The Structure of Love

One of them sat with his friends, sharing coffee and sipping tea, in their usual gathering, in safety and prosperity, in the most venerable coffeehouse in Mubarak Al-Kabeer; they chatted happily, delighted and content. This coffeehouse, which embraced their grandparents and fathers, now embraces them—generations after generations, until it became part of their homeland. While our friend was immersed in his conversations and stories, he noticed something beautiful on the ceiling of the coffeehouse: a pair of doves, one building the nest while the other busied itself bringing twigs to help construct it. Tirelessly and without boredom, it repeated trips back and forth to bring twig after twig for nearly an hour or more. This was a lovely observation that our friend caught while sitting in the coffeehouse, amazed, contemplative, and inspired. He reflected on the avian imagery in the Quranic verse: “Have they not seen the birds?” This bird built its home after feeling secure and belonging, and its children and grandchildren will continue to build after it, generation after generation. This venerable coffeehouse will witness its construction, as will every grain of soil, every stone, and every breath of wind on this land, witnessing its presence, movements, childhood, and upbringing. It has become its homeland. Whoever builds settles down; whoever resides becomes established, passes on, and leaves a legacy. It is the edifice of love—an edifice that requires patience, faith, and a spirit that is tender, compassionate, and suffused with love and shared experience. The edifice of love is a refuge, a dwelling, stability, and tranquility. If its walls crack, lean toward collapse, or one of them falls, it is as if a part of the body has been amputated. It is neither alive nor dead; it lives in terror, constantly anticipating and awaiting collapse and ruin. What tribulation does it endure! What agony does it suffer! Glory be to God, how eloquent is the depiction in the verses and the news of the Quran when it equates leaving one’s homeland with losing one’s life. Our Lord, exalted be He, informed us about the Children of Israel when He took a covenant from them not to kill themselves or expel themselves from their homes: “And [recall] when We took your covenant, [saying], ‘Do not shed each other’s blood or evict one another from your homes.’ Then you acknowledged this while you were witnessing.” (Surah Al-Baqarah) Our Prophet ﷺ stood at the borders of Mecca when he intended to emigrate to Medina, after his tribe had constrained him in Mecca, with sorrow filling his heart, and he was compelled to leave. When sorrow overflowed in his heart, he recited, addressing his homeland Mecca: “By Allah, you are the best land of Allah, and the most beloved land of Allah to me. If my people had not driven me out from you, I would not have left.” He uttered these tears audibly, filled with grief and sorrow. Indeed, this is the homeland—the Prophet, the human being, expressing feelings of sadness and distress, saying, “My father and mother are sacrificed for you, O Messenger of Allah.” Saeedah Ahmad Ghanem Al-Dabbous