Something Better Than a Bell

Sakina was ten, and her school days were run by bells. A bell to start the day, a bell for break, a bell for lunch, and the best bell of all at home time. Bells did not care what you were in the middle of. They only ever said one thing: now.

She had always thought of the adhan as a kind of bell too. It seemed to come at the worst possible moment, usually two pages from the end of a chapter. When Grandad called it in the hallway, she would sigh, fold down the corner of her page and go, just as she did at school.

"Grandad," she asked one dark November evening, "who made up the words of the adhan? Why didn't they just use a bell?"

Grandad put down his tea. "Nobody made them up," he said. "And they very nearly did use a bell."

This is the story he told her.

When the Muslims first came to live in Madinah, there was no adhan. They gathered for prayer by guessing when it was time, and no one called them.

One day they talked it over. Some said, "Use a bell, like the Christians." Others said, "Use a horn, like the Jews." The Prophet ﷺ was concerned about how the people would be gathered for prayer. Meanwhile, a bell was being made, ready to be struck to call everyone together.

Among the Ansar, the believers of Madinah who had welcomed the Muslims from Makkah, was a man named Abdullah ibn Zayd. He went home with the same worry on his mind, because it mattered so much to the Prophet ﷺ.

That night, as he slept, he saw a man in two green garments, carrying a bell in his hand.

"Servant of Allah," said Abdullah, "will you sell the bell?"

"What will you do with it?" asked the man.

"We will use it to call people to the prayer."

"Shall I not show you something better than that?"

"Yes, indeed," said Abdullah.

So the man taught him the words. Allah is the Greatest. I bear witness that there is no god but Allah. I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. Come to prayer. Come to success. Allah is the Greatest. And last of all: there is no god but Allah.

In the morning, Abdullah went to the Prophet ﷺ and told him what he had seen.

"It is a true vision, in sha Allah," said the Prophet ﷺ. "Go with Bilal and teach him what you saw, so that he can call it out, for he has a louder voice than you."

So Abdullah went to the mosque with Bilal, one of the Companions. He had seen the dream, but he did not call the adhan himself. He gave Bilal the words, one line at a time, and Bilal called each line out.

Umar ibn al-Khattab, one of the closest Companions of the Prophet ﷺ, heard the call from inside his house. He came out in such a hurry that his cloak trailed along the ground behind him.

"O Messenger of Allah ﷺ," he said, "by the One who sent you with the truth, I saw the same as he saw."

And the Prophet ﷺ said, "Then all praise belongs to Allah."

That is how the adhan began. Not with a bell, and not with a horn, but with words.

At Isha that night, Sakina sat on the top stair while Grandad stood in the hallway below and called.

"Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…"

She had heard it a thousand times. Tonight, for the first time, she listened the way you listen to a story.

Allahu Akbar: Allah is the Greatest, greater than bells and timetables, greater than homework and worries, greater than anything at all. Then the words of witness she already knew by heart: Ashhadu an la ilaha illallah. Ashhadu anna Muhammadan Rasulullah ﷺ. Hayya 'alas-salah: come to prayer. Hayya 'alal-falah: come to success.

A bell only ever says now. The adhan tells you why.

These were the very words Abdullah ibn Zayd had handed to Bilal, line by line, more than fourteen hundred years ago. They had travelled across deserts and seas and centuries to reach a narrow hallway in Bradford, and not one of them had changed.

By the time Grandad reached the last line, La ilaha illallah, Sakina was already halfway down the stairs. She prayed Isha with him, slowly, without hurrying a single word.

Afterwards she climbed into bed and pulled the duvet up to her chin. Outside, the rain whispered on the window. Inside, the words were still there, soft as an echo.

Come to prayer. Come to success.

Sakina smiled, closed her eyes, and let sleep come.