Jimi Hendrix's Eazy Rider reached its crescendo as I pulled into the driveway of the house I shared with my parents. So I held the cassette in both hands and squeezed until the plastic snapped. In that instant, the broken tape seemed like a symbol. I was turning my back on a life of not being serious about my faith... Over time, I came to believe that listening to music was a transgression that believers should avoid... And if God believes it’s wrong to pet a dog or shake hands with a woman, who am I to argue? If you have one view, and God has another, wouldn't you change your mind rather than expecting God to change His?
As I drove from the lake back toward my house, listening to a favourite mixed tape I had made in college, I carefully considered the theological implications. I had loved music since I was a kid. Sometimes I'd find myself thinking in music, associating particularly strong emotions with certain songs, associating different parts of town with other songs. I had a favourite nook near the top of the park where, when I wanted to be alone, I could sit on a large rock by the babbling creek. It reminded me of Fleetwood Mac's Seven Wonders.
But I was grappling with whether there was an Islamic imperative to remove music from my life. I thought of my colleagues' stern lectures about the sinful nature of music, but it was deeper than that. Beyond what anybody might think, there was my relationship with Allah. Was music haram, or prohibited by Islamic law? I thought of Muhammad bin Jamil Zino's book, Islamic Guidelines for Individual and Social Reform, and the wealth of evidence he provided for why music is spiritually harmful. I could not deny the power of some of the ahadith he quoted.
http://newageislam.com/confessions-of-a-white-jihadist/islam,terrorism-and-jihad/d/2164
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