بِسۡمِ ٱللهِ ٱلرَّحۡمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ

In the Name of Allah Most-Compassionate, Most-Merciful

Simplicity and Beauty
What shall I tell you is the story of how I learnt that Islam is Simplicity and Beauty? My story begins in that most venerable and blessed city of Granada in Andalusia, the last remaining part of the once glorious Islamic presence in the Iberian Peninsula. One remarkable fact about Andalusia is that even though Islam became prohibited in Andalusia for almost five centuries, the blessings, the barakah in that land granted by Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala, is still very much in evidence today. And in a city such as Granada – the original spirit of Al-Andalus is still evident and can be felt in the narrow winding streets of the Al-Baicin, which was traditionally the Muslim quarter, inhabited mostly by Muslims during the rule of the Nasrid dynasty. That spirit is not something that can be easily defined but one evident source of that sprit is the way in which the Alhambra Palace casts its majestic and yet austere influence over the city. The whole of Granada is seemingly orientated towards the Alhambra which appears more than just a fortification or a once walled city. It appears most distinctly as a mosque which is brilliantly lit at night and may be seen from atop the opposite hill adjacent to a more contemporary mosque, the first one built in the city for nearly five-hundred years. It may be seen also from Plaza de San Nicholas, a place where the young and romantic gather to catch the hue from this beautiful palace, one which invites them in, and calls their passion to be Andalusians, that is to say, to be different. And that difference is what can be felt all around Andalusia and Granada because it was the spirit of the people that once inhabited this city, the spirit of the Muslims.

But this is not a story of the past, this is a story very much of the present. This is a story of how I came to know and understand the extraordinary principle that Islam is Simplicity and Beauty, could only have come from being in an extraordinary place which had transported me to an extraordinary state of awareness and contemplation. It was the last morning of my stay in Granada and I wanted to pray Fajr prayer in the mosque near Plaza Nuevu at the foot of the hill opposite the Alhambra. A very intimate part of the city with its close streets, Moroccan shops selling exquisite and sometimes not so exquisite goods and the numerous restaurants and cafes. Anyway, I left my hotel early perhaps around 6am, and not knowing exactly what time Fajr prayer was there, I set out a bit early just in case. It was a beautifully serene time as the time for Fajr usually is but this was of course much more because of the location, and I was keen to pray in this mosque in particular because the Imam of the mosque was the son of that most blessed of teachers of Shaykh Hamza Yusuf, with whom he had spent 6 years studying in the desert of Mauritania, Murabit al-Hajj. His son was of course not a young man, but in his late sixties or early seventies, and to pray behind such an Imam would of course be a great blessing, which is why I was keen not to miss this opportunity. My hotel was only a short walk to the mosque, through the plaza and a right turn into the narrow streets, streets not wide enough for any cars.

With a few more turns in the still night, with not a soul in sight, I was stood outside the mosque, whose doors were not yet open. But I didn’t mind at all. Just to be outside this mosque, just to be standing taking in the atmosphere, which was ever so slightly misty, adding to the mystery of the moment, conveyed to me a great sense of blessing. The street lights were on and their light as it diffused through the air made apparent that misty appearance. I did not mind this at all. I thought this, as I stood patiently against the wall opposite the doors to the mosque, and whilst I waited, I thought I would brush up on my Spanish vocabulary, so I took out my well-thumbed English-Spanish dictionary and began learning some new words of this most compelling and beautiful of languages. Lost in my world of Spanish words, narrow cobbled streets, this old mosque, of this revered Imam, under the street lights lit dimly, the atmosphere, the blessing, the specialness, I only just made out the faint footsteps of someone approaching from my right. I paid no heed as I continued to add more useful words to my Spanish vocabulary, just at that moment, and as he passed, this person said something to me in Spanish. My instinctive and well-versed response was, “no hablo espanol”, “sorry, I don’t speak Spanish”. But then as I saw this person, a young man, perhaps in his mid to late twenties, I saw that he did not look Spanish. And his own inquiry was one of assistance as he thought I may have become lost. But I caught his accent and asked if he spoke English to which he duly and courteously replied that he did. I asked him where he was from, he was from Canada, he said, and had been staying in Granada for a few months. Deciding what to do next with his life, he had come to Granada to seek inspiration, guidance and direction, but running low on money he had been thinking about, albeit reluctantly, going back home. But without any definitive plan emerging he said returning back home would not benefit him and he really wanted to find a job so he could stay in Granada longer, so just that day he had gone to the Alhambra, both on a visit, but to also find some employment.

Something that I have not yet mentioned is that he was slightly inebriated, and ordinarily there is no way that I would have engaged in a conversation with anyone in this state especially whilst standing outside a mosque waiting to pray, and especially at the blessed time of fajr. But this was different, I was different, my response different, my calm, inner-peace and a desire to help, to offer guidance even to someone who was slightly drunk, did nothing to dissuade me to help a fellow human being, one that belonged to God. I was exactly where I was meant to be, I understood this immediately. He sensed my state, his curiosity had been stirred, an inquisitive fellow he already was, but intrigued nonetheless to know what I was doing standing in this street at this time of the morning. I explained that I was waiting for the mosque to open so that I could pray the morning prayer. “Waiting to pray”, he thought, while, “I’m staggering home after my night out”? He was impressed with this vision of self-discipline and devotion. His senses became sharper, he began to realise something, and I could see something dawn inside him. He wanted to know more. Knowing I was a Muslim he asked without hesitation, and as though he had been waiting for this opportunity for a long long time, he asked, “tell me about Islam”? Of all those special moments, thoughts visions, impression and smells, it was this moment in particular that was the most striking, one that has been imprinted on my mind, locked deep in that place in ones heart reserved for ’special moments’. What answer could I give? I did not have one ready to hand, one that would be applicable the situation, to the person. I frantically searched through the archives of my mind, rapidly traversing between ideas, one to the next, not finding what I needed, and all this in a split second. I did not want to convey any sense of hesitation, the answer had to be good but natural. I couldn’t delve into the depths of Islam, it would be of no benefit, I needed something else, something simple and yet something profound, something based on what I already knew of him, something that I knew would benefit him. I needed these words, where were they? And then, seemingly in slow-motion, my attention, my mind was drawn towards the beautifully carved door of the mosque, as though that was the inspiration from within, my call to God asking for His help at that moment.

The door was reminiscent of so many beautifully crafted doors in Islamic buildings because of their symbolic meaning. And this door, even though it was to somewhere sacred was beautiful on the outside, thus inviting those that recognised its beauty, but was closed. There was a metaphor here that I realised, that ones invitation is sent by God, but simply to be invited to the door of a great blessing, a noble virtue, is as good as receiving it, for the invitation has be granted by God Himself. Thus to simply stand outside a closed door, is not to stand outside a closed door, but to find oneself with an open invitation to journey beyond that door, behind which something extraordinary resides. One has to wait, to be patient, and in that patience is learning of the value of what resides beyond that door. And that if a person truly wants that blessing then he will wait, and whilst he is doing so he will continue to act in the best manner, to do those deeds that may be part of the acceptance to enter into that other realm. My sincere desire at that moment of realisation was to find the words, for the sake of Allah, for the sake of guiding His servant towards Him with no other desire or intention other than what was best for him. And so it transpired, came to mind an extraordinary blessing in the form of these words that had never crossed my mind before. A most exquisitely brilliant formula that said, “Islam is simplicity and beauty.”

The Beauty of Symmetry

These words inspired from within came as a surprise to my ears which were trying to understand these words as though someone else had spoken them. And they appeared even more profound for this formula was not only deep, but so simple and elegant, perfect for the wayfarer as well as the scholar. But having never heard these words before, I had to, whilst speaking to him, also provide an explanation to this formula, and so they emerged as I spoke them. So knowing that he had already visited the Alhambra and had been overwhelmingly impressed by the Nasiri Palace, I said to him that this principle is found throughout Islam, which allows this religion and its beauty to be understood by anyone. By both the student and the scholar of deep learning, or by an ordinary person if he chooses to, wants to delve beneath the surface. So I said, consider the art and architecture of the Nasiri Palace and take for example its beautiful geometric patterns found in its intricate plaster work and the thousands of tiles that cover its walls. Each design in its entirety is based on the same simple geometric pattern, which is then replicated over and over again. This repetition is a sign of continuity, of the idea that complexity has at its heart, simplicity, and simplicity is beauty when a simple core principle, design or idea is expanded, replicated over and over. The whole may appear infinite, and eternal, which it is because the same design may be continued for infinity, and yet at its heart is a very simple message, a very simple design, a very simple pattern. God is One, He is eternal and absolute. And in response to one of the companions of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, asking “who is God?” God revealed the following beautiful verse:


قُلۡ هُوَ ٱللَّهُ أَحَدٌ
ٱللَّهُ ٱلصَّمَدُ
لَمۡ يَلِدۡ وَلَمۡ يُولَدۡ
وَلَمۡ يَكُن لَّهُ ۥ ڪُفُوًا أَحَدٌ

“Say: He is Allah, the One!
Allah, the Eternal, Absolute;
He begetteth not, nor is He begotten;i
And there is none like unto Him”
(Qur’an, Al-Ikhlas 112:1-4)

Beauty, Symmetry & Simplicity
This is Islam. Its core principle is simple and yet profoundly beautiful. There is no god but God. And it is when this idea is repeated over and over, connected to its heart and expanded, that everything it touches is also imbibed by the same essence, the same beauty. Everything becomes a reflection of that simple idea, becomes very beautiful, very fine, cultured, sophisticated, and well-crafted. This, I said to him, is Islam. His response was immediate, he was evidently impressed, taken aback by such a beautiful description, deep yet so simple to understand. He was ever so pleased that he had met this person patiently waiting outside the mosque who had been willing to offer this meaningful response to his enquiry. I asked him whether he believed in God and he said he did believe in something, but that he was never convinced of what he was taught in Christianity back home. He wanted more and said Christianity just didn’t have all the answers to his questions. He was searching for more, a better explanation to his existence, of who he was and what he should do. I said to him that to find God is not that difficult, all you have to do is to desire to want to know the truth and He will make that truth appear, to find you, wherever you are. To which he replied and acknowledged that his being here at six something in the morning, was in itself for him a sign, a sign that God had answered his prayer, that He was with Him. At this realisation, this moment, everything was still, we were both somewhere else in another presence. Two people sharing a deep and intimate conversation, ones desire to help another, to guide another under the guidance of his Lord, and the other’s desire to make sense of the world, to find guidance. Both had come together at this time and place by the power, the One, under whose guidance had arranged this conveyance as a sign of His existence.

I cannot fully describe to you how happy this fellow was, and how happy I was to have met him, and nor how much he sought to praise my efforts. He asked if I would pray for him, and I said I would but asked for what would he like me to pray? He said for himself, for his family, for him to find the truth, and also for me and my own family. I agreed, and thanked him, but said on condition that he did something in return. He asked what that was. I said, “promise me that you will be open to the truth whatever it might be, that you will keep your heart open”. He agreed, and out of such genuine happiness continued to thank me saying that only once before in his life had he found someone that had genuinely helped him with such guidance, and that Muslims were wonderful people, peaceful, helpful, enlightened. Alhamdulillah, I was happy to hear these words, to hear that without any bias, without any prejudice, this young man had his eyes open when he was at the Nasiri Palace and now his ears where open to explain what his eyes had witnessed. This conversation was a confirmation of what he had seen, felt and heard, he knew it to be true.

Perhaps, and insha’Allah this brief but inspired meeting gave him the direction he needed, was searching for. But even moreover, it taught me many valuable lessons, one especially that if one sincerely and with all of one’s heart seeks the guidance of Allah, that Allah guides that person with understandings directly into the heart. A light that is able to find its way to anyone and everyone that desires it even with as little as a grain’s worth of desire. That guidance not only directs us in our understandings but teaches us the most important of life’s lesson, who we really are.

•18 Jumada al-Awwal 1429•

Alhambra, Andalusia, Blessings, Granada, Guidance, Heart, Sacred Knowledge

23 May 2008

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