The Traveler's Prayer

"May it be Your will...to guide us in peace...to lead us to our desired destination in health and joy and peace....Save us from every enemy and disaster on the way, and from all calamities that threaten the world."

Tziporah:
Summer vacation has arrived. As the airplane lifts off the ground, I pull the gently-worn copy of the traveler's prayer from my wallet and begin to recite the words under my breath. I am immediately struck by how relevant this prayer—written many centuries ago—remains in this age of modern travel. The author of this text was most likely anxious about storms at sea, bandits along trade routes or the physical deprivations that were the hallmark of travel in ancient times. Yet his words resonate for me as I drag my suitcase through the security line which snakes through the terminal; I am reminded of the "calamities that threaten the world" as I pass a soldier arriving home on leave. When the TSA officer returned my driver's license to me and told me that I was "free to move about the country" I didn't feel entirely free. But soaring through the sky, I ask God's protection and guidance, and dream of a time when the words of this prayer will no longer be necessary.

Grace:
Tziporah, as a traveler on life’s journey (alas, not privileged with vacation at the moment), I share your mindfulness of the many “calamities that threaten the world;" in that knowledge, I too find solace in a prayer beseeching God to lead us “to our desired destination in health and joy and peace.” In a prayer for travelers from my own tradition, the invocation “O God…whose presence we find wherever we go” reminds me that all our journeys begin, continue, and end in God. Despite all dangers in our path that rob us of a sense of safety—whether they come from natural disaster, personal illness or threats of violence—I take comfort in the wisdom expressed in the words that “when God is all we have, God is all we really need.”

Yasmina:
I agree that we suddenly become aware of our potential lack of physical wellbeing and security as we leave the comfort of our dwellings. But this vulnerability does not go unnoticed in the eyes of our Creator. According to Muslim tradition, various times are considered “special windows of supplication opportunities," and travel is one of them. One Prophetic Hadith states that the supplication of the traveler will not be rejected.* In addition to reciting several prayers for his or her own safety, the conscious Muslim—in a heightened state of spiritual awareness when traveling—is often asked by friends and family members to pray for them during his or her journey. To me, the weakened emotional and physical state of a traveler is mended by the comfort and peace of being in an elevated state of connection with The Preserver and Trustee.

*Three supplications will not be rejected by God, the supplication of the parent for his child, the supplication of the one who is fasting, and the supplication of the traveler. (al-Bayhaqi, at-Tirmidhi - Sahih)

Athan

Reciter (calls each phrase, except last one, twice)                 Listener

God is Greater                                                                                  [repeats same words]

I bear witness there is no god but God                                         [repeats same words]

I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of God         [repeats same words]

Hasten to prayer                             [there is no power, nor strength except with God]

Hasten to prosperity                       [there is no power, nor strength except with God]

God is Greater                                                                                  [repeats same words]

There is no god but God                                                                  [repeats same words]

Yasmina:

The call to prayer, or Athan, marks the beginning of each of the five mandatory, daily prayers for Muslims. While we may offers prayers and supplications any time, recitation of mandatory prayers coincides with the movement of the sun.  Athan serves as a public announcement that the appropriate time to perform mandatory prayers has arrived. During this time of mental and spiritual preparation, the listener is invited to shed his or her preoccupations and humbly reflect on the meaning of the words of the call and response.  The reciter, or mu’athin, leads the community in the praise of God and reaffirmation of the Supremacy of God.  By maintaining a high state of awareness every time I hear the Athan, I am able to subdue any worries or challenges I might be facing. The opening phrase of Allahu Akbar, God is greater, unravels the Majestic generosity and Power of the One Who can uplift our hearts and elevate our spirits.

Grace:

I love the Muslim call to prayer, Yasmina, especially the melodic intoning of the Athan and its universal reach to all who respond to this call five times each day.  As the ringing of church bells often calls Christians to worship, so a “call and response” prayer is familiar in most Christian traditions; however, the when and how of Christian daily prayer is more often a matter of private conscience than public mandate.  With the exception of The Lord’s Prayer, the recitation or repetition of Christian prayers is usually denominationally specific. The Rosary, for example, is a devout supplication for “us sinners,” which Catholics recite quietly and repetitively with prayer beads. Pentecostal and other charismatic Christians pray in spontaneous, melodic utterances, “tongues,” which are sometimes repetitive and are received by an individual as a spiritual gift. Different traditions, different forms, yet all attesting to the greatness and goodness of God.

Tziporah:

Jews also include a call to prayer in the morning and evening liturgy, known as Barkhu.  All assembled stand and the leader chants, “Blessed are You, Lord who is blessed.” The congregation responds, “Blessed is the Lord who is blessed forever and ever.” Then the leader repeats the congregational response. Each time the leader or worshiper recites the word “blessed,” he or she bows before God.  Like the Athan, Barkhu marks the official beginning of public prayer. This invitation to join in communal worship can only be recited if a quorum of ten Jews is present. The call and response of Barkhu also comprises the opening lines of the blessing recited during the public reading of the Torah.  This reminds me of the concluding lines of the Athan, as these two lines also serve as an affirmation that we are about to engage in a public act of honoring God. 

Thirst for God

“As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, God.   
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”  (Psalms 42:2-3)

Tziporah:

When tragedy strikes—particularly when a young person dies—people ask me, “How can you believe in God? What kind of God would allow such terrible things to happen?” And I cannot help but agree with them. The world is filled with sorrow and we are filled with longing for something better than this world.  The image of a deer seeking water at the stream gives me a sense of serenity.  This is the natural course of the universe: creatures long to feel close to their Creator, to derive sustenance from the Source of all life.  I can almost see a reflection of God’s presence in the life-giving water. These verses from Psalms also remind me of what a Baha’i friend taught me about faith: God is like a stream of water, and we all dip our cups into the same stream and drink from it to quench our thirst.

Grace:

The words of your Baha’i friend speak to me also, Tziporah. The God for which we all yearn, especially in the midst of great pain or angst, is, I think, bigger than even our most revered Scriptures teach us, deeper than our minds can grasp, and more true than our religious traditions can codify. I think our minds correctly question “what kind of God would allow…” while our hearts tell us truthfully that the God we try to “believe in,” or the God we hate to “believe in,” is not the fullness of the living God who believes in us and loves us—even beyond belief.  Living water is an apt metaphor for a God who cannot be contained, defined, or bounded.  The flowing stream is eternally creative, life-giving, and life-restoring.  Thirst for the living God keeps us on a true path.

Yasmina:

As I reflected on these words, I understood them as a testimony given by someone who has experienced love for God, and peace and contentment from remembering Him. I was reminded of this verse in the Quran: “Those who believe and whose hearts find satisfaction in the remembrance of God, for without doubt, in the remembrance of God, do hearts find satisfaction.” (al-Raad 13:28) The awareness of being in the presence of God is a state we experience from beyond our senses; its effect leaves our hearts and souls yearning. Whether through prayer, praise, giving charity or other acts of worship, the heart eventually finds peace and satisfaction. I find the words of Muslim scholar Ibn Qayyim befitting: “Truly, in the heart there is a sadness that cannot be removed except with the happiness of knowing God and being true to Him; and in it there is an emptiness that cannot be filled except with love for Him and by turning to Him, and always remembering Him.”

Receptivity

“I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”   

 (The Gospel of Mark 10:15)

Grace:

The phrase “Kingdom of God” reverberates through Christian scriptures in the teachings of Jesus. Some Christians understand God’s kingdom to refer strictly to a heavenly realm beyond this earthly life; others understand it to refer also to an ideal state of being on this earth, in which human beings find union with God and one another.  In reading this text, I am struck especially by the simplicity of the verb receive. I recently heard someone of another faith tradition say that “One who cannot see God in all, cannot see God at all.” I suspect this is exactly what Jesus wanted his listeners to understand when he spoke of the need to be “born again” in order to receive the kingdom of God. (John 3:3)  How do your sacred scriptures invite you to see God and to receive God’s kingdom?

Yasmina:

In Islam the term “seeing God in others” is not used. Instead, Muslims recognize a person’s piety by how much their actions reflect their respect for God’s commands. This stems from the view that belief in God must be coupled with righteous deeds: “O mankind! We created you from a single [pair] of a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, that ye may know each other [not that ye may despise each other]. Verily the most honored of you in the sight of God is [he who is] the most righteous of you.” (al-Hujurat 49:13) As a Muslim, I view myself as a minute being in God’s kingdom, which encompasses the heavens, the earth and all that lies between them. I am reminded to always act with humility because achieving righteousness is a lifelong journey; only God can judge and invite whom He wills, with His grace and mercy, into the final abode of peace.

Tziporah:

To answer your question, Grace, I turn not to the “sacred scriptures,” but to the early rabbinic literature and the writings of Maimonides (1135-1204).  Many of Jesus’ parables about the kingdom of God have parallels in Jewish texts, which use this exact phrase, as well as the phrase olam ha-ba, “the world to come,” to refer to the messianic era. The rabbis of the Talmud suggest that all righteous people, including non-Jews who follow the Noachide Laws,[1] will inherit a portion in the world to come. In Maimonides’ lifetime, there was much controversy about whether olam ha-ba referred to an actual place in the physical realm.  In his treatise on the tenth chapter of Mishnah Sanhedrin, Maimonides describes the world to come as follows: “The Garden of Eden is a fertile place containing the choicest of the earth’s resources, numerous rivers, and fruit-bearing trees. God will disclose it to man some day. He will teach man the way to it, and men will be happy there.”[2] Jews are urged to be righteous and fulfill the commandments, not only to receive our portion in the world to come but also to live well in this world.

---

[1] Talmud Bavli, Sanhedrin 56a

[2] Here is a link to a PDF translation of this work.

Giving

“those who spend their wealth to increase in self-purification (yatazakka)”

(al-Layl 92:18)

Yasmina:

Giving of one’s wealth is not unique to Islam, but the Arabic word yatazakka—from zakat, which means both to purify and grow—has a particularly beautiful connotation. Zakat is often compared to the pruning of a shrub, where the trimming actually causes the plant to grow stronger. Similarly, the trimming of wealth through the giving of alms purifies and strengthens the soul. In Islam, to use the trust given by God—here, personal wealth—in the proper manner helps rid a person of his/her worldly attachments. The Quran describes this quest to purify one’s soul, tazqiyat an-nufoos, as a lifelong process: “To a happy state shall indeed attain he who causes [this self] to grow in purity, and truly lost is he who buries it in darkness.” (al-Shams 91:9-10) The examination of one’s heart, practices and desires leads a person to see tribulations as opportunities for the cleansing of the soul and the attainment of insight and understanding. I cannot but marvel at the beauty of the Arabic language, in which one word in the Quran encompasses the complex concept of spiritual growth.

Grace:

It is interesting, I think, that Christian scriptures almost always pair discussions of wealth with cautionary warnings, such as, “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” (Mark 10:25; Matthew 19:24; Luke 18:25) Similar to the Quranic text you cite, Yasmina, this verse does not condemn wealth, but warns against worldly attachments. In a particularly poignant illustration, Jesus speaks of a poor widow who placed two small copper coins in the Temple’s alms basin. Contrasting her with those who gave more but did so ostentatiously, Jesus observed, “This poor widow has put in more than all the others, [for she] put in all she had.” (Luke 21:3) Yatazakka seems an apt description of those who, in quiet generosity and humble sacrifice, discover the meaning of heavenly treasure.

Tziporah:

It will not surprise you that the Jewish concept of charity, tzedakah, is similar to zakat as you explain it, Yasmina, and to the verses of the Gospels that you quote, Grace. While the English word “charity” derives from the Latin root for love and caring, tzedakah is from the biblical Hebrew root for righteousness.  Tzedakah is the obligation in Jewish law to share a portion of one’s wealth with others in need.* Inherent in this commandment is the recognition that everything we possess—both tangible things like money and intangible things like intelligence—is on loan to us for the duration of our lives.  God allows us to feel as though we personally possess these gifts, as long as we strive to share and distribute them fairly among the entire community. When we give tzedakah, we are restoring righteousness in the world by returning the gift to its rightful owner.

---

* For example: “Because there will not stop being indigent [people] in the land; on account of this I command you, saying, you shall open your hand to your brother, to your poor and indigent in your land.”  (Deuteronomy 15:11)