Voices of Islam (84 page)

Retracing our steps to the entrance, we turn and offer final general bene- dictions and salutations to the folk of
al-Baqi’.
‘‘According to a hadith,’’ Mustafa tells me, ‘‘those buried here will be the first to be resurrected after the Prophet on the Day of Judgment.
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God’s Messenger also encouraged all those who have the possibility of dying in Medina to do so, promising to intercede for them.’’
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The declining sun shines in our faces as we head back to the
Haram.
To the north, Mount Uhud glows in hues of pink and purple. The polished deck ahead of us has been transformed into a ritual picnic space. Countless rows of people are seated at long sheets of plastic laid out with provisions to break the fast of Ramadan. The benefactors at each makeshift table implore passersby to join them for the sunset supper. Mustafa exchanges familiar greetings with many of his fellow townsmen, but politely moves on. Inside the mosque, the same scene repeats itself. After much effort we reach a spot in the crowded
Rawda,
where Mustafa’s brother has saved two places for us at his breakfast spread. Greeting him warmly and offering salutations to those around us, we take our seats on the carpeted fl . Hailing from diverse corners of the Islamic World, most of our table companions speak no common language. However, they are unified by the common bond of faith and by the generosity of our host, who in the spirit of the Helpers (
al-Ansar
), the people of Medina who provided shelter and support for the Prophet and his Companions, provides for us in the hope of otherworldly recompense. Together we wait patiently for the
muezzin
to signal sunset and permission to still the thirst and hunger each of us feels. It is a moment to be cherished, for beyond this holy place and this holy time, the community of the faithful is, alas, often more of an ideal than a reality.

‘‘
Allahu akbar,
God is Most Great,’’ sounds the call to prayer. Parched lips murmur the traditional formula of consecration, and fingers reach for dates

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Voices of the Spirit

laid out before us. This is followed by a sip of water, which Mustafa reminds me is brought from the blessed well of Zam Zam in Mecca. A cup of unsweetened Arabian coffee is then pressed into my hand. Made from unroasted beans and flavored with cardamom, it is light green in color.

Bread and more water, coffee and dates are passed around. The dignifi

atmosphere reflects the ritual nature of this fl feast. ‘‘
Allahu akbar,
’’ the second call rings out. Almost instantaneously, utensils and uneaten food are packed away, plastic sheeting is rolled up and lines for prayer are formed. I find myself standing between an Indonesian and a Nigerian and together we worship the Sustainer of Creation.

When the prayer is finished, Mustafa goes home to take a more substantial meal with his family, and I to dine at my hotel. An hour later, I return and find a place in an arcade at the rear of the foremost courtyard for the evening prayer. With the giant umbrellas now retracted, I have a splendid view of a classic image of the Prophet’s Mosque: the Green Dome superimposed upon the main southeast minaret. The majestic cupola above the Prophet’s burial chamber was rebuilt by an Ottoman Caliph in 1817. The finely contoured tower to its left was erected in the late fifteenth century at the command of a great Sultan of Mamluke Egypt.

Following the prayer service, I remain with nearly all those around me to participate in the prolonged cycles of communal, supererogatory prayer particular to Ramadan. Each night of the holy month, in mosques through- out the world, successive sections of the entire Qur’an are recited during these devotions. It is especially rewarding to take part in this observance in Medina, where the greater part of the Muslim scripture was revealed. It is said that Medina alone was ‘‘conquered by the Qur’an,’’ while other realms were conquered by the sword. For the next hour, I immerse myself in the powerful, cleansing stream of God’s words, punctuated by the self-effacing movements of prayer with my fellow Muslims.

I sleep briefly but well that night and rise at 2:30
AM
to take a light meal, before heading to the Prophet’s Mosque. After the predawn prayer, I rendez- vous with Mustafa at one of the rear doors. Our stroll to the car takes us through a complex of hotels and shopping areas. In shops that never seem to close, merchants are doing a brisk business in pilgrim goods, including Qur’ans in a variety of sizes and styles, prayer manuals, prayer carpets and prayer beads, and Medina dates. The economies of both Mecca and Medina continue to depend heavily upon their spiritual tourists, who are expected to return home with gifts and souvenirs. Both sanctuary cities have become massive commercial clearinghouses for everything from jewelry and perfume to electronic goods and textiles.

The sky has begun to visibly brighten as we set off northwards to visit the Graves of the Martyrs at Uhud. As we drive, Mustafa provides background commentary: ‘‘In 625
CE
, a Quraysh army of 3,000 warriors, keen to avenge their bitter defeat at the Battle of Badr the previous year, had advanced from

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Mecca and was encamped just southwest of Mount Uhud. After consulting his companions, the Prophet decided to confront the enemy near their camp. So in the dead of night, the Muslim force of about 800 men marched out in the same direction we are moving now.’’

Halting before a spacious cove at the foot of Mount Uhud, we proceed on foot to the barred gate of the graveyard. Seventy Muslim heroes were killed during this battle, the most celebrated being the Prophet’s uncle Hamza, who was known as ‘‘The Lion of God’’ for his great courage and martial skill. ‘‘The Prophet used to visit these graves regularly and pray for the martyrs,’’ Mustafa says. He then recites a Qur’anic verse, ‘‘And do not imagine that those killed in the path of God are dead, nay they are alive and are receiving provisions with their Lord’’ (Qur’an 3:169). After offering salutations and benedictions for the martyrs of Uhud, we climb a low hill called The Archers’ Mount just south of the graveyard. Above us looms the granite mass of Mount Uhud. Behind us runs the westward course of the dry streambed of Wadi Qana.

Looking down upon the ancient battlefield, Mustafa recounts its principal phases:
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‘‘The Prophet assigned this strategic spot to about fi archers, with orders to remain here at all costs to protect the rear and southern flank of his main force from the superior Quraysh cavalry. The main Muslim army was positioned in the center, there, with their backs to the slope of Uhud and facing the enemy’s infantry, who stood in formation over there to the left. Despite being outnumbered more than three to one, the holy warriors soon gained the upper hand. Pursued by the prematurely triumphant Muslim soldiers, the Meccans fled in disarray toward their encampment. Seeing this and ignoring the pleas of their commander, the majority of the archers stationed here then abandoned their posts to join in pursuit of the enemy. It was then that the tide of battle turned, as the adversary’s horsemen were able to come around the south of this hillock and attack the believers from behind. In the ensuing confusion, the Prophet was injured and was even rumored to have been killed. Many Muslims were slain, while others fled to Medina. A stalwart group gathered around the Messenger and, defending him with selfless courage and tenacity, gradually retreated up that gorge to the safety of higher ground. When the enemy finally retreated, the Prophet descended from Mount Uhud to find that the bodies of the fallen Muslims had been mutilated vindictively. He then ordered graves to be dug here, and led the funeral prayer for all of them.’’

Spellbound by Mustafa’s narrative, I linger on the hilltop meditating on the supreme importance God gives to the intentions behind our acts. In particular, I think of the illuminating tales of two men slain that day. One of them, a native of Medina, had resisted all attempts to convert him to Islam until the eve of the battle, when his heart was suddenly penetrated by faith. Taking up his arms, he had made his way alone to Uhud, where he fought until he was mortally wounded. Recognized by his fellow tribesmen,

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he told them of his conversion and died in their arms. He is known as the Muslim who entered Paradise without ever having made a single prostration to God.
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Another man who fought with tremendous bravery and ferocity was also found breathing his last. Those around him comforted him with tidings of a martyr’s reward, upon which he insisted that his sole motivation had been to bring honor to his tribe. Then, when his pain became unbear- able, he took an arrow from his quiver and killed himself. The Prophet later declared him one of the people in Hellfi , as taking one’s own life is forbidden in the strongest terms in Islam.
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Mustafa has already begun to pick his way back down the hill and I follow him solemnly. A growing number of visitors now throng the gate of the hallowed cemetery. Above them a large sign in several languages sternly warns against engaging in any prohibited devotional acts. It is curious how this dogmatic zeal to uphold God’s transcendence can lead to an indiffer- ence—almost an aversion—to the
baraka,
the spiritual blessing, of sacred sites. Alas, I cannot help but notice how the strict guardians of the faith in Arabia, who sanctioned the destruction of the mausoleum over Hamza’s grave, have allowed much of this sanctifi battlefi to become clustered with ugly cinderblock dwellings and strewn with trash.

As we begin driving back toward Medina, Mustafa points northwest toward the confluence of Medina’s three main riverbeds. ‘‘There are a couple of traditions about the Last Days, which prophesy that the
Dajjal
(a sort of Islamic Anti-Christ) will establish his camp on the plain there, which lies just outside the boundary of Medina’s sanctuary. While many of the city’s inhabitants will join him, he will be prevented from entering the sacred territory by armed angels.’’
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After crossing the western lava tract, we soon reach the Mosque of Quba. Reconstructed in the early 1980s, its monumental walls are crenellated and each of its four corners is marked by a commanding minaret. ‘‘After the
Haram,
this is the most important mosque in Medina,’’ Mustafa notes. ‘‘According to many traditions, those who perform their ritual ablutions and come here with the sole intention of praying will have the reward of performing the lesser pilgrimage (the
‘Umra
pilgrimage) to Mecca.
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The Prophet reportedly came here to pray on a weekly basis.’’ We enter the eastern door of the mosque and pass through a lovely arcaded courtyard before turning left to pray beneath the lofty domes of the main prayer hall.

Mustafa then rises and exchanges friendly greetings with an elderly care- taker. After he introduces me, the three of us walk to the rear of the mosque. At the northwest corner Mustafa’s compatriot unlocks a small door. ‘‘We are going to the top of the minaret,’’ Mustafa tells me. The narrow stairwell winds around and around. An occasional window and the view from an intermediary gallery reveal our increasing altitude. Finally, we reach the topmost balcony, where we are rewarded by a breathtaking panorama of the entire oasis.

A Spiritual Tour of the Prophet’s City (Medina)
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‘‘
Al-hamdu li-Llah,
’’ Mustafa exclaims. ‘‘Praise be to God, you have now visited the four most universally recommended visiting-places (
mazarat
) of Medina. However, as you know, Medina comprises many other places of reverential visitation linked to the life of God’s Messenger. While not all scholars encourage visiting these secondary sites, to my mind they constitute precious landmarks in the sacred history of the Prophet’s city. From very early times they have been a traditional part of the complete itinerary of
ziyara.
’’

Looking northward toward the city center, Mustafa continues. ‘‘In the time of the Prophet, Muslims from throughout the oasis of Medina would congregate at the
Haram
for the weekly Friday prayers. However, for the regular daily prayers, inhabitants normally worshipped in smaller tribal mosques, like this one, closer to their dwellings and gardens. God’s Messen- ger prayed in most of these communal mosques. He is also reported to have worshipped in many open-air locations in Medina, especially in the course of military campaigns. In the early eighth century
CE
, an Umayyad Caliph ordered that commemorative stone mosques be built at all the places where the Prophet’s blessed forehead touched the ground in prostration. Historical sources mention more than fi such shrines, of which the location and identity of only about twenty are known today. God willing, we shall be visiting some of the most important ones.’’

Then pointing down to the west of our dizzying perch, Mustafa tells me, ‘‘Buried beneath the street down there is the Well of Aris, from whose water the Messenger is said to have drunk and purifi himself. Its more famous name is Well of the Ring, in reference to an incident in the life of ‘Uthman ibn ‘Affan. As third caliph, he had inherited the Prophet’s silver seal ring from the Caliph ‘Umar, who had it from the Caliph Abu Bakr. One day, while he was sitting at the rim of this well, the treasured band slipped from his hand and fell into the well. Though the well was dug for three days in search of it, the ring was never found.
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Until only recently it was a prominent landmark to which pilgrims flocked to drink its blessed water.’’

It is almost noon as we head to the Mosque of the Friday Prayer, which we had passed on the fi day. After performing the ritual salutation of the mosque, we wait to observe the midday prayer in congregation. Leaning against a column, I watch as fellow Muslims of every conceivable ethnic and racial description stream in. My own blue-eyed and fair-haired presence turns not a single head. Both Mecca and Medina offer a welcome respite from the well-intentioned questions and attention I would inevitably attract in most any other Islamic country. Soon the call to prayer brings all people to their feet and we follow the Imam in worship.