And she was expecting...?
Performing the hajj, the annual Muslim pilgrimage more ancient than Islam itself, is complicated and confusing even for those well-versed in Islam—so it's particularly intimidating for someone who's hardly religious.
As a secular journalist covering this central pillar of Islam, which began Monday, I am determined to go through the rites with an open mind.
(...) In Mecca, we hit crowds: Hundreds of thousands of pilgrims massed around the Grand Mosque housing the Kaaba. Saudi officials said Monday some 2.5 million Muslims from around the world are attending this year's hajj, along with a half-million Saudis.
The mass of humanity is awe-inspiring—and that is part of the point. The hajj is a deeply personal rite for the faithful, a chance to get closer to God, walk in the footsteps of Muhammad and Abraham and receive the forgiveness of sins. But it is also a communal experience, a symbol of the unity of the Islamic world.
"It is amazing to see Muslims united, No other activity in the world could bring so many people together for the same purpose, not even a rock band group," said Eulalle Benichou, a Canadian pilgrim walking with her husband near the Grand Mosque.
Many pilgrims talk of the physical arduousness of hajj as a test of faith. But, as I found, it also makes keeping your mind on faith difficult.
I stopped to perform the noon prayers at the gate of the Grand Mosque, standing shoulder to shoulder with other women and with men in the "ihram"—the required garb for male pilgrims, white pieces of terrycloth, one around the waist, another slung over the shoulder.
But it's hard to concentrate—not only because I don't really know how to pray, but also because of the shoving of other pilgrims trying to get to the front of the line.
The layers of white fabric around my head and neck were suffocating and distracting—I don't normally wear a head scarf—and I looked with envy at the men praying next to me with their bare arms and necks.
Glancing at other worshippers, I tried to follow the prayer movements: standing straight, bowing with hands on the knees, placing the forehead on the floor as in yoga.
As I prostrated, the rear end of a man in front of me hit me in the face; later his heels were almost in my mouth.
The close mingling of men and women here is remarkable, when in all other areas of life—particularly in Saudi Arabia—the genders are strictly segregated. In much of the Arab world, men and women are separated when they pray in mosques, and many conservative men consider it a sin to shake hands with women.
But here in the most sacred place in the Muslim world, men and women pray side by side and touch without the slightest inhibition. A major theme of the hajj is the equality of all mankind before God—man and woman, rich and poor, young and old.
Why not apply this attitude everyday, everywhere? Anyway, back to the open mind....
But it's not without friction. In the lineup for prayers, a man chastised two women sitting comfortably in front of him for "not giving room to men" to pray.
"It's not right," he barked, pointing his finger at the women, who ignored him.
(...)But it was difficult to get into the state of spirituality that many secular friends promised I would reach, despite my skepticism and doubts. I was distracted by the pilgrims pushing and shoving, and by the view out of the open-air mosque—heavy construction cranes and colorful towers of five-star hotels.
I tried to pay attention to the rules, laid out in a booklet provided by pilgrims, but kept forgetting things like raising my hands to the sacred black stone at one corner of the Kaaba at each circuit as all pilgrims do.
Interesting that her largest complaint was the overcrowding, and not the mistreatment of women or the fact that the entire country of Saudi Arabia is devoid of Churches or Synagogues. How open minded.
