My Life with Mawlana
An Essay by Tarek Elgawhary
We live in a complex world where we find competing interests jostling for our attention and loyalty at almost every moment of the day. While I am sure this has always been the case since humankind first lived together in community, what makes the contemporary situation particularly challenging is that these interests do not always stem from the same thought paradigm.
For a person of faith trying their best to hold on to traditional values and practices, this can be extremely confusing and difficult. As a young man growing up in the United States with immigrant parents from Egypt, I always found myself between two paradigms, two ways of life, and two ethical systems.
By the time I got to the university I felt that the questions I had were not being answered sufficiently; there was no figure I could turn to for sincere advice and guidance. I was either encouraged to shed off my traditional identity since it was antiquated and backward, or to reject the world around me because it was against my way of belief. Neither option seemed to make sense or provide comfort.
After a series of events, I found myself in Cairo, Egypt in the summer of 2003 praying Friday prayer at the Sultan Hasan mosque where I met, for the very first time, Shaykh Ali Gomaa. I was overwhelmed at my first meeting.
The khutba was followed by a fiqh lesson, which was followed by open question and answers. All my concerns, my frustrations, my confusion were being answered at the same moment. From the conceptual to the minutiae, from the mundane to the philosophical, I was swimming in an ocean of knowledge where each wave was washing away my pain and cleansing my heart.
This initial meeting most likely did not take more than 2 hours, but I was so struck by what I had just seen, so taken by Shaykh Ali’s words, that as I ran after him to introduce myself, I forgot my sandals in the mosques and walked after him in the street barefoot!
He invited me to his home, but as I looked down, suddenly feeling the heat from the summer pavement on my dirty bare feet, I looked at him in shock and said, “but I forgot my sandals!” to which he replied, “he came from America barefoot!” And this was the truth of the matter! I had come naked and barefoot, and Shaykh Ali clothed me with love and knowledge.
From that moment on I became his student: a student of both the Sharia and the Haqiqa. Despite his heavy responsibilities as Grand Mufti of Egypt, Shaykh Ali was still able to keep a demanding teaching schedule. I was blessed to attend both public classes in fiqh and usul al-fiqh as well as private ones in tassawuf.
All together, these classes opened a door to another world. It wasn’t simply a lecture explaining a medieval text; rather the class was filled with hundreds and hundreds of reference volumes. We would not come across a reference or a quote except that we looked it up, verified it, and most importantly challenged the shaykh by arguing the opposing opinion.
These classes were part of a living interpretive tradition, a tradition that gave us life, hope, and a deep desire to be the best versions of ourselves. And yet, despite the intellectual rigor that these classes required, in a strange and almost magical way, the complex was made simple and practical, and rather than be relegated to intellectual and academic debate, these classes taught us how to implement what we were learning and how to manifest the inherent beauty of Islam, how to manifest the inherit beauty of our beloved Prophet (Allah bless him and give him peace).
My journey with Shaykh Ali was to continue, however, beyond the riwāq. I was blessed to travel with him many, many times and to see him in action in the real world. I witnessed him deal with a ferocious media trying to undermine not only his efforts as Grand Mufti, but also the basic tenants of Islam. I observed him interact with heads of states, royalty, as well as students and detractors from all walks of life.
While the incidents are too many to enumerate, the one thread that unites all of these is that I witnessed the power of love, not only as an idea, but a constant expression that flows in one’s every action, speech, and conduct. I saw in action what love of Islam and what love of homeland meant in the actions of Shaykh Ali.
I saw what it meant to be an ambassador of one’s faith and one’s country, how there is always an opportunity to build bridges, say positive things, make alliances, and influence people to good works and not build hatred and animosity. This lesson, even more than the lessons of the riwāq taught me how I can coexist with the multiple paradigms of the world and how to be a Muslim of both the East and the West.
However, despite all of the aforementioned, there is a deeper, more personal relationship I have with Shaykh Ali because he is not just my teacher, but he is also my Shaykh who taught me how to worship Allah and how to love His beloved Messenger (Allah bless him and give him peace).
I took the Shadhili Path from Shaykh Ali in the summer of 2003 and he has guided me through the long inner-journey of the self. I have shared things about my personal life with Shaykh Ali that I have not divulged to any human being ever! His patience, love, humanity, compassion, and overall mercy towards me are so overwhelming that simply reflecting on this causes an abundance of emotion and humility that is impossible to describe.
I will forever be in Shaykh Ali’s debt. I am nothing today without the aid, assistance, and blessings of Mawlana. May Allah preserve him and keep him for us.