The Weeds at Al-Aqsa

Dr. Abdullah Maruf Omar, one of the most important names in the field of Palestinian studies in Türkiye—and in the Arab world as well—drew attention a few days ago to a detail related to Al-Aqsa Mosque that had escaped notice: weeds had grown among the stones at the base of the elevated platform where the Dome of the Rock stands, and had begun to spread around. All of them had quite strong roots, moreover. This scene showed that Al-Aqsa Mosque has been left without a congregation, that very few people now step on the stones that normally lie along the busy walking paths, and that the road of Muslim visitors to Jerusalem no longer falls there as often or as intensely as before.

The frames Abdullah Maruf shared were almost identical to photographs of Al-Aqsa taken at the beginning of the last century. Even then, it had often been left deserted, silent, without visitors and without a congregation. Under the conditions of the time and the limited means of transportation, this was understandable. But the emptiness witnessed as of 2026 is, of course, entirely related to the extraordinary conditions the Israeli occupation has imposed on Jerusalem. Al-Aqsa is wronged, sorrowful, and forsaken today.

I always end all my talks about Palestine and Jerusalem with a section on "So what should we do?", and as one of the answers to the question I say, "We must go to Jerusalem!" I understand and interpret the phrase in the Prophet's famous hadith—"If you cannot go to Bayt al-Maqdis and pray there, then send olive oil to be burned in its lamps"—as "whatever Al-Aqsa Mosque's most urgent need is in your time, meet it." In the period when the hadith was transmitted, perhaps a mosque's most vital deficiency was lighting; now, however—especially when it comes to Al-Aqsa—it is congregations and crowds.

On one of my first visits to Jerusalem years ago, when I entered the Qibli Mosque, I encountered an interesting situation. It was the time of noon or afternoon prayer, and there were not many people around. As soon as I entered the door of the mosque, I noticed that the congregation, a single row with gaps at its ends, had stood for prayer just inside the main entrance. The mihrab was at the southernmost end of the mosque, but the people had lined up at the entrance. When I asked why they did this, I received a painful answer: "The occupation soldiers, while walking in the courtyard, are also peering inside. We stand close to the door like this so that they think the mosque is filled to the brim. Otherwise their boldness and aggression increase." Just think: Jerusalem is a city where people are forced into such pretense and such details just to make Al-Aqsa Mosque look full.

Once, inside Al-Aqsa, I was chatting with an elderly Palestinian. In the course of the conversation, he asked, "Why do you only come here from Friday to Sunday?" and without even waiting for my answer he added: "You want to perform your Friday prayers at Al-Aqsa, I understand. But on the other days these places are completely empty. On Monday you are absent, on Tuesday you are absent, on Wednesday you are absent, on Thursday you are absent…" There was no answer that could be given to this heartfelt reproach. I listened in silence. The words of my interlocutor sank into me and never left my mind.

I am aware of the fatwas of the jurists who do not deem it permissible to go to Jerusalem as long as it is under Israeli occupation. However, I disregard this theoretical and bookish fatwa for two practical reasons: The first is the "need for congregation and crowds" I mentioned above. While the people of Jerusalem cry out, "Please come more, do not leave us alone and unattended here," I cannot trade the voice of the hearts for the voice of the lines. The second is that I see that the occupying Israeli soldiers make particular trouble for groups coming especially from Türkiye, that they make a special effort not to let us into Al-Aqsa, and that they intensify their harassment. This leads me to a very clear thought: "The occupiers do not want us to be there. Something they do not want is automatically good and beneficial."

For Turkish citizens, the road to Jerusalem is currently open only through Jordan. It is a difficult road, longer in terms of time, and one whose outcome is not guaranteed—there are also those who are turned back at the door. But whatever happens, it is worth setting out on a road that ends with Al-Aqsa Mosque and enduring all the hardships of that road.