Umayyad Mosque

Your shoes are off, and the marble under your feet is cool and smooth, polished by centuries of bare soles. The courtyard opens wide around you. Pigeons lift and settle. Somewhere a child laughs, and the sound runs across the stone. Above the arcades, gold catches the light, and for a moment it is hard to tell whether you are looking at a wall or at a painted garden. Welcome to the Umayyad Mosque, one of the oldest great mosques in the world.

Before we talk about walls and domes, think about the ground itself. This single patch of Damascus has been sacred for roughly three thousand years. Aramaeans, an ancient people of the region, worshipped their storm god Hadad here. The Romans later built a vast temple to Jupiter on the same spot. Under Byzantine rule, the temple became a church dedicated to Saint John the Baptist. Every faith that came to this city chose this ground... and the mosque you stand in carries traces of all of them.

The mosque took its present form in the early eighth century, under the Umayyad Caliph al-Walid the First. The Umayyads were the first great Muslim dynasty, and they ruled their empire from Damascus. Al-Walid wanted a building that would announce the new faith with confidence — something to match the churches of the old Byzantine world. Historians record that craftsmen came from across the empire, and that the work cost enormous sums. The result became a model for mosques far beyond Syria.

If you walked here through the covered Hamidiyah market, you already passed a surprise. At the market's eastern end, tall Roman columns still stand, with a broken pediment above them. They belonged to the gateway of the old temple precinct. Shoppers walk under them every day, barely looking up. The mosque's outer walls also follow the lines of that Roman enclosure. So the shape of this building was decided long before Islam arrived.

Now look up at the mosaics on the courtyard walls. They are made of tiny cubes of coloured glass, many backed with gold leaf. They show rivers, tall trees, bridges, and palaces with columns and roofs. Notice what is missing — there are no people and no animals anywhere. The artists created a world of buildings and water, peaceful and empty. Some scholars read these scenes as an image of paradise. Others see the towns and orchards of the Umayyad world.

The finest surviving stretch sits under the western arcade. It is often called the Barada panel, after the river that waters Damascus. Stand close and the cubes become visible, each set at a slightly different angle. That small tilt is deliberate. It makes the gold flicker as you move and as the sun shifts. Step back again, and the whole surface glows as one piece. Much of the original mosaic was lost over the centuries, so what remains is precious.

In the courtyard, you will see a small domed structure raised high on columns. This is the Dome of the Treasury. It stands on eight reused ancient columns, and its walls carry mosaic decoration. According to tradition, the funds of the mosque were once kept up here, safe from thieves and floods. Nearby are two more small structures — a fountain for washing before prayer, and a little domed kiosk. Together they break the open space into a gentle rhythm.

Turn toward the corners and lift your eyes to the minarets. There are three. The Minaret of the Bride rises on the northern side. In the southeast corner stands the Minaret of Jesus. Muslim tradition holds that Jesus, revered in Islam as a prophet, will descend near this tower at the end of time. The third minaret, in the southwest, was rebuilt in the Mamluk style of the late fifteenth century. Each tower comes from a different age.

Now enter the prayer hall. It is long rather than deep. Rows of columns run parallel to the southern wall, which faces Mecca. A tall central passage cuts across them, crowned by a large dome known as the Dome of the Eagle. Carpets soften every step, and the light falls in pale shafts from the windows. People pray here, read quietly, or simply sit with their backs against a pillar. Move slowly, and keep your voice low.

Here is the second surprise for many visitors. Inside the prayer hall stands a shrine with a green-domed enclosure. Tradition holds that it contains the head of John the Baptist — known in Islam as the prophet Yahya. Both Muslims and Christians come here to pray. In 2001, Pope John Paul the Second visited this shrine. He became the first pope to enter a mosque. Few buildings anywhere hold one figure in such shared reverence.

The mosque also matters deeply to Shia Muslims. A shrine on the eastern side is associated with Husayn, grandson of the Prophet Muhammad, who was killed at Karbala in the seventh century. Pilgrims, many from Iran and Iraq, visit in groups. You may hear them reciting together. Their presence is a reminder that this is a living place of worship, not only a monument. Give them space, and let the sound of their prayer fill the hall.

The building has survived hard years. It suffered damage in earthquakes and in the invasion of the conqueror Timur at the start of the fifteenth century. A great fire in 1893 destroyed much of the prayer hall, which was then rebuilt. So the ceiling and many columns above you are newer than they look. Just outside the northern wall, in a small garden, lies the tomb of Saladin, the sultan who fought the Crusaders. It is worth the short walk.

Before you leave, return to the courtyard and stand still for a minute. Feel the marble again under your feet. Watch the gold on the walls change as clouds pass. Families stroll, an old man counts his prayer beads, the pigeons circle the Treasury dome. Thirteen centuries of daily life have unfolded on this stone. As you walk back out into the market, listen for the call to prayer behind you — and notice how the noise of the city rises to meet you.