Ooh, I hope no one tells Mohammed Atta. Will he be pi**ed:
In an article in the Saudi daily Al-Riyadh, Sheikh ‘Adel Al-Kalbani, a former Imam of the Grand Mosque in Mecca, condemns preachers who exploit the despair and frustration of young Muslims by filling their heads with stories about the Virgins of Paradise in order to lure them into jihad.
“When the heart [of the young man] fills with yearning, and the desperate reality of his life overwhelms him, it is very easy for him to put an explosive belt around his waist, and even to shove the dynamite up his ass, as long as the goal is a lofty one, the prize is a Virgin [of Paradise], and the price is so low. The poor wretch does not realize that the price he is offering for his [heavenly] bride – namely his life, which he is ending by exploding a bomb and killing himself and others around him – will not necessarily be accepted, because those who marry the Virgins of Paradise must meet certain conditions. The first of these is that [the candidate] did not end his life in order to escape from a state of fatal despair… According to Islam, that is suicide.
“Reducing the pleasures of Paradise to [the privilege of] attaining the Virgins is a grave mistake. The point to be emphasized is that one must win Allah’s favor, and one must focus [on the fact that] one will have the privilege of seeing the face of God in Paradise. This [loftiest] estate can be attained only through great effort and patience, through charity and grace, and through [true] da’wa, jihad, and learning. In other words, one must live for Allah before one can die for Him.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. This guy is a former Imam of the Grand Mosque in Mecca, not just some run of the mill cleric in East Bumf**k, Egypt. He ought to know what he’s talking about. And now he tells the wannabe jihadist that if he “shove[s] the dynamite up his ass”, it may be the last thing he shoves anywhere.
Imagine Ziad Jarrah, or any of the 9/11 hijackers, showing up at the pearly gates, his hair pomaded with scented mousse, his underwear changed (well, yesterday), his teeth flossed (well, last year), a bouquet of dried daffodils in hand and a box of rancid, melted chocolates under his arm, waiting to collect on his 72 virgins. Oh, to see the look on what’s left of his face.