Quran at Dawn: The Light of Faith in the Darkness of Night
I was ten years old when I had
memorized the entire Quran and perfected its recitation with the rules of tajweed. At that
time, we were living in the city of Damanhur, the capital of Al-Buhaira. My
father—may Allah have mercy on him—was the Chief Sharia Judge in that region.
It was his habit to perform i`tikaf every year during the last ten days of Ramadan, entering a mosque and not leaving it until the
night of Eid Al-Fitr after the fast was over.
There, he would reflect, worship,
connect with his true meaning, look at the transient in light of the eternal,
view the world with the gaze of one standing over passing days, transform life
in his work and thought, abandon the dust of the earth so he would not walk on
it, and leave behind worldly concerns so he would not engage with them. He
would enter into time freed from most of the self’s chains, dwelling in a place
filled for all with a single, unchanging thought. He would see none of the
people except spirits refreshed by ablution, invited to the mosque by the
summons of the Supreme Power, bowing in their ruku` in
submission not to low meanings, but to Allah, and prostrating before their Lord
to perceive the greatest majesty.
Spiritual Meanings in the Mosque
And what is the wisdom of these
places dedicated to the worship of Allah? They are places established in life
that remind the human heart—amid the struggles of the world—that it belongs to
a human, not to a beast.
One night, I went to spend the
night with my father in the mosque. In the
last part of the night, he woke me for the suhur meal,
then ordered me to perform wudu’ for the
Fajr prayer. He turned to his recitation. When the highest hour of the night
came, he called out with the prescribed supplication: “O Allah, praise is to
You. You are the Light of the heavens and the earth. Praise
is to You. You are the Splendor of the heavens and the earth. Praise is to
You. You are the Adornment of the heavens and the earth. Praise is to You. You
are the Sustainer of the heavens and the earth and all they contain. You are
the Truth, and from You is the truth…” — until the end of the supplication.
People began arriving at the
mosque, so we descended from that upper room they called the dikka, and we sat
waiting for the prayer. In those days, mosques were lit with oil lamps. Each
lamp had a wick, its light trembling faintly, flashing in a weak flicker, as
though it was part of the meaning of light but not light itself. These lamps,
with the darkness surging around them, appeared like glowing cracks in the air.
They did not dispel the night but revealed its beautiful secrets. They appeared
in the darkness like a weak interpretation of a hidden meaning, hinting at it
but not clarifying it. Thus, the soul felt as if the eye reached through their
light from the visible to the unseen, like a secret unveiling another secret.
They looked like stars,
completing the beauty of the night by casting their glow on its upper edges and
adorning the darkness with luminous grace. The one sitting in the mosque at the
time before Fajr prayer felt life hidden within, sensed lingering dreams in the
place, and felt around him the unknown from which tomorrow would emerge. In
this luminous darkness, his depths were revealed, the spirit of the mosque
flowing into them, overwhelming him with a spiritual state in which he
surrendered calmly and peacefully to destiny, returning inward to himself,
gathered in his senses, secluded with his essence, his heart’s light reflected
upon him. It was as if he had stepped beyond the dominion of what daylight
illuminates, or as if the darkness had erased from him the colors of the earth.
The Dawn and the Descent of Mercy
Then he felt the dawn in that
dimness where the last of the darkness mingled with the first of light, a dewy
feeling, as if angels had descended carrying a delicate cloud, wiping it over
his heart to soften it from dryness and tender it from hardness. It was as if
they came with the dawn so that the day would be received from their hands,
begun with mercy and opened with beauty. If a poetic soul was present, it would
find the heavenly light meeting human light within, sparkling in his spirit
beneath the dawn.
I can never forget that hour, as
we sat in the mosque, the lamps hanging like stars in their celestial
positions, those lanterns trembling like the vibrations of loving thoughts, the
people sitting with the dignity of their spirits, each surrounded by the calm
of his heart. The eye could no longer distinguish forms, and so the soul
clothed them with spiritual perception, giving every object both its own
meaning and a meaning beyond itself. Thus, poetic beauty was created in it, as
imagination creates beauty for the eye.
The Quran at Dawn
I can never forget that hour when
a melodious, tender voice rose in the atmosphere of the mosque, piercing the
curtain of night like the ringing of a bell beneath the high horizon, reciting
these verses from the end of Surah An-Nahl: {Invite ˹all˺ to the Way of your Lord with wisdom and kind advice, and only
debate with them in the best manner. Surely your Lord ˹alone˺ knows best who has strayed from His Way and who is ˹rightly˺ guided. If you retaliate, then let
it be equivalent to what you have suffered. But if you patiently endure, it is
certainly best for those who are patient. Be patient ˹O Prophet˺, for your patience is only with
Allah’s help. Do
not grieve over those ˹who disbelieve˺, nor be distressed by their schemes. Surely Allah is with those
who shun evil and who do good ˹deeds˺.} [An-Nahl 16:125–128]
This reciter possessed mastery of
his voice beyond what any singer with a sweet voice could have. He used it more
beautifully than the dove in its plaintive tones. He reached in melody every
degree of delight possible, explaining musical joy in a way no finer voice
could surpass. His voice was like the nightingale stirred by nature with the
beauty of the moon, responding with the beauty of its song.
His voice followed a wondrous
order of tones, combining the strength of gentleness with the gentleness of
strength. It trembled spiritually, like joy suddenly overtaken by sorrow. He
would raise a cry that swayed in the air and in the soul, echoed in the place
and in the heart, transforming the divine words into a tangible reality that
touched the soul and moistened it like dew. The soul would flutter gently, like
a flower caressed by morning mist.
We heard the Quran fresh and
alive, as if the revelation had just descended. This beautiful voice resounded
within the soul like part of the secret that governs the order of the universe.
The heart receiving these verses was like the heart of a tree drawing water to
clothe itself in life.
The place and time shook, as
though the Speaker Himself—Glorified be He—manifested in His words. The dawn
began as if standing, seeking Allah’s permission to illuminate from this light.
We heard the Quran at Dawn as
though the world outside the mosque had been erased, its falsehood annulled,
leaving nothing on earth but pure humanity and a place of worship. This is the
miracle of the spirit: when a human is lifted in the delight of the soul,
rising above his earthly nature.
As for the child I was on that
day: it was as if he was called by all of this to carry the message and deliver
it to the man he would become later. So in every state, I submit to that voice:
{Invite ˹all˺ to the Way of your Lord.} [An-Nahl 16:125] And in
every distress, I humble myself to that voice: {Be
patient ˹O Prophet˺, for your patience is only with Allah’s help.}
[An-Nahl 16:127]
Also Read:
- Daily Muslim Life: Faith, Giving, and Compassion
- What Do We Want from Religion Class?!
- Nurturing Preachers in Islamic Civilization (11) Preserving Salah
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Taken from the book: “The Inspiration of
the Pen.”
تابعنا
