On
du’a and it’s answering
(i) Earlier this year, during a conversation
with my great-uncle, he recounted a childhood memory of when he was a young
boy, and my great-grandfather, rahimahullah, would take him every year from
Gujarat to Bombay to serve the pilgrims who would be gathering there from all
over India in preparation to make this journey of a lifetime by ship to Jeddah.
(1) We had been talking about food, and how particular and disciplined he was
about eating only home-cooked food and only at certain times of the day, and he
had mentioned that his father was also like that. He recalled that when they
would go to Bombay, after serving the pilgrims at the musaafir-khana, because
he could not eat their food, they would slip out and go to another hotel where
they could eat ‘proper’ food. I did not know much about my great-grandfather,
other than that what my mum and others in my family would recall that he was a very
stern man who wore a turban and was always punctual with reading salah in
jama’ah. He was tall and wore large, heavy shoes, and when people heard his
footsteps at the time of the adhan, partly out of fear, they would rush to get
up and make their way to the masjid.
I kept thinking about this much later. Many
things struck me from this memory: that a father teaches his son Islam in a way
that it seeps into the core of his very being; that our forefathers understood
things more clearly than we did, despite perhaps having relatively less formal
Islamic education; that this act of serving the hujjaj is one so implicit
within traditional Muslim communities yet so disregarded here in the West. (2)
I wondered if this man, my great-grandfather, looked onto the sea as the ships
bearing pilgrims sailed away into the horizon, (3) and made du’a for his
descendants to also be granted that blessing. It seemed so amazing that what I
did was done by my parents before me, and their parents, and their parents, and
those that could not for whatever reason, longed for it. I have never been
particularly interested in genealogy or having a particular ‘Muslim’ ancestry,
and must admit I often find it slightly distasteful when people talk about
their lineage; it seems it is almost always done out of arrogance, an attempt
to assert superiority, or to excuse something inappropriately; and how many of
the best of people lived years of their own lives worshipping idols, then what
of their fathers? But there is something that is profound in the thought that
many generations ago, before you were even conceived of, much less conceived, someone made du’a for you, and perhaps as
a result of that, you are here today, a believer. I am grateful for that. And
of course, that is the sunnah of the prophets too, and who would be a greater
example than our father Ibrahim alayhi -l-salam? Then we come round to complete
the circle in a beautiful way, because his prayers for his children were only
for the safeguarding of their religion, that they be a community who submitted
to God, that they be grateful and establish the prayer, and everything else was
in order to support that aim. Those that transgressed did not, indeed could not, succeed his legacy; his
descendants in the ultimate sense were only the people who submitted. Your
lineage will only help you if you uphold your part of the covenant.
(ii) A few years ago, I ran into a friend who
had returned from hajj, and she told me an amazing story of how she did not
have the means to complete hajj and had not planned to do so, and yet made du’a
because she so desperately wanted to do it. Through some miracle, in a short
period, all these barriers were overcome and she ended up completing her hajj.
I remember exactly where I was, sitting on a plastic chair, listening to her
story, and then thinking about it afterwards, about how remarkable the whole
chain of events that led to it was. In retrospect, I understood little of the real significance of the hajj at the time, little of the yearning she spoke about, but what struck me was not simply her story, but that even on recounting it, she was able to communicate some of
her own sense of the awe at what happened, to me. Remembering her story, in
Ramadan, almost mindlessly, I repeatedly made du’a that I wanted to do hajj,
but it was not even something I had fully intended or planned. Yet God is
gracious, and gives even when one is not deserving. If you make a slight amount
of effort for something, you will be rewarded with abundance. If it were not
for [another event] and the overarching barakah of the Qur’an that encompasses
all things, and good companions who encourage good, and of course God’s mercy,
then this could never have happened. If somebody had told me this time last
year that this time next year you will be writing your hajj reflections, I
would have smiled in polite disbelief. Yet here I am, and to God is all praise.
(iii) I was thinking about the matter of
properly preparing for du’a and how it is something I am not used to doing. I
thought about the time I take to prepare reports for tribunals, and how once I
know I have a good report and have prepared sufficiently, I feel I needn’t
worry about who the judge is, or how good the solicitor is, because most of my
case is already made. I need simply to turn up and present a cogent summary of
my arguments and answer a few questions. If this is the courtesy I extend to a
mere human being who has a limited amount of power in a specific area and
cannot even affect my life or liberty
in any way, then what of the Lord of the Worlds? The analogy is an interesting
one. The Prophet s. told us when we ask, to ask for al-firdaws. (4) That is so fascinating,
because it is clear that the vast majority of us cannot reasonably ask for that
by any stretch of imagination; merely to be saved from the fire would be an overwhelming
grace. If you went to a judge and asked for something ridiculous, you would be
refused. Sometimes, people who don’t really understand how the legal system works
do that, and I often wonder why more people don’t just agree with the minimum
that was expected of them, even if they had no intention to really do that. But
instead, they ask for something ridiculous. Of course, the outcome can usually
be predicted beforehand, because even the most senior judge is restricted by
the law. Yet the example of God is completely the opposite. He is the law. He is al-Adl, but He is
al-Rahman, al-Raheem; justice tempered by mercy, or perhaps it is in fact mercy
tempered by a fraction of justice, and then even more mercy? He is actually
telling you to ask for something ridiculous that you cannot possibly ever deserve;
He wants you to ask for it because He
wants to give it to you! Then ask.
(iv) One of the most important things I learnt
was on the day of Arafah, where our group leader/shaykh gave a reminder about
the last verses of surat Aal Imraan where the people of intelligence and
understanding are described conversing with God as they make du’a. He explained
how they spoke, the descriptive style in which they began, followed by earnest
supplication, asking for forgiveness and salvation. And then God’s reply, how
He had accepted their request, and would give them more than they requested.
Then he described how the God that answered their prayers was the same God we
would be supplicating to on this blessed day, and He would be the same God we
called upon when we returned to our homes; He is the same God who listens at
the end of every night. How many times I have recited those verses, how easily,
mindlessly, the words slip off my tongue every day when I wake up. I had never
thought, really thought, about the
sheer magnitude of what was being described in this conversation, about why we
were told about it, and it seemed as if I never knew those verses. Du’a is a
conversation with God. Perhaps it is this, this ‘conversing’ and what is
thereby necessitated relationally in terms of engagement, that is ultimately the
aim of du’a itself? Your calling Him, talking to Him, is in itself His calling
you, answering you. (5)
(v) I was talking to my mum after hajj and we were
discussing how it was that when you made sincere du’a there even for small
things, to find something you had misplaced, for some space to pray, or some other
thing, no matter how improbable, it would happen almost immediately. I wonder
if that is a sign from God to remind you that He can give you those small
things related to the dunya, then what of the great things, if only you asked?
It reminds me of a phrase my mum says in Gujarati if you have lost something,
make du’a and find it, and then feel surprised (because stupidly, I am still
always slightly surprised), “If only you
had asked, you would’ve got Jannah too.”
(vi) Sh A. always talks about Ibrahim ‘alay il’-salam and
the need to take him seriously, learn about him, follow his example, say what
he did, do what he did. He says that if you want to be successful, look at how
Allah ‘azza wa jall describes him in the Qur’an: his characteristics,
qualities, how he behaved and spoke in particular circumstances, and then try
to follow that. There are some lovely verses from surat al-Shu’araa (starting
26:69), which describe Ibrahim, and really amaze me whenever I hear or read them.
(6) His reply when his people tell him what they worship, is قَالَ هَلْ يَسْمَعُونَكُمْ إِذْ تَدْعُونَ - 26:72 – the first thing he refers to as a
characteristic of his Lord is that He hears when He is called. This was so
deeply engrained in him that he compared their idols to his Lord on this,
because he knew that God responds when He is called, but everything that is
worshipped besides Him does not. And then – and consider the sheer courage and strength
required to say this – he declares what they worship besides God as his
enemies. This is not something any of us could do, to clarify unequivocally
what is the truth from falsehood, when you are in a position of vulnerability,
without power or support. This is
Ibrahim, friend of God. And then he describes his Lord and His attributes,
until we arrive at the account of his du’a [26:83]. It is really a great mercy
of God that He narrated for us the ad’iyah of the prophets, so that we may use
their words, and feel closer to them through that, and gain closeness to God
through using the words of people beloved to him.
Toenotes
(1) In one of the exhibitions at Topkapi
palace, I was reading about the official caravan of pilgrims during the Ottoman
era which left from there to Makkah, called the Surre caravan (after Surre i
Humayun, imperial pouch/purse). It contained a large purse from the sultan to
be sent to Makkah, along with various other expensive gifts and charity, and
there were large ceremonies as they left. Anyway, I couldn’t remember the
Turkish name later, was looking it up, and found this from the
British Museum about an exhibition they had in 2012 on the hajj, and the
different routes people took from around the world (I have no idea what I was
doing in 2012, but I should’ve been in London looking at that). Take some time to check out the rest of it – it’s really interesting. (Now I
want to be a Hajj-Researcher-Person [is that a job?] and spend my life being
paid to travel around the world and learn cool things like this.)
(2) If you ever hear the Hajj riders speak, it
is so touching how they are assisted during their journey by complete strangers
in all the countries they ride through. I remember one incident, I think it was
in Lichtenstein, where they ultimately have to depend on a Syrian refugee who
himself has barely anything and was sleeping in his boss’ spare office or
something. He only had a tiny amount of food but that became enough for all of
them, in a whole cool ‘feeding the multitude’ type of Biblical miracle story.
(3) There is another altogether lovely passage
from Road to Mecca in the last chapter which describes when they reach Jeddah
by ship (p356-360). If you’ve got the book with you over there, you should read
it now.
(4) روى البخاري
(2790) عَنْ أَبِي هُرَيْرَةَ رَضِيَ اللَّهُ عَنْهُ قَالَ
: قَالَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ
: ( إِنَّ فِي الْجَنَّةِ مِائَةَ دَرَجَةٍ أَعَدَّهَا اللَّهُ لِلْمُجَاهِدِينَ فِي سَبِيلِ اللَّهِ مَا بَيْنَ الدَّرَجَتَيْنِ كَمَا بَيْنَ السَّمَاءِ وَالْأَرْضِ ، فَإِذَا سَأَلْتُمُ اللَّهَ فَاسْأَلُوهُ الْفِرْدَوْسَ فَإِنَّهُ أَوْسَطُ الْجَنَّةِ وَأَعْلَى الْجَنَّةِ أُرَاهُ فَوْقَهُ عَرْشُ الرَّحْمَنِ ، وَمِنْهُ تَفَجَّرُ أَنْهَارُ الْجَنَّةِ )
(5) Which links in nicely with Du’a and its
essence from The First-Ever-Post here:
(6) S, do you remember my favourite-est recitation of this ever and when you showed me? I am always sitting on that bench in my mind when I hear it. I think it may
have been the beginning of my hard heart softening towards qira’at :)
