For the Love of the Prophet

Wa ma nursilul-Mursalina

Illa mubashshirina wa mundhirin.

Faman amana wa aslaha fala khawfun alayhim

wa la hum yahzanun.  [6:48]

And We send [Our] message-bearers

 only as heralds of glad tidings and as warners: 

hence, all who believe and live righteously –

no fear need they have and neither shall they grieve.  [6:48]…

Innal-laha wa Ma-laa ikatahu yusalluna alan-Nabiyy.

Yaa ayyuhal-ladhina amanu sallualayhi wa sallimu taslima. [56]

Verily, God and His angels bless the Prophet:  [hence] O you who have attained to faith, bless him and give yourselves up [to his guidance] in utter self-surrender! [ 33:56]

Who was this Apostle of God?  More important, who is he for us, today?  Last Saturday I attended a Mawlid, a celebration of the Prophet, pbuh. 

The celebration of Mawlids goes back to the early days of Islam when some of the successors of the Companions of the Prophet began to hold sessions to honor the dignity and example of the Prophet through poetry and songs. Mawlid an-Nabi is now widely celebrated by Muslims of different sectarian backgrounds in many countries around the world.

The practice of celebrating the Prophet’s birthday is not universally approved, however. Muslim jurists and scholars have been debating the practice since its inception.  This is why the Mohammed Webb Foundation made a strategic decision when they held their first Mawlid years ago, not to have it on the Prophet’s birthday.  The debate continues in Chicagoland between Sufi – inspired Muslims and followers of the more Orthodox branches of Islam – Salafian, Maududian and Wahhabian groups.  Nonetheless, the tradition has taken root in the Muslim community here – more and more mosques and Islamic groups are hosting Mawlids.  Sufi-inspired traditions in Islam seem to be more compatible with Western cultural practice.  Mawlids seem to be here to stay, and in fact, new songs and poetry are being written that blend traditional qasidas – songs and poems - with western style music.  The performer at Webb’s Mawlid, Nader Khan shared one song adapted from the Shrek song, “Hallelujah,” now titled “Alhamdulillah,” among others.

Probably the most widely used traditional qasidas (ghazals in Urdu) came from, or were inspired by a collection commonly known as The Burda, by Shaykh al-Busairi, a 13^th century Berber Sufi poet.  Nader Khan shared several of these songs of praise.  They are meant to be participatory – an exchange back and forth between singer and audience, until the rhythm and tones create a transcendental experience.  And the words are crafted to evoke transcendental emotion:

           

From “Aj sik mitraan” -

Today the yearning for the loved one is great indeed!

            Why is my heart saddened, like a reed (flute)?

            The desire is aflame, running through my veins!

            Why are my adoring eyes today dazzled by the beloved?

            His face is like the full moon, worthy of his regal stature!

            A radiant light shines on his brow

            His tresses are black, his eyes are intoxicating!

            Those dreamy eyes are full of the wine of love!

Hearing these words, and those in the other songs of supplication to and praise for the Prophet, I found myself transported back to my experience in Madinah last month, waiting to visit the “Rawdah,” the tomb of Prophet Muhammad, Abu Bakr and Umar.  The Rawdah is located in the Masjid An-Nabawi, the Prophet’s mosque.   This mosque sits over the site where Prophet Muhammad’s mosque in Madinah once stood, and the homes of his wives.  Those simple mud huts are only a memory. The common prayer space of the Prophet and his followers has increased by many mutiples – it looks like several football fields could fit inside.  The site is now an expanse of marble floors and columns, lights and minarets, carved wood, and decorated arches and ceilings.  And it is now divided into men’s and women’s sections.  Since the Rawdah is located in the men’s section of the mosque, men can visit and pray there during most of the day.  

For women, the experience of visiting the Rawdah could be described as calculated to evoke the suffering of separation, and yearning for reunion with the beloved Prophet.  The women wait for the evening hours, after Aisha prayer.  They assemble in increasing throngs, pressed closer and closer together, immobilized, the old and the young with their children and babes in arms, searching each others’ faces for mercy as the minutes drag to hours, the crowd grows to the thousands, and the press increases.  Finally, when the carved wooden screens are opened to the massive expanse behind their walls, there is a merciless stampede… a torrent of frenzied anticipation released into the vacuum created by the pull of the Prophet’s promise.  Each and every soul in the horde rushes toward her salvation, invoking the blessed one who would understand her every pain and sorrow.  They pray before the Prophet’s bones, asking for forgiveness, expecting love.

References in the Quran to the Prophet Muhammad – God’s blessings and peace be upon him - speak of him as the Apostle of God, inspired with Revelation, who does not know what is beyond human perception, who follows only that which is revealed to him, who is only a messenger and a herald of glad tidings and a warner, who is not responsible for the conduct of his people, nor can he determine their fate, who is a human being, a mortal, like all the other prophets.  He was instructed to call people with wisdom and kindness, and not to grieve over the rejection of his message.  He was a blessing from God to all mankind, devoted to prayer, full of compassion and mercy.

The Prophet was instructed by revelation to say these things to his followers:

Surah 6:  Al-An’am

Say [O Prophet]:  ‘I do not say unto you, ‘God’s treasures are with me’; nor [do I say,] ‘I know the things that are beyond the reach of human perception’; nor do I say unto you, ‘Behold, I am an angel’:  I but follow what is revealed to me.”

Say:  “Can the blind and the seeing be deemed equal?”  Will you not, then, take thought?”  [50]

Surah 7:  Al-A’raf

Say [O Prophet}:  “It is not within my power to bring benefit to, or avert harm from, myself, except as God may please.  And if I knew that which is beyond the reach of human perception, abundant good fortune would surely have fallen to my lot, and no evil would ever have touched me.  I am nothing but a warner, and a herald of glad tidings unto people who will believe.”  [188]

Surah 38:  Sad

Say [O Prophet]:  “No reward whatever do I ask of you for this [message]; and I am not one of those who claim to be what they are not.  [86]  this [divine writ], behold, is no less than a reminder to all the worlds [87] – and you will most certainly grasp its purport after a lapse of time!”  [88]

It is easy to see why the orthodox followers of Islam do not approve of the Mawlid, or any excessive expressions of love for the Prophet.  The Prophet was not our Savior.  He was a messenger.  He may well have been “more beautiful than two moons could ever hope to be.”   We would expect a messenger of God to be beautiful, but he was a vehicle.  The Prophet was not meant to be the object of our fantasies, even if in our humanness we compensate for the disappointments in our lives by fantasizing.  We must forgive ourselves, and each other for doing so. 

Revelation enjoined the Muslims to follow “the middle way.”

And thus have We willed you to be a community of the middle way, so that [with your lives] you might bear witness to the truth before all mankind, and that the Apostle might bear witness to it before you…. [2:143]

This passage, in Surat Al-Baqarah, follows an injunction to Ahl al-Kitab – those in Madinah who blindly followed the rigid rules of their ancestors, and could not see the truth that the Prophet was sharing with them.  This was when the Prophet was instructed to change the direction of prayer from Jerusalem to Makkah.  The middle way here means the path between orthodox rigidity on the one hand, and disbelief on the other (as demonstrated in the Prophet’s time by the kuffar).  When we think today about how to relate to the Prophet, we might do well to remember this passage... and shy away from the rigidity of orthodox interpretations that reject any celebration of the Prophet’s life on the one hand, and excessive emotionalism and fantasies on the other.

I was given a different perspective on the Prophet when I was in Madinah.  A vision came to me in my room beside the Prophet’s mosque, before I went to visit the Rawdah.  I was in that state between wake and sleep, where you are sure your dreams are real.  I was flying, in complete control of where I went.  A glorious feeling – the ability to swoop and soar over the land, bank and turn, control my altitude.  I flew over the landscape, and then I was flying up the minaret of a mosque.   I was not alone.  I found myself with a boy, about seven or eight years old.  He was riding on my back.  And he was bursting with wonder and delight and excited anticipation of the adventure that lay before us.  We flew above the stairs of the minaret, round and round, until we came out the top and into a brilliant light.  We were flying toward the Kaaba.  It’s sides were separating from each other, and rays of uncountable colors were shimmering through the seams from within, irridescent.   We flew right over the Kaaba, toward an even more brilliant horizon dancing in the distance, indescribably beautiful.  As I woke up I realized who he was.  He was the Prophet.  And since then I have carried the memory of his shared wonder and joy.  Whenever I feel discouraged or confused, all I need is to remember that feeling.  Al Hamdulillah, God gave me exactly what I needed.  May He grant such peace to all who so desire.

Laqad kana lakum fi Rasulil-lahi

uswatun hasanatul-liman-kana

yarjul-laha wal-Yawmal- Akhira

wa dhakaral-laha kathira. [33:21]

Verily in the Apostle of God you have

a good example for everyone who looks forward [with hope and awe]

to God and the Last Day

and remembers God unceasingly. [33:21]

Rabbana la tuzigh qulubana ba’da idh hadaitana wa hab lana min ladun-ka rahma, innaka antal wahhab.  [3:8]

Our Lord! Let not our hearts swerve from the truth after You have guided us and bestow on us the gift of Thy grace:  Verily, Thou art the [true] Giver of Gifts.  [3:8]

Sweet and Savory

A’uzu Billahi Min ash-Shaitain ir-Rajeem.

Bismillah ir-rahman ir-raheem.

Al Hamdu Lillahi Rabbil ‘Alameen.

Wasa’atu Wassalamu ‘Ala Muhammad wa ‘Ala Alihi was Sabhihi was Sallim.

Man yahdillahu fa huwal muhtad, wa man yudlill falan tajida lahu waliyan murshida. Anyone who has been guided by Allah, he is indeed guided; and anyone who has been misguided, you will never find a guardian to guide him.

Al-hamdu lillah, Ahmaduhu Wa Assta’eenuh, Wa Asstahdeenhi, Wa Asstaghfiruh, Wa oominu Bihi Jalla wa ‘Ala va Laa Akfuruh.  Praise be to Allah; I praise Him and I seek His assistance. I believe in Him, the Exhalted, and I will not disbelieve Him.

The title of my khutbah today is “Sweet and Savory”.

I was recently looking through some old family photos and I came across a series of picture of my three younger brothers when they were boys. As I looked at these boyish faces holding puppies or showing off a garden harvest of beets and carrots, I realized that these little boys don’t exist anymore. They are men now. Although I may have some photographic proof and copious memories, these little boys are no longer here. Now sometimes one of my brothers will say or do something that reminds me of the little boy that once was, but even if I am mindful of that small boy, I must also keep in mind that I am dealing with a grown man. A man who has a history and relationships that have shaped him, and current concerns and worries that never troubled that chubby-cheeked 8 year old. 

The ability to look at people you love with different filters- the filter of the distant past, the not so distant past, the imagined future, and the present, reminded me of how I feel when I read Quran. I know that there is a historical context of the Quran, there is a long tradition of interpretation and scholarship associated with the text, and there is also the current knowledge and understanding that I, myself,  bring to a personal reading. I’d like to illustrate this process with a short Surah, #95, also known as At-Tīn, “The Fig”.

Surah 95 is an early Meccan surah. This means that it was one of the earliest surahs revealed to Prophet Muhammad, and the first people who heard it were probably not much more in number than the people in this room. During the early Meccan years, Islam was something that was being created and practiced by just a few people in the privacy of their homes.

Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Raheem

Wat-tini waz-zaytun.

Wa Turi Sinin.

Wa hadhal-baladil- ‘amin.

Laqad khalaqnal ‘insana fil ‘ahsani taqwim.

Thumma radadnahu ‘asfala safilin.

‘Illal-ladhina ‘amanu wa ‘amilus-salihati falahum ‘ajrun ghayru mammnun.

Fama yukadhdhibuka ha’du biddin.

‘Alaysal-lahu bi ‘Ahkamil-hakimin.

The English translation is:

By the fig and the olive

By Mount Sinai,

By this ground inviolate

We created the human being in the highest station

Then brought him down lowest of the low

Except for those who keep faith and work justice

Theirs is a recompense unending.

What can give you the lie then about the reckoning?

Is not God the judge most wise?

The surah opens with an oath emphasizing contrasts, with objects and locations that would have been very familiar to the early Meccan audience. Figs and olives were staples foods for the Arabian Peninsula and all over Mediterranean. Sort of like the ‘peanut butter and jelly’ of middle America. Figs have been domesticated since the time of the Ancient Egyptians (between 4000-2700 BC) and the Romans had over two dozen varieties of figs with the finest fresh ones being an expensive delicacy while cheap ones were “food of the slaves”. Olives have been cultivated since the time of the ancient Greeks, are typically served in a salty brine, and can also be pressed to extract oil for cooking or for lamps. Mount Sinai, at the very bottom of the Sinai peninsula, is the mountain where Moses retreated to for forty days to receive the Mosaic laws from God. The inviolable ground, al-balad al-amīn, is most likely referring to the sacred territory around Mecca (the haram) where tribal war and other violent acts were forbidden. In a society rift with tribal warfare, the haram was a ‘safety zone’ where people could safely negotiate trade treaties, marriage contracts, and other necessities of communal life.

The middle of the surah emphasizes the human condition. Humans were created in an exalted position, but once on earth, should they make the wrong choices, they will be brought low. People who make good choices will be rewarded in the next life.

The surah ends with two questions. The first is “What can give you the lie then about the dīn?”  Dīn can mean either religion or reckoning, but at this point in the early Meccan period, the term is probably referring to a religious belief that has the component of accepting responsibility for one’s actions. The last question, a reminder of God’s wisdom at judging, is a reminder of the Day of Judgment, a moment of truth when each human’s life will be revealed with finality.

I think the middle of the surah and ending questions are fairly straightforward, and these themes are mentioned numerous times throughout the Quran. Instead, I’d like to focus on the oath part of this surah.

Classical commentators have argued that the reference to figs and olives is actually a metaphor for the religious teachings of Jesus, Mount Sinai is a symbol for Moses, and the ground inviolate is actually Mecca and the revelations Muhammad received. Thus, the oath is a reminder of the spiritual revelation legacy of Moses-Jesus-Mohammad.

My own reading of this oath is a bit different. When I read about the figs and olives, I am reminded of the very different biology of each of these plants. Fig trees cannot reproduce on their own. They require a particular species of wasp for fertilization. No wasp, no fig fruit. Olive trees aren’t as fussy about their pollinators, but they do require a very long time to reach maturation, about five to eight years before they bear their first olive, and up to 65-80 years for stable production. Olive trees are typically handed down within families. Because it takes olives such a long time to become mature fruit-bearing trees, the Greeks considered it an act of sacrilege and ruthlessness to destroy an enemy’s olive trees in time of war. We have two very different tasting fruits, which require for maturation either a helper-wasp or plenty of time. 

When I consider the differences between Mt Sinai and the haram of Mecca, I look at this as a metaphor of individual silent contemplation (Mt Sinai) versus the peaceful give and take of human interaction (al-balad al-amin). My overall approach to this oath is that God has given us different things (figs and olives) and different opportunities (isolation and socialization) in which to make our choices. If we can understand and appreciate the differences between these things and situations, then we will be able to make good choices. For example, if we understand the nature between figs and olives, then we might try making a figgy pudding but steer clear of attempting that olive pudding. And I would go further and say that we need both – the sweet of the fig, the savory of the olive or the quiet of isolation, the lively energy of discussion- in order to fully appreciate and be grateful for what God has given us.

Finally, in thinking about our future, we are often told that in the next life, in paradise, the righteous will be surrounded by orchards and fruits. These fruits are taken to mean, metaphorically, the fruition of one's good deeds. So it could be that there will be good deeds that you do that will see fruition right away, perhaps in your actions towards one particular person or project. And there may be other good deeds that you do which will take a lifetime, or even several lifetimes to see their ripened completion.

PAUSE

Al-Hamdu Lillahi Rabbil ‘Alameen Wassalutu Wassalmu ‘Alakhairil Mursaleen; Muhammadin Al-Nabiyil  Ummiyee, wa ‘Ala alihi wa mahbihi Ajma’een.

Praise be to Allah, the lord of the universe; May the greeting and peace of Allah be upon the best Messenger, Muhammad, the unlettered Prophet; and upon His family and upon all of His companions.

There are many references to brotherhood in the Quran: Joseph and his many brothers, Musa and Harun, and of course, Cain and Abel. Unfortunately, there are no sisterhood examples I can give you from Quran. While Joseph and Musa were able to successfully navigate their brothers’ envy and incompetence, the failure of Cain and Abel to mediate their dispute became a warning to all mankind.

The Quran states in 5:30-32:

“But (Cain’s) mind imposed on him the killing of his brother, so he slew him and became one of the losers. Then Allah sent a raven scratching up the ground, to show him how to hide his brother’s naked corpse. He said: Woe unto me! Am I not able to be as this raven and so hide my brother’s naked corpse? And he became repentant. For that cause We decreed for the Children of Israel that whosoever killeth a human being for other than man-slaughter or corruption in the earth, it shall be as if he had killed all mankind, and whoso saveth the life of one, it shall be as if he had saved the life of all mankind.” (M. M. Pickthall translation)

Cain’s envy, and his deeper problem that of feeling inadequate, was not solved with Abel’s murder. These problems were simply transferred into different forms which were much harder to negotiate; guilt, remorse, and exile. Death does not solve anything, it simply mutates the problems into a different form.

Although there are examples from the life of Prophet Muhammad where he exiled, banished, or killed his enemies, when examined in historical context, these were measures of a last resort. The Prophet’s default, knee-jerk reaction was to be gentle and merciful. There are numerous examples in the hadith and sirah where he was criticized for being too lenient, too willing to listen, too eager to negotiate for peace and too generous to followers of questionable loyalty. When Muhammad emmigrated to the city of Medina, it was not as a triumphant warlord, it was as a mediator of disputes, a peace-maker.

We are all brothers and sisters to one another. This isn’t just some whoo-whoo religious talk, this relationship is ingrained into every cell in our body, in our DNA. We all come from that same Eve in Africa. Remember the warning of Cain and Abel, remember the forgiveness of Musa and Joseph, and reflect upon the example of mercy and gentleness of Muhammad.

“…whoso saveth the life of one, it shall be as if he had saved the life of all mankind.”

I’d like to end my khutbah today with a du’a from 3:8:

Our Lord! Do not make our hearts deviate after You have guided us and bestow on us mercy. Truly You alone are the Giver.

Rabbana la tuzigh qulubana ba’da idh hadaitana wa hab lana min ladun-ka rahma, innaka antal wahhab. Ameen

References

“Approaching the Qur’an: the Early Revelations”, introduced and translated by Michael Sells (White Cloud Press, Ashland OR), 1999

“The Oxford Companion to Food” by Alan Davidson, 2nd edition edited by Tom Jaine (Oxford University Press, Oxford) 2006

“The Message of the Qur’an” translated and explained by Muhammad Asad (The Book Foundation, England) 2008.

Touchstones

Surah Al-Baqarah 2:125, 127

Wa ‘idh ja’alnal-Bayta mathabatal-innasi

 wa amnanw-wat-takhidhu mim-maqami Ibrahima musalla. 

Wa ahidnaa ilaa Ibrahima wa Isma’ila

an-tahhira Baytiya littaa ‘ifina wal-akifina war-rukka ‘is-sujud. [125]

Wa ‘idh yarfa’u Ibrahimul-qawa ‘ida minal-Bayti

Wa Isma’ilu Rabbana taqabbal minnaa ‘innaka Antas-Sami ‘ul-Alim. [127]

And Lo!  We made the Temple a goal to which people might repair again and again, and a sanctuary:  take, then the place wherein Abraham once stood as your place of prayer.

And thus did We command Abraham and Ishmael:  ‘Purify My Temple for those who will walk around it, and those who will abide near it in meditation, and those who will bow down and prostrate themselves [in prayer].’ [125]

And when Abraham and Ishmael were raising the foundations of the Temple, [they prayed:]  ‘O our Sustainer!  Accept Thou this from us; for verily, Thou alone art all-hearing, all-knowing!’  [127]

We hear so much about the Kaaba: that Abraham and Ishmael were ordered to rebuild it on the site where Adam had built the first House of God; that the black stone is the only piece of it left from the original structure; that the black stone came from heaven (part of an ancient meteor, perhaps?)   Anticipating my recent visit to Makkah, I wondered how I would feel when I saw it.  My first view was from a distance, from a window of our hotel.  There it was, the small square structure, covered in black cloth, surrounded by people.  It was encircled by a three-tiered round elevated walkway with more people, surrounded by a huge construction site, surrounded by tall buildings.  I learned that Saudi King Abdullah, who had just died, had 27 billion dollars to the rebuilding of a much larger three-tiered elevated walkway around the Kaaba, to accommodate the ever-increasing numbers of Hajj pilgrims.  There would be a special area for wheelchairs, and even a special area for motorized carts for those too frail even for wheelchairs.  I marveled at the resources the Saudis devote to meeting the needs of pilgrims, and could not help remembering that many believe the oil under their deserts was given to them for this purpose.  I began to feel an overwhelming reverence for their responsibility. 

What, I wondered, is the real meaning of the ritual of tawaf, walking seven times around the Kaaba in counter-clockwise direction?  What is the meaning of this small stone structure, unadorned except for the black cloth embroidered with Quranic verses, and a silver encasement around the black stone?  Why are we human beings so drawn to ultimate goals, to focus points for all our hopes and dreams?  God tells us in Quran that this is our nature. 

Surah Al-Baqara 2:144, 148

We have seen thee [O Prophet] often turn thy face towards heaven [for guidance]:  And now We shall indeed make thee turn in prayer in a direction which will fulfill thy desire.  Turn, then, thy face towards the Inviolable House of Worship; and wherever you all may be, turn your faces towards it [in prayer]…. [144]

… Be not, then, among the doubters: [147] for, every community faces a direction of its own, of which He is the focal point.  Vie, therefore, with one another in doing good works.  Wherever you may be, God will gather you all unto Himself:  for verily, God has the power to will anything. [148]

So, Quran confirms our human need for a focus of worship, a touchstone.  And Quran confirms that the focus of worship for the Prophet and his followers should be the Kaaba – the Inviolable House of Worship.  An empty cube.  But what was I doing here?  What did all this mean to me? 

We went to our hotel room, washed, and went down to the Haram, the area surrounding the Kaaba, through the hotel, through a huge, multi-tiered shopping mall, bigger than the Mall of America.  The Saudi’s, I thought, have certainly remained true to the spirit of commerce that sustained Makkah over the centuries.  We walked out into the plaza in front of the mosque, the Masjid Al-Haram, and entered a huge expanse of columned space, so large you cannot see one end of it from the other, walking always through crowds of pilgrims from all corners of the Muslim world.  We finally reached the long multi-storied enclosed passageway that led through the construction zone into the Haram itself.  And finally, there it was in front of me, larger than it seemed from above, but small nonetheless.  We found ourselves not at ground level, but one level up, the middle tier of the surrounding walkway.  The space surrounding the Kaaba at ground level was packed with people, all moving around the Kaaba.  Our walkway was packed as well, and so we joined the mass, moving with the crowd, seven times around the Kaaba.  Each time we passed the black stone we raised our right hands like everyone around us and recited words of praise and thanks to God.  I held on to my husband’s hand ferociously, not daring to lose him in the jostle of the crowd.  Groups of pilgrims from Indonesia and Malaysia, all wearing matching hijabs or backpacks or armbands held on to each other as well, forming snake-like lines at times, distinguishing patches of pink or orange or blue amid the white of the men’s wraps, and the white or black of the women’s jilbabs and burkahs.  Families moved together.  We learned later that it was school break week throughout the Middle East, which helped account for the crowds and the large number of children.  Parents carried babies in their arms and on their shoulders.  Children and youth of all ages walked beside their parents.  Old men and women held the arms of younger, stronger men and women.  Men and women pushed their fathers and mothers in wheelchairs.  Everyone was pushed together, jostled, moving forward.  My most overwhelming image was that of feet.  We were so pushed together that our movement was something beyond our individual control.  The safest place to look was down.  Most of the feet were bare.  Big feet, small feet, calloused feet, bandaged feet, some feet with socks, some with plastic sandals, some behind the wheels of the wheelchairs.  Some attached to hairy legs.  Some barely visible beneath reams of black cloth.

We arrived in time for Asr, the afternoon prayer.  When it was time to pray, everyone stopped and faced the Kaaba, men and women together.  After we finished our tawaf, we left the circling crowd and went to find the route between Safa and Marwa, to perform our Sa’i: seven times between two hills, retracing the steps of Hajar as she searched for water for her baby in the desert.  The top of Safa is still visible as a mound of rock, Marwa is completely hidden by marble floor and columns.  After we completed Sa’i, we went back to the Haram, this time at ground level, to pray in front of Makam Ibrahim, Abraham’s monument – a shrine consisting of Abraham’s footprints encased in a crystal dome, right beside the Kaaba.  The crowds had abated somewhat by this time, and we were able to kneel in front of the shrine to pray two rakats.  With this, our Umrah was complete.   We were even able to get close to the Kaaba after this, to actually touch it’s wall.

I had trouble sleeping that night.  I kept getting up to look down at the Kaaba, just visible from a corner of a window in our room.  The crowd surrounding the cube grew gradually thinner, but it never went away.  The movement never stopped.  At 3:00 am, it finally hit me.  Watching the people go round and round, unceasing.  The reason they had come.  The reason I had come.  To walk around an empty stone cube.  To recreate – to be part of – Creation.  I was able, over the next two days to do Tawaf again two times, once for each of my parents.  I tried to explain to them what it meant.  “It’s an empty stone building – it’s meaning lies in the expectations we each bring to it.  I did this for each of you with a prayer that knowing I did it will bring you some level of peace.”  It did. 

Our last full day in Makkah was Friday.  We wanted to pray Jumaa in front of the Kaaba, but the crowds were enormous.  We heard that the Haram had been closed hours before the prayer, the police were not letting any more in.  “Why don’t we just pray in our room?” I asked my husband.  All the prayers were broadcast into every room in the hotel.  He wanted to try, nonetheless.  So down we went, through the hotel, into the shopping mall where people were lined up in rows, facing the Kaaba.  “Why don’t we just pray here?”  “No, let’s just keep going.”  We entered the courtyard, stepping between the rows of seated pilgrims, looking for a place to sit.  “Here’s a place, let’s sit here.”  He didn’t stop, and I did not let go of him.  We entered the masjid, walked through more throngs.  “How about here?”  But no one stopped us, and we just kept going.  The Adhan had long been called.  I kept expecting to hear the Ikamah, kept expecting to stop.  He just kept moving.  Amazingly, we entered the first tier walkway and were able to move around it, directly in front of the black stone, before the prayer began.  The Kaaba was directly in front of us.  I was overcome then.  Tears flowed.

We were too greedy.  Al-hakamoot takathir….  We wanted to try again at Aisha, later that night… to try to reach the Kaaba.  I wanted to touch the black stone.  The crowds seemed to have abated, so we went down to find a place to pray at ground level, the same level as the Kaaba.  At that level, however, the crowds were thick as ever.  We circled round until we found a place to sit together, waiting for the prayer to begin.  That was when one of the Wahabi religious police stood in front of me and said Ya Hajja – move.  Move over to where the women are sitting, over there, gesticulating forcefully.   “This is my husband,” I said, “I will not leave him.”  He said, “She is my wife, she will get lost.”  “Ya Hajja,”  the WRP repeated, “Yallah, move.”  I refused to budge.  Then I looked at my husband and I knew he was fighting to control his temper.  He was readying his arsenal of Quranic verses, Sunnah and Hadith; weapons to defeat ossified medieval, pre-Islamic thinking.  We both knew that a fight with a WRP in front of the Kaaba would do nothing to enhance our spiritual journey.  “Let’s go,” we both agreed.  So we gave up our prayer spot and moved on.  We kept moving until the prayer began and everyone raised their hands to the Kaaba.  Then we stopped and prayed together.  No one could interrupt us then.  The WRP was left behind.  He tried his best, believing it was his duty to do so.  But he could not control the crowds.  He could not control those who follow a different vision of their faith.

Surah Al-Baqarah 2:150

Thus, from wherever thou mayest come forth, turn thy face [in prayer] towards the Inviolable House of Worship – for, behold, this [commandment] comes in truth from thy Sustainer; and God is not unaware of what you do. [149]  Hence, from wherever thou mayest come forth, turn thy face [in prayer] towards the Inviolable House of Worship; and wherever you all may be, turn your faces towards it, so that people should have no argument against you unless they are bent upon wrongdoing.  And hold them not in awe, but stand in awe of Me, and [obey Me,] so that I might bestow upon you the full measure of My blessings, and that you might follow the right path. [150]

Quran tells us that those who were alive at the time of the Prophet, pbuh, who believed in earlier revelations – the Jews and the Christians and the Sabians – were wrong to think that their previous allegiances precluded them from believing in the Prophet’s message about the Oneness of God, precluded them from believing in the prophecy of Muhammad, Salah Allahu Allahi Wa Salam.  The message here, in the 7^th century AD was that God / Allah, our Creator, did not leave the scene after Abraham and Moses and Jesus.  Prophet Muhammad, pbuh carried the same message.  And the message in that for us, if we will open our minds to it, is that God / Allah, our Creator does not leave us when a Prophet dies.  God is with us, in all of us, and in the world all around us – as long as we open our minds and hearts to Spirit. 

How could it be otherwise, I asked myself, when I considered the incongruity of the fact that I, a farm girl from Maryland, was praying there in front of the Kaaba in Makkah in Saudi Arabia?  And that every significant event and decision point in my life, every time I had prayed for guidance, had led to this moment?   God is not limited to the words recorded in books, even those we consider to be sacred.  Those words are a record of God’s influence on and guidance to a community.  They teach us about the nature of God and human beings.  But the lesson I saw at the Kaaba was that nothing can be static.  Each and every one of the individuals who made up the thousands in motion around the Kaaba was a point of movement and change.  And I was part of it.  All of the circumstances of each of our lives had led us to this place, at this time, a place of perpetual motion, of perpetual evolution.  Each of us would take the memory of that motion back with us to wherever we came from.  Tawaf, the circumambulation of the Kaaba.  The constant movement of humanity, following the pattern of the movement of the planets around the sun, following the evolution of the universe, of Creation. 

I never did touch the black stone.  The crowd around it was frenzied, out of control, life threatening.  But by then, I realized, it didn’t matter.

Kamaa arslana fikum Rasulam-minkum yatlu alaykum Ayatina wa yuzak-kikum wa yu’allimukumul-Kitaba wal-hikmata way u ‘allimukum-ma lam takunu ta’lamun.  [151]  Fadh-kurunii adhkurkum wash-kuru li wa la takfurun. [152]

Even as We have sent unto you an apostle from among yourselves to convey unto you Our messages, and to cause you to grow in purity, and to impart unto you revelation and wisdom, and to teach you that which you knew not: [151]  so remember Me, and I shall remember you; and be grateful unto Me, and deny Me not. [152]