IMPRESSIONS OF HAJJ

 

Some of the powerful emotions experienced during this great act of worship are described in the four accounts bellows:

 

Ahmad Kamal of the Soviet Union;  Michel Jansen – USA;  Malcolm X – USA;  Muhammad Asad - Austria

 

*********************************************************************************************************************************

Ahmad Kamal of the Soviet Union

 

Makkah is not a place. It is the Beginning, the Present, and the Forever, and whoever enters Makkah feels this and is shaken.

Most pilgrims come here gratefully to discharge a duty owed to God. But ever since the beginning men have come to the Kaa’bah to seek refuge with God, bodily refuge from harm at a foe’s hand, or sanctuary where the confused heart can find way and the wounded soul be healed. Today, again, there are pilgrims for whom Makkah and the holy places are a haven after savage truals and relentless persecution – pilgrims escaped from Muslim lands under foreign, atheistic rule. Countless devout Muslims trapped in nations now Soviet, forbidden by the Communities to worship God or perform the Pilgrimage, have perished attempting to cross closed frontiers and come here. A few thousands, survivors, have made Jeddah and Makkah their house of exile, taking some solace from their nearness to the holy places.

Before, - and again one day, God willing – pilgrims came from Albania and Bosnia and Hertzgovina, from Poland and the Caucasus and Crimea, from Turkistan and Kazan and Siberia, from China and from all the other lands where today, Pilgrimage is banned. Some of these peoples, like the Crimeans, have been annihilated and never will be seen in Makkah again, the others dwell in slavery….

And now the eyes of the pilgrims will behold the Ka’bah. Master the emotions. This is an hour for awareness and conscious reverence. This is one of the great experiences of life…

The soul-shaken pilgrim entering the Sanctuary of Makkah and for the first time beholding the Ka’bah knows a humility and an exaltation which are but a prologue for Arafat. Here, by the mountain, the pilgrim will pass what should be spiritually and intellectually, the noblest hours of life. The tents of the Faithful will cover the undulating valley as far as the eye can see. This immense congregation with the sacred mountain at its center is the heart of Islam. This is the day of true brotherhood…

We are promised that in these hours by Arafat, God will send down His forgiveness and mercy to those who are deserving and they will feel His presence.

This is the day of brotherhood and heartbreak – heartbreak that we have not yet learned to cling to this solidarity where we dwell and labor in valleys and on mountains far from Arafat. This is the day of promise: the guarantee of what Islam shall be when Muslims everywhere achieve the oneness today known only at Arafat.

(From The Sacred Journey by Ahmad Kamal, London, 1964) (top)

************************************************************

 

Michel Jansen – USA

 

I have deep roots in America. Some of my father’s forbears migrated to the Virginia Colony in 1609, and on my mother’s side are ancestors who fought with Washington and Lincoln and a great grandfather who was a Pony Express rider. Until I was sixteen, I myself had had an upbringing generally regarded as typically American, Midwestern, middle class and Protestant. I grew up in Bay City, Michigan, belonged to the Episcopal Church, went to Sunday School and sang in the church choir.

At sixteen however, I discovered the Qur’an. These words (of the first chapter), simple, and direct, so impressed me that I immediately set out to memorize them. Indeed they drew me into Islam, an example perhaps of Prophet Muhammad’s assertion that everyone is born a Muslim and made a Jew or a Christian by his parents.

From that time forward I charted my life on the direction of Mecca

Before I had embarked on the Pilgrimage, its rituals seemed to me just so many curious exercises. But as I participated in the event of the Pilgrimage, the meaning of these rites unfolded, my understanding of Islam was deepened and I learned more fully what it meant to be a Muslim. Indeed, this is why God had commanded Muhammad to issue the call for the pilgrimage: ‘That they (the pilgrims) may witness things that are of benefit to them…’ (The Qur’an, 22: 28)

(For example, towards the end of the Hajj when the time of making the Sacrifice came), I began to feel uneasy. Since I have not completely outgrown the tender-heartedness I had known as a child, I had balked at the idea of the Sacrifice long before being confronted with it and now the time had come to do it. What was I to do? As a girl I had cared for lost dogs or stray cats, adopting any fledgling that had fallen its nest, splinting a bird’s broken leg with matchstick and feeding injured butterflies on sugar syrup. But a companion had been adamant. ‘You must do the Sacrifice’.

Back at our building in Mina I turned to the Qur’an. I found that the Sacrifice has many meaning: it commemorates Abraham’s offering of his son’s life and God’s rejection of this sacrifice in exchange for Abraham’s  submission to God’s will; it marks the end of idolatry among Arabs; it is an offering of thanksgiving to the God of Creation Who has been so benevolent to mankind; and it teaches the well-to-do to share their blessings to ‘eat thereof (the Sacrifice) and feed the beggar and the suppliant’. (22: 36)

As I pondered what I had read, a great weight was lifted from my conscience. I suddenly saw that the Sacrifice upholds the sacredness of life, that it, in fact, constitutes a pledge  by the pilgrim that he will slay for sustenance only. And where I had felt reluctance before, I know felt eagerness to fulfill all the requirements of my pilgrimage.

(From Aramco world Magazine, Nov-Dec 1974) (top)

****************************************************

 

Malcolm X – USA

 

There was then thousands of pilgrims, from all over the world. They were of all colors, from blue-eyed blonds to black-skinned Africans. But we were all participating in the same ritual, displaying a spirit of unity and brotherhood that my experiences in America had led me to believe never could exist between the white and the non-white.

You may be shocked by these words coming from me. But on this pilgrimage, what I have seen, and experienced, has forced me to re-arrange much of my thought patterns previously held, and to toss aside some of my previous conclusion. This was not to difficult for me. Despite my firm convictions, I have been always a man who tries to face facts, and to accept the reality of life as new experience and new knowledge unfolds it. I have always kept an open mind,  which is necessary to the flexibility that must go hand in hand with every form of intelligent search for truth.

During the past eleven days here in the Muslim world, I have eaten from the same plate, drunk from the same glass and slept in the same bed (or on the same rug) – while praying to the same God with fellow Muslims, whose eyes were the bluest of the blue, whose hair was the blondest of blond, and whose skin was the whitest of white. And in the words and in the actions and in the deeds of the ‘white’ Muslims, I felt the same sincerity that I felt among the black African Muslims of Nigeris, Sudan and Ghana.

We were truly all the same – brothers.

All praise is due to Allah, the Lord of all the worlds.

(From the Autobiography of Malcolm X, New York, 1964)

************************************************************

 

Muhammad AsadAustria

 

... hidden from my eyes in the midst of this lifeless wilderness of valleys and hills, lies the plain of Arafat, on which all the pilgrims who come to Mecca assemble on one day of the year as a reminder of that Last Assembly, when man will have to answer to his Creator for all he has done in life. How often have I stood there myself, bareheaded, in the white pilgrim garb, among a multitude of white-garbed, bareheaded pilgrims from three continents, our faces turned toward the Jabal ar-Rahma – the Mount of Mercy – which rises out of the vast plain: standing and waiting through the noon, through the afternoon, reflecting upon that inescapable Day, ‘when you will be exposed to view, and no secret of yours will remain concealed’…

As I stand on the hillcrest and gaze down toward the invisible Plain of Arafat, the moonlit blueness of the landscape before me, so dead a moment ago, suddenly comes to life with the currents of all the human lives that have passed through it and is filled with the eerie voices of the millions of men and women who have walked or ridden between Mecca and Arafat in over thirteen hundred pilgrimages for over thirteen hundred years… I hear the sounds of their passed-away days, the wings of faith which have drawn them together to this land of rocks and sand and seeming deadness beat again with the warmth of life over the arc of centuries, and the mighty wingbeat draws me into its orbit and drawn my own passed-away hays into the present, and once again I am riding over the plain…

We ride on, rushing, flying over the plain, and to me it seems that we are flying with the wind shouts a wild happiness that knows neither end nor limit…and the wind shouts a wild paean of joy into my ears. ’Never again, never again, never again will you be a stranger’

My brethren on the right and my brethren on the left, all of them unknown to me but none a stranger; in the tumultuous joy of our chase, we are one body in pursuit of one goal. Wide is the world before us, and in our hearts glimmers a spark of the flame that burned in the hearts of the Prophet’s Companions. They know, my brethren on the right and my brethren on the left, that they have fallen short of what was expected of them, and that in the flight of centuries their hearts have grown small and yet, the promise of fulfillment has not been taken from them… from us…

Someone in the surging host abandons his tribal cry for a cry of faith: We are brethren of him who gives himself up to God!’ – and another joins in ‘ALLAHU AKBAR’ – ‘God is the Greatest – God along is Great!’

(From The Road to Mecca, 1st ed., 1954) (top)

***************************************