I sipped my tea and thought for a while.
“I guess so,” I said. “I mean, I think either way the problem is the Devil is a literalist. He thinks the material we’re made from determines our moral status. He thinks bowing is worship. He’s like these fundamentalists, kind of. He’s a literalist. He takes things as they are.”
Hakima grinned. It looked as if she was about to wink. “You believe there’s a higher reality.”
“Yeah.”
“I dunno.” She adjusted her headscarf. “I like to think we can understand everything rationally. We can figure out God. We can prove things. I consider myself a Mu’tazili.”
“Cool,” I lied. I had no idea what she meant. Later, I learned about the Mu’tazilis in class. They were an early Islamic school of thought dedicated to rational inquiry. They held the Qur’an as crea
