What have we done to Islam?

I am a revert myself, so some of the statements implicitly portraying me as an ambassador of the religion may seem a bit schizophrenic, but I will explain. 

I became Muslim in my early twenties after a childhood and teenage years that left a lot of blank spaces in my book of "how to live". So my personality was shaped largely by it as in many areas Islam was the first guidance I found after wandering around blindly. It was the light in the darkness, the meaning after the confusion, the roadmap towards a meaningful life. I studied it day and night, it became my primary interest and I implemented its teachings in my inner and outer actions.

We lived in an ideal small community. An Eastern European University town where many students from Muslim majority countries have chosen Islam after being confronted by the life without it, and discovering the differences between the cultural customs of their countries and the religion itself, and open minded reverts, many of them uni students as well, who were eager to learn everything about this complete new lifestyle. We studied about rights and duties, about ways to get closer to God and nice manners to facilitate our relationship with other people and learned how to respect ourselves and each other. We built lifetime friendships, we became each others real sisters and brothers. This was our refuge.

Years passed. We all got married, had kids, focused on personal careers. Everyone moved out of town, community life concentrated at the capital where there were more people... But focus was lost somehow.

Studying Islam didn't mean anymore learning a new way of life that makes sense and is liberating but to listen to lectures - through translation - about a bunch of rules and old stories with very little explanation. New reverts' hands are not held, the organisation body is solid as a rock, and we simply lost the second generation.

What happened? What did we do? How did we end up here?

Islam is a comfortable Yemeni sofa or an ergonomic chair, it's a cozy house designed to have room for everyone. We made it into a concrete structure with sharp edged walls and the threat of dark abysses you may fall into if you are tired of sitting in the cold and wet ground.

We, all of us, used to stick to the divine word. There was no cultural differences, it did not matter where you were from or how long you have embraced Islam or what's the norm in your country because we all wanted to follow the guidance of God. We felt we managed to escape the trap of culturalism many Muslim diasporas had fallen into. Now some people - many in responsible positions - just tend to create their country here. They guard rules but they forget they can't replicate the whole society. You can't expect children to be respectful and obedient without giving them the security of an extended family and set of neighbours, even the people on the street who would surround them with love and reassurance. You can't expect reverts to follow every rules if you don't want to understand them, you don't explain them the way you make sure they understand it, plus you never even intend to give them a support system - without which their rights will simply stay words.

We have also fallen in the trap of culturalism, and a culture, even the best one in it's own place, will never be the answer for the second and third generation or those looking for the truth.

Why do we think that if we keep criticising young people for not praying enough, not memorising enough Qur'an, not speaking enough Arabic, not dressing modest enough, not behaving decent enough, they will like and follow these things while the society is criticising them for the opposite? Why don't we simply show them an example of what Islam is like and why don't we give them a shelter against outside criticism? How do we expect them to choose the path we show them, sorry, speak about?

We should go back to the basics. We should try to implement the teachings of Islam in our daily lives, in our dealings with young people and reverts and basically everyone. Our families. Ourselves. Think about the rights they owe you. And if we really want to create a small Yemen here, bring the sunshine. The softness. The smiles. The taste of tea. Then, and only then we will be successful in our dawa.