Voices of Islam (85 page)

I emerge weary and thirsty from the air-conditioned mosque. Outside, the October sun hammers down on the softened asphalt. Noticing the beads of sweat forming on my brow, Mustafa relates a hadith in which the Prophet promises to be a witness or an intercessor for those who patiently bear

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the rigors of Medina’s climate.
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I am gratifi but am glad when Mustafa proposes that I now return to my hotel to rest.

After an hour’s nap, I proceed to the
Haram
alone for the mid-afternoon prayer. Throughout the older prayer hall are groups of men seated around teachers giving lessons in various branches of religious science. The Messen- ger of God once said that whoever enters his mosque to learn or teach good things is like the holy warrior on the path of God.
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Since its foundation more than 14 centuries ago, the Prophet’s Mosque has been a vibrant center of religious education. Nearly all of the great early scholars of Islam spent periods in Medina, a preeminent halting place for those who traveled in search of knowledge. The function of the mosque in this respect is high- lighted in an exquisite anecdote describing how the famed Hadith narrator Abu Hurayra once wandered into Medina’s bustling marketplace and expressed his surprise that so many people were there when the inheritance of the Prophet was being distributed in his mosque. The crowds rushed to the
Haram
but soon returned in disappointment to Abu Hurayra. He asked them what they witnessed there, they said they had only seen people teaching and learning religious knowledge and remembering God. ‘‘
That
is the inheritance of the Prophet,’’ he reminded them.
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When the call to prayer sounds, the study circles dissolve into lines and we prostrate to the All-Knowing One. I then meet Mustafa at the western entrance of Bab al-Rahma, the Gate of Mercy. ‘‘The name of this door,’’ he explains, ‘‘can be traced back to an incident during the Prophet’s life. A period of drought had affl the region and while the Prophet was sitting on the pulpit to deliver the weekly sermon, a man came in through this entrance and implored the Prophet to pray for relief. As they watched through this door, the sky began to fill with welcome dark clouds. The rains came and lasted a week. The next Friday, the man came in and begged the Prophet to preserve them from the ceaseless downpour. The Messenger prayed that the rain fall around Medina instead of upon it and this, too, was answered.’’
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I recall that rain and mercy are often linked in the Qur’an. In other verses, the image of heavenly precipitation giving life to a desiccated landscape is a common allegory for the resurrection of the dead.

We head southwest across the plaza toward a comparatively small-domed mosque rebuilt in the Ottoman era. ‘‘This is Masjid al-Musalla (Mosque of the Outdoor Feast Day Prayers),’’ says Mustafa. ‘‘In this area, the Messenger of God would assemble his followers for open-air services to celebrate the Feast of the Sacrifice (
‘Id al-Adha
) and the holy day marking the end of Ramadan (
‘Id al-Fitr
). Its more popular name of Masjid al-Ghamama (Mosque of the Cloud) is probably related to the Prophet’s having performed communal rain-seeking prayers here.’’

Further on, we come to a handsome basalt mosque built in late Ottoman times to serve the terminal of the Hijaz Railway, which lies across the street. As we make our way to the derelict train station, Mustafa explains,

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‘‘The rail-line linking Damascus to Medina was inaugurated in 1908, but was used for only eight years. During the First World War, it became a favored target of the Arab Revolt against Turkish control. In this they had the active encouragement of Lawrence of Arabia, the British agent charged with opening a southern front against Germany’s oriental ally, the Ottoman Empire. The destroyed railway to Medina was never repaired.’’ Mustafa allows me to briefl explore the vast walled yard behind the train station. In a half-collapsed maintenance hangar, I see a couple of century-old German locomotives and the sad remains of some damaged railcars.

Mustafa then directs me toward the real objective of our visit, a tiny triple-domed mosque near the southeastern corner of the terminal enclosure. ‘‘This is al-Suqya Mosque,’’ he states. Here the Prophet assembled and reviewed his troops in the spring of 624
CE
before marching on to the victorious Battle of Badr, about a hundred and fifty kilometers to the west. On another occasion, the Prophet prayed here and made a famous supplica- tion in which he sanctified the city of Medina:

O God! Verily Abraham, Your intimate friend, Your devoted servant and Your Prophet, invoked your blessings upon the people of Mecca. I am Muhammad, Your devoted servant, Your Prophet and Your Messenger, and I invoke Your favor for the people of Medina, asking you for that which Abraham asked for the people of Mecca. We entreat You to bless them in the measures of their sus- tenance and in the fruit of their earth. O God, cause us to love Medina, just as You instilled in us love for Mecca
.. .
. O God, I have declared what lies between its two lava tracts to be an inviolable sanctuary just as You established the sanctu- ary of Mecca through the declaration of Abraham.
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Standing before the mosque’s closed doors, we recite a brief prayer before returning to the Prophet’s Mosque to break the fast. When we finally reach the
Rawda,
only a few minutes remain before sunset. Mustafa places a hand- ful of small, dark, wrinkled dates in front of me. ‘‘These are
‘Ajwa
dates,’’ he whispers, ‘‘The most prized of Medina’s nearly one hundred varieties. God’s Messenger declared them to be of the fruit of Paradise.’’
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When the call for the sunset prayer sounds, I utter the formula of consecration and put one of them in my mouth. Its delicious, licorice-like taste is utterly unique. Soon the brief repast concludes and we rise with the congregation to worship.

Later that night, I am invited to Mustafa’s home for dinner. His residence is a modest villa in a residential area not far from Quba. Joining us are two of his grown sons, his brother, and three erudite male friends. No women are visible, as one would expect in a conservative Saudi household. Surrounded by gilded Louis XIV sofas and chairs, we sit on the carpeted living room floor like Bedouins and dine on a memorable feast of whole roast lamb served on a bed of rice. Much of the animated conversation revolves around the deterio- ration of Medina’s cultural and historical heritage.

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The next morning, after a light meal, I make my way to Bab al-Rahma. A thick crowd of worshippers waits before the still bolted door. The scene has something apocalyptic about it. In the depths of the night, like mendi- cant souls at the threshold of Heaven, we are gathered at the mighty gilded gate of Mercy, eagerly anticipating our admittance into the celestial light within. Ten minutes later, the floodgates open and we stream into the mosque, filling every available space.

Following the prayer, I meet Mustafa and we walk north across the still cool marble to our sedan. I am eager to make the most of my third and final day in the Prophet’s City. We drive west and turn north beyond the craggy silhouette of Mount Sila’. Then, penetrating deep into the western lava tract, we reach the imposing, white Mosque of
al-Qiblatayn,
the Two Prayer Orientations. Mustafa explains, ‘‘In 624
CE
, about sixteen months after the emigration, the Prophet received Divine instructions to change the ritual direction of prayer from Jerusalem to Mecca. According to some reports, this occurred while the Prophet was leading a clan of the Helpers in noonday worship at their mosque here. In the middle of the prayer, the command to face the Ka‘ba was revealed. So the Prophet changed his position, as did the congregation, with the men and women switching places. Then, facing south instead of north, they completed the rest of the prayer.’’
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We make our way up the steps and into a magnifi prayer hall. As we must wait until the sun rises before performing the devotional greeting to the mosque, I sit and meditate on the signifi ce of this place of worship. While all of Medina’s first mosques had to be reoriented, it is fitting that there should be a monument commemorating this important event. When the Prophet was still in Mecca, the Ka‘ba was host to a myriad of idols, and the direction of Muslim prayer toward Jerusalem refl Islam’s affi ity with the monotheistic faith preached by previous prophets. Later, however, in Medina, the majority of the native Jews proved hostile to the new religion and challenged the Prophet’s status and authority. The Qur’an affirms that the Ka‘ba was originally erected by Abraham, who was neither a Jew nor a Christian (Qur’an 2:127; 3:68). Thus, God’s decree that His Holy House at Mecca should henceforth be the focal point of Muslim devotion served to highlight the primordial nature of Islam. The change of
qibla,
the direction of prayer, differentiated the Muslims in a critical way from the indigenous Jewish tribes of Medina, who continued to pray toward Jerusalem. Once the sun clears the horizon, we perform our individual devotions in the direction of Mecca and then return to our vehicle.

We drive to the southeast past Quba Mosque and turn right. We stop beside an uninspiring cinderblock wall encircling what appears to be a nonde- script fi scattered with basalt rocks and withered weeds. ‘‘The Prophet led the prayers at this spot for several days during the siege of an indigenous Jewish tribe. The commemorative mosque built here was known as Masjid al-Fadikh (The Date Wine Mosque). According to some sources,

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the prohibition against consuming alcohol was revealed during the siege.
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Other reports say that a group of companions were drinking fermented date juice (
fadikh
) here when they received news of the prohibition of alcohol, at which point they poured the contents of their wine skins onto the ground.
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Thus, the unusual name of this shrine embodies the exemplary obedience of the first Muslims.’’

Looking into the enclosure again, I discern a pattern of stones arranged upon the ground to mark the demolished shrine’s
qibla
wall. Further to the left, I now see that the other rocks are simple tomb markers. The Saudi religious authorities most probably sanctioned the razing of the mosque that originally stood here, based on the prohibition of worshipping at or near graves. ‘‘Older sources describe Masjid al-Fadikh as located near the banks of a streambed.’’ Pointing eastward to a concrete canal, Mustafa adds, ‘‘The principal headwaters of Wadi Buthan flow there.’’ Then, shaking his head with discernable sadness, he remarks, ‘‘Today this historical site is largely unknown, and most people now confuse it with another mosque site further east. Praise be to the One who alters things, but Himself does not change!’’ Mustafa now leads me toward a dense grove of date palms to the west. ‘‘The face of Medina has changed radically in recent years,’’ he says, ‘‘but in gardens such as these one can still get a taste of what it must have been like in the Prophet’s day.’’ The narrow road is closed in on both sides by high stone walls of evident antiquity. At a breach in one of the walls, we enter a timeless pastoral world. Filtered by the canopy of palm fronds, sunlight dapples plots of herbs and clover. Here and there are clearings planted with grape vines, pomegranate, and also fruit-bearing lote trees, which fi ure prominently in descriptions of the celestial realms. Eventually, we come to an archaic masonry complex comprising a wide-mouthed well, and an adjoin- ing reservoir overlooked by a small, arcaded veranda, to which we now ascend. Gazing over the idyllic scene, I am reminded of Qur’anic depictions of Paradise as ‘‘gardens beneath which rivers flow.’’ Mustafa excuses himself to chat with a local farmer, leaving me in the coolness of the portico to remember the Supreme Gardener for a blessed half an hour. When he

returns, we stroll back to the car in silence.

Our route traverses the agricultural area of southeastern Medina, many of whose inhabitants belong to an indigenous Shiite population. This Imami community has a long history of antagonism and rivalry with the majority Sunni population, who refer to them as
al-Nakhawila,
Workers of the Date Palms. We soon reach the district’s main boulevard named after ‘Ali, the Prophet’s valorous cousin and son-in-law. The city also has modern thoroughfares named in honor of Abu Bakr, ‘Umar, and ‘Uthman, who are likewise revered by Sunnis as pillars among the early Companions of the Prophet and as his four righteous successors. However, most Shiites view ‘Ali as having been the sole rightful claimant to the title of Commander of the Faithful and, because they historically denied the legitimacy of his

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predecessors, they are labeled ‘‘rejectionists’’ by many Sunnis. After ‘Ali was assassinated in 661
CE
, claims to supreme leadership shifted to his two sons by the Prophet’s daughter Fatima and later to their progeny. Over the succeeding centuries, Medina was often a hotbed of Shiite revolt against the Umayyad and Abbasid dynasties. For hundreds of years, autonomous princes of the lineage of al-Hasan or al-Husayn ruled Mecca and Medina.

A short while later, we come to the eastern perimeter of the Baqi’ Graveyard. Eventually, our car stops next to a modest new mosque, surmounted by a single squat minaret. ‘‘This is Masjid al-Ijaba (Mosque of the Response), site of the prayer hall of an
Ansari
clan (a clan of Helpers, who welcomed the Prophet Muhammad and his followers to Medina). Its name derives from a personal supplication the Prophet once made after praying here. A hadith relates the Messenger’s plea: ‘I asked my Lord for three favors, and he granted me two of them, and withheld the third. I asked my Lord not to wipe out my community of followers by famine, and this He granted. I asked Him not to obliterate my community by flood, and this He granted. Finally, I asked Him not to incite them to make war against each other, and this He denied me.’’’
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