In many religious traditions, there are two relational axes along which our lives are understood. The first is the vertical, between the created and the Creator; the second is the horizontal, among the created and with the rest of creation. Islam has those two aspects as well, with the latter relationship always being viewed through the lens of the former. The COVID-19 pandemic has had a marked effect on the latter relationship, changing the nature of ritual worship in many ways. And at the same time, Muslim sages and scholars have reminded their flocks that the former relationship, between the Divine and those who beseech Him, remains constant and consistent — even if takes different forms in this difficult time.

Over the past week, Muslims around the world have pleaded with Islamic scholars to weigh in on the pandemic to give advice and guidance. The coronavirus directly affects congregational worship in several significant ways due to the “social distancing” advice — not least the ability to attend lessons and classes (because Islam is fundamentally a religion of learning), and funeral arrangements (because of the concern of spreading infection from people who pass away from complications arising from the virus).

It might seem simple to some that congregational worship should be done away with in situations of emergency. But it isn’t quite that easy. There are prayers to be held in mosques that are considered religiously compulsory for many in the community; there are other prayers that are strongly recommended to be performed in a congregation; and many of the pious will go to great efforts to ensure they meet those obligations and recommendations.

As an academic and scholar in Islamic studies, I’ve participated in many of the debates concerning the obligations attendant on Muslims in times of crisis — within my native Britain, in Europe and the United States, in South Africa and South East Asia. The discussions of which I’ve been a part were not, and could not simply be, a matter of identifying the legal prescriptions in the Islamic tradition. Instead, the vast majority of scholars with whom I’ve interacted or whom I’ve observed — from the Higher Council of Azhar Scholars in Egypt, to the British Board of Scholars and Imams in the UK, to the Azzawia Trust in South Africa — were unequivocal that the obligations or recommendations of congregational prayers, including the Friday prayer, ought to be suspended in the face of public health concerns.

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There is, nevertheless, an emotional attachment that many have to congregational prayers. Piety and religious devotion can often override all else — which is doubly ironic because the Islamic tradition itself prioritises adherence to law over pious sentiment. So, for example, if a Muslim is severely diabetic, it is recommended that they not engage in fasting. Not only would it not be considered “pious” to do otherwise, it could be deemed sinful because of the likelihood of harm.

It should be pointed out, however, that this kind of emotional attachment which can be genuinely felt despite the medical considerations and against the advice of religious authorities, isn’t peculiar to the Muslim community. Christians feel it too; in the UK, for example, noted Christian journalists and politicians have expressed that they are pleased about churches remaining open.

But in the Islamic tradition, when it comes to the Covid-19 the religious requirements are rather clear-cut. It certainly helped that different government authorities announced such strict measures, because it meant that those preachers and scholars who did want to call for a suspension of congregational prayers could point to government announcements as evidence that they had no other choice. There were other scholars and imams, of course, who would not have waited for governments to make their decisions — medical expert testimony, coupled with the prudential approach taken by with Islamic tradition, would have sufficed.

Many Muslims are genuinely forlorn over the suspension of congregational prayer – but some of the sages and scholars among them have doubtlessly reminded them of an old maxim in Islam: “Acts are rewarded by intentions” — meaning, if you would have carried out that act of recommended congregational worship had you been able to, then you are rewarded for that act anyway. Intention is such a huge part of the Islamic tradition, and in times such as these, Muslims are grateful indeed that it is their sincerity, not superficial external forms of piety, that matters.

As for the teaching of traditional theology, practice and spirituality in study circles in different mosques and institutions around the world, much of that will be suspended. But in this age of Zoom, Skype and any number of other forms of social technology, teachers and students will find other ways to find each other — just as so many higher education institutions are having to do. Is it the same? Ordinarily, not really. Muslim tradition upholds the model of the teacher and the student engaging in a direct educational relationship, and there are scores of treatises speaking about how students derive immense benefit by being in the presence of the learned. And yet, again, in a time when the sacred law actually calls one to take precautions to remove oneself from physical presence with others, Muslim sages and scholars will remind: it is your sincerity that matters, and your intentions will take you through.

In the coming weeks and months, I suspect many Muslim scholars and preachers will be severely tested — both by their flocks and by these circumstances. Their credibility will be tried in ways they probably could not have imagined before, nor could have expected. The pandemic will not be over in a matter of days, nor probably weeks; it’s likely to be months before different countries manage to get the health infrastructure properly in place to manage the coronavirus. In the meantime, the credibility of many Muslim scholars will be weighed up against their ability to adapt to the situation — those that do not, cannot or will not, will not have the same standing in the community that they enjoyed before the pandemic.

Muslim scholars do not possess religious authority as a kind of “divine right”, much less a “sacrament”; Islam does not admit hierarchical ecclesiastical authority. Rather, such scholars gain religious authority by their learning, which they trace back in unbroken lines of transmission back to the original Prophetic community, and by the community taking that learning seriously. If the latter does not exist, then scholars are not left with the capacity to fulfil their function — namely, to advise and guide people to draw nearer to the Divine.

And for all the emphasis on the effect that the coronavirus pandemic might have on the congregational aspect of Muslim worship in this time, those same scholars and sages will likely continue to remind their flocks of the same old wisdoms that the Islamic tradition has promoted since time immemorial. There’s a meeting recounted in the Holy Qur’an that refers to when all the souls were gathered, in the time before time, before this realm of existence came into being. God asks: “Am I not your Lord?” And the souls respond: “Verily, we bear witness.” Religion in Islam is, in the final analysis, all about reorienting the human being back to recognising the ramifications of that primordial meeting, and reminding human beings of how to be more aware of the Divine, more cognisant of God, in their dealings with each other. What is essential is how they relate to God — remembering Him through litanies, supplications and contemplation.

Pandemic or no, Muslim sages and scholars will continue to remind those they advise and counsel that the importance of drawing closer to God remains paramount and unimpeded. Indeed, at a time when we are all called upon to be more aware of our responsibilities to one other, doing so in ways that recollect God’s Immanence and Transcendence, His Compassion and Subtle Love — well, the pandemic may well bring out aspects of spiritual wayfaring that we might never have realised before.

Dr H.A. Hellyer is senior associate fellow at the Royal United Services Institute and the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, and a visiting professor at the Centre for Advanced Studies on Islam, Science and Civilisation in Kuala Lumpur. He is currently on the steering committee for a multi-year EU-funded project on ‘Radicalisation, Secularism and the Governance of Religion’, which brings together European, North African and Asian perspectives with a consortium of 12 universities and think-tanks.