Spiritual Metamorphosis

Despite being an integral part of Muslim faith, and one of the five pillars of Islam, Hajj was never really a focal point for me growing up. Being raised in a religious family, and having gone through six years at the Calgary Islamic School, shahada, salat, zakaat, and sawm, were all passionately stressed as incumbent upon us as Muslims. We were trained to focus on each wholeheartedly. However, for a reason unknown to me, the pilgrimage to Mecca always seemed to somehow fade away into something which we would eventually end up undertaking at some point later on in our lives. It was rarely ever talked about in any detail, almost discarded as something which would be discussed only when the time came. It is for this reason that when my parents first approached me about the prospect of going to Hajj with my mother, the idea initially seemed somewhat out of place, perhaps even a little odd.

Nevertheless, it didn’t take long before my initial wavering emotions soon turned into excitement. The idea of going for Hajj only after I completed my education and settled into a career suddenly seemed ridiculous, and the anticipation of seeing the Ka’bah and sitting in the mosque of our Holy Prophet (PBUH) grew each day leading up to our departure in December. Our Hajj group, Toronto based Al–falah travel, had sent us booklets that outlined the rituals of Hajj. Studying these in the weeks before we left seemed to invoke powerful realizations on the significance of the pilgrimage we were soon to undertake. These feelings however, paled in comparison to what we would soon feel during The Journey of our lifetime.

The journey began with an awe inspiring trip from Amman to Jeddah. The passengers on the flight, all dressed in white, were reciting the Talbiyah in a melodious and synchronized fashion. As I looked around at my fellow pilgrims, everyone, young and old, all seemed to be in a state of peaceful anticipation, I couldn’t help but feel that I had just begun something incredibly special.

After reaching Mecca and getting some much needed rest, my mother and I, along with seven others, followed our group leader down to the mosque. According to the hadith, the dua made by a Muslim while he casts his first glance upon the Ka’bah, is said to be one that is surely accepted. This was something that had embedded itself in my mind in the weeks prior to my visit, and I had often found myself thinking what I would wholeheartedly ask for. Now that the time had come, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t at ease. I felt nervous, and was having a hard time collecting my thoughts. One look at the group around me and I realized they were in a similar state.

We quickly approached the gates of the Mosque, lost in the meaning of the talbiyah which we silently recited under our breaths. It was almost as if we were announcing our arrival to Allah, and requesting permission to enter His holy house. As we entered, our group leader instructed us to lower our gazes to the floor as we walked to the center, and stated that he would notify us when the Ka’bah was fully in sight. As we slowly made our way, I once again tried to collect my thoughts and prepare myself for this all important dua I would make. Suddenly our group leader stopped us, and told us to lift our gazes and make our dua. I lifted my gaze and there it was, the Ka’bah, to which I had faced and prayed towards all of my life. In that moment, I forgot every dua I had planned to make, and for the first five to seven minutes, amid a stream of tears, all I could ask for was my own forgiveness, and my own guidance. It seemed that the presence of the Ka’bah had suddenly laid my sins bare before me, and all I could think of was asking for a second chance to rectify my deeds.

It may have taken approximately twenty to twenty five minutes for everyone to complete their own silent prayers, and as we regrouped each of us still seemed to be in a state of trance, not wanting to lift our tearful gazes from the Ka’bah. The grandeur and majesty of the Ka’bah exceeded all my expectations, and for a few more moments I simply stood there staring. It was truly a surreal moment, seeing the Ka’bah so close, so real, surrounded by a thick and steady flow of pilgrims making their circular tawaaf. Above, the dark backdrop of the night sky was pierced only by a pair of minarets and giant lights that shone onto the main floor below. It was a moment captured and frozen into my memory, a moment that I will likely not forget.

We then continued on to complete our Umrah. Each ritual of our Umrah meant so much more after witnessing the Ka’bah, and we tried to complete them with even more sincerity. First came our Tawaaf, seven circuits around the Ka’bah, in which we read various dua’s and verses from the Quran. It had helped studying the booklets, as we not only knew what to read, but the meaning of what we read as well. During the Tawaaf, I recalled reading that the Angels had been doing these same circuits long before the creation of Prophet Adam (PBUH)

During the ritual of the Sa’ee, seven circuits between the two hills of Safa and Marwa, I recalled the story of Hajirah (may God be pleased with her) running on scorching sand between these very two hills, in search of water for her son Ismail (PBUH) Realizing how difficult that must have been barefoot, without the comfort of the air conditioned environment that we had, and with the tension of the wellbeing of her child, any feelings of fatigue I had were eased away.

Upon completing our Sa’ee, we made our way to get our heads shaved in a nearby barber shop. After this, the restriction of Ehraam had been lifted, and our Umrah was completed. However, before reaching our hotel, my mother met with an unfortunate accident. She had stepped into a broken hole in the road, and took a significant fall, in which she suffered a sprain in her arm and severe bruising around her right eye. She also suffered bruising to her legs. Despite this, she showed no signs of wear during the entire Hajj, and completed every ritual without a hint of complaint. She insisted that God would give her the strength to do everything by her own will and strength, and would ease the pain for her. It served as an inspiration of a sort for me, for each time I had felt tired or sore and thought of voicing my fatigue, I would look to her and observe the way she handled herself, and I would quietly carry on. I must say that I learned much from her over the duration of the trip.

Mecca itself was an extremely busy place. Although our hotel was only a five minute walking distance from the mosque, I took us much longer to get there due to the crowd which seemed to increase by the day.  The streets were hectic, and it was inside the mosque where I felt most content. We usually didn’t leave the mosque between some of our prayers; rather we chose to stay, and would perform tawaafs, read Quran or just sit and look at the Ka’bah. We had learned that the Angels are said to shower blessings on to those who simply sit and watch the Ka’bah. I found myself passing most of my time on the third floor, as it offered a complete view over the interior of the mosque. And since it was open to the sky, it also offered a peaceful breeze during the evening time. Watching the sunset over the mosque during the maghrib adhaan was a beautiful sight. I would come across many strangers, and despite the fact we could not speak the same language, we still seemed to somehow communicate. It was amazing that in that mosque, there were no such things as differences or barriers; we all seemed to find something in common, and somehow found means to understand one another.

I was briefly able to visit the mountain of light, where the Prophet (PBUH) would go and meditate and where he first received the revelation. We went to the mountain of Thawr, upon which was the cave that the Prophet (peace and blessing be upon him) and Abu Bakr (may God be pleased with him) hid when they fled from Mecca to Madina. I eagerly wanted to go up these mountains, but due to time constraints, no one from our group was able to do so. I was however, able to go up the mountain of mercy in Arafat, where historically speaking, Prophet Adam (peace and blessing be upon him) and Hawa met for the first time on the Earth. visiting these historically significant places was a humbling experience, and I couldn’t help but make physical connections to stories I had previously read about the life of our Holy Prophet. This would remain true in our visit to Madina as well, as I was once again able to put a face to various historically significant locations in the city of our Prophet (PBUH).

The entire duration of our eight day stay in Madina was nothing short of enchanting. The Holy City seemed to offer a peace of mind that I hadn’t found anywhere previously, and I suspect I will likely have to go back to feel it again. Each day in this city and each place I was able to visit felt blessed and left a lasting impression on me. One of the significant attributes of Madina was that everything about it seemed to have a direct and significant connection to the life of our Prophet (peace and blessing be upon him) and his Companions (may God be pleased with them). It felt that somehow, having visited this place you became a part of its rich history. Visiting the Prophet Mohammad’s (PBUH) grave was perhaps the highlight of a series of extraordinary visits I had been privileged to make in Madina.

I had learned that the Prophet (PBUH) had once stated that, whosoever visited his grave to convey Salaams upon him, it was obligatory upon the Prophet (PBUH) himself to intercede on this person’s behalf on the Day of Judgment. This in itself was incredible to me, and I made it a point to go every day and pass along my Salaams to the place he rests. It has been an indescribable feeling, standing before the tomb, one which really made me reflect upon what it meant to be a follower of the Prophet, an Ummati, and was one of many instances where I vowed to be a better and more complete Muslim.

The graves of Abu bakr Siddique and Omar Bin Khattab were directly beside the Prophet’s, and only a minutes walk from there, outside the mosque, was Jannatul baqi. This vast graveyard, in which 10 000 of the Prophets own companions (including Usman bin Affan) are said to be buried, and is also where much of the Prophet’s (PBUH) family is buried. I found myself coming here as often as I could, as silently walking through the graveyard was significantly humbling. I couldn’t help but recall the sacrifices those who rested there had made in their lives for their faith. I often pondered if such sacrifices were still possible by Muslims today. I was astonished to learn that those who pass away in Madina, pilgrims and residents alike, are buried in Jannatul Baqi. I have no doubt in my mind that we all, even for just a few moments, thought about how glorious that possibility would be for ourselves.

Madina in its entirety was simply amazing. I have never felt more at peace in any one place than I did in this city, and whether it was worshipping, visiting places, mingling with fellow pilgrims or simply walking through the streets, it all seemed to fall into a single harmonious routine. If Mecca made you feel tense, and at times nervous, Madina had a calming and relaxing effect. As we left Madina for Mina, where we would begin our Hajj, a fellow pilgrim translated an Arabic couplet he was reading to me, and I realized how sharply it reflected my own sentiments:

In search of peace I traveled long and far,
And found it only upon reaching this city.
And why wouldn’t I have found it here in Madina
The city in which my Prophet found Tranquility.

The following five days of Hajj would truly be a surreal experience. For me, Arafat was the most memorable experience of my entire trip. The time of prayer in Arafat was anytime between the zuhr prayer and sunset on the second day of hajj, and as we arrived to Arafat, the scene before me once again left me captivated. The sight of millions of pilgrims in white, all standing under the sun with their arms high in the air and crying in prayer was indescribable. We stood in prayer for hours that day, at times enjoined together in a group dua, and at times standing by ourselves, weeping silently under the scorching sun as we prayed. We prayed knowing that these were the very grounds we would one day be resurrected upon. As the sun began to set, it literally seemed as though our pleas of forgiveness had already begun to be answered, and it felt as though our sins were slowly being washed away with our sweat and tears. As we completed our duas, I felt much lighter, as if a burden had just been lifted from my shoulders. Our entire group seemed to feel at ease, and I remember embracing my fellow brothers, knowing we had all just shared this unique experience together.

During our walks to the Jamarat, where we would throw seventy stones over the span of the next four days, I recall marveling at the variations in the voices and tunes of the recitation between the different cultures in their invocation of God. Groups from the Arab countries recited the Talbiyah loud and boldly, with passion and vigor, while those from the South and East Asian nations seemed to recite it more softly, in humble but melodious tunes.

During the trip I recognized that age is not a factor in making this pilgrimage, nor is who you come with. I traveled with my mother, others with their wives, and some with large families, and although each of these may have had a slightly different experience, they were all equally significant. However, I witnessed how difficult it was for the elderly, and therefore I humbly urge my fellow brothers and sisters to try to make this pilgrimage while they are relatively young, and to accompany their elderly, for that in itself is also a rewarding experience.

The most important part of the Hajj is not simply the actions or rituals, but what you learn and realize from these rituals. It is the significance within these realizations that makes Hajj what it is: a pilgrimage incumbent upon us Muslims, as one of the five pillars of our religion.

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