.

For the following year I lived in a vacuum. I had no faith, no God to pray to, to call on, to live for. I believed in the existence of a God who was merciful and righteous, but I had no idea who He was. Was He the God of the Muslims, the Christians or the Jews? Or was He some animal - like the cow of the Hindus? I had no idea how to find Him. If a Muslim concludes that Islam is not the truth, where can he turn? Faith is in the fabric of the life of a Middle Eastern person. He cannot imagine life without God. The events of the year took their toll. I was constantly tired and suffered continually from headaches. I began visiting a nearby pharmacy one or two times a week to buy a packet of tablets. After a while, the pharmacist asked me, "What is going on in your life? "

"Nothing is going on," I answered. "I have no complaint except for one thing: I am living without God. I don't know who God is, who created me and the universe."

Startled, she said, "But you were a professor at the most respected Islamic University in Egypt. Your family is very respected in the community."

"That is true," I replied, "but I have discovered falsehoods in their teachings. I no longer believe my home and family are built on a foundation of truth. I had always clothed myself in the lies of Islam. Now I feel naked. How can I fill the emptiness in my heart? Please help me."
"OK." she said. "Today I will give you these tablets, and I will give you this book - the Bible. But please promise me not to take any tablets before you read something from this book."

I took the book home and opened it at random. My eyes fell on Matthew 5:38: "You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, but I tell you not to resist an evil person. But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to Him also." My whole body began trembling. I had studied the Qur'an my whole life - not once had I found anything like this. I had come face to face with the Lord Jesus Christ.

As I continued to read I lost all track of time. It felt as if I was sitting on a cloud above a hill, and in front of me was the greatest teacher in the Universe revealing all the secrets of heaven to me. Compared to what I had learned from my years of studying the Qur'an, there was no doubt in my mind that here, in the Bible, I was finally encountering the true God. I was still reading into the early hours of the next day, and by dawn I had repented and accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my Saviour, believing that He died for my sins and rose again from the dead. The only people I told were the Pharmacist and his wife. In Egypt, if anyone leaves Islam, it is automatically assumed that he has become a Christian and therefore must be killed.

Somehow the news leaked out. The fundamentalists sent two men to ambush and kill me. While returning home on foot from a social visit to a friend's house about a twenty minute walk away in Giza, I was on Tersae Street, near my home, when I saw two men standing in front of a grocery shop. Dressed traditionally in white robes, long beards and head coverings, I thought they must be customers. However, as I reached the shop they stopped me and pulled out knives with which to stab me. I put up my hands to protect myself. Again and again the blades struck me, cutting my wrists. The other people in the street gathered to watch, but no one helped me. The first attacker was trying to stab my heart. He missed and penetrated my shoulder instead. When he pulled the knife out I fell to the ground in a little ball, trying to protect myself. The other attacker tried to stab me in the stomach, but the blade turned, and he stabbed me in the shin instead. I passed out. Apparently two police officers arrived on motorcycles and my attackers ran away. I was taken to the hospital and treated. Again, my father rejected any thought that I was abandoning Islam. He just could not think in those terms.

I continued to work for my father, not speaking of my new faith. In fact, he sent me to South Africa in 1994 to explore business opportunities for him. While there, I spent three days with a Christian family from India. When we parted, they gave me a small cross on a necklace to wear. This small cross marked the turning point in my life. After a little more than a week back home, my father noticed it. "Why do you wear this chain? " he demanded.

"Father, this is not a chain," I explained. "This is a cross. It represents Jesus, who died on a cross like this for me, for you and for everybody in the whole world. I have received Jesus as my God and Saviour, and I pray for you and for the rest of my family to also repent and accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Saviour."

My father collapsed in the street. Some of my brothers rushed out and brought him into the house. My mother started crying in fear. I stayed with them as they bathed my father's face with water. When he came to, he was so upset he could hardly speak, but he pointed at me. In a voice hoarse with rage he cried out, "Your brother is a convert. I must kill him today! " Wherever he went, my father carried a gun under his arm on a leather strap. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at me. I started running down the street and, as I dived around a corner, I heard the bullets. I ran for my life to my sister's house about half a mile away. I asked her to help me get my passport, clothes and other documents from my father's house. She wanted to know what was wrong, and I told her, "Father wants to kill me." She asked why. I said, "I don't know. You must ask Father."

When I ran away, my father knew exactly where I was headed because my sister and I were very close. He walked to her house, arriving while we were talking. He banged on the door. He was openly sobbing with tears streaming down his face, "My daughter, please open the door." Then he shouted, "Your brother is a convert! He has left the Islamic faith. I must kill him now! "

My sister opened the door and tried to calm him down. "Father, he is not here. Maybe he went to another place. Why don't you go home and relax, and later we can talk about this as a family."

My sister had mercy on me and gathered my things from my parents' house. She and my mother gave me some money. I left on the evening of August 28, 1994. For three months I struggled through Northern Egypt, Libya, Chad and Cameroon. I finally stopped in the Congo where I contracted malaria. I found an Egyptian doctor to examine me. He said that I would be dead by morning and made arrangements to get a coffin from Congo's Egyptian embassy to send me back home. To their shock, I survived the night. I left the hospital after five days.

Ten years have gone by since I was saved from my sins and received peace with God through the Lord Jesus Christ. He called me and gave me a personal relationship with Him - something that Islam never offered. There is a statement about God in the Bible which is unique. It says "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life" (John 3:16). In Islam you must love Allah in order for Allah to love you in return. Surah 3:30 states "If you love God...God will love you." In the Bible however, God loves sinners first in order to secure their salvation. "We [believers in Jesus] love Him because He first loved us" (1 John 4:19). "But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Rom 5:8). May my life story help you to appreciate and accept this unique love and grace.