From the series: A Hajj That Does Not Return as It Began: The Values That Must Be Born Within You (3)
By Prof. Dr Faid Mohammed Said,
A person may think that the hardest part of Hajj is the crowding, the exhaustion, the length of the journey, the heat, the limited space, or the constant movement between the sacred rites. Yet the truth that many pilgrims discover only later is that the hardest test in Hajj is not the test of the body, but the test of the tongue.
How many people are able to endure physical hardship, yet cannot endure a single word? How many pilgrims complete all the rites, yet lose something of the spirit of Hajj because of a passing moment of anger, a meaningless argument, or a word uttered in a moment of distress that wounds a heart or harms another person? For this reason, the Qur’anic instruction came with clarity, directness, and decisiveness, as Allah Almighty says:
“So there shall be no obscenity, no disobedience, and no disputing during Hajj” [Al-Baqarah: 197].
It is as though this verse summarises a long journey of discipline and reform in a single sentence. Hajj is not merely movement of the body, but discipline of speech, refinement of the soul, and practical training in moral elevation within one of the most pressured and testing environments.
The tongue is the quickest thing to reveal a person’s reality. A person may be able to conceal many feelings and appear calm and composed, but moments of pressure expose what is truly stored within. In a moment of anger, words escape. In a moment of exhaustion, harshness appears. In a moment of crowding, what has settled in the heart emerges in the form of words. For this reason, guarding the tongue is among the greatest signs of faith and maturity of the soul. The Prophet ﷺ said: “Whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day, let him speak good or remain silent.” The matter is not about speaking much or little, but about a person’s awareness of their words, and their knowledge of when to speak, how to speak, and why to speak.
In daily life, a person may sometimes avoid situations that provoke them. They may close the door, delay a response, or withdraw from a discussion. In Hajj, however, the matter is entirely different. You are in an environment that constantly places pressure on the nerves, in a crowded world of many languages, cultures, and temperaments, where physical fatigue mixes with psychological pressure until a person becomes vulnerable to agitation at any moment. There is unending crowding, unexpected delay, continuous movement, severe tiredness, and differences in character. Everything around you pushes you towards speaking, reacting, objecting, and becoming irritated. Yet the Qur’anic text seeks to cultivate within you something deeper than mere patience. It seeks to teach you how to choose your words even when you are tired, how to remain courteous even when you are upset, and how to preserve your humanity in the harshest moments.
Thus, the verse does not prohibit speech altogether. Rather, it prohibits three levels that corrupt the spirit of Hajj, and with it, the spirit of the human being. It prohibits rafath, meaning everything that takes a person away from spiritual purity towards the stirring and preoccupation of desire. It prohibits fusūq, meaning every departure from proper conduct and obedience, whether a major act or a small word that harms people, breaks hearts, or wounds feelings. It then prohibits disputation, by which is not meant mere discussion or dialogue, but argumentation in which speech becomes a battlefield where a person seeks victory for the self rather than for the truth. How many people enter discussions not in search of truth, but out of a desire to prevail, to win, and to assert themselves? Hajj trains a person to free themselves even from this hidden feeling, and to lighten the soul from its desire to dominate and overcome.
During Hajj, a person passes through many situations that reveal their true character. Someone may push past them without apology, another may wrong them with a word, or someone may raise their voice at them without cause. Here, the real test appears. The question is not whether you are able to respond, for everyone is able to respond. The deeper question is: are you able to rise above your desire to respond? Are you able to uphold your character rather than defend your ego? There is a great difference between one who wins the situation and one who wins against the self.
For this reason, silence is sometimes a great act of worship. Silence is not always weakness, just as speech is not always strength. Indeed, the greatest act of worship at a particular moment may be to remain silent, and to restrain a word that could have harmed, wounded, or disturbed the purity of the heart. Abdullah ibn Masʿūd, may Allah be pleased with him, said: “By the One besides whom there is no god, there is nothing on the face of the earth more deserving of long imprisonment than the tongue.” For once a word leaves, a person no longer owns it, and its effects may remain in hearts for many years.
Yet the matter, in reality, is deeper than simply controlling the tongue. The tongue is only a mirror of what lies within the heart. Therefore, a person does not only need to prevent the tongue from error, but before that, they need to purify the heart from which speech emerges. The tongue does not slip into error from nothing. It overflows with what the inner self contains. If the heart is filled with mercy, mercy emerges. If it is filled with anger, harm emerges. If it is filled with reverence for Allah, words become calmer, kinder, and more refined.
From here, the true sign of success in Hajj is not merely the number of circuits completed, nor the speed of performance, nor the frequency of movement between the sacred rites. Rather, it is that a person returns having learnt not to harm anyone with a word, not to make tiredness an excuse for bad character, not to raise their voice without right, and not to enter into arguments that bring no benefit. Some people return from Hajj with only tired bodies, while others return with transformed hearts and renewed souls. These are the ones who have understood the true message of Hajj.
At the end of each day of Hajj, a person needs to sit with themselves for a short while and ask honestly: was my tongue today in obedience to Allah, or in service of my own ego? How many words did I say for Allah, and how many did I say to defend my selfhood and anger? This question may be among the most important questions a person confronts in their journey of faith.
True Hajj is not the one that ends upon returning from Makkah, but the one whose effects begin after returning. If you are able to guard your tongue during Hajj, amid such immense pressure, then by Allah’s permission you are able to guard it throughout your whole life, because you have succeeded in the most difficult testing environment. It is then that the true impact of Hajj begins to appear: in the calmness of your words, in your gentleness towards people, in your ability to rise above argument and agitation, and in your awareness that the word is a responsibility, not merely a sound that leaves the mouth.
Hajj does not test a person’s patience only. It tests their character in moments of pressure, and the first aspect of character to be tested is the tongue. Therefore, the greatest thing a pilgrim can take from this blessed journey is not merely memories, but a heart that is more merciful, a tongue that is more aware, and a soul that has learnt to speak with consciousness, or to remain silent with intention.
Dr Faid Said
Secretary-General of the European Council of Islamic Centres
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