January 20, 2005

As evidenced from the two verses of the third chapter of the Holy Quran quoted at the beginning of this piece, Haj has been made obligatory for a Muslim at least once in his life, if he can fulfil all of the following criteria: has provisions for the journey; a ride; physical ability; safety of journey, and the ability to manage one’s life after returning home from Haj, writes Qasim A. Moini

96. The first House (of worship) Appointed for men Was that at Bakka: Full of blessings And of guidance For all kinds of beings.

97. In it are Signs Manifest; (for example) The Station of Abraham; Whoever enters it Attains security; Pilgrimage thereto is a duty Men owe to Allah, — Those who can afford The journey; but if any deny faith, Allah stands not In need of any of His creatures.— Surah Aale Imran

(Abdullah Yousuf Ali — Holy Quran Text Translation and Commentary)

Haj is one of Islam’s five pillars yet, as with other modes of worship, it, too, has been whittled down to a mere ritual, with some believers concentrating more on the rites than the spiritual significance behind them. Here, we attempt to review the spiritual and historical importance of Haj, and what the pilgrimage means to the besieged Muslim Ummah of today.

As evidenced from the two verses of the third chapter of the Holy Quran quoted at the beginning of this piece, Haj has been made obligatory for a Muslim at least once in his life, if he can fulfil all of the following criteria: has provisions for the journey; a ride; physical ability; safety of journey, and the ability to manage one’s life after returning home from Haj.

Furthermore, the importance of Haj is illustrated in the following saying of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) as told to Hazrat Ali: “O Ali, one who abandons the Haj while having the means [for it] is counted as a disbeliever, because God has said, ‘Those people who are able to go to God’s house must perform the Haj, and whoever disbelieves (abandons it) has harmed himself. God is needless of them.’ O Ali, one who delays going to Haj until he leaves this world, God will introduce him as a Jew or a Christian on the Day of Judgment.”

Thus the Quran and the Hadith, the two things Muslims depend on for guidance, are quite clear on the importance of performing the annual pilgrimage that takes place in Zul Hijjah, the 12th month of the Hijra calendar.

The Haj did not begin with the Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) ministry. Rather, the importance of the pilgrimage was established when Hazrat Ibrahim built the Ka’ba with the help of his son, Hazrat Ismail, as a qiblah or focal point to which all believers in the Din-i-Haneef that emphasized Tauhid or the Oneness of Allah, turned to while praying, approximately 2,500 years before the birth of Holy Prophet’s (PBUH). Henceforth, Hazrat Ibrahim came to perform Haj every year, establishing the annual pilgrimage.

Yet as deviancy from the Divine Will seems to be man’s second nature at times, people started desecrating the sanctity of the Ka’ba by placing idols inside the cube-shaped structure, singing, dancing and clapping while circling the holy site and shedding all clothes while performing the rituals.

Soon enough, the prophetic tradition had degenerated into a crude circus, as Allah’s house was defiled and the sanctity of Haj had been lost. That is until the year 610 AD or so, when Holy Prophet’s (PBUH), announced his prophethood and the divine office was sealed till the Day of Judgement.

The Holy Prophet (PBUH) proceeded to cleanse the Holy Ka’ba of its idols, and through a series of Wahi or divine revelations from Allah, he set straight and purified the rituals associated with Haj that were tainted during the age of ignorance, so that they once again reflected submission to Allah and nothing else, or no one else. To this day, Haj is performed according to the way it was taught by Holy Prophet’s (PBUH).

But as the early Arabs deviated from the teachings of Hazrat Ibrahim, we, too, seem to be in a stasis, forgetting its socio-political, as well as spiritual significance. Some people look forward to the pilgrimage as a shopping trip with the spiritual requirements as an added bonus. After all, Saudi Arabia is known for its fabulous gold souqs and other consumer goods. Some of us even use wealth gained through pelf and plunder to finance the sacred journey.

The state of the Muslim world needs no elaboration. In short: it is on its knees, no thanks to internal disunity, fratricide and the exploitation of these differences by imperialist powers. Thus Haj, in this day and age, has taken on an amplified political meaning, the premiere gathering at which Muslims of all colours and sects can come together and along with worshipping the Almighty, discuss their problems and try to find solutions. It is the premiere platform to display the philosophy of Ittehad Bain-ul-Muslimeen (unity between Muslims).

History is replete with precedents. It was during the Haj Al-Wida (farewell pilgrimage) that Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) delivered the last sermon in 10 AH, corresponding to 632 AD. It was right after the final pilgrimage, on the way back to Madina Al-Munawwara that the Holy Prophet (PBUH) gave his illustrious khutba. It was during Haj that Hazrat Imam Husain changed his pilgrimage to Umrah and set off on his fateful journey to Karbala.

Even much later in history, it was at this universal gathering that El-Hajj Malik Shahbazz, AKA Malcolm X, changed his views about race and rejected the doctrine of the Nation of Islam, choosing to join the ranks of the true faith. But in the post-Sept 11 world, political Islam has become a highly vilified bogeyman both for elements in the West and within the Muslim world.

Here one must clarify the term ‘political Islam.’ It is not the hackneyed brand of political expediency touted by the mullahs. Rather, political Islam is more a philosophy that places supremacy in God and God alone, reinforcing central Islamic tenets like Tauhid (Oneness of Allah), Taqwa (piety) and Adl (justice) and basing the political system on the first Islamic state, headed by the Holy Prophet’s (PBUH). But is the Islamic ideal, the Balad-ul-Amin (city of justice) possible without unity and understanding between Muslims themselves? Not quite. Hence, Haj is the ideal meeting place, not just to recharge the spiritual batteries, but to see the bigger picture and diagnose the afflictions that pain the Islamic nations.

Political activity during Haj is highly discouraged by the Saudi authorities. According to a report, Saudi Interior Minister Prince Nayef was quoted as saying: “Our precautionary security measures are of the highest order, terrorist organizations seeking to tamper with our security during the Haj will be dealt with an iron fist.” Of course, the threat of terrorism — the real kind, not the kind dreamt up in Pentagon conference rooms — is very real in Saudi Arabia, with militancy targeted at dethroning the ruling royal family raging.

Religious scholars from major Islamic schools of thought have used the platform of Haj to galvanize Muslims. Saudi Arabia’s grand mufti, Sheikh Abdul Aziz al-Sheikh, has addressed Hajis in the past with the following, referring to the situation in Iraq in particular: “The struggle today is religious and economic. The enemies are trying to use any pretext to attack this nation, to control its economy. The Muslim nation is being targeted for its economy, values and unity. The enemies are trying to keep it away from its religion. The enemies have accused the Muslim nation of calling for ‘terrorism.” Yet Sheikh Abdul Aziz cautioned pilgrims “not to politicize the pilgrimage and refrain from demonstrations or raising slogans.”

In conclusion, unless Muslims use this unique, divinely-blessed gathering to set their own house in order, the ummah, or what’s left of it, will continue in its current state of subservience: to foreign powers; backwardness; hypocrisy; illiteracy; despotism in its hinterland and poverty.

Let us reflect on this brief portion of Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) address on the Mount of Arafat during the farewell pilgrimage and see how the Noble Messenger used the platform of Haj to spread his message: “O people, lend me an attentive ear, for I know not whether after this year I shall ever be amongst you again. Therefore listen to what I am saying very carefully and take these words to those who could not be present here today. O people, it is true that you have certain rights with regard to your women, but they also have rights over you. Remember that you have taken them as your wives only under Allah’s trust and with His permission. If they abide by your right, then to them belongs the right to be fed and clothed in kindness. Do treat your women well and be kind to them for they are your partners and committed helpers.

“All mankind is from Adam and Eve. An Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab nor a non-Arab has any superiority over an Arab; also a white (man) has no superiority over a black (man) nor does a black (man) have any superiority over a white (man) — except by piety and good action. Learn that every Muslim is a brother to every Muslim and that the Muslims constitute one brotherhood.”

 

Surfaced emotions: Haj at seventeen

Raw emotion is everywhere. Weeping adults. Hands clenched in prayer. Skyward faces. Downcast, tearful eyes. An almost tangible spirit of generosity. In sharing one’s tight living space with strangers one learns to relax a lot of the barriers civilized society has inculcated deep within. One learns to allow oneself the freedom to feel, a freedom that is taboo to even desire in our mechanized lifestyles.

On the verge of official adulthood, at 17, I believed I was finally ready for the spiritual and physical challenge of Haj. Residents in Jeddah, my parents, family friends and I gathered for the short drive to Mina.

For upwards of a thousand riyals, residents pay a muallim to arrange our Haj accommodation, meals and transportation. Unlike overseas pilgrims who prefer to allot several weeks, residents of Saudi Arabia usually complete their Haj in five days.

A quiet holy nervousness was in the air. Even if experienced frequently, there is a freshness and divine elation that the sight of the Ka’ba lights up in the beholder. Besides, this was Haj, a first for most of us.

When we arrived at Mina, we discovered that our tent numbers didn’t exist. Our muallim had stood us up. Absconded. Deserted the hundreds of people who had entrusted him.

Nevertheless, our momentum was hard to extinguish. We drew courage from each other and from the reality that God had placed us in a position to pursue a dream many people die yearning for. It was up to us to use this opportunity creatively. We settled down on the roadside.

Dispersed throughout Mina, were great food vendors and fast food chains — except you had to wade through a sea of people to reach them. Armed with wet wipes for our bathroom escapades, air filtering masks the government had distributed, and shade providing umbrellas, we would let nothing come between our holy mission and us.

Six years later, it is difficult to say, but perhaps what I treasure the most is what I think of as constructive worship. There was only so much dua we could think of.

So my friend Ayesha and I started committing portions of the Quran to memory together. We would discuss the translation of the Quran. Sometimes the women would pray congregationally, with usually one of us teenagers leading the prayer. (Never mind that we played Captain Hook with our umbrella handles and hygiene masks.) We would bond deeply, and mostly in spiritually constructive ways. The more we experienced it, the more we realized the wisdom in Islam’s emphasis on community worship.

And that’s part of what Haj truly is — the pinnacle of community worship. Yet the commonality in the actions of these millions people allows one the privacy to connect with one’s Creator.

There is something divine about shedding one’s worldliness cocooned in the comfort of this very diverse community that has a single, shared purpose. Sharing a lifetime experience, performing the same acts, at the same place with strangers, yet brethren in faith, is a powerful unifier — if we choose to thus leverage it.—Khadeeja Balkhi

 

Getting close to the Lord

A rested mind, as any human resource practitioner will tell you, is a mind sharp and focused, and better able to unravel the threads in knotty problems. Haj, essentially, does the same. Before the advent of the Holy Prophet (PBUH) Haj had become a carnival. The Ka’ba under the Quraish gathered people from all over the region, and there was much exchange of knowledge and material wealth. The core issue concerning the purpose behind the Ka’ba’s construction by Hazrat Ibrahim found progressive relegation given the excessive focus on mirth and merriment, and the practice of superstition.

The advent of Islam put back the focus squarely on the spiritually enhancing aspect of the congregation, and Haj was reinvented and retained as a practical manifestation of the divine injunction that provides believers with solace, and an opportunity for sacrifice in the tradition set by Hazrat Ibrahim.

Haj is a time of wonderment during which the individual gains in strength and comprehension, renewed and reinvigorated, and better equipped to manage the many trials and tribulations of life on the Earth, and the final breathtaking act of crossing over to the other side at the time of one’s passing from this world. Haj is one of the five compulsions in Islam, albeit with a generous allowance for those not able to perform it.

The compulsions in Islam are there to enable a bettering of the individual so he or she can engage in a fair and equitable manner that leads to social peace, and unity obtained in diversity. For it is the unifying of Mankind that the Lord seeks on Earth, and towards this end has sent periodic divine injunctions, with Islam bearing the last and most complete set of divine messages designed to bring out the best in the individual. As more and more people tread the same enlightened path, the harmony in society becomes evident. Harmony is what the Lord has in mind, and for those who achieve it on Earth the rewards are infinite, both here and in Heaven.

An expression of true harmony is what Haj is all about, as the brothers and sisters of all ages gather from the four corners of the world to establish synchronous movement and thought amongst themselves, even though they do know not each other. There is an awesome singularity of purpose visible that raises the spirit to unparalleled levels, and even the most uneducated mind experiences inspiration and enlightenment.

Haj is the most dynamic wonder of the world, a wonder that grows every year even as the Lord provides in splendid style for the increasing multitudes that respond to the call, enabled by the Lord to make the trek and reap its rewards.

The march of technology has brought this incredible phenomenon into every household, and the Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) message at Arafat, the first proclamation of human rights, has gained wide dissemination throughout the world. For those who dismay at the ground reality, and go on the back foot when confronted with evidence of the chasm between the talk and the walk, the answer is simple.

The forces of good and evil are locked in a duel where fortunes fluctuate as civilizations rise and fall. It’s a cyclical condition pre-destined in favour of the good, with evil, by definition, a finite condition of the human soul during its tour of duty on Earth.

Hope, for the believer is mandatory, for it is a corollary of faith in the Almighty. It is this message of hope for mankind that the Haj embodies as the masses mingle, free from caste, colour and creed, turning their face away from worldly pleasures, repenting their past sinful lives, and submitting themselves unconditionally to the Will of Allah, and finding therein the empowerment to scale the most daunting heights. Allah be praised.

Haj culminates in the sacrificial lamb (or cow, or camel) being led to slaughter. I wonder, how many people dwell upon the enormity of the event that set this tradition in motion. The bane of ritualism, and the preponderance of form over substance, has to be guarded against at all times. After all, of what use is the preaching if it is not to be practiced?— Adil Ahmad

 

A young man’s view of Haj

For most people who intend to perform Haj, the privilege comes only after retirement. And by that time, age, weak bone joints and a little less zeal to go the extra mile, all but take away the element of fun and adventure while on your visit to Mecca and Medina. For me, however, it proved to be a spiritual and a physical adventure.

I had never planned to go to Haj, not any time soon anyway. So when my name was plucked out of the ballot at my office’s annual Haj draw, I was more than happy to take my mother along. She, on the other hand, was ecstatic beyond belief, that she would finally be performing Haj.

Not being exactly religious, my preparation for Haj was in stark contrast to that of my mother’s; religious literature ranging from booklets, pamphlets, duas for every step of the way and many such things donned her bedside. I was busy planning the financials of the trip; riyal rates, logistical details and so on. But once in Mecca, my responsibilities increased manifold, the safety of my mother being the primary responsibility.

My visit to the holy cities of Mecca and Medina was definitely very different from the ones to London or Toronto. The only purpose here was to perform the Haj. Though other options were visiting Arafat and Mina before the pilgrimage, I didn’t want to spoil the suspense of having to set foot on the sacred grounds before hand only, reserving it for the 8th and 9th of Zul Hijjah.

The Haj is one grand adventure; extreme physical exercise in which one has to be at the mosque for the prayers on time, and then manage to grab a decent meal in between the prayers. And I had to do all of this with keeping mind that my mother was with me as well. It is simply a matter of being responsible. Grabbing her by the waist and pushing our way through a near stampede; leaving her in the apartment when she was not feeling well, running off to say my prayers and then coming back to get her and going for our meal. And then, taking her to the Saudi general hospital for a checkup; these are all duties that are seldom mentioned in any Haj related literature that you get, but were vital to our survival.

Other than the religious aspects of the pilgrimage to Mecca, my Haj experience gave me a lot of confidence. Somehow, I finally felt in life that I could do things the way I wanted to. Standing there, in front of God’s house, the feeling that it was just I and the God I believe in, is an experience that can only be felt, not expressed in words.

Meeting the hundreds and thousands of Muslims, queuing, but most of the times shoving for a chance to kiss Hajre Aswad, running from Safa to Marwa and back; the sea of humanity gathered there in Mecca, just for a chance to be there in God’s house gives you a global perspective of the way Muslims are in this world. I met a lot of people in the Haram Shareef; an Afghan angry at America, a Lebanese fashion photographer; a Bangladeshi businessman; an Indonesian intellectual. All of them were there for just one purpose; to be in God’s house, in His Presence.—Atif Khan

 

Civic sense

All Islamic rituals are a matter between God and man; no third party is involved. That also invariably means that no third party should be inconvenienced by that relationship. The daily congregations at mosques and the Great Gathering at Arafat during Haj present an extraordinary spectacle — absolute equality of all men, women and races. Also in evidence are sublime beauty and aesthetics of the highest order.

In Arafat, animals sacrificed are quickly disposed of; their carcass are immediately buried, and the meat is taken away for storing.

How do we practice this ritual that is intended to remind us and humanity of the spirit of sacrifice exhibited by Patriarch Ibrahim? We turn our cities and streets into make-shift abattoirs and cover them with blood, dung and carcasses that rot under the sun.

Since there is no leadership form the ulema, people perform this ritual the way they want to. Obstructing people’s movement is a great sin in Islam; yet we have no qualms about setting up tents to block streets. Do those doing this realize how much inconvenience they cause to fellow citizens?

The amazing thing is there is no difference between the educated and the illiterate when it comes to this totally unhygienic behaviour that is an affront to modern urban living.

Invariably, we blame the government. But is the government really to blame for this utter lack of civic consciousness? If slaughtering the animal reminds us of the spirit of sacrifice in the highest sense, then why cannot we do a little bit of sacrifice in the real sense of the term by performing this ritual in some other — more agreeable and clean — way?

The government should ban slaughter within municipal limits. Just as animals in Arafat are sacrificed away from human habitation and are immediately disposed of, the government here too should provide for slaughter houses away from the cities.

Animals should not be allowed to enter the cities. They must be available outside city limits. Those wishing to undertake this ritual should go there, purchase the animal of their choice, have it slaughtered right there and bring back that share of the meat which is allowed according to tradition. Welfare agencies wanting hides as a donation can collect them right there and need not set up tents in the cities as they do now.

The way we practice this ritual runs counter to the concept of sacrifice and aesthetics attached to all Islamic rituals. —Affan Faisal

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