In the summer of 2004 the Nawawi Foundation embarked on its third annual summer travel abroad: “Tracing the Footsteps of the Ottomans.” With a group of nearly 200 American, Canadian, and British Muslims the Nawawi Foundation sought to explore the lasting legacy of the Ottomans, its impact on Muslims of yesteryear, and learning lessons for Muslims of today. Our trip began in Ankara then headed west towards Kayseri, Konya, and Cappadocia where our group discovered the foundations of Islamic culture in Turkey, and then paid homage to one of Islam’s great spiritual leaders Jalal ad-din Rumi. Our journey then took us towards Nicea, Bursa, Edirne, and finally Istanbul where we saw the Ottoman civilization and culture come alive in its various forms. The following is a day by day account of our two week journey. The travelogue that follows will allow you to partake in our journey, and understand who the Ottomans were and what that means for us as Muslims in 21st century America.

2004 TRAVEL LOG: TURKEY

First Evening
We broke bread together. That would be the first and last thing we would do all together. Appropriately so. For there is something about breaking bread together that brings a sense of intimacy and familiarity. There’s something about it that makes you remember God and count your blessings. Indeed, some of us have prayed: “Give us this day our daily bread.” So perhaps over the next fourteen days and nights, upon the bonding of every meal, we share time together as the answer to a prayer.

That first meal was a dinner at the hotel to inaugurate the trip: the first taste of Turkish delights that would be the first of many feasts, to be followed by welcome speeches. Most had flown with the Nawawi Foundation from Chicago, stopping off in Istanbul before making it to Ankara, along with – finally – their bags. Others joined the group, hailing from other parts of America, from England, from Iran. Wayfarers met on the road, greeted each other, “friend.” Over the course of the trip, that casual label was to become a sincere and deep one. Scholars, students, mothers with young children, professionals, grandfathers, uncles, grandmothers, teenagers all: excitement, expectation, hope. None would be disappointed.

Following dinner, we were honored with an address from the Foreign Minister, who had come over from the nearby government buildings to welcome us. Dr. Winter also shared some brief insights that would help frame the trip and guide some of our expectations.

Day 1
Welcome Addresses
Prof. Aydan, Foreign Minister (Paraphrase)
While here, what should you look for? Of the many footsteps of the Ottomans to trace, trace the one of tolerance. When Sultan Mehmet conquered Bosnia, he issued declarations that minority rights had to be respected. This is the type of tolerance and co-existence to which the objectives of Islamic law (maqasid al-shari‘a) speak¹. We must remember, along this trip and beyond, to look at ourselves critically and constructively – including the cognitive, emotive, ascetic and moral aspects.

Dr. Winter (Paraphrase)
Turks define themselves as members of the diverse Western and Islamic story, exhibiting a “confident form of classical Sunni Islam.” We should note that the discussions about Islam’s accommodation to the West, since the eighteenth century, occurred less rapidly here. Turkey now struggles with varying success. It has more and better cultural output than other Muslim countries (e.g. its newspapers, TV, etc.). And even though Turkey has put its eggs in the European basket; Islam here still has a place.

In reading this Turkish story, we will discover how this society, out of necessity, has uniquely managed to temper modernity with tradition. For example, here, unlike virtually any other place in the world, one can still pursue ijaza’s for tasbih-making, book-binding, calligraphy, and the like. This demonstrates modernity is not getting rid of all things traditional. Here is an example of a place where tradition persists despite a superficial European veneer. So don’t be fooled by outward appearances! Islam here is more successful, more peaceful, more convivial here amongst religious Turks than amongst others who want to jettison tradition of the centuries.

Day 2
Haci Bayram
Haci Bayram. Haci Bayram Veli rested in an unimposing structure on one of the small hills outside of Kayseri (the Turkish rendering of Caesarea), near the first Hittite capital of Kanis, but that said nothing about his legacy. His disciples, the Bayrami order (a wing of the Qadariyyas) – though typically in opposition to the Ottoman sultans in favor of the masses – would accompany Fatih, Sultan Mehmet II into his victorious march on Constantinople in 1453. His students would echo greats like Ibn ‘Arabi and mystics like Shams-al-Din Tabrizi as they proclaimed a message of love to the world, in beautiful, colorful terms that stretched beyond Turkey, into the lands of Egypt and beyond. His students would found a spiritual order after him, and continue to follow and spread his teachings in their active longing for the divine. The calm of his chambers told us something of that longing, and inspired in its visitors a bit of the same. As the soft browns and greens streamed out of the small room, in small groups, we filed in to look upon the softly scented cloth that draped about the raised sarcophagus. As we would do with others, we prayed for his soul, his continuing legacy to enhance the good, and the good in what he gave to increase and for us to glimpse Truth and Beauty, recognize it, understand it, accept it. We prayed not just for ourselves; but for the world. Let Light descend upon our own souls and that of the World herself. For her soul needed to be alive again.

As we passed by several medreses of this small town, which was once one of the centers of learning, we paid a visit to Ahi Evran a.k.a. Seyh Mahmut Nasriddin (1236-1328), who was a convert from Khorasan (present-day Iran). As Dr. Winter explained to us, he was one of the great exponents of futuwwa, the virtues of ‘Ali b. Abi Talib. Each of his followers would join a guild and also apprentice sufi sheiks, reading a futuwwa nameh (treatise on futuwwa) in popular Anatolian (rather than Persian) language. These guilds received gold for their services, such as keeping the peace².

At night, we toured the complex of Hunat Hanun Camii in downtown Kayseri. This complex was founded by Seljuk Sultan Alaettin Keykubad in 1238, one of many such complexes founded by Seljuk queens, perhaps from the first time the Seljuks took the city in 1084 and until the Mongols took the city in 1243. Next to the mosque stands a madrese, built in 1237, where Lady Maperi Hunat rests. That night over dinner, another distinguished local rolled out the red carpet for us in an astounding display of generosity and honor. Especially for us, he opened the new museum that told of the cultural and artistic endeavors about which we had heard last night and seen a glimpse of today.

Meet Sinan, the great artist and architect of the Ottomans; of worldwide renown! The Selimiyya and Suleymaniyya in Turkey, Muhammad Ali mosque in Egypt, the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, bridges in Bosnia, the Haram complex of Medina: all Sinan!

Day 3
Clay Hills and Holes
Necessity must have not only fostered invention, but amazing creative architectural genius as well. The ancients of Cappadocia (possibly even the Hittites) existed in constant fear of invaders, constant needs for refuge. They built the unimaginable: entire networks of underground cities. Each complex burrowed forty stories or more downward into the earth, where it housed extended families, tribes; whole villages. Upon entering one, we stepped aside the large boulder that halfway hid the entrance, and skirted the thick, cool, limestone walls downward. Cellars and cooking facilities, an altar (a late addition?) and sleeping quarters, hallways and rooms which served a purpose which we may never know. The downward descent through the labyrinth would end at an underground river. And through this river, the former inhabitants connected to over forty of other such mini-underground cities, to create a network that stretched for over 200 miles. Apparently, they were able to remain below ground – and thus escape the threatening gaze of the wandering warriors – for periods of months, perhaps years at a time. Now this cavernous place was empty; its people had passed away; but they had left for us their relics over which to ponder.

Travel through the earth, and see what has become of those before you. They were much greater than you in might and skill. Could you build such an underground city? How would you place light within the earth? How would you replenish your food? Would you connect to your brothers and sisters hundreds of miles away too?

Moonscape
Nearby, the “fairy chimneys” we visited in the morning had exhibited a complimentary display of above ground creative genius and beauty. Seemingly wispy structures in this rocky valley mimicked the volcanic moonscape – its cratered face and rising towers. Holes pockmarked each chimney, but they were only Nature’s way of serving aesthetic purposes. For inside the caves that early inhabitants had dug into these structures, there were no windows. It was perhaps this darkness that had preserved the frescos of several temples within: Jesus stands with his disciples, he eats a last Supper, saints smile upon their penitent visitors.

Yes, they were great. But all that was temporary, for the people are gone. What had become of the people, such that our visit here allowed us to speak not with them but only the traces they left behind? Had they been overtaken by some blast? Did they lay prostrate in their underground homes one morning? Had something rained upon their town? Was it consumed by fire or flood? Had the vicissitudes of time simply gradually eroded – not their homes – but them? They were great, but it was temporary. Was it all temporary? Is it only a matter of Time and the passing of the Ages, and then unreflective man would be at lost? What then was permanent? Surely not the underground caves, for we knew that Nature would do her work. Perhaps, though, she left these caves here for now, as signs for those who reflect.

Ponder this: Will every great nation, even as its edifices wow the imagination, scraping either the clouds or – as here in Cappadocia – the bowels of the earth; as deserving it may be of praise; as its great deeds extend beyond itself to dominate the world … will every great nation decline? Is it only a matter of time? Is it, rather, the arrogance that comes with greatness? Is it the attribution to the self of something which is only accidental? They were not great because of their works, but through God their works become great. They knew this, no doubt, from the angel’s comrade, Iblis. For his fire did not beat our clay. Clay can unexpectedly contain and withstand both. We see here that clay can build and burrow, atop the earth and within, regenerate itself and remain for posterity even after its temporary inhabitants have passed away.

Aksaray
The artisans the nearby “white palace” of Aksaray show in fact that fire is not always an adversary; it can serve clay positively – making it tougher, the more it brushes against its surface to make the outside beauty glimmer and ignite even more elegant fires within. They painted beautiful designs on handmade earthenware clay from the region, and the fire served to set it in. But it is in all cases a careful arrangement: Too much fire might destroy clay; but just enough – in balance with the other elements – gives it a strength that seals in an exquisite beauty. History saw that balance amongst the Jews, Christians, and Muslims that co-existed in this town when Mehmet II repopulated the city. We would see something of that beauty that Rumi’s fiery passion sealed into the form of Konya and so many of its denizens.

Travel through the Desert
Many people sing the praises of the ocean, dream of sitting on the beach, find relaxation in water’s calm blue. What love is there for the empty stretches of desert through which we pass on the road to Konya? Perhaps this desert’s attraction was precisely its reflection of the ocean, and both a reflection of God. Its dunes rolled up and down just like the waves of the sea. The brownish-yellow desert was broken with splashes of purple and red rocks just as the sun glinted off the marine waves and crests. By no means was it monotonous. A variety of shapes rose up now and then out of the land, first drawing my eye along low, soft, rounded rumbles to sharp high crests, that then again flowed down into a flat desert plain. The dryness born from this sight inspired a quest for a cool drink to wet the lip and quench the thirst.

The sense saw dry land, as it was of dryness born,
But the Jesus of the spirit set foot in the heart of the sea.

The journey of the body of dryness fell on dry earth.
The journey of the spirit set foot in the heart of the sea.

Since thy life has passed on dry land –
Now mountain, now river, now desert.

Whence wilt thou the water of life find?
Where wilt thou cleave the waves of the sea?

The earthly waves are our fantasy, understanding and thought;
The sea waves are self-effacement, drunkenness and annihilation ³

Turkey was one of those places where one could go from dryness to abundance in the same day. Our trip would take us to the Marmara seas of Istanbul. And from the dryness of non-experience to the sea waves of new experience and all that that brought inwardly. But it was well that we saw the desert first. One would not know just how sweet water is without their thirst.

Day 4

Rumi
We have all heard of Rumi; some of us have studied him, read his poetry with some of his students of the present day. We have reflected on his words, as has the rest of the West, the rest of the world. Rumi has now become the most read poet internationally – joining east and west. This makes sense when one realizes the nature of his poetry. His message is one that is universal, extends beyond culture and even religion to reach the Truth. We are all worshippers of the Truth, one of the 99 Names of God. So perhaps it is natural that everyone appreciates that friend who can skillfully lift the veil to uncover the Truth.

When my spirit comes to recognize Thy spirit,
They will remember that they were in the past united
…
But when my spirit Thy spirit only recognizes slightly and denies it
The very denial becomes a veil covering the Truth ⁴

As we entered Rumi’s tomb, a hush fell upon the room, along with an intense calm. It was as if the words had been snatched from us in order to make our hearts listen to the poetry and lessons Rumi placed before us. In this domed, two-room structure, light glowed from all corners, illuminating the larger-than-life rose-colored pen strokes upon the wall: He. He is. Through Him, in Him, for Him is all else. He said Be! And it was. Rumi was. Here Rumi was. Rumi laid upon a raised dais in the uppermost part of the room, flanked by several companions. Unlike the others, two turbans and caps crowned him. Perhaps one was for him and the other for his friend, Shams. Encircling him lay his most advanced students who had joined him here, for one last, perpetual halaqa. We joined that gathering too. But for a brief while.

Many in the group passed by and prayed a small prayer for this great, one of the most influential in the history and present of Islam. In passing, they marveled at the historical and cultural artifacts left by Rumi and his students. They then went to sit at his table, Mevlana Sofrasi, to break bread with him, too. But some could not merely pass by such a towering figure without speaking to him more intensely. They stayed to serenade Rumi with Qur’anic melodies and to speak with him about history and the present. He appreciated the prayers, saying that if the beauty of his works and the calligraphy that gave them visual form, the dance that gave them active form, the character that gave them moral form – if all these things appealed to his visitors, they should hold on to his lessons. His poetry spoke to so many, but he was careful to note: This speech came not from himself, but he had been inspired by Love. It was Shams’ speech, who spoke through him out of a kind of divine inspiration in joy. The collection of this poetry was thus called Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi: Shams of Tabriz’s Collection. His other poetry had been collected by his students, now contained in the Mathnawi Ma‘nawi. But these, too, were no less a result of his own inspiration and wisdom, which he sought to share with the world. And share he did. After Shams’ departure, Rumi poured out his heart and soul, verse-after-verse. Was it from the pain of longing and seeking to go back or the pleasure of having arrived?

Thou didst show the joy of existence to the non-existent.
Thou didst make the non-existent Thy lover.

Do not take away the joy of thy bounty.
Do not take away the sweet, the wine and the cup.

Wert Thou to take them away, who would be there to inquire?
How could a painting test strength with the painter?

Look not at us; fix not Thy gaze upon us.
Look on Thine own honor and generosity

We were naught and we had no demands.
Thy Grace was hearkening to our silent prayer, ⁵

After a mesmerizing performance, there was yet again, one more surprise. The Mayor of the city welcomed us to this illustrious town and arranged for us to attend a live concert of a band that was something of a modern rendition of Mevlevi musicians. They were not Mevlevis of the Sufi order, but they brought their instruments to bear on a dervish message in modern style. After his speech of welcome, we rode his bus to that outdoor pavilion for a musical feast.

Welcome to City by Mayor
Welcome to Konya. I would like to express my honor to receive you in Konya, where different civilizations have met, over more than 7000 years. It is the biggest city in the region – over 40,000 square kilometers, with a population of 1,000,000 and over 17,000 students in the university.

The city is known for its conservatism. Because this is the city of Mevlena, his teachings are still welcomed and respected. [I had] some guests [recently] from Chicago, [with] who[m] I spoke about Mevlena’s tolerance, his opposition to race discrimination, and [his] tolerance for other religions. I asked them to remember the situation that communities were living in during Mevlena’s time, when he showed tolerance for these other religions – over 800 years ago. I told them that Mevlana drew his [perspectives] from the Qur’an. And as I told them this, I told them that we were Muslims [and should know that] humanity needs this point of view. Our main principle is to live together and protect differences. Konya is a city that is well-known for being a model of discussing these topics. So I am very pleased to receive you here in Mevlana’s town. I am very honored to invite you to the Sufi music concert tonight.

Day 5
Afyon
An intense journey brought the group to a small town: the city of Afyon. Different perhaps from the type of resort town to which one may be used, the area provided rest, relaxation and more history lessons. Some of the group used the down time to pamper themselves with massages, swimming and more. Others were indefatigable in their efforts to discover as much of Turkey as the hours here would permit. They went to the city where they walked through a small village of traditional Ottoman houses, a small mosque with all-wooden pillars that looked like a forest had been placed in the middle of a worship house, a castle that sat atop the town’s mountain. That night, Azhar regaled the audience with comedy and tales from this trip, so that everyone could go to bed relaxed and ready for the long road to Bursa.

Day 6
Kutahya
Another small town known for its ceramics, Kutahya is a source for some of the beautiful ceramic tiles used as handicrafts, decorative and functional pottery and industrial ceramics. The city was first captured by the Phrygians in 546 BC, was overrun by Alexander the Great in the fourth century, then by the Seljuks in 1182. For a brief while, after the Crusades, the city served as a Seljuk capital of the Emirate of Germiyan (1302-1428), who cooperated with the Ottomans in Bursa before being incorporated into the Ottoman empire. After Sultan Selim I, the town rivaled Iznik in tile-making for centuries to come. As we trace the Ottoman’s footsteps, we discover that it was also the place where princes were trained.

The First Footstep
We marvel at an empire that stretched across half the known globe and across centuries to boot. But where did it all begin? As the Seljuk traces begin to fade, the first footsteps of the Ottomans appear in 1299. But contrary to what one might expect, the very first one does not present a heavy indentation of the type that one might expect Bigfoot to leave behind. It is neither deep, nor does it intimidate. It neither echoes the threat of the empire’s awe-inspiring might nor of its luxurious pomp and circumstance. This first footstep in fact almost fades out of existence, requiring the curious to look closely, lest she pass it by.

Somewhere in the middle of the small town of Suyuk, on the road to Bursa, a small domed room with a tiny minaret serves as the masjid. Compared to the other sites that we have come across, this structure is almost laughable. With virtually no decoration inside – the walls are white-washed with the occasional frame attached to the wall with the ubiquitous calligraphic strokes: Allah, Muhammad. The carpet is plain – rows of arches pointing to the qibla, but otherwise undecorated. Approximately twenty people fit inside. With difficulty, the muezzin must have climbed the narrow staircase of the minaret to make a call that just barely extended his voice over the surrounding tree tops. Likely no more than a few hundred people could hear his call. But size and numbers then were no matter. Here, Osman Gazi announced the start of the Ottoman state. And launched an empire that attempted to consume the world.

One cannot fully understand history and receive its instruction unless they can see, touch, feel it. Likewise, here in modern day Turkey, footsteps such as these serve as tangible pieces of history that help place things in perspective. Look at the modest beginnings of a world empire. Western Muslims may frown at the store-front mosques completely devoid of the signature domes and minarets that we see here. They may lament at their meager numbers and feel powerless to beautify their masjids with the type of architecture and calligraphy found elsewhere in the Islamic world. They may long for a future that reflects a glorious past – cities whose skyline is dotted with multiple domes and minarets.

Lament! Long! But not in a backward looking fashion that despairs at times past in lands as far away as Anatolia. Rather, understand that every movement, empire, civilization starts from somewhere, and the first footstep is a modest one. Feel inspired to build something that that seeks not to recreate Muslim pasts and foreign cultures, but seeks to continue Islamic tradition by building upon your own cultural foundations for an American skyline that will reflect present ideals built on solid, shared foundations.

Outing
After dinner, the tour guides took the group to the nearby park – the best in Bursa. Some ventured out to Iskender, the restaurant which served the world-famous dish of the same name and which was not to be topped.

Day 7
Bursa
The Ottomans took the town which the Byzantines had called Prusa in 1326 to serve as their first capitol and station from which they would move westward into Europe – eventually to Adrianople (Edirne) in 1402 and then back eastward to Constaninople in 1453. Today the city stands as one of Turkey’s great industrial centers, housing assembly lines for cars.

This night, we reside on the hill at the foot of Mount Uludag of the northern portion of town, overlooking the town, its crafts, its buildings, it sights. Below were the silk looms that emerged in early Christianity. We had visited this town’s Grand Mosque (Ulu Cami) that skirted the town’s commercial silk district. This interior of this building had been recently rebuilt, but its former inside splendor inspired masjids on the other side of the world. Great calligraphic drawings adorned every wall; signature blue-and-white ceramic balls hung low to welcome the visitors; the characteristic circle of lights hung low like so many fires suspended in mid-air in the center of the mosque, just beside of the ornate inside fountain which cooled the air and provided a place of rest, repose, and purification. At some distance stood a few more structures, in another part of town. The Yesil Cami (Green Mosque), completed 1424 upon the order of Sultan Mehmet I (1413-21), is said to be the Ottomans’ greatest monument. This represents a new style of Turkish architecture, a move from the Sejuk Armenian-influenced style of the Seljuks to a purely Turkish style. Its colors integrate perfectly with one another, marble arching around the doorway before rising to a dome inside then falling back down to an ornate mihrab in front. Next door is the Yesil Türbe (Green Tomb), a blue structure that houses Yesil Cami’s founder, Memet I (Çelebi). Nearby traditional coffee and crafts shops provided a nice afternoon rest.

Day 8
Iznik/Nicea
The Council of Nicea met right here to discuss the divinity of Jesus, and arrive at what is famously the Nicean creed. Also here is Chandale Halil Pasa, Fatih’s grand vizier was executed for opposing the sultan’s order to conquer Constantinople. We pass by his regretful remains on the way to Haci Ozbak Cami, the first full Ottoman mosque. (The small one in Suyuk was built before Osman Gazi made his proclamation from it and Ulu Cami in Bursa was built by King Ildirim, who was defeated by Tamerlane during the Crusades. It served as the first large mosque.) Here, a group of young boys and girls take a break from their Qur’anic studies and trade songs with our group, smiling and waving to their visitors as they depart for Istanbul.

Istanbul Approach
One traveler said that the only way to enter Istanbul is to arrive by sea. What a beautiful approach! Across the Bosphorus strait, between the Bosphorus and Marmara seas, we sailed in a ferry to approach the seven hills of Istanbul. Atop each hill stood a magnificent structure – the mosques for which the city is famous. This unique city joins east and west in so many ways, and it is first clear from the skyline: one of the few cities in the world with a modern skyline of skyscrapers of the expected boxy kind, alongside the pencil-thin signature Ottoman minarets that were constant companions to the mosques’ silvery domes. The birds of the town came to welcome us, singing songs and flapping above like the sentinels that accompanied Fatih’s fleet.

Abu Ayyub al-Ansari
The first stop was to the complex housing the first Companion of the Prophet to come to Turkey, who rested on the outskirts of Istanbul, on the tip of the Golden horn. Abu Ayyub al-Ansari was buried here in 48, following a failed mission to capture Istanbul. Because of his esteemed position in Islam’s past, Abu Ayyub’s new home would become a place of passage for the sultans. There, they would receive their swords of office, and give their salams to the other sultans who wee buried in the complex graveyard.

Lalehli
In the Laleh (tulip) region, a grand mosque was built in the late 1700’s. Immediately across from Lahlehli Mosque, we stay at the – the Merit Antique Hotel – a former dormitory of sorts for the unmarried scholars (‘ulama’) during the Tanzimat period. The guests at this the Merit are quite different from those scholars. But surely, there is some connection. Or is there?

Here, Drs. Abd Allah, Jackson, Mattson, and Winter reside. These are scholars in their own right, who lead a group of 200-plus students. All have traveled to learn both from the experience of the Ottomans and from the insights of resident scholars who connect to those other scholars’ past. Dr. Winters will describe the legacy of Ibn ‘Arabi and the complex tomes of spiritual, philosophical, legal and other works he left behind. Dr. Umar and Dr. Jackson will speak with one another echoing the way in which Shams spoke to Rumi. And we will further come to know Rumi as his intellectual and spiritual descendants impart a taste of his ecstatic love for the Divine. Dr. Mattson had sparked our interest in understanding the role and propriety of slavery in the Muslim world – an intriguing puzzle with far ranging implications.

Here, these scholars sleep in these dormitories as other scholars did a century or two ago. They tell us of the past as a way of understanding the lessons of history for the present. And they relate the stories to the present and future in ways that the previous occupants had failed to adequately do. Perhaps it is the case that the scholars who lived here are not themselves to blame anymore than the competing forces that drove them to the periphery. By the 18th and 19th centuries, they really had no control over the political fate of the Empire. But by then, perhaps the problem was that their guild needed to work along with others to ensure growth, development and progress across the board – economically, culturally and otherwise.

Likewise, the scholars who reside here for these five days cannot be to blame if their message occupies only a peripheral position in the minds of their students. They have no political control, but neither is that the point. The point is that they attempt now to deliver an ongoing message designed to assume a central position in the minds of the present custodians of Islamic tradition in the West. Whatever you do – do it well. Build, innovate, make money, learn. Pick something, and do it well. With Islam in mind, you will naturally incorporate its values, work-ethic, lightness of spirit, seriousness of intent, sincerity, and freedom. And that will buoy not only your own project but that of the community. Intentionally engage as Muslims. Support institutions that benefit not just Muslims but their surrounding communities. Study, pray, sing. Build a beautiful American mosque. Pen an intricately designed American calligraphic work. Understand an economic investment, the political arena, our legal system that will be tempered with Islamic values appropriately articulated in the American scene. Raise up the people around you. Laugh, paint, reflect.

Day 9
Edirne

The next day took us to the Westernmost border of Turkey. With its proximity to Greece, we could feel the excitement of the preparations for the Olympic games. But we were distracted by those temporary festivities by the beautiful monuments in this town. Here was Sinan’s masterpiece, the Selimiye, completed when he was 60 years old. Inside was a web of intricate tile art, whose appeal was in its simplicity and flawless integration. This is the most important complex in Ottoman Istanbul. Though closed, the building’s inside has the feeling of openness. Nearby were two other magnificent buildings. The Üçserefeli Cami’s twin minarets spiral upward in alternating browns and beiges then the Eski Cami, with its rows of arches and pillars beneath rows of domes. Inside is a small part of the brick from the Yemeni corner in Mecca, and the visitors to this mosque touch it just as do the pilgrims who round the Ka’bah each year.

Before stopping at a small mosque on the way to Istanbul, we visit the Beyazit Külliyesi (built for Sultan Beyazit II 1481-1512) – complete with medrese, mosque (still in the reconstruction phase) and hospital. Mental hospital.

Hospital
A recent Persian film called Ham Nafas seeks to critique people who call themselves mentally insane. In one scene, situated in a ward of a modern mental hospital, the nurse screams at the assembled lunatics: “You are crazy either because you have been told you are crazy or because you yourselves believe that you are crazy. And in the end, it is easier to be crazy than sane. If you are crazy, you can live here for free, we will wash your clothes for you; you don’t have to worry about honing the discipline it takes to make a steady paycheck to provide your family. You can do all of this, but when you let go of yourself and succumb to the easiness having others take care of you, you are more than happy to call yourself crazy. You don’t control your anger. You don’t control it. And then we call you crazy. I challenge you to leave this place. [She demonstrated, by questioning a few of her patience, that they were well in control of their mental faculties of memory, articulation and reasoning – even more so than their so-called sane counterparts and family members.] You are not crazy!”

This is a modern rendition that throws a spin on what appears to be an age-old curiosity of the human being who loses his or her faculties such that society labels them “crazy.” In old Muslim times, T.J. Winters explains, Muslims used to separate the insane into two categories: one consisted of those who were actually possessed. These people were in need of exorcism by traditional means. The other comprised those who had a chemical imbalance of one ore more of the four humors (yellow bile, black bile, red blood and green phlegm). For the latter group, healing took a combination of psychological and physical treatment. This was the nature of the hospital that we visited. Built in the traditional Ottoman style, one entered and walked through a sizeable courtyard filled with garden flowers used both to provide a healthy, lush, green environment for its calming effect on the soul, and to grow the flowers used for aroma therapy and herbs used to restore chemical balance. Along the edges of the courtyard were “cells,” where the patients lived. Rarely did the hospital suffer deaths or large failure rates at their attempts to treat. The secret in that may have partly been in that they did not accept patients who were mentally hopeless or physically on their last leg. Each cell was framed by the Ottoman signature striped arch, forming a row of arches that led to the building for treatment.

Now a museum, each room’s mannequin figures depict the types of activities and treatments that occurred inside. The depictions are so real-to-life that they won the Council of Europe award this year (2004) for the best museum in Europe. In the center of the room, a group of 5 musicians play soothing music that affects the spirit. The reed figures in prominently.

Listen to the reed – how it narrates a tale, A tale of all the separations of which it complains.

“Ever since they cut me from the Reed-bed, Men and women bemoaned my lament

“How I wish in separation, a bosom shred and shred So as to utter the description of the pain of longing.”

Whoever becomes distance from his roots Seeks to return to the days of his union.⁵

In one room, a doctor treats an epileptic patient who writhes and twists in his uncontrollable pain. In another, a small boy looks up at his caretaker, hoping for his humors to be restored. In yet a third, a woman sits aside, explaining her problems to her doctor. In a fourth, two patients are kept occupied with handicrafts designed to focus their attention on useful work, with hopes of curing the mind that wanders into thoughts and mischievous activities we consider crazy. In a fifth room, a wizard-like figure stands with hands stretched to the sky. Perhaps, he believes, he is receiving revelation. This was a man who believed that he was Prophet Muhammad, paralleling a common delusion of many of the insane in the West today who believe themselves to be Jesus Christ. He had placed himself in a kind of self-quarantine, refusing to exit except for the meals which all mortals had to take. But otherwise, he was too occupied to exit – busy receiving revelation no doubt.

Was he crazy because he claimed to be a prophet, or because he really believed he was a prophet. We had heard about others who falsely put forward the claim had been put to death.

Musaylima
And then there is the infamous Musaylima who responded to God and Prophet Muhammad’s Qur’an’s rhetorical challenge to produce the like of the Qur’an if they could; but that if they could not, then to acknowledge that Muhammad was indeed a prophet bringing revelation from God. This has been discussed in the literature dealing with the Qur’an’s miraculous nature (i‘jaz al-Qur’an). For example, in his work, Bayan i‘jaz al-Qur’an (An Exposition on the Qur’an’s Inimitability) Muhammad al-Khattabi (d. 388/998) listed some examples of Musaylima’s attempts to mimic the Qur’an along with a scathing critique of the same:

Ya dafda‘ naqqa kam tunnaqin, la al-ma’a takdurin, la al-warida tanfurin.⁵

Oh frog, purify! For surely you are the one who purifies. You neither muddy water, nor do you flee the animals coming to the watering hole.

Khattabi censures:

With regard to Musaylima’s statement about the frog, it is obvious that this is speech devoid from any kind of benefit whatsoever: Neither its utterances are correct (la lafzuhu sahih), nor its meaning upright (wa la ma‘nahu mustaqim), nor is there anything in it from the three [aforementioned] conditions that stand as the pillars of balagha.⁵

He goes on to say that Musaylima’s verse suffered because it compromised meaning for rhyme (and a deficient form of rhyme at that!). He continues,

Is anyone beset by [the least amount] of doubt concerning the utter incoherence (dalala) of examples like these …? What eloquence is there in this speech? What meaning undergirds it? What wisdom is in it, such that one could even imagine that it could compete with the Qur’an …?!”⁵

In another example, Musaylima recited,

Al-fil, ma al-fil, wa ma adraka ma al-fil. Lahu mishfarun t,awil. Wa dhanabun athil.Wa ma dhaka min khalqi rabbina biqalil.⁵

The elephant; what is the elephant? And what will make you realize what the elephant is? It has a long trunk. And a deep-rooted tail. And that is not rare in the creation of our Lord.

For Khattabi, this is quite simply nothing but pilfering (istiraq) and plagiarism (iqtita‘) from the words of the Qur’an and subservience (ihtidha’) to some examples of excellent Qur’anic compositon (nazm).⁵ It steals Qur’anic structures and replaces them with nonsensical words. Not only that, but the attempt also violates the rules of mu‘arada⁵, which Khattabi details in the next few pages,⁵ as he explains successful forms of mu‘arada through poetic examples showing Imru al-Qays pitted against different opponents. After demonstrating Musaylima’s utter failure to meet the low rungs of his balagha standards, Khattabi writes as if addressing Musaylima:

Where are the [conditions] that we stipulated within the boundaries of rhetoric in the words that you have brought forth? And where are the [qualities] that we have described of the [valid] forms of challenge about which you are deluded from your [own] ignorance and misguided state? In opening your words with “al-fil, ma al-fil, wa ma adraka ma al-fil,” have you struck with terror or fear, ascended in [sublimity] or given approval? [In that case], then you [would have] violated what you promised and aborted what [benefit] might have been born when you plagiarized. With the mention of the tail and the trunk, you [further] debased the quality [of your words].

If you had known anything about the laws of speech, logical ordering and form, you would have not corrupted your speech from [all of its eloquent] aspects and you would have not placed words in inappropriate places. You would have known – O one incapable of imitating the Qur’an – that such openings as these [should] act as a prelude to a great matter, employing descriptions that are [necessarily] finite in import to express a [larger] meaning.
[He then gives the examples of suras al-Haqqa and al-Qari‘a.]⁵ … You, however, have appended this style to a creature whose eyes everyone can take in with one blink of an eye, and for which knowledge already encompasses its meaning with but the slightest amount of thought. Then you reduced whatever was great in [the elephant] – its wonders – to the [mere] mention of its trunk and its tail.⁵

I would have this matter with diligence explained, But I fear lest some minds might stumble.

Points here involved are like the blade of steel – sharp! If thou doest not have a shield, then turn back and flee!

Day 10
The Dolmabahce & Topkopi Palaces
Dolmabahce and Topkopi palaces are like night and day. The Topkopi reflects the traditional Ottoman architecture. It reminded of the mosque complexes that we have visited on our trip: central mosque, soup kitchen, medrese and living quarters in the midst of fountains and garden flowers. The masjid was always the most magnificent structure. Even it located outside of the physical center of such complexes, all eyes drifted naturally to the masjid for its splendor. Its patrons would employ the best of their artists to adorn its interior with laces of gold and silver or intricate designs of colorful tile work or its reminders of God through a beautiful pen-stroked rendition of His Word.

Topkapi reflected this. Inside were buildings that displayed the mastery of its architects from the outside and preserved so much history from the inside – boasting of relics from the past of the Prophet and some of his Companions. Like the Suleymaniyye and Selimiye, it was an elegant masterpiece that spoke of the greatness of the Empire at its height.

By contrast, Dolmabahce palace seemed a monument to an anemic Ottoman Empire on the brink of obliteration. Every inch of the palace’s every room displayed a late-Ottoman extravagance that could rival the very best of their European statesmen counterparts. Golden raised ceilings covered with painted designs; imported furniture; large carpets; several pieces of furniture that had no need of matching one another for each in its own right a masterpiece that could stand alone. Taken together, the effect was a cacophony of color and jewels thrown together in a huge, multi-roomed mansion on the sea.

Reflecting on this effect, Dr. Umar comments that the rivalry was exactly the point. The Ottomans needed to show the Europeans that they could be like them. When European statesmen came to Turkey, the sultan would receive them in a palace that looked much like their own and palaces and mansions. This would show that Ottomans, too, could compete with the Europeans. They symbolism of this effort was apparent. The Ottomans had forgotten their past cultural and political genius; they had ceased to lead with cultural innovations of their own. Instead, they mimicked the Europeans in attempt to impress them. Meanwhile, the Dolmabahce walls had nothing to do with their rich past of architectural brilliance; its inner décor would no doubt injure the eyes and pride of architect-calligraphers like Sinan as well as the common Ottoman who had developed a refined sense for beauty. And all this was in attempt not to join the cultural talents of Ottomans with the modern and developing sensibilities of its people against the changing realities of the globe in a physical display of strength and beauty that affirmed Ottoman identity and attracted others to it. Rather, this palace was simply an attempt to seek a superficial validation through attracting the European eye that emerged from quite a different recent tradition. The palace had an outward looking eye that had forgotten its people and failed to build upon its own tradition. Its flamboyance and straight lines in fact represented a clean break from the past. This was a new day. Not surprisingly, soon after, the Ottoman Empire officially ended and the Turkish Republic was born.

Hagia Sophia
Four Hagia Sophias dot the country. But this in Istanbul is undoubtedly the largest and most beautiful. It served as a prize for the rulers who coveted its inner beauty, its large dome and its perch atop the highest hill in Istanbul. Once one visits the Hagia Sophia, passes through its arched entryways, stands next to its dwarfing columns, dodges the colored beams peaking through stained glass window, loses themselves beneath its mammoth dome, they understand why.

The structure now standing is the third Hagia Sophia, built by King Justinian. Christians worshipped in the building for 916 years before Muslims felled Constantinople and converted the wonder into a mosque. Most churches were left as they were. The sultan largely allowed Christians to worship freely and protected their places of worship. But the Hagia Sophia, the Holy Wisdom, was different. Its beauty was so catching, its environs so coveted that the sultan allowed himself this church to share its pride with the Empire as a mosque.

Miniaturk
After lunch, we took a mini tour of all of Turkey. We also managed to visit some other important sites in the Islamic world formerly under Ottoman rule, like Masjid al-Aqsa and the Dome of the Rock (Qubbat al-Sahra) (Yes, these are two different buildings!) in Jerusalem, or like bridges in Bosnia and the Muhammad ‘Ali Mosque in Cairo. The models in Minaturk, an open-air museum, would have fooled any visitor into believing that they were real, except that the visitors towered above the two-inch models that walked the grounds of these buildings. Masjid minarets, like those of the Blue Mosque or the Selimiyye for example, were about the height of an averaged-sized man. The rest was built to scale. Those who built Minaturk labored hard to make each model appear as did the original. They paid such fine attention to detail that they even included the individual names of each sultan on the gravestones of their resting places. They outlined the calligraphic moments attached to each building. They included miniature bushes that looked like the trees surrounding these sites.

Days 11 & 12
Cruise
On the 11th day, we took a cruise on the Marmara Sea and dined near the sea, while some of its members regaled the others with songs from home.

Final Together
We had saved some of the best for last. The next day, we went to Jumu‘a prayers in the Sultanahmet mosque (The Blue Mosque), which was famous several years ago for withstanding the violent tremors that would have destroyed the structures in any other city not built on firmer foundations; and the structure that in the minds of many of our visitors rivaled that of even the Selimiyye, though it was built not by Sinan but by one of his students.

The Blue Mosque
It was all splendor. We walked the length of the courtyard, stopping briefly by the fountain for a cool sprinkle of clear water. The arches ahead of loomed, welcoming us. Once we entered, we notice the detail. Flowers, geometric designs and ayats intertwined with one another, drawing the eye upward, upward until it reached the decorative crown: a high ceiling with the huge calligraphic pen strokes that reminded one of God, his Prophet and historical luminaries; all surrounded by intricate designs that played one off the other. Likewise, the multi-colored trellises of the stacked arches did little to prepare the visitor for this leap. Yet, all the colors and styles came together into one unique whole.

Beneath the dome, one’s spirit became light. It was perhaps liberated from its human body, flying upward to touch that history and beauty, to look down on the figures of these hundreds of worshippers. From this vantage point, one visitor appeared no different from the next; and surely millions had come to this place. For ultimately they came for one purpose that lay beyond the individual, who became insignificant in the face of what the building stood for. All the visitors looked up, to gaze at the splendor and think of what it stood for. As much as it dazzled their eyes, it dazzled their hearts as well. With that thought, they prayed.

Military Museum
Later was a trip to watch the soldiers of the military museum perform before us as the Ottoman troops used to before the enemy at the start of the battle. Though heartily sung, the lilting tunes were somehow disturbing, a bit off-key. Such was the mood of battle: hearty, but not a happy affair. The group took time to explore the Fatih region (near the mosque and tomb Sultan Mehmet II for an afternoon of shopping).

Day 13
Final Day
The final day was a free day, and the members dispersed to Mahmut Paca – the grand bazaar behind the Blue Mosque; to malls, to Uskudar to speak with some of the calligraphic masters, to mosques. That night, the group would offer farewells with one final get together and a final comedy routine by Azhar. A wonderful trip had come to an end; but it was also a beginning in many senses for those who would carry the lessons home.

Lessons & Nostalgia
This tour has opened up worlds to its visitors – through the people and places of Turkey, the scholars who accompanied us to place it all in context, and the chance to reflect. The lessons are very valuable ones. For they give access to knowledge and push us and others to think in ways that might seem otherwise inconceivable, inaccessible. Especially for that visitor from the West who has had access to virtually none of the lessons that Islamic history, philosophy and experience had to offer; from the Islamic intellectual, spiritual, legal and artistic traditions – all of which seemed to meld into one another at their heights. Especially for the one who wanted to know so badly, but had no means of access to that sort of knowledge. Especially for the one whose only access to that world of knowledge told of the Prophet and his legacy through mostly unreasonable – not bad, but unreasonable – spokesmen. For that person who would otherwise be led to believe that Islam, Islamic law, Islamic philosophy, Islamic mysticism, etc. (if there even was such a thing) was indeed as it had been painted of late in the West: devoid of rhyme and reason and necessarily backward and third world. For the one who did not necessarily believe in that characterization of the Prophet, but who was left with no other way to regard his legacy other than through skewed, selective peek-holes. For the one who possessed neither the tools to understand why nor signposts pointing in any other direction. This trip would introduce the onlooker to great personages like Rumi and Ibn Arabi, show the beautiful output of spiritual ecstasy in Shams’ poetry and Sinan’s architecture, open the doors of the palace and allow the visitor to sit on the throne over which the Ottomans ruled for 600 years, introduce sultans and religious leaders who were not afraid to show their mistakes even as they emphasized the potentialities for greatness based on reasoned Islamic principles.

Final Thoughts
One might find all these things through their own travels through lands or books, but to this degree was unlikely and very hard to come by alone. The Nawawi foundation offered a unique entryway to the Islamic world and history. Some might find its expression in concrete terms that serve as enough of an experience to open their eyes to what lies beyond and thus satisfy their curiosity; others may be driven to constant reflection and study born of the newfound thirst for more. Through this experience, some will gain very practical lessons and others will acquaint themselves with a more ephemeral sphere.

If the days have passed, say “Go!” It matters not,
Do Thou Remain, O Thou like whom there is no one pure

Whoever is not a fish becomes sated with his water,
Whoever has no daily bread, his day becomes long.

The state of the ripe, none who is raw understands.
Hence brief my words must be, farewell!⁵

Intisar Rabb is a joint JD/PhD candidate at Yale Law School and Princeton University respectively, focusing on comparative American and Islamic law. Fluent in Arabic, she has studied Islam and Islamic law in Syria, and has engaged in various studies and research on Islamic law in Egypt, Morocco, Iran and Turkey. She worked as a journalist and staff columnist for her college newspaper, the Georgetown Hoya, and has continued to write occasional articles. She joined the Nawawi Foundation trip to Turkey and wrote a travellogue aimed at sharing the experience both with those who did not make it to that trip and with those who did – and want to conjure up some of the sights and conversations. She plans to one day publish a travel-novel from some of her own travel experiences; and she works on Islamic calligraphy and painting.

by Ibrahim N. Abusharif

China: the orient, the exotic, the strange. But for whom? Certainly not the 1.3 billion people who call themselves Chinese, nor the hundreds of millions who neighbor them geographically and, to variant degrees, culturally. For all the exoticness the orient still claims in the modern imagination, for Muslims and for centuries, China was hardly the land of mystery so tidily typecast. It was recognized for what it was: a vibrant country and rich culture, a center of ancient wisdom, preserved tradition, and imperial sway.

A behemoth land mass of astounding diverse topography, China has had an active and large Muslim minority, whose seeds go as far back as the days of Uthman ibn Affan (God be pleased with him). It was the first significant Muslim minority of the post-prophetic period that did not have a contiguous land contact with the core lands of Islam. In the summer of 2002, the Nawawi Foundation inaugurated its Travel Abroad program with a tour that took nearly a hundred American Muslims to five major regions and cities of China, giving special attention to ethnic Chinese Muslims (the Hui people) and their various mosques, centers, and off-road villages. The places we visited and people we met left impressions on each of us in diverse ways. For me, personally, the whole spirit of the trip was capsulated by our visit to Lanzouh, while for some it was the small Muslim settlement high in a mountainous region or our experience at the Great Mosque in Xi’an. Others of the group will identify a brief conversation with a Chinese national as the veil-dropper, the spark that cast light on the reason we took the tour in the first place. Wherever it may have been, there were plenty of opportunities to find repose.

The following account is a concise day-to-day chronicle interspersed with some commentary and background information (succinct as it should be) that will help the reader get a feel of the two-week journey, the motivation behind the trip, the amazing spirit it evoked, and the significance it holds for Muslims as far flung as America.

The morning of the fourth of July was the official start of our China experience. The tour included a smart mix of stops and sights of interest to all visitors, as well as those that are of particular significance to Muslims. To begin to understand how Muslims integrated within the larger context of China, it makes sense to foretaste something of the overall ambiance of Chinese culture and society.

Day 1 – Beijing

Tiananmen Square
This stop, like many throughout the trip, was emblematic of the nation we visited. It was big, but not gaudy or grandiose. Symbolism means much in China. You can see it everywhere, in the architecture, parks, general use of space, and even the Chinese alphabet itself, a system of meanings communicated mainly through symbols rather than phonetics. Tiananmen Square is located in the center of Beijing and is said to be the largest public square in the world. From north to south, it extends more than 2600 feet. For centuries, the Square served as an entryway to the Forbidden City. Its current look, though, is of modern vintage, built up in the twentieth century by Chairman Mao. Tiananmen Square is frequently remembered today for the clash between the Chinese government and the pro-democracy students in June of 1989, especially the scene of one lone demonstrator challenging a tank. In the center of the Square is the People’s Heroes monument, the largest of its kind in China and built in 1952, commemorating China’s recent history.

Forbidden City
The Forbidden City is one of the most well known Beijing sites, thanks, in part, to Disney’s Mulan and a variety of motion pictures. Despite its frequent appearance in popular culture, it is an awesome thing to personally experience. The City is an amazing complex of structures and the planned use of open space. The Forbidden City was the grand imperial palace during the Ming and Qing dynasties. Construction began in 1407 and was completed fourteen years later. It is known as the world’s largest palace complex, covering more than 180 acres, surrounded by a high wall and a 20-feet deep moat. The Forbidden City has building complexes separated by huge courts with beautiful flora, symbolic relics, and lined pathways. The Outer Court of the Forbidden City was where the emperor wielded his power and received imperial guests. The Inner Court was where he and his royal family lived.

The Niujie Mosque
To the southwest of Beijing is Niujie Street, whose main attraction is the Niujie Mosque, which was built in 996 during the Liao Dynasty. It is the oldest and largest of the 70 or so mosques in Beijing, covering nearly 6000 square meters. It is said that on a daily basis more than two hundred people worship at the mosque, and nearly a thousand worshippers attend the Friday Congregational Prayer (Jumu’a). The Niujie Mosque was the first “Muslim” experience of the trip so far. It bore a distinct look that we would come across frequently throughout the trip, namely, an architecture that is both Chinese and Muslim. To the Chinese, the Mosque is not a structure that pops out as peculiar looking or alien. It is honored as a historical Chinese site and respected as a house of worship. Inside, one is taken aback by the master calligraphy of Quranic passages, especially those that line some of the 20 or so beautiful and colorful archways, many of which are rich maroon. The Mosque has a Quran school and several halls for classes and other events. The Mosque is a major tourist attraction in the district, which has more than 20,000 Muslims. (The estimated population of Muslims in Beijing is 200,000.) It has a hexagonal-shaped tower that appears to be a minaret; however, the open space it covers is where worshippers gather for remembrance. The roof covering the main prayer hall is constructed in the style of traditional Chinese architecture, called Zaojing, found throughout the nation. In the courtyard at the southeast corner of the Mosque are the gravesites of two early Muslims men who came to China (presumably from Bukhara) to teach Islam. Their graves are honored with carved tablets with the names of the men. Today, the 700-year-old tombs are well-kept and respected as one of the rare sites of China.

Kung Fu Show
The evening was topped off with a Kung Fu Show that was hardly the stereotypical rendition of this martial arts form. The masters of this art told a story of competing struggle between good and evil, not once uttering a single word. It was a narrative told through the feats of remarkable athleticism and symbolic motions of the body engaged in mock struggles, with carefully choreographed moves and brightly colored costumes.

Day 2 -Great Wall

Great Wall of China
The most recognized site of China is the Great Wall, whose construction began more than 25 centuries ago. The Wall runs a roughly east-west course for more than 3700 miles and remains one of the greatest man-made marvels of human history. Originally built for defensive purposes—whose effectiveness as a protective fortification is dubious—the wall averages 36 feet in height, with more than 25,000 watch towers interspersed along the way. It is fatiguing to imagine the enormous effort to construct such a behemoth structure. By any measure, the Great Wall certainly deserves to be called a wonder of human construction. From the many towers we walked to—and not without difficulty and physical challenge—one is able to take in a breathtaking view of the greenery and hills of the region.

Friday Prayer Chang Ping Mosque
Near the Great Wall is the Chang Ping Mosque, where we prayed Friday Prayers. Before the Prayer, the imam of the mosque gave a lecture in Chinese. Thereafter, one Chinaman stood and made the adhan, after which, another person stood and recited in Arabic an old text, presumable from one of the scholars and imams of Islam. The Prayer was then conducted.

Acrobatics Show
Later that night, we watched a special viewing (especially for the Nawawi tour) of small bodies flying through the air, synchronized, and choreographed; bodies bending over backwards, literally, contortionists of an amazing range and coordination.

Day 3 – Pandas/Pearl Factory/Palace

Pandas
Beijing’s zoo is the world’s most successful in breeding and raising in captivity the elusive and endangered Panda, a marvel of God’s handiwork, a large, chubby, gentle, and slow-moving bear that’s constantly eating when not constantly sleeping. With only a few hundred in the wild, the Panda’s future seems dependent on the research and breeding programs inspired or lead by biologists at the Beijing Zoo.

Pearl Factory
Nearly ever day of the trip, we had to make a requisite commercial stop, this time a large hall of fine pearl and mother of pearl incorporated into jewelry, vases, walking canes, and other products. These “shop stops,” as some of us called them, were actually more than commercial excursions, for in the process of adding to the Chinese economy, we saw glimpses of the crafts and artisanship of the Chinese people and the amazing detail one finds in their work.

Summer Palace
Located about 12 miles northwest of downtown Beijing, the Summer Palace is another staggering example of China’s imperial sway celebrated in carefully planned landscape and Chinese sense of “big.” The Summer Palace complex houses some three thousand structures of pavilions, residences, towers, sitting areas, corridors, and walls, all interspersed with gardens of flowers, small bushes, and generous shade trees, as well groomed lawns and pathways. The famed corridor runs about 2400 feet long and parallels the Palace’s center lake. The Palace itself is eight centuries old, built during the Qing Dynasty.

Day 4 – Lanzou

We flew into Lanzhou from Beijing in the afternoon. Three buses waited for us to take us to our hotels. We were looking forward to getting some rest or to quietly gaze at the countryside that separated the airport from the ancient city, said to be located in the east-west center of China.

Dozens of brick-baking kilns smoked along side the narrow highways. Small trucks overburdened with stacks of red bricks sputtered on the shoulder of the road. Happy-looking people sat on straw crates with bowls of steaming noodles in their hands. The greenery beyond and between the kilns was surprising because of the obvious fecundity of the land and its bold contrast with the structures of the brick-making industry, especially the ochre patches of terrain from which raw resources were scraped.

By dusk, we finally arrived in the city itself, crossing a large well-lit iron bridge that traversed the Yellow River, one of the world’s greatest waterways. It was on the banks of this sediment-rich river that Chinese civilization began millennia ago, confirming the firm bond between human settlement and water.

In and around Lanzhou, a bustling city of three and half million people, there are more than 60 mosques (more than three thousand in the province of Gansu). The next day, one of the first things we wanted to do (after the museum outing) was to visit the central mosque of the city, established more than 800 years ago; but to do so our buses needed to stop on a crowded thoroughfare. From there we walked like army ants through narrow streets, as the local folks watched a hundred American Muslims streaming through their neighborhood. Some people pointed toward us; many waved and smiled. Others kept their solid faces toward us, wondering who we were, what we wanted, and where we were from.

After more turns down streets and alleyways, we finally saw a tall wall standing alone, free from anything behind or before it or on its sides—a simple barrier blocking out street life from the courtyard of a magnificent mosque with familiar Chinese architecture that popped out from nowhere. When we walked beneath the archway toward the mosque, we saw and heard things—a new norm and culture—that reaffirmed the very impetus that sent us to travel through the earth, as the Quran states with frequency.

Inside, our generous Chinese hosts greeted us with reverence, as if we had halos over our heads. Throughout our trip, in fact, bighearted hospitality made us feel like old friends and special guests among a people we had never known before. Later we were taken on a tour of the premises by one of the religion teachers who spoke standard Arabic, which turned out to be the main medium through which we were able to communicate with Muslims in China. After Prayer, we were led to a second-floor classroom in a building that flanked the mosque, and in the classroom we took our seats. After a short wait, about six or seven young men with bashful smiles walked in and out of the room, reluctant about something. They didn’t say much, and when they did speak, we didn’t understand their words.

In a moment, though, the language barrier was removed. Standing before us in what looked like loose choir formation, the men and students of the religion school fell silent and turned their gaze downward. They then broke into a melodic song praising God and His Prophet (God bless him and grant him peace). I recorded the song and am replaying it now as I write.

The song was composed of short melodies repeated in cycles, as the singers themselves swayed gently and slightly from side to side. Every third or fourth cycle, one sturdy voice projected through the rhythm with deep sonority and passion, as if an unveiling had occurred. With time at a standstill, their song achieved a spiritual cadence that evoked in many of us our own affirmation of God’s Oneness and the love of His beloved Prophet Muhammad in a manner that, personally, I had never dreamt of before.

But there was something else about this experience that added puissance to our feelings. This mosque, like most of Lanzhou’s mosques, had been destroyed during the “Cultural Revolution” (1966-1976)—during Chairman Mao’s campaign to raze institutions, history, and artifacts that did not conform to his cultural plan for China.

The mosque, however, has since been rebuilt. Its architecture—in a manner we would witness repeatedly throughout the trip—bore distinctly Chinese motifs in a profoundly Islamic synthesis: Chinese archways, pagoda-like roofs, and mesmerizing Chinese and Arabic calligraphy. Decades after the tribulations of the “Cultural Revolution,” China’s Muslims had obviously returned. They did not need to speak a single word about their faith: we saw their handiwork and listened to their songs that affirmed their sense of devotion. It was sacred art conveying to strangers—none of us speakers of their native language—the quintessence of faith in a way no other manner could dare attempt.

Day 5 – Linxia/Little Mecca

This excursion had two exhilarating parts, the ride and the destination. If ever anyone spent some private time imagining how Heaven might appear (invariably we’ve all tried it), this road trip offered a lot to think about. The hills and landscape were beautiful beyond imagination. The earth turned into a veritable quilt with dozens of patches of crops and other flora of different hues and contours. The greens, reds, oranges, and yellows burst before the onlooker after each turn down and up the winding roads. Sloped farmland, seemingly hopping over each other, curved and swayed north and south in the horizons. But the landscape was a stark departure from the dusty town of Lingxia itself, fondly known as Little Makkah (the town is dominantly Muslim, a fact that is obvious by the minarets, kufis, and scarves). Nearly 300 thousand Muslims are said to live in the city, making up about 95 percent of the total population.

We visited the main mosque that housed a school for Muslim boys and girls. The hundreds of students who attend the school learn Quran and the Arabic language, and have a large computer lab to aid the students in their instruction. Like every mosque and school we visited in the tour, we noticed the eagerness of Chinese Muslims to teach religion to their youngsters.

Day 6 – Xian/Terracota Warriors

Xi’an
Like the Lanzhou experience, the excursion into Xi’an arrested many minds and hearts. It had the aura, history, and people that made it an event to remember. But first something about the city itself. Xi’an was once an ancient capital of the Chinese empire. If you never knew this beforehand, this factoid manifests itself just about everywhere in the city. Nearly all the sights and the general atmosphere leave no doubt that the obvious dignity of the city is closely tethered to a glorious past. If one has never experienced anything imperial, Xi’an offers a memorable measure. Surrounding the city are steep mountains and strategic passes, with the Wei River valley nearby with fertile farm lands. Eleven dynasties established their capital here. The city reached its peak of prosperity in the Tang Dynasty (618-907), becoming a center of cultural exchanges, including that with Muslims.

The most well known and frequently visited sites in the city are the Bell Tower, the Drum Tower, the Tablet Forest, and the nearby Terracotta Warriors. But none of these sites compares with the Great Mosque of Xi’an.

The Great Mosque Complex is a “cup overrun with beauty,” “an oasis of peace,” and other depictions I heard from members of our group. All descriptions being true, the Mosque is also a spiritual project, a system of courtyards and pathways meant to empty one of worldly distractions before finally reaching the Prayer Hall itself. Step one foot beneath the complex’s first arch, you notice an ambience that summons the worshipper to a condition of mind befitting a house of worship. The gardens in the courtyards are laden with pathways, benches, pools of water lilies, and botanical shapes and colors, all accented by the songs of songbirds. Chinese pavilions with ornate beams and ridgepoles mark off the four courtyards of the Mosque grounds. Along the way, you can read the inscriptions on old stone archways, with Arabic and Chinese verses and sayings, exalting “wisdom” and “knowledge” and “God.” It was all a silent “adhan” calling us to Prayer.

Prayer in the Xian Mosque was an experience unlike a typical mosque elsewhere in the Muslim world. Here, you cannot walk out the door and hail a cab. After the prayer, you again experience the peace of the gardens, as if you’re still in the post-prayer litanies. You cannot hear cars zooming in the distance or their annoying honks. To join the world, you must leave the grounds altogether, walking through the courtyards, pavilions, and green and flowered flora that prepared us for Prayer in the first place.

The Mosque was first established 745 CE, during the Tang Dynasty. This was before Muslim Spain and before the Abbasids made their capital in Iraq. It is located in Huajue Lane, which is the hub of the more than 70,000 Muslims of Xi’an. Its narrow corridors outside the Mosque complex are lined with dozens of quaint shops.

The Great Mosque has no domes. It is Chinese architecture and gardens informed by the spirituality of Chinese Muslims. The Mosque grounds cover more than 13,000 square meters. Opposite a tall wall that screens the complex from city culture is a wooden archway through which we enter. The archways is decorated with brick carvings and upturned eaves, and layers of glazed roof-tiles. Engraved Chinese calligraphy reads: “The Court of the Heaven.”

In the center courtyard, the “Introspection Tower” serves as the minaret. It is two stories tall and has three layers of eaves and an octagonal roof. On the south side of the minaret is the Reception Hall, in which a hand-written copy of the Quran is kept. It was scribed during the Ming Dynasty and has been preserved ever since and regarded by the Chinese as a treasured work of art.

In the last courtyard before the Prayer Hall one finds the “One God Pavilion” that has a traditional Chinese archway and a pavilion shaped in a hexagon with upturned eaves. The overall look of the architecture is in the shape of a phoenix with open wings. The other buildings flanking the courtyard hold historical and cultural relics of the Miming and Qing dynasties, and large paintings, one with the Ka’ba.

After a short walk, we stood before a wide platform that leads to the Prayer Hall itself. Only worshippers are allowed to go beyond this point. The roof of the magnificent Prayer Hall is covered with the blue glazed tiles. Inside, the magnificence of the sight is a bit overwhelming. Your first impulse is to Pray. After that, your head is looking everywhere: toward the ceilings engraved with letters shaped in the patterns of grass and flowers or toward the walls featuring hundreds of wooden boards engraved with the entire Quran. Some boards are carved with Chinese translations of the Quran’s meanings. The mihrab is also surrounded by engravings. The names of Allah (God) are on plaques along the upper portions of the walls.

The Xian Mosque receives tens of thousands of visitors each year. We saw them sitting and strolling in the courtyards, marveling at the beauty and serenity of the grounds, awed at the fact that this is a Mosque. The wordless messages are more powerful than a hundred booklets and speeches.

At one point, we had the privilege to meet with the mosque Imam, an elderly gentlemen who looked stronger than anyone of us. He had a wide face, large eyes, sturdy shoulders, and thick healthy hands that he happily used to feed us handfuls of peanuts that he says are very good for the heart. We sat and spoke through interpreters. He then broke into a true story. During the Cultural Revolution, when thousands of houses of worship were being leveled in an attempt to redefine the cultural edifice of the new China, military officers came to the Xi’an mosque to do their job, that is, knock it down. Before they had come, mosque goers caught wind that demolition was imminent and the crew was on the way. The Mosque men huddled around the Imam and begged him to allow them to fight, but he refused. Calm and sure, he told them that when the officers and soldiers came, he will greet them. And so he did. He told them that before they begin their labor that they may want to hear a story or two. And so the Imam sat them down and told them a narrative that riveted the demolition crew. When he finished, he told them, “Ok. You may begin your task,” or to that effect. They were so enthralled by the story, they begged him for more, to which he responded (again, to the effect): “Sure, but not today. Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you more stories.” The crew left, not a stone was turned nor a flower uprooted. They came back and felt a connection with the Imam that essentially saved the mosque not just from the demolition of a crew, but from a revolution that razed just about everything else. Listening to the Imam tell that story transported us out of time, sitting at the feet of a wise man imparting some ancient wisdom. I see how the crew was so enthralled. Had I not heard the Imam speak, I would have thought the whole event to have been incredulous or apocrypha at best.

Terracotta Warriors
One of the most astonishing sites of the trip was just outside of Xi’an, where thousands of life-size terracotta warriors and horses were unearthed in three pits, each dug out years apart, the first being 1974, then 1976, then finally in 1980. The site was accidentally discovered as villagers dug a well. Today, these sculpted terracotta warriors are collectively considered the Eighth Wonder of the world. It’s not know why the site was ever buried, but the pits are huge, massive, and clearly purposeful. The soldiers are positioned in battle array, and they’re dressed and armed for war. There are bowmen, infantrymen, and chariots. These soldiers range in height from 5 ft. 8 in. to 6 ft. 2 in. It is an accepted theory that the soldiers and their battle gear were placed in the tomb of Chinese Emperor Qin Shi Huang to protect him in the hereafter. Emperor Qin ascended to power about 250 BC, and became the first emperor of China. Like the Great Wall of China, the terracotta warriors are a testament to the degree and extent of commitment that the Chinese had for their leadership.

Day 7 – Mountain Village

We scheduled a “three-hour bus ride” to a village huddled in the mountains. In seven good hours, we finally made it. The ride here was also picturesque, showing again the diversity of topography that this nation holds. At one point, when we neared our destination, the buses had to stop. From there we made a reasonable hike up a steep hill that led to a community of Muslims living in homes carved into the rocky mountains. They are happy looking people, essentially without much means, but who are blessed with the awesome privilege to wake up in the morning and gaze at an amazing scene of rolling hills and flowered meadows and hillside cropland. Despite the scarcity of wealth, this agrarian community is careful to educate their students in the Quran. And just like everywhere we went, the hospitality was deeply sincere and so utterly natural to these fine people. The long ride was well worth it. We soon had to leave, back into the bus culture and the business of getting back to where we stayed and what was next on the agenda. While gazing toward the mountain landscape and seeing the carved homes, one is overwhelmed at the diversity of lifestyles God’s vicegerents have been honored to live.

Day 8 – Xian School

Back in Xian, we visited a school with a full program for “pre-schoolers” (my description) to adults. In the school courtyard we again were greeted with stretched tables lined with the sweetest watermelon imaginable: red, firm, and tons of it. The onlookers among our hosts always seemed so please watching us partake of this fruit and were proud that they had guests. Frequently I felt self-conscious of this, since it was really our privilege to be with them; our honor to behold their young students displaying their martial arts and calligraphy shows; and it was to our spiritual benefit to hear the youngsters recite Quran and sing songs about God and His Arabian Prophet (God’s peace and blessings be upon him).

Day 9 & 10 – Guilen

We next flew to the city and region of Guilin in southern China. The most remarkable aspect of this trip was the breathtaking scenery, one of the most celebrated in all of China. The name “Guilin” literally means “Cassia Tree Forest.” The landscape in and around Guilin contains a mixture of terraced rice paddies, bamboo groves, and water buffalos all over the place. To the periphery, peg-like mountains dart up from the earth with no slope to speak of. The mountains are green with pine trees. Guilin rests on the banks of the Li River. The slow boat ride winding down the Li River was the high point of the Guilin visit. The peaceful cruise brought us up close to the amazing mountains that jut out from the earth and take on shapes that have inspired Chinese artists for millennia. We also saw fishermen with their cone hats along the shores of the river. We visited a cavernous cave known as an “Art Palace of Great Nature,” because of the remarkable natural shapes of the stalactites, stalagmites, stone pillars, stone curtains, and other cave phenomenon that take thousands of years to form.

Day 11 – Shanghai

The most Western-looking of all the cities, we saved for last. Clean and modern, skyscrapers and construction projects are everywhere in Shanghai. The humid city now has more than 2,880 buildings of 18 stories or higher, an overwhelming majority of them constructed since the early 1990′s. There’s a debate whether or not all this construction is causing the city to sink. Built on a swamp, Shanghai sank by roughly eight feet since 1921. Standing high above in the TV Tower, you see a city expansion that seems to have been developed for the outside world. (We see building booms in the Muslim world that seem to have the same end in mind and probably the same results: an impersonal, foreign-looking, cacophony of cool shapes and tall structures that are regrettably devoid of transcendence or tradition.)

Final Thoughts

Several moments during the trip connected with a discussion growing among American Muslims that, to an important degree, brought us to China in the first place. Specifically, it relates to American Muslims becoming spiritually and psychologically empowered enough to actually produce an authentic and genuine “culture” that is distinctly Muslim and American. For nearly two decades this idea of forging a cultural expression had circulated among a small cadre of American Muslim thinkers. Only recently has it caught enough steam to rise through the political monologues that have dominated the popular discussion. What is being discussed now speaks of the dearth of Muslim culture in the West and how this has permitted the disfigurement of Islam to go virtually unchallenged in a public mind that has no alternative or reason to reject it. What’s at stake in this discussion is essentially this: Muslims attaining to a level of self-awareness and comfort in which they may express their spirituality in the arts, whether literary (novels, short stories, poetry, or personal essays), visual (architecture, drawings, or calligraphy), audio (songs or public readings), or even theatrical forums (plays, films, or humor).

Culture is a powerful medium through which a people’s values and godliness may enter the hearts of people. The emergence of culture, though, requires an internal and almost secret sense of security about who we are and what we believe in and where it is that we live as believers—respectful and fully interested in (and emotionally connected to) the well being of the people with whom we live, work, shop, learn, entertain, and converse. How else may we become a community that enjoins and reminds?

In a nutshell, that was one of the great lessons of the China trip, for we caught a glimpse of how the rich, deep, and profound history of Muslims in China survived and often thrived during the history of a vast and ancient land. There was a reason for this. And we saw and heard some of it during our trip—starting in Beijing and ending in Shanghai. Had there been a cultural estrangement between Chinese Muslims and Chinese at large; had there been a severe and, therefore, impossible understanding of the relationship between religion and culture—between the heaven and the earth, the hidden and the manifest—it would be difficult to imagine that we would have had any reason to visit, that there would be songs to be sung.

There is something to learn from a Muslim minority in a major world civilization and a major world power—the longest running Muslim minority with remarkable religious intelligence and spiritual wisdom. Like all who attended, I feel fortunate and grateful to have been there. On a personal note, other than the Pilgrimage to Makkah and standing before the tomb of the Prophet in Madinah (God bless him and grant him eternal peace), no trip has been more meaningful.

Ibrahim N. Abusharif is the editor of Starlatch Press. Born and raised in the Chicago area, he is a graduate of Northwestern University. His articles have appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Q-News (a London monthly), Dallas Morning News, Fine Media Group, Hungryminds.com, altmuslim.com, and other outlets. He is former editor of Islamic Horizons. For nearly a decade, he worked closely with a scholar in the translation of the Quran and the compilation of the Book’s vocabulary. Ibrahim is also working on short works of fiction, as well as a novel.

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• Trusting reason
• Respecting dissent
• Stressing societal obligation
• Setting priorities
• Embracing maxims

These five principles are central to the Islamic tradition and embody the practical wisdom and consummate sensibility of the Prophetic teaching. The paper emphasizes the need for American Muslims as a whole to become directly involved in their self-definition and the construction of their future as individuals and communities. This task cannot be left to others or to chance; the five operational principles provide an invaluable resource for determining the way forward. Living Islam with Purpose focuses on the American Muslim community but is relevant to Muslims everywhere, especially those in the West.

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