Madinah: Lessons & Reflections from the Prophet’s (ﷺ) City

1/9/2026

By: Ustadh Ubaydullah Evans

Resident Scholar, ALIM

The Haramayn (The Sanctuaries at Makkah and Madinah) have always represented a site of spiritual longing for Muslims. Classical Islam eschews representational imagery. So while it is uncommon to see depictions of prophets, angels, and saints in the homes and businesses of Muslims, the green dome (which marks the Mosque of the Prophet–upon him be peace) and the Kaa’ba are nearly ubiquitous. Makkah and Madinah are shi’aar of Islam or symbols which occupy space in the hearts of all Muslims–irrespective of the particular exponent of Islam to which one may adhere.

Hajj (The Greater Pilgrimage) is an obligation for Muslims and draws both those seeking the fulfillment of their duty as well as those expressing voluntary devotion. Umrah, which is known as the lesser pilgrimage, on the other hand, is a purely voluntary act. Those who perform Umrah do so not out of obligation but rather love and adoration. This is what I wanted to impress upon my children–who would be accompanying me and my wife on the trip: Everyone we encountered in the Mosque of the Prophet in Madinah or in the Haram in Makkah was pursuing the love of God:

“My worshipper draws near to Me with nothing more beloved to Me than that which I have made an obligation upon him or her. He or she then continues growing in closeness to Me through the performance of non-obligatory acts until I love him or her.” (40 Hadith Qudsi, Hadith 25, 40).

During our Umrah trip hosted by ALIM this past December, our family was honored to be a part of a blessed assembly of voluntary pilgrims. These are some of our reflections:

Witnessing the Ummah in Madinah

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) is undoubtedly the most influential person that ever lived. Seeing the worshippers gathered at his mosque–who must have numbered over a million–it became abundantly clear: The Prophet (upon him be peace) is sui generis among historical religious figures. His message and following have attracted people from every corner of the world while he has remained thoroughly historicized.

Of course, Christianity and the Gospel attributed to Jesus Christ (upon him be peace) arguably boast a larger number of adherents than Islam. However, my sense is that the Christian tradition places much less emphasis on the historical person of Jesus (upon him be peace). In that connection, the number of Christians that actively visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem or the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem is significantly less than the number of Muslims that visit the mosque of the Prophet (upon him and upon Jesus be peace).

Contrary to what many Muslims believe, the largest gathering in the world takes place not at Hajj, Umrah, or visiting the Mosque of the Prophet (upon him be peace). That distinction actually belongs to the Hindu festival Kumbh Mela in India. The Haramayn are not singular in the number of visitors they attract. They are distinguished by the diverse concentration of people they attract. It seemed as though every shape, size, complexion, phenotype, language, social class, nationality, etc. had assembled to visit the Prophet (upon him be peace). Even more impressively, across our differences and especially the differences in the exponents of Islam to which we adhere, we were able to worship together. We worshipped with a shared liturgy.

At one point, I asked my son, Najashi, “what have you learned being here in Madinah?” He paused, took a deep breath, smiled coyly and said, “that there are a lot of Muslims in the world!” At first blush, this seems like a simple reflection.

But I’m not sure Muslim communities in the Modern West have considered what it means for our community to be removed from these enduring “civilizational riches” of Islam. Many of the college students I've counseled in the past that were experiencing crises of faith had suffered from having accepted an episteme that universalized contemporary Western norms while provincializing all else. To see oneself not as marginal and peculiar but rather reflected back to you in every guise and iteration imaginable is affirming.

The Elegant Charm of the Prophet's (ﷺ) Mosque

I’ve always believed that Truth should be elegant. To be sure, this isn’t something I learned in any formal theological work or primer on creed. For me, this is more like a feeling, an instinct, which although uncorroborated by any scriptural source, is, for me, a guidepost. By elegant, I mean simple and unfussy but striking and deeply resonant.

The tomb of the Prophet (upon him be peace) is in his mosque. Its presence is marked by a green dome. The space between the home of the Prophet (which has been his resting place since he passed) and his pulpit is referred to as the Rawda (Heavenly Orchard). This, of course, references the hadith of the Prophet in which he identifies this part of the mosque as part of Paradise. These two areas of the mosque, which attract increased activity are a bit more ornate (they retain many baroque design elements which bear an unmistakable Ottoman influence).

Yet, the mosque on the whole exudes a quiet but consistent spiritual charm. There are symmetrical arcades, well-executed calligraphic inscriptions, generous courtyards covered by retracting umbrellas (which i’m told are modeled after helicopter propellers) that seem to encourage all manner of contemplation, reflection, prayer, and congregating, decorative tapestries, pillars spread evenly throughout the structure which seem to never obstruct from view wide horizontal sight lines of worshippers during congregational prayer.

Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ). But his mosque and final resting place don’t scream it. In fact, there is an appreciable lack of signage around the tomb of the Prophet. It’s as if the design of the mosque elegantly echoes the sentiment of the Prophet himself (upon him be peace): I am an exemplar to you and a guide but I’m not calling to myself. “Say: This is my path, I invite to Allah with insight…” [12:108]. He is inviting us to God. The Mosque of the Prophet (ﷺ) is inviting us to God. The Prophet (ﷺ) is our host. As we were preparing to leave Madinah, my daughter Makeda–who is noted for saying what she means and a lack of flummery–said, without being prompted, “I guess I’m going to miss this place.” Madinah must’ve made quite an impression.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ustadh Ubaydullah Evans is ALIM’s first Scholar-in-Residence. He converted to Islam while in high school. Upon conversion, Ustadh Ubaydullah began studying some of the foundational books of Islam under the private tutelage of local scholars while simultaneously pursuing a degree in journalism from Columbia. Since then, he has studied at Chicagoland’s Institute of Islamic Education (IIE), in Tarim, Yemen, and Al-Azhar University in Cairo, Egypt, where he is the first African-American to graduate from its Shari’a program. Ustadh Ubaydullah also instructs with the Ta’leef Collective and the Inner-City Muslim Action Network (IMAN) at times. As the ALIM Scholar-in-Residence, Ustadh Ubaydullah is a core instructor at the ALIM Summer Program. He teaches History of Islamic Law, Shama'il, and Aphorisims of Ibn Ata'illah along with other courses.

About

1 Comment

Rasheedah Siddeeq

1/12/2026 06:11:09 pm

Masha' Allah this was a very good reflection piece. It was very heart warming to see the children there. May this journey increase the love of the prophet peace be upon him in the hearts of the children and the love of Allah and their faith.
It also reminded me of my time there with one of my daughters, nothing like Madinah. Not suprise Makeda stated "she will miss this place"

Blog