From Moscow to Mecca: Preparing for Umrah

I’ve only gone on one real ‘pilgrimage’ before in my life. In 2013, I travelled to Moscow — our beloved ‘Third Rome’ — during my time as a Russian Orthodox monk. In a way, Moscow was my Mecca then — St. Basil’s Cathedral standing iconically in the middle of Red Square. The many newly-rebuilt churches and monasteries throughout Moscow and the surrounding areas. St. Sergius-Trinity Lavra and Optina Monastery. There was a depth of history there that I have never quite seen in America, my home. There was a sacredness born out of centuries of prayers, struggle, toil, and blood. I remember that visit fondly.

As I prepare for my first Umrah — a pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, the holiest cities in Islam — I have been reflecting on my visit to Moscow and my ‘pilgrimages’ of the past. While I still am a Russophile in many ways, and as much as I loved my Russian Orthodox spiritual home, it was painfully clear to me that something was missing. That center was missing. That unifying oneness. In a word, tawhid.

The beauty of ancient Christianity — and it is beautiful, in many ways — had become fractured. That they all may be one, says Christ in his ‘high-priestly prayer’ in John 17:21. And yet, everywhere I looked in Christianity was division. Rancor. Sorrowful to the Lord, I felt. This had been the legacy of Christianity since its inception — and it continued with each successive generation. Paul vs. the Apostles. The early sects vying for power in the fledgling faith. The Nicene battles. Iconoclast controversies. The Great Schism between Catholics and Orthodox. The Protestant Revolution. And all the hundreds of thousands of splintered Christian groups and churches that would come after that.

Even Orthodoxy, which had arguably preserved the Christian faith better than any Christian church/group — Apostolic or otherwise — was sadly fractured after the ‘Great and Holy Council of Crete’ in 2016, with Moscow and Constantinople at odds with each other in a struggle for power.

I had thought for a moment that perhaps Rome held the answer to Unity. After all, Rome held a place of primacy in the universal Church for the entire first millennium of Christendom. However, seeing first hand the problems growing increasingly like a cancer within the Roman ‘West’, I realized simply that… Rome was not the answer.

All this is a little backstory which have colored my thoughts on my upcoming pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina. Much of my conversion to Islam came not from a rejection of Christianity, per se, but rather a sense of fulfillment of it. For how can I really “reject” something so outright that had been so dear to me since my earliest memory, and which was my entire life — minute by minute, day by day, year after year — as a priest and a monk? It’s impossible.

By their fruits you shall know them. (Matthew 7:16) In many ways, this was my criteria. What are the fruits, as I see them first hand? Admittedly by 2022, I was thoroughly battered by much that I had experienced in the Church — even as I tried to give myself completely to the service of an institution that seemed increasingly disinterested in its own survival. Instead, it seemed to me like ‘the world’ — the dunya — was the main focus of much of Christianity. Or simply politics. This, coupled with a loss of tradition — of objective tradition and of a deeper esoteric tradition — and an increasingly totalitarian stranglehold of the subjectivity in Christianity (i.e., “my truth”, “my belief”, “my ‘special’ relationship”, “my reality”, “my understanding”…. etc.) Well… I saw everywhere I looked no real unity, but rather a cacophony of chaos.

I’m going to stop there, because it’s not my intention to demean, belittle, or otherwise insult my Christian brothers and friends in any way. I write this merely for the sake of explaining my own background — and for comparison.

It is not a secret that there is disunity in Islam, also. There is disunity anywhere there is more than one person. (And truth be told, there’s often disunity within one’s self!) It’s just human nature. But having said that… The core of Islam has held up remarkably well. The essential beliefs are all there among different Muslim groups — Sunni, Shia, or what have you. ‘lā ʾilāha ʾillā -llāh, ‘muḥammadun rasūlu llāh. “There is no god but God, and Muhammad is His prophet.” The shahada. The ONE faith. Islam. The sharp clarity of the profession of the Muslim faith. Reflecting on it calls to mind the words of Ernst Jünger:

Why is Islam, even without telescopes, so much closer to infinity? One has the impression that only a thin veil separates the worlds.

[La ilaha illa Allah] is the formula, the steadfast pillar on which they rest.

And the (Muslim) mind has sharpness because it sharpens its teeth at this diamond.

This Oneness. “La ilaha illa Allah! La ilaha illa Allah! La ilaha illa Allah! La ilaha illa Allah!…” In groups of invocations, in private, into the sacred stillness of the night, Muslims around the world chant this invocation of God. All of us returning to that One. Al-Haqq, or ‘the Real’, as the Sufi tradition loves to refer to Allah.

And this is represented in Mecca — at the sacred Kaaba.

Here, all of the world comes together. No nation. No rich or poor. All pilgrims on this Earth wearing a simple, white garment. All there for one purpose: to pray to God and to worship Allah. All circumambulating the Kaaba in a sort of mystical dance of prayer — circling with the Earth, the planets, the solar system around the center of our galaxy. This mystical circling and dance of life. A prayer. This sacred land which was trodden by prophets and saints and lovers of God through the centuries. And here I am — about to take these steps. How unworthy am I of such a thing? And yet, here it is. The Lord has blessed me.

Like many life changes and major conversions, my own conversion to Islam has not been without its own challenges and difficulties. And yet, I can say that I have been truly blessed in every way. Inshallah, my pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina will be a source of many openings for me — spiritually and otherwise. Not only will I be at the axis mundi for all Muslims — as all Muslims pray toward the direction of the Kaaba — but I will be praying right at the feet of saints and of the Prophet (ﷺ).

I’m not completely sure what to expect when I arrive — but I trust in God to give me the experience that I need. And I am grateful.

I shall try to keep updated here regarding my experiences during Umrah — if not in real time, but certainly once I return home.

Should you yourself have any dua requests, please let me know in the comments, and I will try my best to remember you all, inshallah. And please pray for me, in return.

And as always — Alhamdulillah! And Glory to God for all things!